#okay okay yall twisted my arm

[strawberrystepmom]

yami x f!noble reader. sfw but suggestive, a strange kind of body worship, discussion of scars. | divider by @cafekitsune, wc 1.2k

With an unceremonious chirp from the birds outside of the small window, dawn has fallen.

Yami never rises before you do, his steady breaths the only noise in the room while you wake wrapped around him, both of your legs tangled around one of his and an arm thrown over his torso. 

It’s an awfully intimate sleeping position for a pair that insists their interests with one another are solely physical. At least you have the excuse of being unaware of your actions while asleep to fall back on if he rouses and questions it. 

A perfectly positioned early morning sunbeam falls across your bodies thanks to the gap between the curtains, casting a luminous glow over the tan of his complexion. You smile, biting it back lest he wake up and find you and ridicule you, and let your eyes feast in the same way he does upon your body. 

Your still slightly bleary eyes trace over peaks and valleys of battle honed and earned muscle, admiring the freckles across his shoulders from where the sun kissed him long before you ever did. Marks you don’t immediately recognize until you lean in closer to see them cover his torso and arms. 

Up close you can tell that they are scars, eyes widening at the sheer amount of them. Some short, some long. Jagged and smooth, silvery and red. You nervously glance upward at him, careful to make certain he’s still asleep, and when you’re satisfied with how deeply he’s breathing you look over each of them. 

So you count them. 

One, two, three, small and likely very old judging by their faded silvery color. 

Ten, eleven, twelve, jagged and still the faintest bit pink in color, not quite fresh but likely recent. 

Twenty, thirty, forty. You think you may have counted a few of them twice and these are only the ones that you can see, your heart squeezing when you imagine the things he has been through to receive them in the first place. He’s a proud man, and should be, brash and tough and apparently very hard to do any meaningful damage to. 

Giggling to yourself, you’re interrupted by a gruff rumble from above you. 

“What’s so funny over there?”

Your rush to untangle yourself from him but he’s already done half of the work, rolling over onto his side to expose his back to you. You count a few more scars, adding them to the last tally you remembered, and he reaches behind himself to gently jostle you. 

“I’m talkin’ to you, brat. It’s too early for all that noise.”

You reach up to grab his wrist and attempt to pry his hand off of you but it’s no use so you leave it. 

“Nothing, just in a good mood today I guess.”

It isn’t your best excuse but it’ll do and he obviously isn’t going to question it, sitting up and yawning, stretching his arms over his head. You should’ve had your fill of seeing him by now, further risking being caught by refusing to avert your eyes. 

“Well cut it out, we both have places to be don’t we?”

That’s the reminder you needed to fall back into line. You avert your eyes and hum your agreement, scrubbing your hands over your face.  ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“What the hell are you doin’ back there?”

There’s a lightness to Yami’s tone that draws a giggle from you. You’re half wrapped in a sheet behind him, legs sticking out of the covers to keep you cool while you come back to your senses. You don’t respond to him, the lack of tension between you blessing you with enough confidence to proceed with your current fixation.

You hardly remember how long ago the last time you did this was.

He sits on the edge of the bed in all of his nude glory, every last dip and swell of his body a nectar from the gods your eyes drink in greedily. Your fingertips trace his back, featherlight, running over those same scars you’ve counted a thousand times if you’ve counted them once.

Forty five looks the same, fifty two looks better, yet there doesn’t appear to be any new ones to take inventory of. Greedy, you take advantage of his position and run your thumb along the length of his spine, feeling each muscle tense beneath the motion, stoking a hope in yourself that it’s only your touch that makes him respond this way. 

Withdrawing your hand completely, arm folding back in toward your body, you let the hand that touched him rest against the side of your face. 

“Counting scars to see if you have any new ones.” You admit quietly, embarrassed that your secret is no longer yours although he has an ability unlike any other to coax those out of you anyway. “Making sure nobody has recently attempted to take you from me.”

He leans forward and then turns his head toward you. The posture isn’t comfortable given his size but he can see you so perfectly, catching himself marveling at how you’re the same woman he met that first night in this very inn, same face and smile and pretty eyes, yet you look a little different every time he sees you. Brighter, shining from within, smiling in a way he has come to realize is just for him. 

A butterfly who has gradually shed her chrysalis to show all of herself. 

The delicacy of what exists between the two of you is as fragile as those of an insect. He knows what his feelings are although he does his best to attempt to outrun them, leaving before he comes to his senses enough to enjoy the feeling of your body melded into his while you sleep. Right now though, he leans into it, shifting so that he’s sliding back onto the bed beside you. 

“You have any idea how many people have tried to kill me, little girl?” Rolling your eyes, you smile to show him it’s in jest. “I’ve counted 58 scars but find myself doubting that they account for every person who has made an attempt.”

Yami rolls onto his side so that he’s facing you, as nude and vulnerable as you are, reaching for the hand cupping your cheek to pull it to his mouth and kiss the back of it. 

“You’re damn right,” he confirms, lips still partially pressed against your soft skin; soft as he’ll always ensure you stay. “And they haven’t managed to do it yet. You have nothin’ to worry about.”

Nodding, you scoot closer to him and he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling your bodies as close as they can get. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, one arm naturally falling around his. 

“You promise?”

He scoffs and dips his chin to kiss your forehead.

“Duh.” He punctuates the gruff response with another kiss. “And how many of those have I broken?” Pretending to think for a moment, you let yourself melt further into him, chin resting on his pectoral.  “None that I can think of.”

Gray eyes and raised brows glance down at you, big hands taking their time stroking your back now that they’re in position to do it. The silence that falls is easy and before Sukehiro knows it, your breaths fall into the steady pattern he knows means you’ve fallen asleep. He’s careful not to disrupt you while gathering the bedding over himself with one hand, holding you against him with the other. 

“Take me from you.” He mutters your words to himself, little more than a whisper and nowhere near loud enough to disturb his sleeping beauty. 

“Be a cold day in hell before that happens.”

[kissforyouu]

I LOVE YOUR TITTIES BECAUSE THEY PROVE I CAN FOCUS ON TWO THINGS AT ONCE !

pairing : bf!jungkook x reader

genre : established relationship

warnings : boobs boobs boobs BOOBS !!! massive boob kink idk everything boobs :P

request : hii, can i ask for something like my bf wont stop touching me but instead of her butt make it her breast? only if ur up to it <3

note : I FINALLY POSTED A FIC R YALL HAPPY WOOO. hope u like dis :D

unedited.

bf!jungkook who's had some sort of a hyperfixation on your tits ever since you both had sex for the first time.

he would always take the chance if it meant he'd get to look or touch your tits.

you walk around your living room with your broom as you swept the floor. jungkook was comfortably seated on the sofa, manspreading as he consumed whatever that was on the tv. you sweep around the sofa, poking the broom under the sofa to check for any trash thats possibly left under it. deciding that that wasn't enough, the place the broom carefully so that it's laid against the sofa, you get down on your knees.

this action catches your boyfriend's attention, his eyes shifting from the tv to you in the matter of a second. you don't notice though. you sit properly on your knees, slightly raising your body up a little so that you could tie your hair up in a messy bun. jungkook licks his lips, fully infatuated by you. but the moment you bend forward to peep under the sofa, that's when he loses his mind. your tits were peaking out of your shirt oh so clearly. he could see the swell of your tits and the thin layer of sweat covering them.

your boyfriend smirks, "thanks for the nice view."

your boyfriend was a little perverted. okay, a lot maybe. only for you though. he always made you wear those see through lace tank tops at home. he'd buy all the cute tank tops to make your tits look pretty and squeezed against one another. not like you minded. you loooveeedddd getting spoiled. plus, free clothes. who would say no? he would always find a way to grope your tits at any moment. but not in public though. that was weird.

jungkook's back was resting against the headboard of the bed as he typed away on his computer. some work matters, you thought. you looked at your boyfriend who was so focused on whatever document he was typing. his eyebrows were furrowed and he was also doing that thing he did whenever he was frustrated--his tongue was poking his cheek.

you slide under the covers, scooting next to your boyfriend and gently lifting his arm up so that you could go under it and lay on his lap while his arm rested on your body while typing. you do just that, your head now resting on his lap while you stared at whatever he was typing on the computer.

minutes pass by, jungkook's hand was comfortably laying on top of your clothed tits. he tapped his fingers on the fat of your right breast, mindlessly pressing onto the flesh finger by finger in a pattern. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, index finger, middle finger, ring finger—

and of course you expected it, it didn't take him any longer before he slid his hand inside to pull out your right tit. jungkook's entire hand envelopes the fat, squeezing it tightly. his touch was very warm, you didn't mind. you squirm in your spot, shifting your position once jungkook switches to your other tit, pulling out the flesh out of your top.

he had no intentions of doing anything sexual after, just wanted to fondle with your tits. maybe he'll suck them if you behaved well. but you couldn't control the growing wetness in your pussy, already wetting your panties. you mewl a little once he twists your nipple in between his fingers, and that's when he notices.

"is my girl getting horny?"

before sleep, he always made sure to give your tits a few kisses. and sometimes (most of the time), they turned into a little more.

"ah...mh, mh, hm" you hum in utter satisfaction, eyes shut while enjoying the pure bliss you're getting from your boyfriend's skillful tongue.

he swirls his tongue around your nipple, eagerly lapping on the hardened bud. jungkook's eyes never left your tits as he made out with the hardened buds, making you feel sooooo good.

"please. don't stop." you whimper out while caressing your boyfriend's hair. his hair smelt exactly like yours, since he started using your godly vanilla shampoo. you just wanted to bury your face in his hair. you massaged his scalp good, had him moaning and groaning into your tits.

he pulled back for a moment to look at his little artwork. you had his saliva all over your tits, making them glisten under the dim light in the room. jungkook spits on your tits again, then spreads it around using the tip of his tongue. it was so nasty. he licks around your areola with the very tip of his tongue, then envelopes your nipple again. he teasingly bites it, causing you to let out a small yelp. he flicks your nipple with his tongue while it was inside of his mouth and pulls away to return back with another harsh suck.

"that feel good?", his fingertips were pressed onto your waist as he smothered his face all over your tits (literally). you could feel the tip of his tongue glide all over your chest and his cheeks pressing onto the flesh of your breath. it was nasty. the saliva on your chest was no longer just there but also on his face as he hungrily inhaled your breasts in and consumed them for the full extent. he was so so so erotic.

jungkook kisses you until you run out of breath while his fingers pinched your nipples hard, twisting them with intentions of causing you pain sexually. you wince. god, you feel your body twitching. your pussy's so wet. clenching on absolutely nothing. it was so evident. the wet patch on your panties. the way your panties hugged your pussy so tightly, the slick was coating the thin material so nicely. the way it hugged your pussy drove jungkook crazy. the material was so tight that it perfectly made out the shape of your chubby pussy.

he cups your breasts with both of his hands, squeezing them till the worlds end. this was supposed to be a comforting moment where he just fondled your breasts before sleep. but now you're grinding against eachother like horny freaks.

another thing that got him so riled up was the cute gold "J" necklace he got you that you would wear. he loved the way it sat on your cleavage, right in between your breasts. he liked it even better when the cute lace tops you got him squeezed your breasts together and the sparkly J initial sat in between the soft pillows. it drove him craaaazy, actually. jungkook always made you ride him when you looked like that.

"jus' like that, baby, hm", his head was slanted against the headboard of you guys' bed, eyes dazed, but still looking at your breasts. you rode his dick till dawn, up and down, up and down.

one of your tits were out of your tight, lace see-through bra and molded into jungkook's palm. he squeezed the flesh in his palm while you made circles on his dick. his tip was hitting the exact right spot that drove you crazy, and it had you twitching on spot.

your boyfriend leans in to lick your hardened clothed nipple of the neglected breast, tugging on the nipple and wetting the lace as well. it was just a big wet smudge on your right tit.

he was like an animal when it came to fucking you. he would pull up with the nastiest ways to have you. jungkook had no shame. his hips raise upwards as he thrusted from below, overtaking your slow ass pace.

"m—mm, hah! please, so fast...!", your tongue was out, panting, and so was his. instead his was licking a stripe from all the way from your stomach, up your cleavage to your lips. he kicked your messily, both of you exchanging saliva to one another in your mouths, passing it around like a football. he tugs on your nipple, harshly pulling it and twisting the bud.

that hurt, obviously.

jungkook pulls away from the kiss and rests his back against the headboard again, still thrusting into you though. at this point both of your tits were out of your bra, jumping up and down, putting on a show for his attention.

you notice the way he moans while eyeing your tits. his eyes travel to the gold necklace in between after, the J necklace that you treasure so much.

"looks so fuckin' hot between those pretty titties. you keep this on all the time, yeah? makes you look prettier when i fuck you, babydoll." he kisses your shoulder blade, trailing kisses to your neck. wrapped around your neck was the gold chain, and jungkook lolls his tongue out to trace the metal chain. he tugs on the chain with his teeth, pulling on it with a groan.

you were getting so tired from jumping on his dick. the more you rode him, the closer you got to your release. jungkook let go of your chain, but grab hold of it this time with his hand. his palm lands two loud slaps on your asscheek, making you moan. same time, he could feel you tighten around his cock. "liked that?" you nod your head repeatedly.

jungkook tugs on the chain, pulling it backwards and then twisting it around his knuckles, choking you with the chain.

fuck, fuck, fuck. so hot.

you crack out a laugh, tongue out, panting. you were so close. so so so close. you had your tits squeezed between eachother tightly, your hands squishing the flesh as you felt the orgasm take over you. your pussy was spasming around his dick as you moan out loud, body thrown over jungkook's chest, tits pressed against his. jungkook definitely loved that feeling.

soon after you cum around him and milk his cock, he does too. his cum slips out of your contracting pussyhole.

jungkook lets out a laugh, hand patting your back and smoothing it. then he looks down from above, enjoying the birds point of view of your squished up tits and necklace in between.

he might just get hard again.

aftercare with jungkook has always been simple. you + boobs + him .

"humph, kook." you groan once you feel your boyfriend's hands squeeze your tits one more time. "bit more." he tugs on your nipple with the tip of his fingers, wiggling on his spot to find a comfortable position in the crook of your neck.

"aah, 'm so sore, baby." your voice aches through with yet another groan. "it's okay. you know it's okay." jungkook reassures.

"how about i give you a massage?" he raises his head up to look at your passed out face. "that's just another excuse for you to touch my tits..."

your boyfriend laughs, "are you complaining, though?" you shake your head with a small smile and turning on your back so that you're laying on your stomach.

jungkook slaps the fat of your ass before he begins to massage around your shoulder area. he does it soooooooooooo good though. he makes sure to press onto your bones and tightly circle around, causing you to moan in satisfaction. you enjoy his massage well until he gropes your breasts from the back, giving both of them a tight squeeze. you yelp in surprised. well, not really, you knew this was coming anyway.

he squeezes your tits and massages them well and even makes sure to give both of them equal attention.

and you both fall asleep with his head nuzzled between your tits and your hand massaging his scalp.

whenever you sucked his cock, at the end, he would always ask "where do you want it?". stupid question. there was only one answer.

jungkook's tip twitches in your mouth and he loosens his grip on your hair, a cracked moan also escaping his lips. "f—fuck, baby. you're so pretty with your lips around my fucking dick."

you flutter your eyes open, bobbing your head up and down. you feel jungkook twitch in your mouth, again. "mhm, where do you- want it?"

there was always only one answer.

you were wearing this grey oversized shirt with the thinnest material. it showed your nipples so well. dare i say jungkook got off to that as well. to answer his question, you squeeze your breast through the material and moan, mouth still filled with dick. he gets the memo and pulls his dick out of your mouth.

you cough out but quickly dismiss yourself and pull the neckline of the shirt down to expose your tits, both coated with a layer of sweat. jungkook cusses at the reveal of your breasts, fastening the speed of his wrist before he spurts his cum onto your exposed boobs.

"haaaaa. oh my god, fuck". you moan out, watching the spurts of cum land all over your breasts, some on the shirt as well as your neck. the white liquid was all over your nipples. so you make sure to rub them with both your index fingers, coating them well before bringing them to your mouth at once to taste them. you lick yourself erotically just as you did to his dick just a few seconds ago and taste your boyfriend's cum in your mouth.

"you taste so so good, baby."

and it's like jungkook's hypnotised again.

[unknownati]

vii. dreamin'

a/n: getting ekko high for the first time <333

i usually always see this fic the other way around but i js wanted to reverse it 🙌🏾 next few fics will prob be fluff to make up for my freakiness my fault yall

*typos do not exist to me anymore choosing peace ☮️🌿🌎 stay blessed hakuna matata

warnings/tags: black!fem!reader (again, just using aave but i usually have a black reader in mind 🤷🏾‍♀️), no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, slightly sub!ekko if you squint, modern!ekko, marijuana use, if the terms r wrong that's cuz i dont smoke im just a freak, shotgun kisses, contact high, hot boxing in the back of your car, grinding, riding, passionate asf, fluff and smut, ekko's in love with you real bad, ...breeding, this one's just nasty sorry guys ��, also maybe a little ooc

______________________________________________

ekko gets high on the way you look when you smoke.

a blunt—a neatly packed backwood—between your glossy lips. watching the flame from your lighter dance around illuminate your features with a golden light. the frayed end catches, glowing briefly before dissipating as you take the first pull, the cloud of smoke swirling around you, it was a sight for sore eyes.

ekko always watches in silence, the thick vapor settling in his lungs. he's definitely gotten contact high before, feeling the edges of his muscles relax ever so slightly a few minutes after you spark up.

this time was no different, of course.

he’d planned the night with excitement, he always did after realizing he wasn’t taking you out as often as he’d like. monthly dates; something to make up for it. he had no doubt this one was the date of all dates.

this time, he hit you with the, “i know a spot,” but insisted it had to be your car. no question. you didn’t mind—not like you were driving, anyway.

the place he drove you to could only be described as breathtaking. you were parked perched on a cliff overlooking a lake, moonlight glittering off of the water. waterfalls cascaded in the distance, crashing down on the water in a gentle purr. twinkling fairy lights hung from the trees, casting a soft glow around the area. you gasped in fascination, the cutest, "there's more!" replacing your expression with a smile.

he clicked a button on the car fob, the trunk clicking open. your eyes widen upon finding a picnic was laid out in perfect simplicity.

"how'd you hide this from me?" you marvel, crawling into the trunk. ekko snickers.

"you don't carry anything to your trunk."

"is this why you needed my car?"

"yeah, your trunk's actually able to be sat in."

you pout in adoration. "you're so cute," you thank him with a peck to his cheek.

__________________________________________

nearing the end of the night, the two of you migrated to the backseat, r&b nearly whispering in the background. in your search for a phone charger, you found a half-smoked blunt on the ash tray in your car.

"look at god," you grinned, settling back down and tugging a cheetah-print lighter out of your pocket, igniting the burnt end. closed windows jail the smoke inside the car walls, so when you exhaled the smoke it immediately flooded his nostrils. he coughed, a light chuckle overlapping his sputters.

"sorry," you whispered half-heartedly, resting your wrist against your knee. you catch his gaze, the arch of your brow raising. "you want a hit?"

"what?" he croaked after a beat. your arm straightens to offer the blunt to him. "...nah, i don't even know how."

"you forreal?" you snicker. "...want me to teach you?" consideration; then hesitation. his lips twist. "you don't have to if you don't want to."

eventually, his shoulders raise and fall and he murmurs 'i'll try,' your body already excitedly scooting closer to him the moment he shrugged.

"yay! okay, so all you wanna do is jus'...relax 'n inhale. don't suck, inhale. slow and steady."

he nods, half-lidded eyes following your hand as you brought the blunt to his plump lips. you wished you could get that image permanently tattoo'd on your lids. ekko takes a moment to register your instructions and inhales, yet he bails last second, tearing it from his mouth and coughing into his elbow. you can see smoke exiting his nostrils in tendrils with each cough, though.

"you almost got it!" you laugh, proud.

"yeah but—" he gets interrupted by his cough, his brows furrowing. "the taste—"

"you can taste it?" you question, intrigued.

"i think?"

hearing the giggle that filled the walls of the car while you took the blunt back from him made embarrassing himself a little more worth it.

"you looked good as fuck though," you praise.

"did i really?"

"yeah, but when do you not?"

a cool chuckle leaves his lips. "you right."

silence falls between you for a moment before a lightbulb flickers alive in your head.

"got an idea," you announce, shifting your weight closer toward him again. you bring the blunt back to your lips, taking a long pull that almost makes you pass out. your free thumb presses into his lip, prying his lips ajar.

leaning into his space, you blew the smoke into his mouth. he completed the kiss, eyes fluttering closed. searching hands immediately found purchase on your waist to pull your weight into his lap. you grind down into him, coaxing a moan out of him that has immediately has you soaked, pushing down into him again and again.

blood immediately starts rushing down and up at the same time. his dick pokes at your thigh and you laugh, surprised at how quick you got him worked up.

his hands creep up your wielding wrist, tugging the backwood toward his lips.

"tryin' again?" your head tilts, hips not halting their slow winding movements. ekko nods, peeking down at your hand as he draws air in. withdrawing, his head leans back and smoke fogs around the two of you.

"you did it baby, good. fast learner."

the slow drawl of your voice seeped into his ears and directly into his bloodstream.

he started to understand why you smoked so often. the euphoric high was rushing to his head and making his breath hitch, yet he wasn't sure if it was from you or the weed. his hips push up to meet yours.

"i need you so bad," he gasps huskily, pawing at your top.

"shiiiit, that's all you had to say."

you tug your shirt off, shifting awkwardly as you remove your pants before settling back into his lap. he pulls off his shirt at the same time, both of your clothes discarded carelessly into the front seat. you lean down to avoid straining your neck against the roof, but the kiss lingers so long that it didn't seem to matter.

you shift in his lap, gliding closer towards his knees. your hands dance down from his shoulder, fingertips gliding along scar-riddled skin. the trail of white hair tracking down from his naval to the hem of his pants was tantalizing, a sight you don't think you'll ever grow sick of. you absentmindedly stick your hand in his boxers and tug his length out, closing your fist around the tip. his abs quiver when you stroke along it.

you both hold your breath as you lift your hips, a featherlight grasp on the base of the head guiding him towards your core. his weeping tip presses against your clit before sliding towards your entrance. eventually you're sinking down, slow, torturous. two relieved exhales spew out, a silent 'finally' from the both of you.

"y'feel so good, firefly." he murmurs, brows tightly knitted together as you relax on your knees. his hands cup the sides of your ass, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

you lean onto his shoulder, rising slow and falling hard.

"shit," you mewl, grinding your hips into him. his hands fly to your hips, his own unintentionally jerking up to meet yours halfway.

you take another hit of the blunt, transporting the smoke to ekko's mouth as you kiss him. the car rocks with your desperate movements, windows fogging.

when you pull away, his glassy eyes dart down to watch where you two connect. you grab his chin and make him face you.

"you're like a fuckin' angel," you punctuate your words with a shaky hand gliding up the back of his buzzed head, white locks tangling in between your digits. "wish i could stay like this forever."

he smiles, though you barely see it when your eyes screw shut. the tip of his dick hits a spot that sends a burst up your spine and you straighten up, your crown thunking against the car roof.

you hear an amused laugh and you scowl. his hand immediately presses against the back of your neck and pulls you down. your sweaty foreheads bump together, eye contact struggling to become a possibility when yours keep rolling back.

for a moment, time slows down. your fingers fumble, dropping your blunt on the rubber mat lining your car floor. your hand meets his chest and you bounce on him, hungered and impatient. whines and groans bounce off the windows, your unoccupied hand patting around to find ekko's hand. clammy fingers intertwine; you squeeze, tight.

"gonna cum, fuck—love you so fuckin' much," you whisper, warm breath tickling his nose. he flashes you a smile and a groan takes it's place. the hand that once graced the back of your neck moved and his arm wraps around your waist, chests pressing against each other.

"i love you too," he whispers back, pressing his lips your collarbone. that phrase was all you needed, your eyes squeezing shut, your tongue stuttering his name and chanting it like a prayer. your hips falter as you reach your climax.

after catching your breath, you push ekko's arm off of you and brace yourself on his shoulders. rise, fall, rise, fall; you find your pacing again to bring him to completion. your foreheads don't separate for a moment, except for when you kiss.

"i'm...fuck—" he can barely get his words out, his muscles a wobbly jello beneath his skin. "close, baby. i'm so close."

it's a warning, but you don't get off of him. you just ride him faster and his groans lace into whines, a trembling hand weakly tapping your thigh.

"fuck, baby i said—"

your walls tightly squeeze around him and you do nothing but stare at him. "i heard you."

he swears he felt his soul exit and reenter his body in those few moments.

his head tosses back against the headrest, struggling to keep his desperate moans contained as he releases inside you, warmth flooding your insides.

when he comes down from his (orgasmic) high, you still don't get off, feeling him slowly grow soft inside of you. your head weakly falls onto his shoulder.

"...i'm tired," he comments.

"i'm hungry," you emphasize, twisting a loc between your fingers. he chuckles; you just ate. you're not joking.

after a moment of silence, which you presume is from him thinking, you hear him speak up. "you ARE on birth control, right?"

"...no," you admit.

he sucks air through his teeth. "damn."

"bad damn or 'oh well' damn?"

"'oh well' damn.'"

a beat. "...random, but you know when i first met you, i thought you were a stud lesbian?"

"yeah get off me."

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

SO LONG, LONDON — lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: a goodbye to the city that gave you everything and nothing. (and the man that gave you everything and nothing.) warnings: angst angst angst, not proofread (please lmk if something's written wrong i love you guys😓) a/n: idk how to say this but lando is the perfect person to write angst about. like dating lando would be the best time of ur life, but when its over, its enough to make u bang ur head on the wall (don't tell me to write a part 2 i cave under yall's pressure and i have my exams coming up😋)

london was known for never being quiet. but that day, the city was absolutely quiet—just a faint hum in the air of the early morning.

you dragged your suitcase behind you, its wheels clicking against the uneven pavement.

streetlights blurred in the mist, golden halos stretching like they were trying to hold you back.

it was the kind of day you used to love once.

you passed a familiar corner, pausing as its fairy lights shined through the mist. the little cafe across the street glowed warmly, even at this hour.

if you closed your eyes, you could almost hear the sound of lando’s laugh, the clink of his coffee cup against the table.

that was your place—your and lando's.

the first place he had told you he loved you.

he had said it casually, like he wasn’t giving you the most fragile part of himself to hold.

"what are you staring at?” you had teased, wiping the layer of coffee that had collected on your lips.

“you,” he said simply, eyes soft in a way that made your stomach twist. “i love you, you know?”*

you remembered smiling, biting back the emotions that swelled in you.

you'd only nodded, whispering “i know.” as if that were enough.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking you from the trance. you didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was. the messages have been coming all night, one after the other, as if he had only just realised that you were leaving.

the city was awake now, slowly stirring. cabs passed by, the occasional commuter rushing past you without a glance. you leaned next to a streetlamp, looking up at the faint light of the sky.

he hates this moment, you thought. lando always hated goodbyes.

“why london?” he’d asked you once, not long after you moved there. the two of you were lying on the couch, legs tangled, his arm resting lazily over your waist.

“why monaco?” you had asked back, smirking when he groaned in mock frustration.

“not the same thing. i’m practically married to monaco,” he said.

you rolled your eyes. “okay. i guess london feels like somewhere you can build something. a life, maybe. i don't know.”

he’d gone quiet at that, staring at the ceiling.

"technically, you're a london boy." you said, breaking the silence.

"why?"

"you just give off london vibes." you stated, "like, if i was going to associate a city with you, it would be london. and anyways, london and lando are almost the same word."

you walked towards a bridge, one overlooking the thames. it was where he had kissed you that first night.

it had started pouring as you halted to a stop to stare out at the city that had given you everything and nothing all at once.

you closed your eyes, breathing the air.

it was a goodbye to london.

and for the first time, you let yourself accept that it meant goodbye to him, too.

your grip tightened on the railing, the cold stone grounding you in an unsaid way.

you used to hold lando's hand that way—tight, like you could anchor him to you, keep him from drifting out of reach.

and for a while, it worked.

but only for a while.

lando was always somewhere else, even when he was with you. his mind on the next race, the next city, the next thrill.

you had given everything you had to pull him back each time, to remind him of the two of you.

he hadn’t asked you to give him anything. not your time, your love, or the best years of you life. but that was the thing about lando—he never asked. somehow, he took without realising.

you were by his side as he flew across countries, to parties, to tracks, to houses that never felt like homes.

you poured yourself into his world until yours felt like a shadow.

there was that tiny flat the two of you shared in london—just you, him, and the possibility of something bigger. it wasn't flashy like the one in monaco, not big like the one in california.

you'd left in the night, without a word, just the hollow echo of a door closing behind you.

it wasn’t dramatic. there was no fight, no dramatic crying. just the dull ache of his absence, like he’d slipped through yours fingers when you weren't looking.

you had hoped that he would ask you to give a reason. that he’d say something. but he didn’t.

lando got all of you. all the bright, reckless moments that you'd never get back.

a couple jogged past you on the bridge, heatedly bickering as they continued down their path.

a few days before the breakup, lando and you had gotten into an argument.

you were sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, staring out at the blurred lights of the city.

he was pacing, the way he always did when he was restless.

“i don’t get it,” lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “you’re acting like everything’s falling apart. like i’m the problem here.”

you looked at him, shaking your head. “you are the problem, Lando. you’ve been the problem for weeks now, and i’m fucking tired of it.”

his face hardened, a flash of irritation crossing his features. “you always do this. you make everything about me.”

"i always do this?" you stood abruptly, scoffing. "are you being serious? you think i'm making everything about you? what about me, huh? you’ve been distant for months, pulling away every chance you get. i’ve tried—tried—to fit myself into your world, to make it work."

he shook his head, “you’re always looking for the exit, aren’t you?”

“don’t fucking do that. don’t try to make this my fault,” you snapped back, voice harsh.

his jaw tightened, knuckles white where he gripped the back of the chair. “you want me to pretend like it’s not? you know what this life is like. you know what i am like.”

your stomach twisted, head shaking slowly. “do you even hear yourself? do you even see me anymore?”

he threw his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. “you always try to make yourself the victim, don’t you? like you’re the only one who’s losing something here.”

“losing something?” you repeated, voice cracking. “lando, i gave up everything for you. everything! i left my life, my friends, my family. i waited in airports, sat alone at tables, smiled when I didn’t feel like smiling, all because i thought we were building something real. and for what? for this? for you to keep drifting away? fuck, i’m tired of pretending that it’s enough to just be near you when you’ve already checked out a long time ago.”

the words hit him like a blow to the stomach, harsher than you wanted them to be. for a moment, he freezed.

you saw it—the flicker of guilt, the realisation that maybe, just maybe, you were right. but he just stood there, the weight of the argument pressing down on both of you, suffocating the room.

that was the moment. the shot that fired without either of you realising it.

and then there was the night you had walked into his monaco apartment late, after a dinner with the wags. it was well past midnight.

he was on the couch, sprawled out in the dim light coming from the glass balcony, an empty bottle of beer resting on the floor beside him.

“lando?” you asked softly, setting your bag down.

his head turned lazily, eyes bloodshot but focused on you in a way that made you suck in your breath.

“you’re abandoning the ship, aren’t you?” he slurred, the words cutting even through his inebriated speech.

“what?” you whispered, taken aback.

“you’re never there anymore,” he muttered, sitting up unsteadily. “no races. no paddock. you don’t want to be with me. you’re... you’re not leaving, right?”

you froze. the irony was almost laughable. how could you be abandoning the ship when you were the silently one going down with it?

“i’m here, lando,” you said finally, your voice tight.

but he didn’t reply. he just shook his head, leaning back against the cushions as if continuing the conversation was too much for him to bear.

you turned away, retreating to the kitchen under the guise of fetching water. but really, it was to hide the way your hands trembled, how your chest ached with a sadness too big for words. you weren't abandoning the ship, fuck, you were going down with it.

now, standing on the bridge in the pouring rain, the memory felt distant, but it still left the same sting. you hadn't even realised how long you’d been standing there, the chill seeping into your weary bones.

the rain made you shiver, wet through your clothes, and you decided it was best to find warmth before heading to the airport. a small cafe caught your eye, its dim yellow lights asking you to enter.

you chose a seat by the window, your damp reflection staring back at you. but as you stared at yourself, another memory tugged at you, pulling you under.

in vegas, the paddock was loud, buzzing with the usual hum of race day, but to you, it was deafening in a way that wasn’t about noise.

kym illman had been snapping photos of the everyone, and when he got to lando and you, he told you both to 'appear more in love'—arms around each other, eyes set on one another, and smiles for the cameras.

but the second kym turned his back, lando stepped away, his expression blank as he moved towards the crew. no glance back, no acknowledgment of you still standing there.

he’d left for the track that morning without so much as a goodbye, and now he didn't even stand by your side for more than a moment.

hours later, you’d see the tiktoks. people talking about the way he pulled his arm away, the way his smile seemed forced. you trended for all the wrong reasons as strangers pieced together the cracks in your relationship from nothing more than a video captured from another angle.

you wished they were wrong. but they weren’t.

and the same truth had lingered that night at dinner. a dinner meant to be casual, a chance to reconnect with friends, but the moment he left the table, you knew it was over.

he’d said he needed to step out for a minute. then it became ten. twenty. eventually, max texted his girlfriend, explaining that the boys had gone to play golf because lando had suggested it.

so you sat there, at a table full of people you barely knew, the laughter and conversation swirling around you. pietra smiled at you once or twice, but it was still never enough to make you feel like you fit in, because you truly didn't.

when the check came, you paid your share quietly and walked back to his apartment alone, heels clicking against the empty streets. you realised you couldn’t keep doing this; couldn’t keep holding onto someone who didn’t want to be held.

there was so much love before everything had turned bitter.

when lando would call you after races, his voice bright and full of life, swearing he loved you like it was the easiest thing in the world. he’d leave you voice notes in the middle of the night, reminders that he was thinking of you even when you weren't there.

his parents used to joke about the two of you getting married, and it wasn’t just them. his friends would tease him, and he’d grin, pulling you close like he couldn’t imagine a future without you.

for a while, you believed it too. you’d pictured it—the altar, the vows, the life you’d build together.

but then, it all changed.

you started waiting for proof that he still loved you, that the spark you once shared wasn’t gone for good. but then the waiting slowly drained you, bit by bit.

and just like that, it was over.

lando and you had a good run—a fleeting moment in life that felt like sitting under the warm sun on a chilly winter morning.

but it ended just as quickly. clouds rolled in and the london rain took over to make you realise that you weren't the one for each other.

one gun dug two graves.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tee time

words: 1.5k

warnings: really really overly fluffy, lots of golf talk that idk if its correct yall im not a golfer, rafe squeezes her butt but its not a sexual fic :), lots of kisses omfgggggg these bitches in LOVE (this is a really boring fic im sorry)

“does this look golf-y enough?” you ask rafe as you pout in the mirror, adjusting your skirt again, feeling like your tennis shoes are out of place when you'd usually be wearing heels or sandals.

“baby, we are just playing for fun. you look cute.” rafe says, glancing at his watch.

“should i do my hair differently? pigtails maybe?” you question, twisting your ponytail around your hand.

“baby…” rafe sighs.

“okay, okay.” you raise your hands up. “im done. sorry.” you giggle as you turn to him, pressing a kiss to his lips, having to bend down to where he's sat on the edge of the bed.

“it's okay, you're excited.” rafe says softly, reaching around you to grab the back of your thighs, fingers moving up to your skirt, squeezing your ass.

“i am excited.” you gleam at him. “me and bianca went to putt putt the other day to practice.”

“you're gonna do great, baby.” rafe gives your ass another squeeze before standing, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the door.

you've been wanting rafe to take you golfing ever since you started your relationship, but usually he'd already have plans with topper or his other country club friends, and you didn't want to intrude.

when rafe offered the other day to let you putt for him, you jumped at the chance.

“im not gonna like, ruin your average right?” you ask as rafe pulls into a parking spot.

“no, baby.” rafe laughs softly. “don't worry.”

“okay.” you smile as he gets out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for you. nobody would ever guess that rafe would be a sweet and caring boyfriend, but he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, and treats you better than you could have ever imagined.

he takes your hand in his as he leads you towards the golf cart, frowning when he realizes you're squinting in the sunlight.

“stay here.” rafe says, allowing you to sit down on his family cart, his clubs already loaded onto the back.

“okay.” you watch as he goes to the truck, jogging to get back to you as he hands you a pair of sunglasses.

“whose are these?” you ask. they look like your style, but you're certain this isn't a pair you own.

“i saw them one day at the mall and thought you'd like them so i bought them.” rafe shrugs. “figured i could keep them in the truck in case you ever forgot yours.”

“raaaafe.” you coo out, pulling him in for a kiss, which he happily accepts.

“ill let you drive once we get further out on the course.” rafe says, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the cart on before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, willing to drive with just one hand even though it was harder, needing you close to him as you press your side against his.

rafe pulls up to the first tee, waiting for a moment to feel the wind on his face before he turns to look at you, noting the way your ponytail is being blown slightly eastward.

“give me a good luck kiss for this drive, baby.” rafe says.

you pucker your lips and press a smack against his lips before he grabs a club. 

you let out a cheer when rafe hits the ball, but honestly you lost sight of it in the air and even if you watched the whole way, you wouldn't have known if it was good or bad.

“yes.” rafe pumps his fist. “need you out here more often, my good luck charm.” rafe climbs back into the golf cart, taking off towards where his ball landed.

“gonna land this on the green for you, baby.” rafe says with a confident smile, and he does indeed get the ball pretty close to the hole. 

you're not sure if cheering is generally accepted on the golf course, but you can't help but hype your man up.

“alright.” rafe pulls the cart to a stop near the ball. “it's on you, princess.”

you step out of the cart, looking at your options before grabbing what you assume is the putter, only because it looks similar to clubs used for mini golf.

“if you don't make it the first time, that's okay.” rafe says, removing the flag from the hole. “i won't be mad.”

“mkay.” you look at the distance to the hole, no silly obstacles in the way like there was in your practice.

you give it the ball a tap, frowning with disappointment when it stops rolling only a foot away from the hole.

“that was actually so good!” rafe says, a smile on his face. “just a little more power and it would have been in for sure.”

you nod, taking a breath before lining up your next shot, letting out a scream and jump in the air as the ball falls into the hole.

“that's par, baby!” rafe wraps his arms around your waist, twirling you around.

“oh my god, we crushed that!” you cheer. 

rafe sets you down carefully, but not before pressing a kiss against your lips.

“wanna drive us to the next tee?” he asks, laughing when you enthusiastically nod. rafe drives you literally everywhere, so you haven't been behind the wheel of anything in months.

rafe retrieves the ball and places the flag back in the hole before getting into the passenger side, a smile on his face as you stick your tongue barely out between your lips in concentration. 

rafe loves the look on your face so much that he insists you drive for the rest of the holes. you're tired by the time you reach the last hole, but don't wanna disappoint rafe by not putting.

“you okay, princess?” rafe asks, running his hand over your ponytail, smoothing it down comfortingly.

“mhm.” you nod, but rafe can see that you're getting sleepy, no doubt ready to go home and take a nap.

“how about we do this putt together, yeah?” he asks.

“yes, please.” you pout out your lower lip, rafe leaning forward to capture it between his teeth, tugging it gently before releasing and kissing you.

rafe stands, moving slowly as you get yourself in position before coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your body to grip onto the stick over your hands. he controls the swing and you watch, your back pressed up against his chest, as it falls into the hole.

“perfect job, baby.” rafe says, snuggling into your shoulder, giving your neck a quick kiss before allowing you to go back to sitting on the cart. you slide over to the passenger seat as rafe returns.

he chuckles gently before driving you back towards the clubhouse, thumb gently stroking against your upper arm as you lean against him, tucked into his side.

“someone is sleepy.” rafe says.

you let out a yawn. “it's not my fault you like to golf early in the day. why can't tee time be after like noon or something?”

“i usually golf at this time because you're still asleep and i don't like to be away from you.” rafe says, parking the cart and leaving it to be put properly away by the workers, needing to get you back home and in bed.

the sun has been covered by clouds, so when you climb back into rafes truck, you take your sunglasses off and place them in the center console for next time you forget yours.

you struggle to keep your eyes open for the short drive back to tanneyhill, not wanting to fall asleep in the truck. you know rafe will drive around aimlessly to not disturb your nap, even if he's tired himself. one time he drove around for an entire night just because he said you looked so peaceful sleeping he couldn't bare to move you.

“home, darling.” rafe says, yours eyes fluttering open, not having gone fully asleep yet but the soothing driving by rafe and hum of the engine had your eyelids drooping.

rafe carries you inside and up the stairs, getting out a pair of pajamas for you to change into despite it being midday.

“how long do you expect me to nap for?” you giggle, changing quickly with the last bit of energy you have left.

you sit down on the bed, knowing you should take your ponytail out and brush through your hair, but your arms don't feel like lifting.

you don't even need to ask rafe before he's moving, carefully taking out your elastic before grabbing the brush off your vanity that he set up in his room not long after you started dating.

he brushes gently through your hair, getting out any tangles that accumulated throughout the golf trip.

you crawl up the bed as rafe changes into a pair of sweatpants, going without a shirt as he sees your eyes closing, struggling to stay awake until he's in next to you.

you snuggle instantly into his chest the second hes underneath the covers, sighing happily when you feel his warmth.

“goodnight, princess.” rafe kisses the top of your head. “i love you.”

with your last waking moment, you manage to mutter those three words back to him.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

RIIZE IS OT7

I don't go on rants much about groups- let alone groups I don't stan - but the way Seunghan was tossed around is absolute fucking insanity to me. The double standard in Kpop is fucking ridiculous.

You mean to tell me yall are dragging a 21 year old around just because he was smoking and had a gf predebut? As if thats not what the majority of teenagers do? As if yall dont stan idols who openly smoke, vape and drink and talk about their predebut sex lives? Its. Absolute. Insanity.

The level of parasocialism in this situation is genuinely so disgusting. And i would be willing to bet my arm and my leg to say that a huge chunk of these "riize is ot6" fans were Seunghan biases just last week but dropped him because they finally came to their senses that they won't be able to reach their delusional little fantasy goals- and were upset that someone else was in a position they wanted to be in. GET. A. GRIP. Bashing these adults for having lives outside of kpop is wild and detrimental-

AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE FUNERAL FLOWERS. Thats fucking psychotic. Hundreds. HUNDREDS. Even if SM were to bring him back once more he'd be at risk because of those unhinged fans.

Kpop is supposed to be something beautiful and inclusive and fun but toxic fans are polluting it and turning it into something extremley ugly because of twisted fantasies and a feeeling of entitlement. KPOP IDOLS ARE NOT OBJECTS. Wake the fuck up!

I genuinely pray that Seunghan is okay and that his loved ones are checking up on him. This is the same exact shit that launches people into downward spirals and why the mental health epidemic in Korea is so poor. The haters are the same ones who are crying when an idols name is in the headlines for tragedy as if they weren't part of feeding into those dark places.

Wake up and get a grip. They owe nothing to us. Its gross the way people treat them and I pray that he is okay and that he has people walking through this with him because those "fans" are disgusting.

[emmyrosee]

YALL BASED ON THIS VIDEO HERE IM SCREAMING-

-

It’s been hours since you’ve smiled at Rintaro.

Not since this morning when you left. He was home today, all day, left to watch your three year old, and be home to see your nine year old. You’d kissed the side of his nose, reminded him of some chores, and everything was fine for you to go out and do your own set of errands.

But to come home to a trash bag sitting outside of the door and not in the barrel that got emptied today?

Oh. Screw smiling.

There may have been a small argument that broke out once you told him, about how he assumed you’d take the trash out since you were leaving the house- of which you snapped that it’s not your responsibility to automatically take out the trash when you leave.

Your son, Akito, was only left to watch the chaos, setting up the console he and his father were about to play on.

“I forgot, okay!” He snaps, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take it out later, it’s fine!”

“It’s not fine!” You yell back. “The trash was already taken! It’s worthless at this point to do it!”

He looks like he’s about to say something back, but you see him bite his tongue. “Good choice,” you snarl. Leaving him and Akito, you make your way upstairs and into your bedroom where you get changed into something that doesn’t emit outside-world feeling. You take a quick shower, wash your face, and when you step out still angry, you’re quick to make a new game plan.

Once you’re done with your small dose of self care, you stomp into the kitchen for something to eat, hoping that it’ll help curb any further anger coming from you both.

Crackers and cheese, some little slices of fruit which you intend to pair with they jelly you got on your last visit to the city.

You grab the jar and with a deep, frustrated exhale, you grip the cover and try to twist.

When it doesn’t budge, you feel your eye twitch.

You try again, to no avail. You grab the nearest towel in an attempt to get a better grip. No dice.

You sigh, tossing the rag to the side before stalking your way into the living room, grimace etched on your face.

“Can you open this?” You ask, and just as Rintaro pauses the game and tosses his controller aside to reach for the jar, you slip right past him and pass it to Akito, who takes it in his hands to pop open the lid.

With a small grunt he manages to open the lid, passing you the jar with a small smile, “here, ma.”

“Thank you, handsome man,” you hum, blowing him a kiss and blowing a raspberry at Rintaro when you make your way back to the kitchen. There’s a pause of silence, a question you don’t quite catch from your son, and suddenly, you hear your husband jump up from the couch. You smirk. It doesn’t take long before feet quickly pound their way into the kitchen, and a disgruntled Rintaro stands, pouting, in the doorway.

“What. Was that about?”

You shrug softly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” he says, brows furrowed in frustration. “You’re seriously going to use my own creation against me?”

“Your creation?” You scoff in disbelief. “First off, I don’t remember you carrying our two children around for nine damn months. Second of all, our children are not creations. They’re children.”

“Point one,” he begins, quickly walking over to you. “You were hot as fuck carrying around our spawn. Secondly? Last time I checked, our baby machines only worked when together.”

“Feral!” You snap, giving him a grossed out look before turning towards the snacks you’d been making. “Get the hell out of my kitchen, I don’t want you here- HEY!”

Before you can think, Rintaro reaches past you and grabs the jar of jam, quickly raising his arm above his head to get it out of your reach. You would’ve tickled him for it, but the jam was from a small business three cities over. And the fuckhead knew that, and you hate him for it.

“You’re such a pain!” You growl, making a jump for it. You barely come close. Your fingers wrap around his shoulder in an attempt to yank his arm down, but he tightens it up completely to make it immobile. You’re rendered completely helpless to your husbands cruelty.

“Akito!” You call your son in hopes for assistance, snarling up at your husband. Instantly, socked feet slip along the floor, and at the sight of his figure in the doorframe, Rintaro bears his teeth.

“Don’t help your mother, she has to learn a lesson!” He snaps.

You growl back, “don’t listen to your father, you and your sister’s snacks depend on it!” Akito’s green, confused eyes flick back and forth between you both, and if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d think about how absolutely hilarious this is.

Rintaro, in all his 185 cm glory, holding a damned jar of jam above his head, so much so a sliver of his side pokes out from his shirt, and you, crossing your arms childishly after making extreme reaches for the jar.

It’s ridiculous, it’s childish, and it’s perfect for your marriage.

Akito gnaws his lip, “I mean… Ma is the boss, dad-“

“If you scram, I’ll double your allowance this week.”

“Bye mom!”

With the last bit of hope you have, you watch as he skates his way back into the living room, eye twitching in annoyance. “Kaiya wouldn’t betray me like that!”

“She’s three, mom!”

“She’d still help!”

Left to your own pity, you once again make a reach for the jar, only for him to reel his arm back a little bit more. “Give me a break, I have snacks to make,” you say, voice pitched in annoyance and defeat.

“Tell me you won’t go to our son for husband jobs.”

“Tell me you’ll take out the trash when I tell you to!”

“I thought you were throwing it out!”

“Why would you not check!”

“I didn’t think I had to!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll check on your waking daughter,” Akito calls annoyed from the living room, the only thing breaking up your argument.

With a deep, exhausted breath, Rintaro slowly lowers his arm, though still keeping a slight distance between you. “Cant we both say we’re wrong?”

“I’m never wrong,” you snip.

“I know, but for the sake of waking our three year old up, please just cave with me. Please, baby. I’m-“

He’s cut off by your quick lunge for the jar. He yanks it out of the way, and you’re left chasing it like a dog with a treat. You do, however, hear your husband laugh, but it’s not the laughter of victory from a few moments ago.

It’s laughter of adoration.

“I will leave you.”

“Gotta get the jar first.”

You, once again, for the nth time in a row, make a reach for it, but this time, Rintaro’s free arm quickly wraps around your waist to encase you in a hug, and he leans you back into the most ridiculous dip you’ve ever been apart of. You can’t begin to fight your own laughter that bubbles past your lips, fingers instinctively gripping his collar for stability.

Once your titters are finished ringing in the air, he straightens you both up, relaxing as you thunk your head against his chest. The jar gets put down on the counter, and he kisses the crown of your head sweetly as his arms tug you close.

“You’re annoying,” you purr.

He chuckles, “I know.” He closes his eyes and gently breathes in your scent, “and I’m sorry about the trash my love. Even if I thought you took it out, I really should’ve just. Checked.” Long fingers gently smooth up your neck to gently massage the nape, and he hums as you melt like putty against him.

“Now it’s gonna sit,” you pout. “In the trash outside. And it’s gonna smell. And we’re gonna be the house with smelly ass trash.”

“I know,” he repeats, trying not to laugh at your concerns. “I’ll take care of it princess- and worst case scenario, I’ll write letters apologizing to the neighbors for our rotten trash.”

You snort softly against his collarbone as you continue to nuzzle closer, “I’m sorry I went to Akito to open my jar,” you confess, angling your head up at him. He smirks and leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks lovingly.

“You wanna know a secret?” He asks against your lips.

You hum in intrigue.

“I’m pissed because I tightened them all when you were in the shower, so you’d have to talk to me.”

“SERIOUSLY?”

[justauthoring]

naturally [4b]

you fit into their little family perfectly - naturally. -> in which yuji wants his mom (a two part snippet)

a/n: yall i just finished omori for the first time and i am an emotional wreck omg also imma try to get a little christmas snippet out for this series (hopefully lol no promises)!

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader, itadori yuji x f!reader (platonic)

“So, what did you want to do tonight, Yuji-kun?”

There’s a brief pause, no more than a second, then; “watch a movie.”

It causes a small laugh to bubble out of your throat. “Watch a movie? That’s all?” His brows furrow at your words, and kneeling to reach his height properly, you offer a smile. “We have the whole apartment to ourselves. We can do anything. Are you sure you only want to watch a movie?”

Yuji pouts, and instantly the smile fades from your lips in concern. “Yuji-kun?”

His little hands twist in front of him, eyes falling to his feet as his cheeks warm, obviously embarrassed. You’re just not sure at what.

Reaching forward, you lightly brush back his pink, unruly hair, pulling it out of his face so you can see him better. Your warm touch is enough to pull his eyes on you, head tilting back up, the apples of his cheeks still a cute, rosy red, as he hesitates.

“You can tell me, Yuji-kun. It’s okay.”

His lips part, and he struggles for a moment to get the words out. The whole situation is so unlike Yuji that you’re not sure what to say or act–the boy was usually boisterous and loud and confident in every little thing that he said or did. He was the type of kid that didn’t often let others bring him down and you’re not quite sure you’ve ever seen him act so shy before.

“Watching… watching movies with you is my favourite thing.”

Oh.

Oh. 

The smile that curls onto your lips is hard to deny, and you feel yourself burst with warmth as his words register in your mind.

Yuji wasn’t a particularly hard kid to get along with. Despite only being five, he was easy to talk to and was nonchalant in a way that he’d usually just go with the flow without a fuss. Like every kid, he had his moments but ninety-nine percent of the time, he was easy-going in a way that made taking care of a kid you had realistically no idea how to take care of quite easy. 

Yuji was all that but you still struggled to wonder what more you could do.

You didn’t want it to just be easy because it was–you wanted to connect with him in some sort of way. A way that, perhaps, a mother naturally does when she has a child. But Yuji wasn’t your child and you’d never had one, so you didn’t have that natural instinct or that natural connection. You had to earn it, and you didn’t mind that at all but you weren’t sure how.

But hearing him say that?

Saying that he had something he loved doing with you? Only you… well it was enough to make you cry.

Moving your hand to cup Yuji’s cheek, you smile brightly at the point, forcing the tears (tears of happiness) that threaten to fall back–you didn’t want to worry the poor boy after all–and nod. “Okay, Yuji-kun,” you hum, “let’s watch a movie.”

And that’s what you do.

You let him pick the first one without a fuss, a light-hearted childrens movie of course, simply happy to just be there. And as you both settle into the couch for the first movie, a plate of Yuji’s favourite food (rice with some noodles) on a tray in front of you both, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, offering some light commentary on the movie to which he does the same. When the first movie is over, you take a brief pause to clean up the dishes and tidy up and of course, Yuji helps you.

Then, as you settle down for the second movie, the movement of Yuji sinking into your side is done without words. He’s silent as he shuffles over to you on the couch, moving your arm so he can rest his head on your shoulder. You watch him with parted lips and wide eyes, until that same beaming smile from before curls onto your lips and you let yourself ease, wrapping your arm around him in return.

You both stay like that for the entire movie.

Half way through the third one, you chance a glance at the clock, seeing how late it is. Nanami said he didn’t mind keeping Yuji up later for the evening if you wanted, given he didn’t have daycare the next day and you’d promised Yuji he could stay up as late as wanted. But Nanami should be home soon and a quick glance down at Yuji tells you he’s getting sleepy even if he tries to deny it.

His head keeps drooping, falling against your side before he quickly picks it up and his eyes look heavy, threatening to fall shut any moment.

With a quiet hum, you pull Yuji’s attention on you; “do you wanna go to bed?”

His eyes fall on you, panicked; “no, wanna finish the movie.”

And despite your better judgement, you nod, agreeing. But, of course, twenty minutes later, he’s fallen asleep against you and you let out a light laugh as you pause the movie once more. You should tuck him into bed if you don’t want him to wake up with a kink in his neck the next morning, so, shifting with effort not to disrupt the small boy, you scoop him into your arms, letting his head rest against your shoulder. He stays asleep because Yuji’s always been a heavy sleeper, and so you make the short walk over to his bedroom, keeping the lights off in favour of not startling him in any way.

You’re gentle as you set him on the bed, pulling the sheets back and then tucking them securely over his small body. You pull his blanket all the way to his chin, tucking the blanket around him to make sure he doesn’t get cold throughout the night.

Once you’re satisfied, you move to leave, before pausing. Your eyes fall on him once more, taking in the peaceful expression on his face as he sleeps away, and think back to the many times you’ve watched Nanami tuck him into bed at night.

Your body moves on its own, hating the thought of Yuji going to bed thinking he isn’t loved, letting your lips press against his forehead gently as you hum out a soft; “goodnight, Yuji…”

And then, as you’re pulling away, you hear, just faintly, Yuji let out a breathless whisper of; “goodnight, mum…”

Your eyes widen, body freezing. Your gaze flickers to him, thinking he must’ve said the words half asleep, probably thinking it was his actual mother tucking him to bed, but as your eyes meet his, you’re surprised to see his eyes, albeit still tired, staring back at you with a small smile on his face.

He reaches out, grabbing your hand with his small one before pushing himself up, enough so that he can press a kiss against your forehead. “I love you,” he mumbles, voice muffled with sleep, before he lets himself fall back, still smiling as his eyes fall shut once more, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.

You stay there, stunned, for a moment more before the distinctive sound of the front door opening catches your attention, snapping you out of your stupor. You chance a quick glance Yuji’s way again, making sure he’s settled comfortably in bed and still asleep, before you’re pushing yourself up completely, slipping out of his room and letting the door shut behind you quietly.

It’s all a blur as you quickly rush to the front kitchen, where Nanami now is, shoes and jacket off, obviously having been searching for you or Yuji. His eyes fall on you with a blink as you come bounding towards him, the gentle greeting on the tip of his tongue pausing when he sees the tears in your eyes.

Instantly, concern floods his gaze.

“Love?” He calls out, panicked, rushing towards you as he glances around, as if in search for what’s wrong, hands falling on your waist as he brushes back your hair. “What happened? Are you okay? Is Yuji–”

But then you’re smiling–a bright, beaming smile that fills your entire face and leaves Nanami breathless.

“Y/N?”

You grasp his hands in your own, tightly; “he called me mom!”

Nanami’s lips part, before his eyes widen, your words processing in his mind. “Yuji?”

You nod, eagerly. “I was tucking him into bed and I know you usually kiss his forehead goodnight, so I did the same not wanting him to feel unloved going to bed. And as I was pulling away, he whispered ‘goodnight, mom’ in return. At first I thought he might’ve been half asleep, not thinking, but then his eyes were open and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my own forehead,” you touch the stop with your hands, dazed. “And told me he loved me.”

You realize you’re rambling, your words tampering off towards the end as you turn to meet Nanami’s eyes.

He’s smiling in that soft, gentle way you love, moving to cup your cheeks.

“That’s wonderful, love,” he whispers, “I'm so happy for you.”

[worldlxvlys]

Hi! Idk if you take requests but the only thing g I can literally think about is a reader with and oral fixation who literally just wants to suck Matt off 24/7,or like reaching for his fingers while yall are doing it 😩😭. Sorry if this was weird but it’s definitely an idea 😭. Have a lovely day/night 🤍

sweats

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttt, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, cursing, lots of dirty talk

when i arrived at the triplet’s house, matt was the only person i saw.

he was sitting on the couch, man-spreading with his arm across the back of it.

my eyes immediately went to his crotch, noticing that his sweats accentuated the outline of his bulge.

he knew exactly what he was doing.

he smirked up at me as i approached him.

“your brothers home?” i asked as i leaned over him, resting my hands on his thighs.

“nope”

“good. wouldn’t want them to hear the way you whimper my name, would we?” i asked as i sank down onto my knees between his legs.

his chest heaved in anticipation and he stared down at me with wide eyes, “here? what if they come back?”

my hands crept up his thighs, finding their way to the waistband.

“you wanna post slutty pictures like that? i’ll make you cum out here like one” i spoke before tugging his sweats down.

he lifted his hips up quickly, helping me to take them off.

“someone’s eager, huh?” i asked.

he playfully rolled his eyes, “shut up”

i grabbed his clothed dick, making him groan in surprise, “excuse me?”

i squeezed him lightly, making his hips buck up into my hand, “sorry, sorry” he spoke quickly.

i gave him a lick through his boxers, making him whine out.

as he started to get worked up from the teasing, i pulled his boxers down, watching his dick lightly slap his stomach.

i wrapped my hand around his shaft, and my mouth hovered above him.

“been thinkin’ about this pretty cock all day” i spoke, looking up at him through my lashes.

“oh my god” he moaned out at the feeling of my lips brushing against his tip.

i spit onto him, letting my saliva drip down his length.

“wanna feel you in the back of my throat baby” i spoke before i licked his tip lightly.

“fuck” he whispered.

i let my tongue dip into his slit for a second, and he lost it.

“oh my god, oh my- fuck! please, please, need your mouth” he yelled as his fingers gripped the couch under him.

he squirmed and shifted around continuously.

“yeah? fuck my mouth, baby” i spoke before wrapping my mouth around him.

“ohh shit, feels so good” he spoke as he pushed his hips into my mouth, making me take him deeper.

my nose hit his pelvic bone as i felt him deep in my throat.

i took one of his hands in mine, guiding it to my throat.

“oh my god, is that-?” he started, eyes widening when he felt the bulge he created in my throat.

“mmmhmmm” i moaned against him, making him groan out.

his dick fit in my throat perfectly, as though it was made to be there.

i drooled around him slightly as i focused on his base, continuing to deep-throat him.

“you’re so fucking good, always take me so deep” he moaned.

my mouth created wet, dirty slurping noises around him.

i brought one of my hands up to play with his balls, making him cry out.

“i’m cumming! fuck, fuck!” he spoke as he shot his load down my throat.

i took him out of my mouth, replacing it with my hand.

his eyes rolled into the back of his head as i stroked him, my spit helping my hand to glide up and down his length quickly.

“oh my g-god” he whined.

“i want you to remember this moment whenever you put on those sweatpants” i spoke as his legs twitched around me.

“you fit in my hand so perfectly, baby” i told him. he moaned in response.

“are you ok, my love? i can stop if you want”

“no! please, fuck. d-don’t stop!” he yelled.

“i’m so wet right now” i moaned out, twisting my hand around him.

“you make such pretty faces when you cum, baby. could probably get off on that alone” i spoke.

“wanna make you cum too, ma” he whined as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“that’s sweet, baby. but let’s focus on you, okay?” his cock twitched in my hand, as he was close to finishing.

“come on, matt. cum all over my face”

his eyes widened at that, jaw hanging open as his body began to shake.

i held my tongue out as his seed shot out of his tip, landing on my tongue, face, and neck.

“o-ohhhh, shit!” he whimpered as i licked his dick clean and swallowed.

even once my mouth was completely off of him, he shuddered and twitched.

“you did so good for me” i spoke as i cupped his jaw with my hand.

i placed a light peck to his lips and rubbed his arm soothingly.

“ those sweatpants are now my favorite” he spoke, “i will be wearing those every day”

“if you can handle it, then be my guest baby”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

i love you <33

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @annelisseakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @lolll1029

[misojunnie]

KEROSENE 𖣂

there’s a fine line between delusion and reality.

jake sim was your boyfriend. park sunghoon was your best friend. neither knew about each other. you weren’t sure where your heart belonged, and you watch as your life begins to tear in half from the secrecy and guilt. but just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, an earth-shattering secret changes everything.

pairing: bf!jake vs. bsf!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: psychological thriller, horror, love triangle (kinda… you’ll see)

warnings: violence/death, heavily implied mental illness, very psychological, cheating (?) ig, kinda hoon focused….(sorry), enha’s personalities and backstories are not a reflection of reality, it’s just a story

featuring: enhypen

playlist: it was only a dream by joey quinones, S.D.O.S by alex g, back to black by amy winehouse, somebody that I used to know by gotye, I was only temporary by my head is empty, only you (and you alone) by the platters

word count: 9.9k

taglist ! @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @adoredbyjay @theothernads @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee @surrik-i @jwonistic @laurradoesloveu @laylasbunbunny @tmtxtf @shixna606 @kumiwon @heeaxvhhoon

network tags: @kflixnet @k-vanity @k-radio @enhypennetwork

see the trailer.

a/n: hello yall! sorry these fics are taking so long,,,pls still look forward to more, I got a couple lined up! and p.s., look for foreshadowing in this one ;) there’s lots of hints leading up to the plot twist! <3

The flames burned bright, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the crackling fire. The yellow and orange flames flashed like rubies, licking the dark sky, illuminating the beach as you watched them burn. It was like a dance, the way the fire swayed in the wind.

“You okay?” a voice broke you out of your trance as Jake planted a kiss on your cheek. You snapped out of it, smiling up at him as he reached for your hand, clasping it gently in his. He sat down on the sand beside you.

Jake Sim. A year older than you, the sweetest boy you had met in your entire life. He had sparkling eyes full of youth, a smile that could make angels sing, and a calmer temperament than anyone you’d seen in your 20 years of age. You were lucky enough to call him your boyfriend.

You had always been a rather quiet person, but Jake was the opposite. Talkative and popular, he had a seemingly endless amount of friends, many of which threw parties like the one you were at tonight. You grew to enjoy the nights spent at bonfires, house parties, the various celebrations Jake invited you to.

Many people thought you were polar opposites, but that was what made you perfect for each other. You didn’t make friends easily, but he was happy to share his. He wasn’t very emotional, but you didn’t mind coaxing him into confessing what he was feeling. He helped you come out of your shell, you helped him learn to love the peaceful moments. After all, they say opposites attract. And that was certainly true for you.

You had only been dating for a year and a half, but all your friends told you he was the one. And you were beginning to really believe it.

“I’m good.” you replied sweetly. You and Jake’s friends were laughing and dancing boisterously, but you didn’t feel like joining in on the fun. The fire was giving you plenty of company, and an unsettling feeling was creeping into your heart. Maybe it was the Halloween season, or maybe your doubts went deeper than that.

“I’ll sit with you then.” Jake offered kindly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, and you leaned into him gratefully.

You were in love with Jake, you knew that. He was the first thing you thought of in the morning and the last at night, the main topic of all your conversations. He was sweet, thoughtful, smart, funny, and had every quality you ever wanted from a boyfriend. He was perfect, yet somehow, this didn’t feel right. Six months later, and you were beginning to have doubts. You had doubts in all of your past relationships, but none of them were as good as this one. Despite that, something was off. You could feel it.

For now, you tried to put it behind you, letting the fire and Jake’s warm touch comfort you as you watched the dancing flames.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

It was Sunday morning. You were looking forward to a day of no classes, and some alone time. While you loved being with Jake, you had spent everyday together for the past two weeks, and you were craving a little time to yourself.

It was a bit of a drive, but you suddenly wanted to go to your favorite bakery, picking up a fresh baguette to bring home, plus a few pastries for yourself. After that, you visited a nearby park, sitting on a bench alone.

You let the fresh air revitalize you, your hair floating in the breeze. There was hardly anyone in the park, the locals deterred by the fog and biting cold, but you had always enjoyed gloomy weather. You took a croissant out of the ribbon wrapped box, taking a bite and relishing in the peaceful feeling of being alone.

You closed your eyes briefly, and when you opened them, you were put out to discover someone standing before you.

He was extraordinarily good looking; it was the first thing you noticed about him. With his kind eyes, tall stature, and silky dark hair, he looked like an angel appearing out of the fog. He was standing a couple of feet away from the bench you were sitting at, looking at you directly with a soft smile.

“Oh,” you said, startled. “Hi.” You weren’t sure if you were supposed to address him, but he was clearly waiting to say something to you.

“Hi,” he replied. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just liked your shirt.” You looked down at yourself, completely forgetting about your ripped tee. You noticed his neat grey sweater and ironed jeans, wearing a thin silver chain around his neck, and you grew suddenly embarrassed about your messy outfit. He smelled of lilies and fresh paper, the kind of scent that came from a cologne but seemed to be natural.

“You like Amy Winehouse?” you asked, and he nodded excitedly.

“Love her. Valerie was my top song for like, three years in a row.” He seemed eager to share his love of jazz music, and if you were a little more of a senseless person, you could’ve fallen in love right then and there.

“What are the odds?” you said, not sure how to respond. He smiled. Then he held out his hand.

“I’m Sunghoon.” You laughed at the odd gesture, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and his hands were warm.

“Nice to meet you, Sunghoon. I’m y/n.”

“Beautiful name.” he said kindly, and you blushed, which you would never admit. You were hoping this nice stranger only had friendly intentions; if not, you’d have to tell him to go away, and you were beginning to enjoy his sudden company. “Do you go to the college down the road?”

“No, I actually live in the next town over.” you nodded in the direction you had come from. “I just drove here to visit.”

“Alone?” you looked away in embarrassment, and he gestured to the bench. “Can I sit with you?” It was an odd request, and this was a total stranger, but he seemed nice enough. So you accepted, nodding your head. “So, what's so appealing about this little old town that you’d come all the way here?”

“My favorite bakery, and some much needed alone time.” you admitted, and he raised a brow. “I don’t get much time to myself these days.”

“That’s unfortunate. I have the opposite problem.” he said jokingly, and you opened your box of pastries, removing another croissant.

“Well, you have a new friend now.” you handed it to him, and he looked at the offer in surprise, before accepting it with a wide smile.

“Thanks, y/n. I could use a friend right now.” You smiled in response.

It was shocking how easy it was to get along with Sunghoon. Most of the time, you were horribly averse to meeting strangers; you didn’t know how to act, what to say, what to do. But speaking with him was smooth, it felt as if you’d known each other for years. It was almost concerning how familiar he seemed.

At the end of your conversation, when your phone started flooding with texts from Jake, you took your leave. You offered your number to continue talking, but he told you with regret that he didn’t own a phone, a rare and oddly endearing quality. You accepted, standing to walk away.

“Y/n!” he called after you, just as you were about to leave. You turned around, and he waved at you with a smile, his dark hair blowing in the cold wind. “See you around, okay?” You smiled back, waving.

You didn’t know if you’d ever see this familiar stranger again, but you couldn’t help but hope you did. You had never felt a friendship bloom that quickly, and you didn’t want to let go of it. But you would have to leave it up to fate, hoping you would see Sunghoon again soon, wherever or whenever that may be.

You walked away in a significantly better mood, your box of pastries in your hand. As you got into your car, you noticed the ajar lid, reaching to close it, when your brows furrowed. You opened it, noticing that not a single croissant was missing. Not even the one you offered to him, the one you watched him eat as you chatted.

You blew it off, shutting the lid firmly and turning on your stereo, blasting Amy Winehouse as you drove home to your boyfriend.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jake was taking you on a date. Between your busy schedules and booming social lives, it was infrequent that you had time for an actual date. Most of the time, your nights would end in cuddling sessions at your shared house, watching a movie or playing your favorite board games. But today, he had a late lunch reservation for your favorite fancy restaurant, and he insisted that you both dress up in your nicest clothes. You wondered if you had forgotten about an anniversary or event, but he assured you he just wanted to celebrate your relationship.

Sometimes, you wondered how you could’ve gotten this lucky.

You put on Jake’s favorite dress of yours, a red silk dress that reached just below your knees. You hadn’t found an event that suited it in a while, and you were excited to bring it out of retirement.

“You look beautiful.” Jake said, holding your hand as you walked through the streets together. You garnered a lot of attention, a couple as beautiful as you were. Passersby stared, whispering with envy at your youth and glamor.

“You’re being so sweet today.” you giggled, your fingers clutching a single red rose that Jake had brough you, one that matched your dress perfectly.

“We don’t go on fancy dates often.” He kissed your knuckles. “I wanted to make today special.” Your heart filled up with fire as you smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Your lipstick lingered there, and you considered wiping it off for a moment, before deciding not to. You thought it suited him.

You were actually happy. Finding joy in relationships had always been hard for you; your brain decided to shut them down somehow. Whether going ghost, shutting down, even firing off a quick apathetic text, you found a way to escape your happiness. You weren’t sure why. But you were finally ready to retire from being a heartbreaker; Jake was really the only one you needed.

From behind your boyfriend, you caught a flash of something familiar. The scent of lilies, a grey sweater, silky black hair.

You craned your neck to get a better look, Jake watching you in confusion as you waited for him to turn towards you. He glanced at something, his face turning just a couple of inches, and it was indeed Sunghoon. His sharp nose, wide eyes, you’d recognize that face anywhere, it was the one you were hoping to see for days on end.

Jake followed your gaze, turning back to you in puzzlement.

“What are you looking at?” Upon his words, you shook yourself out of your trance, shaking your head with a smile.

“Oh, I just thought I saw someone I knew.” Jake nodded in relief, his grip on your hand growing a bit tighter as you continued to walk, Sunghoon left behind as the two of you fled the scene.

You wanted to reconnect with Sunghoon, but Jake was here, and he was more important to you. For now, you’d just have to hope that you’d see him again, in another time, another place.

As you walked away, Sunghoon turned around, his eyes following as you and Jake walked down the street, the red silk of your dress flashing under the afternoon sun.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jake was paying the bill for your meal. By now, the sun was beginning to set, fading slowly behind the horizon as the sky grew pink and orange. You had stepped out of the restaurant for a smoke break, waiting for him as you lit a burning cigarette. The flame of your lighter danced in the wind, swaying side to side before you put it out. Jake was trying to convince you to quit smoking, but old habits die hard, and you were craving a moment of peace.

Your eyes landed on the sidewalk, watching the fall wind sweep golden leaves across the pavement as you took another drag.

“You’re a smoker?” You startled at the sound of a sudden voice, but that surprise melted into delight when you saw who spoke to you.

“Oh, Sunghoon! I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He shrugged in response, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Must be my lucky day.” he replied, a smile on his face, one that you mirrored. You reached down to put out your cigarette, but he waved for you to stop. “No need to stop. I don’t mind.”

“Are you a smoker?” you asked, bringing it to your lips for another drag, and he watched you do so, seeming indifferent to your question.

“Not quite. But I don’t mind if you do it in front of me.”

“Most people hate it.” you chuckled, finishing your cigarette and putting it out on the sole of your heeled shoes. “I suppose the smell is a bit off putting.”

“I disgaree. I like the smell of smoke. It’s relaxing.” Sunghoon shrugged, and a smile grew on your face as you crossed your arms.

“I agree.” You found that it was, yet again, incredibly easy to talk to him. You’d only met twice, but you and Sunghoon already had a lot in common. Your taste in music, pastries, and your partiality to cigarette smoke were only a few of your many interests you’d discussed that seemed strikingly similar.

“So, what are you dressed up for?” he asked, and you were reluctant to answer. “Seems like a special occasion.”

“I suppose it is.” you said mysteriously, and he smiled. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Jake’s dusty blond hair through the glass window as he collected his coat from the back of his chair. “I gotta go. But it was nice talking to you, again.” Both of you chuckled at that, and he stepped back to allow you room as you walked back to the door of the restaraunt.

“See you around.” he said, reminiscent of the first time you met, a grin on his face that almost looked childlike with eagerness. You smiled.

“See you around.”

And for the second time, you prayed that you would see your new friend again.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

After your recent encounter, you began seeing Sunghoon everywhere. In an empty aisle at the grocery store, the street behind your college, even in the area near where you lived. At first you considered that he might be following you, your meetings were so random and frequent, but he confessed at random that he didn’t live in the next town over after all. He lived in your town, not disclosing where, but telling you he was seemingly very close.

You began to enjoy your interactions with him more and more, your friendship growing stronger every day. You told him your genuine thoughts, and he gave you genuine advice. You didn’t often feel comfortable sharing things about yourself with people, but he weaseled his way into your mind almost concerningly easily. Other than Jake, he was the only person you felt like you could truly be yourself around. It was unheard of for you, knowing someone for only a month and feeling this comfortable around it. But you quickly transformed from strangers to the closest of friends.

Today was one of the lazy days where the two of you would lounge on the grass on your front lawn, sipping on coffee to warm yourselves in the cold. Well, you did; Sunghoon wasn’t fond of coffee. You had never invited him inside your house, it seemed too intimate of a line to cross while you had a boyfriend, who wasn’t home at the moment.

A boyfriend you still hadn’t told him about. But he hadn’t asked, so you assumed it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Are you worrying about something?” Sunghoon asked, laying on his back in the dewy grass. You were reading a book beside him while he stared at the gray sky.

“How did you know?” you asked, bemused, and he chuckled.

“I know everything going on in your head.” You nudged him in the shoulder, and he rolled over playfully, turning to his stomach.

“Maybe.” you replied vaguely, and he sat up on his elbows.

“What are you worrying about?” You didn’t respond.

You wanted to tell him about Jake, you really did. It’s not like you were embarrassed, or you wanted to hide him. You loved Jake, you’d be proud to tell anyone that. But you had this creeping feeling that it would affect your friendship, that Sunghoon wouldn’t be fond of knowing about him. Not in a romantic sense, no, you knew Sunghoon had no feelings for you, just as you had none for him. It was just a sinking dread.

“It doesn’t matter.” he said after a minute, rolling back onto his back, looking up at the sky as the clouds moved through the mist. “I bet I already know.”

“And why would you know?” you asked, your voice amused as you turned the page of your book. He grinned, but you didn’t see it.

“I told you. I know everything going on in your head.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were acting differently, and Jake could tell from a mile away.

He knew you, and he knew your heart. He could tell when something was bothering you, when you were unusually excited, he detected every minor shift of emotion. But lately, he couldn’t put his finger on what was happening.

You were spending less time with him. You used to be one of those inseparable couples that spent all their time together, but now you were ditching him for study sessions, meetings with friends, excessive alone time. You barely shared things with him anymore; it was like your emotions were all dried up by the time you got home. You were affectionate, but it seemed thoughtless. Jake didn’t want to pry into your business, but he knew he had to find out the cause of your sudden change.

Because not only did Jake know when your emotions changed, he also knew when you were lying to him.

You had just left for a day to yourself, and Jake grabbed his keys from the coffee table, running to his car once he knew you had left for certain. He didn’t want to follow you, that was for certain, but he was terrified that the secret you were keeping from him was big. Maybe as big as infidelity.

His old car crept around the corner, slowly following you from the back of the empty street as you walked. Your headphones were in, and he prayed you wouldn’t turn back and recognize his car. The pit in his stomach grew enormously when you turned the corner, heading towards the busier streets. He followed.

Jake parked, watching with suspicion as you walked into a busy coffee shop. He leaned over the wheel from across the street, squinting his eyes to make you out from the crowd as you sat down at a small table, your coffee table.

He stayed there for nearly an hour, just watching. Waiting for someone to come meet you, a man, as he feared. But nobody came, just you alone at that small table, sipping your coffee.

He sighed, turning his car back on, a flood of relief and guilt consuming him as he pulled out of his spot, heading back home. Maybe you weren’t cheating, maybe you weren’t lying to him. He drove back home, his knuckles blanching as he gripped the wheel tightly, turning back onto your street.

But despite his relief, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

It was day 365 of knowing Park Sunghoon. The year had gone by in a flash, but it seemed almost too short. To you, it felt like you had known Sunghoon your entire life.

You spent a lot of time together. Attempting to fit him and Jake into your schedule proportionately had proven to be hard, but Sunghoon always managed to show up when you least expected it, yet exactly when you were thinking about him. Sometimes you wondered if he could read your mind, he knew you so well.

365 days had passed, and he began feeling more like your best friend with every day.

Today, you were at the park you first met at. Coincidentally, you had happened to be craving your favorite croissants, and Sunghoon, who conveniently showed up to your dorm just beforehand, had come with you. Now, you were sitting on a park bench, croissants in hand, eating and chatting as the sun began to set.

Dozens of people walked by, but they didn’t seem to pay any attention to either of you. As you watched a pair of twenty-something girls walk past, you wondered why girls never noticed your exceptionally handsome best friend. Maybe getting a girlfriend would be good for him. You wanted him to experience the same happiness that you had with Jake, who you were realizing you hadn’t seen in a while.

“Why don’t girls ever notice you?” you said without thinking, and Sunghoon snorted, setting down his croissant.

“Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not how I meant it.” you said defensively, and he smiled in amusement. “I mean, you’re tall, handsome, sweet. Girls should be all over you.”

“Well, you’re not.”

“That’s different.” you said cynically. “I’m your best friend.” He looked at you seriously, and you shrugged. “What?”

“Nobody knows I exist except for you.” You met his serious gaze, before laughing, and he smiled in response.

“You’re so weird.”

“I’m totally serious. Nobody notices me but you.” It was a strange thing to hear, but it was seemingly true. When you were with Sunghoon, nobody really seemed to notice him, to even see him. He was enormously skilled at fading into the background, going unnoticed by passersby. As he had told you, you were the only friend he had, which only made him more endearing in your mind. You had always had issues making friends, and with your main company being your outgoing boyfriend, it was nice to know someone who went through the same struggle.

Sunghoon was Jake’s complete opposite; he was much more like you. His dark hair contrasted Jake’s dusty blond. He was calm and quiet with a strange sense of humor, not constantly joyous and amused like Jake. In moments when Jake would’ve laughed, he frowned. When Jake would’ve frowned, he laughed.

“And why is that?” you finally replied, and he smiled mysteriously.

“That’s for you to find out.” You snorted, shouldering your bag as you got to your feet, brushing off your pants. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I should start heading home.” you said, checking the time on your watch and disappointed to see it was 7:45. You had plans with Jake at 7:30, and he wasn’t going to be pleased if you were any later than you already were. “Do you need a ride?” Sunghoon shook his head, leaning back against the bench as he looked up at you.

“No. I’ll make my way home.” You cocked your head at him, chuckling as you turned around, waving him goodbye.

“Suit yourself.” you said, and he waved at you as you walked down the street towards your parked car, a few blocks away, eager to get home to Jake before you miss more of your quality time. As you walked, you turned suddenly, gazing down the street at the park bench you had been just a moment before.

Sunghoon was gone.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

“You’re late.” Jake grumbled as you met him outside your home, a sheepish grin on your face. His hands were on his hips, but his disgruntled attitude faded when you pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, and he rested his hands on your waist. “What took you so long.”

“I got caught up with a friend. I hope I’m not too late.” you said, and he smiled, taking your hand as he led you down the driveway onto the sidewalk.

“Better late than never. Ready to go?” you nodded, and you began to walk, heading towards your favorite diner. You both had cars, but you preferred to walk. It allowed for more talking, more eye contact, more intimacy. It felt more real.

“You look really handsome today.” you said, pressing a hand against Jake’s cheek as he immediately grew warm at your compliment. Two years after you’d started dating, and sometimes you still made him feel like a schoolboy with a crush. He smiled with lovesickness.

“Mm, really?”

“Really.” you said, and he pressed a kiss to your lips, your hands swinging together in unison as you held them all the way to the middle of town.

You knew you loved each other, more than anything in the world. And virtually nothing could make you doubt that, or doubt each other. But what you didn’t know was that someone was watching you.

Sunghoon stared unrelentingly as you and Jake walked together. He walked twenty paces behind or so, his footsteps silent, so soft that not even grass bent upon him stepping on it. He watched as you talked, laughed, kissed, reveled passionately in each other's love. It was enviable, he thought.

As you shifted onto busier streets, he followed. Not a single passerby or stranger turned to look at him, nobody noticed as he weaved intricately through the busy crowds, following you and Jake who stumbled through them clumsily. He went completely undetected by everyone, even by you and your boyfriend. He was right when he said nobody noticed him but you; outside of you, his existence meant absolutely nothing.

He watched from outside the diner as you and Jake sat by the windows, sharing a milkshake with two straws like the cliche you were. You assumed Sunghoon didn’t know about your boyfriend; in fact, you’d been purposefully keeping it from him. But of course he knew about your boyfriend, as well as his name, as well as everything else there was to know about him. Sunghoon knew everything about you, and that even included your cheesy, hopelessly romantic boyfriend. As you laughed at Jake’s milk mustache, you looked happier than you’d ever been. Sunghoon frowned.

He knew he had to shut down that happiness somehow, he just wasn’t sure how to. Yet.

He eventually grew tired of seeing you smiling at your boyfriend, sharing meals and stories as the two of you laughed. It began to rain, but the falling droplets never touched his head, and he turned around to walk back home, to wait for you.

To wait for the next time you called for him.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Burn.

Burn.

Burn.

Let it all burn.

You awoke with a start, sweat matting your hair to your forehead. You sat up in bed, wiping the sweat off your face, looking beside you, flooded with relief when Jake was sleeping beside you peacefully.

You were having a nightmare. Your house was on fire and it was raging, the flames seemingly reaching the heavens as it slowly burned to a crisp. The fire was pulling you in, and for a moment you almost walked inside the burning building, until you heard Jake screaming. You snapped out of whatever trance you were in, running to the front of the house where the sound was coming from. In your front yard, Jake was bleeding, pools of blood surrounding him as he went still. And standing above him was Sunghoon, a bloody smile on his face as he slowly turned to you.

The image of his evil expression was burned into your memory, and you shook your head, carding a hand through your hair as you checked the time on the clock. It was 3:00 in the morning, but you knew you couldn’t go back to bed.

You crept out of bed as quietly as you could, careful not to wake your sleeping boyfriend as you pulled a sweater over your pajamas, walking down the stairs as they creaked, the sounds muffled underneath your slippers.

The cold morning breeze bit at you as you stepped out the front door, careful to lock it behind you. You were hoping a walk and a cigarette would help to clear your mind and calm you down.

You weren’t the type to be freaked out by nightmares, but this one felt hauntingly real. You could feel the warmth of the fire as your house went up in flames, the pure fear as Jake’s screams rang through the empty night. You tried to ignore it, lighting a cigarette and propping it in the corner of your mouth as you wandered the streets.

In your mindless wandering, you found yourself at a grassy park, ten or so streets down from your house. Nobody was here at this hour, and you walked through the trees and playgrounds until you reached a grassy hill that contained a familiar face.

You raised a brow in surprise as you watched Sunghoon sitting at the top of the hill, his back resting against a tree as he read a book, flipping the pages casually.

“What are you doing here? It’s 3 am.” you called to him, taking a drag when he turned to look at you and smiled.

“I don’t sleep.” he replied, his attention shifting back to his book. You climbed the hill slowly, your cigarette propped in your mouth as your slippers grew stained with the green dewy grass.

“What are you, a vampire?” you joked, sitting down beside him when you reached the top. You were hesitant to talk to him after your dream, but you did regardless, his hand reaching out to take a hit from your cigarette, his smile just as vivid as it was in your nightmare. You tried to brush it off. It was just a dream, after all.

“Not a vampire, no.”

“What are you reading?” you asked, and he shut the book, showing you the cover.

“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” he replied, and you nodded at him, impressed as you took your cigarette back from his hands.

“Ken Kesey. Nice.” He shrugged.

“It’s interesting. The main character hallucinates all kinds of shit.” You snort.

“I’ve read it.” He smiled, tucking the book away behind him. That smile, which had once seemed so pure, seemed malicious through the lens of your dream.

“I know.” You both grow silent, the sound of burning ash and your breathing being the only sounds in the quiet morning. The two of you watched the grass sway in the wind, completely undisturbed by the presence of other people.

“We run into each other a lot.” you said finally, Sunghoon turning to look at you. You were pensive, your cigarette burning out in your hand until the ash reached your fingers, and you crumbled it in your hand. “Do you sometimes wonder if we can read each other’s minds?” Sunghoon leaned back, closing his eyes against the breeze.

“I’ve never wondered that. I’ve always known it.” You looked at him, your brows drawn as you nudged him with your elbow, him laughing in response.

“You’re pretty strange, you know.”

“You’re pretty strange too. That’s why we like each other.” You couldn’t argue with that, so you didn’t. You just leaned back against the trunk of the tree, your shoulders touching as you and Sunghoon sat in silence, watching the sun slowly rise in the horizon.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jake was saying something to you, but you weren’t listening. Lately, you’d been having a hard time focusing on just about anything.

Your nightmare was persisting, coming back to haunt you every night. Ever since that first dream, your mind had been preoccupied with the image of that fire. The fear you felt in your dream crept up on you in your waking hours, the image of Sunghoon’s face burned into your eyes every time you closed them. And it certainly didn’t help that he’d been showing up more than usual, taking more of your time away from things that mattered, like the man in front of you.

You found that you were thinking about Sunghoon more than often. For the past year, he had been your best friend and nothing more, but now, you weren’t sure. His silky hair and mysterious smile kept you up at night, and the gleaming blood on his face as he smiled woke you up in the morning. There was something about him; you couldn’t explain it, but he drew you in just as strongly as that fire in your dream. And the guilt you felt for thinking about him so often was doing nothing to improve your mood, or your relationship.

“Y/n? Are you listening?” Jake asked frustratedly, snapping in your face. You came out of your trance, startling awake as you dropped the tea bag you were holding, the one that had been steeping in your tea for more than a couple minutes now. You threw it into the trash, your angry boyfriend following you as you sat down at the dining table. “I swear you don’t even listen to me anymore.”

“I’m trying to, Jake.” you said, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t even remember what you had been talking about, why he was mad at you in the first place.

“For the past week, you’ve barely spoken to me,” he said. Jake was rarely angry, almost never, but you could hear the resentment in his voice. “You don’t even look at him half the time when we’re together.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You felt hazy.

“Where are you going at dawn every morning?” Your gaze snapped to him, and his eyes were filled with a flurry of emotion; hurt, anger, sadness. “Every morning, you wake up at 3:00 and leave. You think I haven’t noticed?”

“I’ve been having nightmares. They wake me up.” you dismissed him, taking a sip of your tea and finding it had grown cold during your argument.

“You’re not cheating on me?”

“God, no, Jake.” you said, rubbing your forehead in frustration. “I’m just…I’m just confused right now.”

“Then please, tell me what’s going on!” he said, gesticulating in annoyance. “You won’t even speak to me lately. We used to talk all the time.” You considered telling him about Sunghoon, but this was not the time, nor place. It would only make him angrier, and you hated fighting with Jake more than anything.

“I can’t have this conversation right now.”

“Well, when are we going to have it? I mean, do you even love me anymore? You’ve been avoiding me nonstop.”

The past you would’ve fled, would’ve told yourself that this wasn’t worth the conflict and decided to run. You were used to running, but you were tired of it. The new you loved Jake, and you would get through whatever was stopping your relationship, regardless of how hard it was. And you knew you were the one to blame.

“Of course I love you. I’m sorry.” you said, standing up and abandoning your tea on the table. “I’m just going through a weird spot right now, and it’s hard to explain.” You placed a hand on Jake’s face, and he immediately softened. “Soon, I’ll tell you everything. I promise. I’m just in my own head right now.” He put his hand over yours, smiling tightly but accepting what you said, despite how much it hurt his heart to see you struggle in silence.

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine.” He pressed a kiss onto your hand. “And next time you have nightmares, please, wake me up. I’m happy to keep you company in the morning when you can’t sleep.” You smiled, kissing his cheek as you released him, grabbing your mug of tea and dumping it in the sink.

“How did I get so lucky?” Jake grinned at that, walking with you to the kitchen just to hold your hand, walking you to the living room as the two of you cuddled up on the couch together.

You tried to put it out of your head, but something was off. That little, self-sabotaging part of your brain was screaming, begging to be released, and you knew that somehow, it would manifest itself eventually.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Burn.

Burn.

Let it all burn.

Flames were eating away at your bed, and you stood in the doorway as it burned. The fire consumed the walls, your house and all its belongings being consumed by golden flames licking the sky with their enormous size. You watched as your closet, then the bed sheets, then the clock on your nightstand table reading 3:00 am. The fire spread until your room was consumed whole. The house was burning down. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Wake up!” a voice screamed, and you recognized it to be Jake’s through your trance. “Y/n, wake up!” You were confused, turning around to see him behind you, tugging at you, shaking your shoulders with vigor. There was desperation in his eyes, his eyebrows drawn as he shouted at you, desperately pulling, but you wouldn’t budge.

Shouldn’t he be dead by now? This wasn’t how the dream was supposed to go.

“Y/n, wake up!”

Something snapped, and suddenly you were awake, but the house kept burning. Wrathful fire ate away at the furniture and your bed, the walls beginning to collapse in on themself as the house moaned with the effort of keeping itself upright. The house shook, the walls caving in, Jake standing behind you in his pajamas, shocked awake, desperately trying to pull you away.

“Please, we have to get out! Now!”

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” you murmured, still in a sleepy haze. “Am I dreaming?” But it didn’t seem like a dream, no, it was all too real. Your house was on fire, and you began to cry, tears streaming down your face as you stared at your burning bedroom, paralyzed with grief.

Jake pulled violently on your arm, leading you out of the bedroom and through the house. It was full of fire, your staircase burning the bottoms of your feet as you both ran to the front door, flames licking your skin until you finally made it outside.

“What just happened?” you asked, your voice trembling as you both watched your house burn down, the framework being the only thing left. The fire let out a roar, the roof creaking before it crashed in on itself, the walls crumpling to the floor. The flames ate at the grass, igniting your yard and everything around, the ravenous fire slowly spreading across the ground. Somehow, only your house was the one ignited. Nothing else. “How…how did this happen?”

“I don’t know.” Jake replied mournfully, and you began to cry, your shoulders shaking as sobs wracked through your body, and Jake held you close, tears running down his cheeks as well.

You both watched the house you had so dutifully loved, and the relationship you’d made inside of it, burn to the ground, turned to ash and dust. It was all lost. And you knew it had something to do with you, the dreams you’d been having.

Somehow, you had this creeping feeling that the man with the bloody smile, the man who haunted your dreams, was at fault.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

The police said the fire was likely due to a pilot light and an excess of gas, some logical, reasonable explanation, but you weren’t listening. Jake was nodding along to their long-winded speech, but you were staring off into the distance, eyes zoned out on the wall of the police station where you sat.

You felt Jake grasp your hand, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin, but you were too enraged to even feel it. Sunghoon was at fault for this. You knew it. Your brain had been warning you, sending you fire-filled nightmares until they finally became reality. It was his fault. It was his fault.

And you were going to find him.

“Smoke break.” you muttered when your boyfriend and the police looked at you questioning, standing up in the middle of their explanation with your fists tightly clenched. You strode out, Jake covering for you, telling the police you were a smoker, you were stressed, all the things they wanted to hear. Their voices went silent as the door closed behind you and you walked right out of the station, not sure where you were going but knowing you’d run into him somewhere. You always did.

“Are you looking for me?” Sunghoon said, and you shrieked at the sound of his voice, startled. You had walked nearly five streets away, to that empty park you had seen him in just a couple of days previously, and there he was, sitting against the same tree at the top of the hill. You slowly walked up to him.

“Sunghoon.” your voice trembled as you spoke, with anger or fear, you weren’t sure. “Was it your fault?” He cocked his head at you, shutting his book.

“Was what my fault?” You shook your head at him.

“You know what I’m talking about. You always know. So tell me, was the fire your fault?” For a minute he didn’t respond, until his lips spread into a crooked grin, and you felt a shiver of fright run down your spine. You had never been scared of Sunghoon, not since you met him that day on the street, but now you felt pure fear when you looked into his eyes. That haunting smile had come to life, from your dreams into your reality, and although there was no blood, you could feel it in the way he looked at you.

“You ruined everything.” you said quietly, your shoulders trembling. “My house is gone. Burned to the ground.”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you actually cared about that house.” He stood, and you backed away from him, stumbling down the hill as he pressed towards you. “Or is it Jake that you’re really worried about?”

“What?”

“Don’t play games. I know about your boyfriend, I’ve known since the day we met.” You never told him about Jake, you were certain you had never slipped up.

“Have you been following me?” you asked, confused and frightened, and he smiled again, that same bloody smile.

“I don’t need to. I told you, I know everything about you.”

“I’m done with this. You’re crazy.” you said with finality, dizzy with rage and fear as you turned and walked away from him, your slow pace turning into a run as you sought to be as far from him as possible.

“No, I’m not. You are.” he called after you, but you didn’t hear it, running against the wind as the sun just began to come up, peeking over the cloudy horizon.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You didn’t see Sunghoon for a while after that. You and Jake rented a studio apartment at the edge of town, it being the only thing you could afford after you lost all the money that was tied up in the house. You were both depressed, but at least you were together.

Sunghoon’s actions weighed heavy on your mind. You didn’t tell Jake that he was the one to blame for the fire, you were afraid of how he would react. If you revealed you had been keeping Sunghoon a secret for this long, he might blame you for the house burning down, and where would you go from there? You had already lost your best friend, and you weren’t willing to lose your boyfriend too.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Jake said quietly. He was sitting on the couch, head in his hands, as he usually did when he had nothing to distract him. “You’re keeping something from me.” You didn’t respond, because you knew he was right. You were keeping something from him, something enormous, and it was eating away at you. “You won’t talk, you’re smoking more than usual, you’re withdrawn-”

“My house just burnt down, Jake.”

“It was my house too.” he said sharply, and you didn’t reply. You could feel a distance growing between you and Jake, getting wider with every day, and you didn’t know how to fix it. You were desperate to resolve this issue, but how could you tell him that you were to blame for the fire being lit?

“Tell me about your nightmares.”

“What?’ you said, your brows lifting in surprise. He looked up at you, his eyes pleading with you for any kind of response, something he could work with.

“You said you were having nightmares. Tell me about them.”

You didn’t want to, not at all, it would make you have to explain everything to him. But you owed him that, so you sat beside him. And you told him.

“Our house burnt down in your dream? Every night?” he asked, in shock that you could’ve predicted what happened. “And I died?”

You swallowed down your guilt. You kept out the part where Sunghoon was the one to kill him, just saying he had died somehow, but lying to him out loud felt much more horrible than just keeping things from him.

“Yeah. I don’t know why, it just happened.” You expected him to yell, to blame you, to say anything, but he didn’t. He just nodded, like he understood, and you heaved a breath of relief.

“Okay. Okay, I get it.” He abruptly stood, grabbing his keys, and you looked at him with confusion. “I’m going on a drive to clear my head. I’ll be back.”

As he said it, he walked out the door, and you prayed that he was right, that he really was going to come back.

After all the occasions of lying to him, it was Jake’s turn to lie to you. He attemped to keep the wheel steady as he searched for a psychologist, anyone who might be able to give him an answer about what was going on with you. He felt guilty, but that guilt began to slowly disappear as he pulled into the garage of a towering building, walking into the lobby and attempting to find someone who could help him. The secretary led him into a white room, a man sitting at a desk who smiled at him warmly, a kind gesture he was happy to receive.

“Jake? Sit down.” the man said, and Jake sat. “I’m Dr. Yang, but you can call me Jungwon if that makes you more comfortable.”

Jake nodded nervously, looking around the room, scared of the stale, white appearance. It was frightening, an unfamiliar territory that felt foreign to him. He felt like he was selling you out, like he was putting your fate into the hands of another person, but he couldn’t help it. He knew he had to do something.

“So,” Dr. Yang said, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. Jake gulped with anticipation, a mix of fear and guilt running through his veins as the psychologist’s judging eyes landed on him, narrowed. “Tell me about your girlfriend.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were wandering around town, as you had often been doing. It’s not like you had anything better to do, with Jake busy and your mind distracting you from getting any work done. There was a flurry of thoughts running through your head, a synthetic blur of fire, blood, and everything you wanted to suppress. It was overwhelming you.

You were on an empty street. You found that lately you wanted to avoid running into other people. You didn’t want to hear their conversations, see their judging eyes, no, you wanted to be alone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Sunghoon said, and you nearly jumped in fright. His ability to seemingly come out of nowhere was jarring, and it was beginning to frighten you. Not only did he appear whenever you wanted to see him the least, he always knew exactly where you were. Every minute of the day, down to the exact location. How was that possible?

When you recognized him, you narrowed your eyes, turning away and walking as fast as you could. With long strides, he easily caught up to you.

“What? Are you ignoring me?

“I don’t want to see you ever again.” you spat back at him, and he seemed amused by your vitriolity, eyes crinkingly up into humorous crescents.

“Oh, don’t you get it?” he smiled, and you felt that same fear run up your spine, the fear you felt when you first confronted him about lighting the fire. With every day, he was becoming more like the man you saw in your dream and less like your best friend. “You can’t get rid of me.”

“Please, just go away.” you said, your angry voice tinged with desperation, pleading with him to leave you alone so you could return to the peaceful life you used to have, and for a moment, it looked like he almost pitied you.

“Why? Did I cause problems between you and Jake?” You whipped around, furious that he was still able to read your mind in moments like this.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“So I was right. I am causing issues between the two of you.” he seemed happy at the prospect of his meddling, and that only made you more concerned, watching the way his smile grew. “Exactly as I expected.”

“Stay away from him.”

“I can’t guarantee that.” He was the exact vision you saw in your dream, smiling with malice and hatred like you had never seen in a human face. You feared for Jake’s life. If Sunghoon had managed to make your fiery nightmare come to life, who was to say he wouldn’t kill Jake as well? Maybe your mind was trying to warn you about him, to tell you what he was going to do next.

“Please, don’t hurt him.”

“Don’t worry. If he dies, it won’t be me that kills him.” You didn’t understand what he was saying and you didn’t want to, so you walked away, refusing to speak as tears began running down your face. Luckily, this time he didn’t follow. You turned to see him staring at you, that smile on his face.

Maybe you were to blame, for blindly trusting a stranger. Sunghoon had managed to worm his way into your brain. He knew you inside out; your behavior, your thoughts, he almost knew you better than you knew yourself. He was living inside your mind. He had infected every part of your life, even your dreams, and you were suddenly wishing that you had never let him sit down next to you on that bench a year ago.

When you looked back at him again, he was gone.

You ran back to your apartment as quickly as you could, praying that Jake was back from his drive. You were relieved to see him safe and sound, sitting on the couch. But something was off; he was staring at the wall, completely silent, his eyes glazed as he clutched a half-empty beer in his hand.

“Jake?” He turned to the sound of your voice. “Is everything alright?” He didn’t respond for a minute, like his brain was processing your question.

“I’m fine.” he said after a moment, turning back to the wall, staring at the peeling wallpaper with rigor. Unable to turn his attention to you.

That night, you went to bed with a heavy heart and a buzzing brain. You were grateful to see that Jake had climbed into bed next to you as usual, but you were much too scared to sleep, no, you were afraid to even close your eyes. You watched the new clock beside your bed as the hours flew by, and suddenly it was 2:30 am. You still hadn’t fallen asleep.

You buried yourself further under the covers, Jake’s light snoring comforting you as you tried desperately to get to sleep. But your mind was racing. It was a flurry of images, most of them Sunghoon. You rolled over towards your bedside table, reaching for the bottle of sleeping pills your boyfriend had bought you in hopes of easing your vivid nightmares. You popped one in your mouth, swallowing it dry before you closed your eyes, praying for the sweet feeling of sleep.

As you drifted off, you stared into the image of Sunghoon’s bloody face carved into the back of your eyelids.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You awoke with a start. The house was completely silent, no evidence of anything that could’ve woken you from your sleep, but you were on high alert. Your heart raced as you looked around the room, falling on the empty space next to you in bed. You immediately sat up in bed, searching the room with your eyes.

“Jake?” you whispered, and heard no response. You slowly got up, your feet padding softly across the floor as you came around the bed. As you stepped forward, you felt your skin grow wet. When you looked down, you were horrified to see the source.

Blood. Red and thick streaks of it running across the floor, leading from your bed to the door to your bedroom, which was slightly ajar. The door you remembered firmly shutting before you went to sleep.

Your heart felt like it was burning in your chest, buzzing with fear as you followed the trail of blood, a sob escaping you when you saw it ran down the staircase, and you clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Jake?” you said again, calling out for him, your voice breaking as it rang empty in the night. He didn’t reply. You dialled 119 on your phone, your hands shaking as it rang. “Hello?”

“119, what’s your emergency?” a voice answered on the other side, and you trembled, slowly descending the blood soaked stairs.

“There’s blood all over my house. I…I think someone killed my boyfriend.” you said, your voice cracking as you broke into a sob, clapping a hand over your mouth to silence yourself. “Please, please hurry.” You followed the blood further, a horrible, debilitating sense of deja vu striking you as it led to the front yard. You prayed this wasn’t true, that it was just another cruel dream, but it felt as real as anything.

“We’re sending units to your location. Stay where you are, we’ll be there soon.” You wanted to listen, to follow instructions, but you dropped your phone, the call ending when you saw what was waiting for you in the front yard.

The closer you got, the more you could see that it was Jake, laying in the grass, his mouth and eyes open in a silent plea. His right fist was clenched shut, and he was covered in blood, and you abandoned all caution to run to him, collapsing onto the ground, blood wetting your dress and your hands as you cradled him in your arms.

This couldn’t be true. You’d had this dream over and over, night after night, but you never thought it would become your reality. You felt like your entire world was shattering. You had lost Jake, you had lost him permanently, and it was all your fault, for welcoming a stranger.

“I told you.” Sunghoon said, his voice quiet as he stood behind you, watching you hold Jake’s body as you sobbed. You could barely address him, too concerned with grief. “I told you he’d die.”

“This is all your fault.” you said, your voice shaking with fear, anger, grief, all the emotions you could imagine were running through you at one time. “I never should’ve befriended you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have a choice.” Sunghoon said, kneeling next to you, his hands resting on his knees. The sound of sirens began to ring through the air, blue and red light shining across the street as cop cars pulled up in front of your house. “We didn’t meet that day. I’ve always been with you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, but he didn’t respond.

He got to his feet, his eyes dark and filled with pity as police officers ran out of their cars and towards you, straight past Sunghoon. You pointed to him, eyes wild as they looked at you, then the direction of your finger.

“That’s him! He killed my boyfriend!”

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to let go of the body.” They ignored you, prying Jake out of your hands. Sunghoon watched as they dragged you away from Jake, inspecting his body while you screamed at them, pleading with them to catch the killer, to arrest him for what he had done to your boyfriend. You still didn’t understand. It was almost pitiful.

You were still screaming and pleading when an officer approached you, a note in his hand, almost illegible through the sheen of blood that covered it.

“Are you y/n?” he asked, and you only cried harder, which seemed to confirm his question. He raised the note, displaying it to you, and you attempted to read it through your tears, your eyes going dry when you processed it.

Y/n killed me.

It was Jake’s handwriting, you knew it. After two years, you’d recognize his handwriting anywhere, the distinctive scribble, the way the letter y looped at the tail. Your heart felt like it would stop in your chest as the officer stared at you scrutinizingly.

“You’re under arrest.”

“What? No, you don’t understand.” you said desperately, struggling against the rough hands of the officer as he attempted to cuff you, wriggling desperately. “I didn’t kill him, Sunghoon did! He killed him!” you screamed, pointing at the dark haired man standing in the shadows, watching.

The more you looked at him, the more you realized that you didn’t know anything about him. Sunghoon always had the ability to read your mind, but you couldn’t name a single thing about him apart from what you had in common. Where did he live? What was his last name? What was his family like? Where did he go to school, where did he work? You couldn’t recall anything, and your eyes widened in terror as he stared at you from the sidewalk, casting no shadow on the pavement.

Then, he smiled, that bloody, horrible smile, the one that haunted you in every sleeping and waking moment.

“Sunghoon killed him!” you cried desperately, the officer staring in confusion at the empty space you were pointing to, the only thing in the silent night being the trees and bloody sidewalks. He turned back to you, and the next three words he spoke made you feel like you could die on the spot, you were so filled with dread and fear.

“Who is Sunghoon?”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

back to the masterlist.

[ayyy-pee]

𝔼ℙ𝕀𝕊𝕆𝔻𝔼 𝟚 - 𝕀ℕ𝕋ℝ𝕆𝔻𝕌ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝕊 ℙ𝕋. 𝕋𝕎𝕆

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Last Episode - Masterlist

Pairing: JJK Men x Female Reader

Episode Summary: Introductions continue! Which one of these contestants will be the first to make an impression on your heart?

STORY TWIST: READERS WILL VOTE AFTER CERTAIN CHAPTERS TO CHOOSE WHO GETS A ROSE AND MAKES IT TO THE NEXT WEEK. KEEP A LOOKOUT FOR THE VOTING LINK AT THE END OF CHAPTERS

Story Warning: DRAMA, lying and scheming, REVERSE HAREM, profanity bc I can only be me, arguments, fights probably, heartbreak and tears, (more to come)

Artist Credit: momoya348, Umbra3terna, ilameys,maoyaoyao519, _0_0219, maron.jp Divider Credit: Cafekitsune (Tumblr)

A/N: sorry for the wait yall! i'd give you an excuse but i know yall don't care LMFAO. enjoy!!!

The ground is actually shaking as the King of Curses approaches you step by step. Suddenly, you feel a lot like the chauffeur from just a few moments before. Terrified, trembling and sweaty. He was smart, now that you think about it. Hell, you’d have run too if you could! Sukuna’s aura is so heavy, so scary, so damn intense you feel like you may vomit. You’re hoping the camera doesn’t catch the sweat that you can feel beginning to seep from your pores. Every step closer to you, you swear shaves half a year off of your life. And when he’s right in front of you, his four eyes landing on you, so full of disinterest and maybe a little disdain, you pray you don’t piss yourself on live television.

It’s only then that you begin to realize how incredibly massive this man…curse…is. You have to crane your neck, struggling to peer up at his enormous form. He folds his (again…FOUR?!) arms over his chest and frowns, deep and unsatisfied.

“They should teach you some manners, woman,” he grunts. His deep and gravelly voice sends a chill traveling straight up your spine, and you straighten up, causing Sukuna’s lips to curl down in further dissatisfaction. “You hold your head too high,” he speaks.

You raise a brow, and it must be the adrenaline coursing through your veins, because like an absolute idiot, you open your mouth and dumbly mutter, “How? You’re like ten feet tall.”

You could hear a pin drop, hear the way every single crew member inhales and doesn’t dare exhale that breath. You know the cameramen should probably pan over to catch what’s next, but they have more sense than you clearly, because they don’t deign to move an inch. It’s complete silence in the driveway as Sukuna’s gaze pierces yours.

This may be the end for you. And honestly? You’d be okay with that. Sad, sure, but you’ve lived a decent life. Aside from this very brief experience, it was nothing special. But it was comfortable, full of good times. If it’s meant to end here, you don’t think you’d be too upset about it. You just hope that they’ll do you the favor of censoring your probably gory and untimely demise.

Sukuna lifts an arm (one out of four…oh my God, will you ever get over that?), and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly.

‘Here it comes’, you think. The finishing blow. One shot from him and you’ll be wiped from this earth, a smudge on this world’s history. You’ll be forgotten shortly after your end and the world will move on without you.

You blame Utahime for this, because again, if you hadn’t listened to her drunk ass you would be sitting behind a desk doing paperwork. Not on the verge of death before the most powerful being of all time.

But after several seconds, you realize you’ve felt no pain, heard no screams or cries. But instead, a sound of something akin to a chuckle. You open one eye, peeking up to see Sukuna’s large hand come down to pat the top of your head. Gently, at that.

“Funny. I suppose I won’t kill you and your entourage.”

His eyes roam the landscape behind you and the confusion is clear on his face. You suppose it would be rather confusing for an ancient curse to see all the lights, large buildings and technology of today.

“What is this–” he waves a hand in the air. “This place? Why did you all bring me here?”

Now you’re confused. Didn’t he sign up for the show himself?

Satoru throws his head back, cackles hysterically. “I just thought it’d be fun!” A wide grin sits on his features as he leans back in his seat casually, as relaxed as ever. “Just imagine the strongest modern day Sorcerer alive and the strongest curse in history competing for love of all things.” He sighs, wiping at his eyes as he comes down from his laughter. “Fucking hilarious.”

He’s quiet for a second, then he doubles over, arms wrapping around his core as he succumbs to another fit of giggles. Suddenly, his laughter dies, then he’s throwing his head back in a groan this time. “Dammit. If he goes on a killing rampage, then I’ll have to work!” 

BACK OUTSIDE…

“It’s…The Bachelorette,” you answer Sukuna’s question, your fear slowly dissipating as your casual conversation continues on. Which may be a stupid move on your end. You should keep your guard up. This is the King of Curses in front of you, after all. From what you know, he loves to make someone feel safe only to literally crush them a moment later. 

But also, this is the damn King of Curses in front of you. If he deems it so, your death is already guaranteed. You couldn’t do shit if you had to face a normal curse let alone the strongest among them. 

The cameraman has finally panned around to capture your interaction and Sukuna doesn’t seem the least bit impressed. His expression is flat, very obviously bored. “The what?”

“The Bachelorette,” you repeat and when he fixes you with a deadpan stare, you elaborate further for some reason. “It’s a dating show. Jujutsu Sorcerers compete for the heart of one Bachelorette –” you point to yourself. “Me,” Sukuna frowns further and you match his expression with a frown of your own. “And– alright, don’t look so upset about it.”

‘The nerve of this guy!’

“Why would anyone waste time on this? Finding…love.” Sukuna spits the word out like it’s bitter before he laughs.

“A pointless venture,” Sukuna grumbles, picking at the paint on one of his many nails. Unfortunately, Sukuna’s size was severely underestimated, which is why the camera is only able to fit his torso into the screen. 

Behind the lens, the director asks shakily, “You don’t believe in love?”

“How would love benefit me? It’s for the weak.” He pauses, his scowl deepening as he folds his arms together. “I should actually kill you for asking me such an imbecilic question.”

BACK OUTSIDE…

“I won’t kill you since this pathetic endeavor you’re on for love will likely be punishment enough for someone like you.” He grins, the venom in his words clear as he speaks. He’s referring to you being a Window — weak, useless, undeserving of love and probably life to someone like him. Sukuna strokes his chin in amusement, eyes roaming along your form. “It will surely be entertaining to watch.”

He looks you over once more, and the fear that returns, rushing through your body makes you dizzy. You feel like you’re on the menu. One wrong move and Sukuna will be having you for dinner…and not in a sexy way.

But instead of acting on whatever temptation he may have, Sukuna simply…vanishes. Though you’re sure he took off and is just way too damn fast for your weak Window eyes to see. Either way, when you’re sure Sukuna is gone, you - and the entire crew - breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“Should we bring in the next contestant?” One of the staff asks nervously and you stare straight into the camera.

“I think I need a break,” you squeak.

Because you’re about ten seconds from shitting yourself.

- - - - - -

The next contestant pulls up shortly after returning from commercial break. You’re back in position at the end of the long red carpet as you wait for him. He exits his limousine quickly, like he’s got somewhere more important to be. And you’re not sure if this show is the important matter at hand.

He’s incredibly handsome, dressed in a nice suit that he adjusts as he makes his way towards you, face set in a serious expression. His deep brown eyes gaze down lifelessly past his large nose as he approaches and you suddenly feel as if you’re under a microscope, just waiting to be picked apart. There’s something unsettling about this man, something that’s putting you on edge. 

Is it normal to feel like someone is taking note of every small movement you make, every involuntary facial tic, even the look in your eyes and filing it away to use against you later? That’s what you feel this man is doing. Just collecting little things about you to throw into your face somewhere down the line.

His glossy black shoes seem to glide along the red carpet and the cameramen must also notice, because the lenses point right to his feet as he goes. He moves so quickly, you hardly have time to breathe before he’s standing before you. And now, you feel your nerves ignite. Suddenly, you feel you should watch what you say, because you can’t help but feel as though you’re on trial for something. And it makes sense because he opens his pretty lips to speak and his words immediately catch you off guard.

“Have you ever been convicted of a misdemeanor or a felony?”

“Um…” Your eyes dart to the camera, brows pulling together in confusion as you chuckle nervously. “No?”

But it’s clear he’s not joking, not a trace of humor in his face as the question hangs between the two of you. The man narrows his eyes, his tiny pupils becoming even smaller if at all possible. “And you’re telling the truth?”

You chuckle awkwardly, your mind screaming “what the actual fuck” on loop. “Ah– What happened to hello? How are you? My name is…”

“I know your name,” he cuts you off. Then he spends the next minute listing off facts about you. He says your name aloud, the sound of it on his tongue sending chills racing up your spine. He lists off your age, occupation, even your friends and their occupations. It’s all a matter of fact, because they are fact. He doesn’t get a single thing wrong.

You think this man is abrasive. Maybe a little scary. And definitely weird.

Weirdly sexy?

Something is so very off with this man, that much is apparent by the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he fidgets with his fingers even while they’re confined in his pockets. But something may be so very off with you as well because you’re finding this mini interrogation of his oddly arousing.

‘Oh my God, can you focus?!’

“And what’s your name?” You finally counter, blinking your filthy thoughts away.

“Higuruma Hiromi,” he states without a beat. His tone is clipped, his eyes assessing you curiously.

“I suppose I will take your word for it.” He nods, and you fix him with a look of confusion. He waves his hand in the air. “Your criminal record. I’ll accept you saying you’re not a convict of some sort.”

“Ah,” you nod. “Well, glad you decided to trust me,” you smile shyly, and Higuruma frowns.

“I didn’t. Judgeman did.” He gestures behind him, and your eyes follow the path to where an enormous, terrifying blob floats in the air. You’re not sure how you missed that. 

‘Probably because you were too busy undressing Hiromi with your eyes?’

You clear your throat, glancing up at Higuruma. The stitch-eyed curse behind him simply sits there, staring into space. “Seeing as there’s no cursed technique for me to confiscate from you, it’s safe to assume you’re of no actual threat here. And also unlikely that you’ve committed gross atrocities given you are currently starring in this television dating show. I would imagine they would complete a thorough background check on you.” 

Now you frown. “Are you saying that I’m boring?”

Higuruma shakes his head, the tiniest of smirks sitting at the corners of his mouth. “On the contrary. The fact that you’re so normal…it actually makes you all the more endearing.” Your heart rate picks up, his honesty and compliment(?) making you the slightest bit flustered.

He sighs, tilting his head back to look up to the night sky. Like he’s reminiscing about something. “I only recently came to be a part of this world, the Jujutsu world, and I miss my old shitty life sometimes.”

The sudden deep confession surprises you. You expected this way later down the road given how closed off he was just moments before. It seems a flip has switched now that he knows you’re not some crook out to commit heinous crimes. You’re grateful for it, as well.

You can relate to Hiromi a bit. You also had no reason to be a part of the Jujutsu world, and yet you’ve found yourself smack dab in the middle of it as you chase after love with some of the most powerful Sorcerers you’ve ever laid eyes on. These are men you would have never crossed paths with in your daily life. And now, they will be fighting (hopefully not literally) each other to have you in the end. 

“Well, I know this experience is so far from normal, but I appreciate you coming, anyway.” You bow slightly in his curse’s direction. “And thank you, Judgeman, for proving to Hiromi that I’m not a convicted felon,” you tack on jokingly.

This is apparently what was needed to break just the tiniest bit through Higuruma’s walls because the corners of his lips curl up just a bit more as he peers down at you. He mutters your name once more, reaching a hand out to take yours. “I’m beginning to think it wasn’t a mistake to come here. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

He takes his leave shortly after, and the director calls for another commercial break. You take this time to head to your trailer offset for a quick touchup on your makeup. As you sit in your makeup chair, you wonder how the guys are doing…

INSIDE THE MANSION

Satoru groans obnoxiously from his side of the couch, beside Nanami. “Is anyone else going to show up? I’m so bored!”

“You could always leave and go back to your actual job,” Nanami quips. “I’m sure The Strongest is needed literally anywhere else but here.”

Satoru puts a hand to his chest dramatically, mouth falling open with a gasp. “You are so mean to me, Nanami.” He grins, nudging Nanami with his shoulder. “You trying to get rid of the competition already?”

He’s met with silence from the blonde, who simply folds his arms and closes his eyes, choosing to ignore his senior.

“You’re hardly any competition,” Suguru snorts on the other side of Nanami.

“I’m the only competition here. Be serious,” Satoru argues, standing from his seat. “Who wouldn’t want to be with The Strongest?”

“Me, or really anyone who loves themselves,” Suguru deadpans.

Satoru rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “You’re an anomaly. Besides, you both know I’m right. No offense, but Nanami is frugal, stiff and kinda boring. You’re a wanted mass murderer with strange looking people as followers, and I haven’t met any of the other guys to know what they’re like, but I can bet–”

The door to the mansion swings open and in walks Higuruma. His wide eyes roam across the room, landing first on Suguru who assesses him with vague interest. Then Nanami, who only glances over to him briefly before resuming his position. Then Satoru, who stands with his hands in the air, obviously in the middle of making a point before Higuruma had arrived.

“Who the hell are you?” Satoru scoffs, unimpressed.

“Satoru–”

“Satoru–”

Suguru and Nanami chide in unison.

“Must you always be so crass?” Suguru questions, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s been so long since he’d been in the presence of his former best friend, he’d forgotten how annoying he could be. 

“Higuruma Hiromi,” the newer man states as he moves across the room, not caring in the least about Satoru’s tone. He takes a seat on the sofa opposite of the three men, observing his surroundings.

“Nanami Kento,” Nanami introduces himself when the other two fail to speak up. He offers a seated bow, to which Higuruma returns.

“Geto Suguru,” Suguru’s soft voice floats across the room, though he doesn’t offer a polite bow the same way Nanami does. Perhaps if he were the old Suguru he may have, but he’s long past bowing to others. If anything, others should bow to him.

“Gojo Satoru,” the white haired man mutters, rolling his eyes.

Higuruma nods, eyes landing at the buffet in the corner of the large space, staring. “...And who is he?”

All heads turn to the buffet where a massive man stands with a plate of food. His face has stray grains of rice littered around his lips, which is stuffed with tonight’s dinner. He scoops a large spoonful into his mouth, nodding to the other men as he chews.

He’s tall, so tall that his height rivals Satoru’s. Shaggy, black hair covers the most beautiful green eyes. And when he grins, his pretty lips spread wide, the scar running through both his top and bottom lips accenting his features.

This man is gorgeous, they’re all thinking it.

Not to mention, he’s fucking ripped. A skintight black shirt hardly does much to cover every hard muscle of his body. His wide shoulders and thick arms look as though he could crush them all without much thought. And he could. He has.

“Zenin…” Satoru and Suguru speak through gritted teeth.

“Fushiguro,” the man corrects them, taking another bite of his food.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Suguru questions, standing from his seat. His eyes narrow, hands clenched into fists at his side. It’s been a decade since he laid eyes on the man who altered his entire world, and he’s not someone he wanted to see again. He’s lucky Satoru let him off with his life after their last encounter.

“Placing bets on who the broad out there ends up with,” the man laughs loudly with a full mouth. “Bet it’s none of you, though.”

At this, Satoru bursts into a fit of giggles, laughing so hard he doubles over. “I’ll take you up on that bet. Seeing as you’ve never won one in your life, should be easy for me.”

Toji only grins, taking another bite of his food.

“Please don’t tell me you’re also participating for her heart,” Suguru sighs, feeling a headache coming on.

Toji shrugs. “Does it matter?”

At this, Satoru groans, flopping back down on the couch with Nanami. “Who invited the damn geezer to the show? Thought this was for real Sorcerers.”

Nanami inhales deeply. “She’s not a Sorcerer, either,” he states.

“That’s different,” Satoru doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s a Window, so she’s in our world at least.”

It’s true. In Satoru’s eyes, you’re weak, but at least you have enough cursed energy to see the atrocities around you. You won’t see a curse only when you’re on death’s door, you’ll see one before they strike. And sure, you can’t do anything about it, but that’s what he’s for. He doesn’t mind playing protector to someone who at least resides on his side of the fence. It’s what he’s always done anyway. Why not do it for someone he could potentially love?

It also helps that you’re easy on the eyes.

“Hardly, but I do see your point,” Suguru agrees. He takes the spot next to Higuruma on the other sofa. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here for one reason, and it’s her.”

An obnoxious yawn comes from the other side of the room, Toji now leaning against the wall. “When does she show up, anyway?”

The other four look absolutely bewildered, eyes wide and brows pulled together. 

“What…” Suguru asks. “You didn’t go meet her?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Yes!” Satoru yells from his seat. “How the hell did you even get in here? Past all the cameras?!”

Toji purses his lips together, scratching his head while he racks his memory. Then he shrugs, like he came up short. “Guess I followed the smell of the food.”

BACK OUTSIDE…

You fidget with your fingers as you watch as another limousine pulls up. You’re exhausted, and honestly ready for this whole introduction ordeal to be done. It’s so late, definitely after 9pm, and even after all this, you still have to head inside of the mansion to mingle with the men. You would really rather go to sleep, finally crawl into bed after such a long and tiring day. But there are several eligible bachelors eagerly awaiting your arrival.

And here comes another one.

The door to the vehicle swings open, and a very nice Prada combat boot hits the floor. Out steps the one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your life. Tall, muscular, and so damn pretty, you’re almost jealous. Even with the distance between you two, you can see how perfect his face is.

Already, he’s made an impression because he’s not dressed to the nines in a suit and tie like the other men you’ve met tonight. Instead, he wears casual clothing, with a loose sleeveless shirt and black jeans. His hair is messy, tied up into two high ponytails that sit atop his head. And even then, he looks just as good as the others.

Something about him looks familiar to you, though you can’t quite place where you could’ve seen him before all of this.

As the man approaches, the lights from the camera crew illuminate his face. You can make out deep purple bags that sit beneath his eyes. He looks as tired as Hiromi, more even. There’s a thick black stripe that runs along his face. A tattoo, maybe? He’s pale, the moonlight casting an almost ethereal glow over him.

‘Why the hell are all these Sorcerers so fucking hot?’

You try to keep it in your pants, focusing on the sound of the chains of this man’s boots jingling softly with each step until he’s standing in front of you. His deep brown eyes rake over your body before they find your eyes. His lips curl into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s not disingenuous any sort of way. More like he’s very nervous and trying very hard to not come off that way.

“Hi,” you throw him a lifeline, the camera capturing the way you smile encouragingly.

“Hi.” 

You offer him your name, trying to loosen him up because he looks like he feels so out of place. There’s something off about him that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“I’m Choso.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Choso. Tell me about yourself.”

Your question breathes life into the man, his face brightening up as he proceeds to tell you all about his brothers. He’s the oldest of four, you find out. And he’s very doting and loving to all three of his younger brothers. You find it adorable, the way he raves about each of them and their special talents that they have. Unfortunately, you don’t have too much time to let him continue.

“You’re very beautiful,” he compliments you suddenly, and you can’t stop the shy smile now spreading along your features that matches the one sitting on Choso’s. 

“Thank you. You are so handsome.” 

Choso beams, and then he does something that surprises you. He wraps his arms around your form, enveloping you in his warmth. He smells incredible, and expensive. You return the gesture, and for some reason, all the stressful buildup of tonight seems to just melt away.

When he releases you, you see the soft smile sitting on his lips and you just know you can’t wait to see more of it. This man is an absolute sweetheart.

“Can’t wait to get to talk with you more tonight,” he says softly, and you don’t miss the light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks now.

“Me too.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, nibbling at the soft flesh as Choso takes your hand and squeezes gently. What began as an awkward encounter ended up being a sweet meeting between you and the man now heading into the mansion. You’re so excited to–

Wait. You think you know why he looks so familiar!

You spin on your heel, turning to call after him. He turns to face you, a questioning look at his face. “Um…have you ever skateboarded before?” You yell across the courtyard.

At this, Choso’s brows pull together, head tilting to the side. He’s so obviously confused. “Skateboarding? No, why?”

You shake your head, chuckling with embarrassment. “No reason…you just…looked kind of familiar.”

- - - - - -

Jesse appears again once the cameras are set back up after another commercial break. He’s all poised as he grins at you. You haven’t seen him since you both first arrived on set, but he lets you know that he will be seeing you more often now that the introductions are complete.

“So, you’ve met all of the men,” he begins, the camera moving back to catch you both in frame. 

“Oh, that was everyone?” You could have sworn there was one more person who was supposed to show up.

“How are you feeling about them so far? Any you’re looking forward to spending more time with?”

Your mind goes through every man who has appeared so far, building a list of what appealed to you most about them. And you really like them all. There’s no way you could choose right now, not when there’s still so much to learn about each of them. You can’t wait to get some alone time. You tell Jesse as much, his response an amused shake of his head. “Looks. like you’ve got your work cut out for you, then.”

“Oh, absolutely. They’re all incredible. I could definitely see my husband being one of these men.”

And it’s a crazy thing to think, that at the end of all of this, you’ll likely be engaged and ready to marry someone.

“But—,” Jesse interjects. “You are down one contestant. Sukuna has chosen to leave the show…”

The camera moves closer to catch the nod of your head. Your brief stint with the King of Curses is not one you think you’ll forget any time soon, if ever. He could have ended this journey for you before it even began. He spared you, mainly for his own entertainment, but still. You came face to face with the King of Curses, and you of all people, lived. Not many can say that. Especially non-Sorcerers.

Jesse tells you that it’s time to get some one on one time with the guys and leads you to the mansion where they all wait. Your heart races in your chest as you approach the enormous doors, stopping just outside of them. You can hear the loud chatter inside, the men laughing raucously as they discuss whatever has them behaving so lively. You’re excited to finally be moving into this next phase of the process. You want to get to know each of them as soon as possible.

“You ready?” Jesse questions, his smile giving you a boost of confidence. “You’ve got this. Go in with an open mind, and an open heart. The man of your dreams awaits you inside.”

You laugh, and it’s all nerves, because that may be the scariest and most exciting part of this entire journey. “I don’t know how you did this, Jesse,” you chuckle dyly, to which Jesse lightly places a hand on your shoulder where he squeezes gently.

“Hey, you’re a smart girl. You’ll be able to find who you’re looking for. Remember…open mind, open heart. Can’t go wrong there.”

You swear you hear some of the staff swoon behind the camera, the crew sure to catch this interaction between you and your host, and it makes you grin. You can see why Jesse’s season of The Bachelor was so popular, and why he’s now the host of both franchises. So you nod, letting Jesse know that you’re ready to head inside to spend time with your men.

He pulls the double doors open for you and you head inside, straight through the doorway and into the living room where the men await. Jesse moves swiftly ahead of you, signaling for you to wait for a moment just outside of the living room, in the hall while he heads down the steps into the main room. 

”Gentlemen,” he announces his presence, and they all stand when they see the host. There’s an eruption of noise, the men greeting Jesse eagerly. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, knowing that in just a few moments, you’ll be seeing them all again. You can’t wait. 

“I know you’re all ready to see ___,” Jesse continues. “How are you feeling about her so far?” Jesse’s eyes land on the blonde man standing quietly, his hands hidden in his pockets to hide the way he fidgets nervously. “Nanami,” Jesse calls. “What’s your first impression?”

Nanami purses his lips together, carefully gathering his thoughts before he speaks. He’s unsure if there is a word that’s strong enough to describe how he felt about you upon first meeting. And he’s not sure if he’s capable of expressing how he felt upon laying eyes on you. Even still, he means it when he says, “An absolute beauty.”

The other men nod in agreement. “Definitely a sight to behold,” Choso adds. “Very sweet, too.” He says it with certainty, like there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re a kind person. He’d like to think that he’s pretty good at reading people. He’s been studying humans for quite some time, after all. You are one of the good ones, he’s sure of it. Your energy makes him feel comfortable, and he tells Jesse this as well.

Jesse beams, impressed with how the men already seem to be taken by you. “That’s great to hear. Now, I do have some unfortunate news or maybe it’s fortunate depending on how you see it.”

There’s a brief pause, which the camera crew uses to capture each contestant's face, making sure they capture any nerves on their features.

“One contestant has chosen not to continue participating in the competition.”

At this, Satoru snorts, garnering the attention of several others, but he lets Jesse continue.

“Sukuna has opted out of the competition.”

“Good,” Suguru interjects. “One less body.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t give a shit if someone left,” he yawns, leaning back against the confessional room’s sofa. “Send the rest of them home, too.” 

He’s aware he sounds like a dick, too confident in himself, but why shouldn’t he be? He’s got so much to offer you, so much that the others can’t provide. He’s confident that with one person gone, he’ll be able to get that much closer to you. He picks at his nails in boredom before he asks. “Who even invited him, anyway?” 

The wheels turn in his head until he puts 2 and 2 together, chuckling quietly to himself. 

“It was Satoru, wasn’t it?”

BACK INSIDE…

“Can we please circle back to the bit about Sukuna?” Nanami speaks up this time. “You just casually had the King of Curses outside to compete for…” He clears his throat, as though the term itself makes him uncomfortable. “Love”. His eyes land on Satoru, because he’s positive it couldn’t have been anyone else who could have thrown this together but him.

The man in question shrugs mischievously, poking his tongue out when his gaze meets Nanami’s. He tries not to smile too hard at the scowl he receives from his colleague in return.

“How on earth were we meant to survive that?” Higuruma chimes in now. His eyes are round with disbelief. “Wait…did ___ meet with him?” 

Jesse nods. “Yes, and they actually had a pretty pleasant conversation. Though Sukuna wasn’t interested in moving forward.” The camera pans over to Higuruma who now seems lost in thought, no longer paying the host much mind. Jesse takes this beat of silence as his cue to continue forward. “Well, our lady of the hour is waiting patiently to have some much needed one on one time with you. Let's get her in here.”

Now, that’s your cue.

You enter the space, feeling the tension rise between the guys immediately, even as they all applaud upon your arrival. Your eyes take in each and every familiar face. It’s nice to see all of the men you’ve had the pleasure of speaking with for a few brief moments. You can’t wait to get alone time with each —

Hold on a minute.

Your eyes land on one man who sticks out like a sore thumb. From across the room, right next to the buffet, a pair of emerald eyes bore into your own, and you feel your heart rate pick up. You’ve never seen this man before. At least you don’t think you have. You have met quite a few people tonight and it’s all been a bit overwhelming. It’s perfectly possible that he slipped your mind after meeting. Though as you drink in the way his eyes shimmer even in the dim lighting, his chiseled features and the deep scar through both his lips, you highly doubt you’d be able to forget a face like that. 

Perhaps he’s another staff member, hired to man the buffet table. If so, he’s doing a piss poor job at it seeing as he’s holding a plate of half eaten food in his hands. He has to be a contestant, right? How could he have gotten past you? Even with your embarrassingly small amount of cursed energy, you feel like you would have picked up on his presence.

The camera swings around, cutting off your vision of the man, and in the blink of an eye he's gone. There’s a pang of disappointment, and a bit of confusion. You feel as if you imagined him. But you don’t have time to dwell on the mystery man your mind conjured up, because you need to focus on the men who are actually here. You turn your attention back to the ones you do know… only to be met again with the face of the stranger from just seconds ago as he stands right before you.

You almost piss yourself from the shock.

His gaze now roams your form, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. He’s incredibly obvious in the way that he assesses you. And even more obvious in the way he seems to be enjoying what he sees. He slips his hands into his pockets, eyes once again staring straight into yours as he backs away to stand with the other men. “Well,” he hums, not breaking eye contact. “I was gonna snag some food and head out, but I think I’ll stick around…to observe.”

“Sorry,” Jesse interrupts. “But this show is only for those who signed up to participate.”

The mystery man rolls his eyes. “I’m already on the list.”

Jesse shakes his head. “We didn’t see you outside. There’s a proper process to follow here. You’re supposed to meet our Bachelorette,” he motions to you, and you smile awkwardly. “Why didn’t you come through the front door?”

“I’m meeting her now, aren’t I?” He questions, and Jesse nods, because technically he’s not wrong.

“Well, yes, but you should have come through the front,” Jesse argues weakly. 

Toji snorts. “Front door,back door, doesn’t really make a difference to me.” He says this shamelessly as he looks right at you, and you can’t help it! Your mouth drops open, just enough to get a reaction out of the man. The camera quickly captures the grin that spreads on his face when he sees your expression. “Unless it matters to you, sweetheart,” he teases.

You pick your jaw up off the floor, the camera moving around to get your response. You can’t possibly let him one up you on your own show. So you match his smirk, teasingly responding, “I mean…let's wait until we get to know each other a little better to find out.”

It’s the best response you can give in the moment, in front of a room full of men patiently (and hungrily) waiting to get even a smidge of your attention. And clearly it was a good rebuttal. The man’s smirk only widens. You can hear the staff muttering quietly behind you, clearly speaking into the earpiece that you know Jesse wears. You watch as the cameras move to capture the tension between this man and Jesse, who is now pursing his lips together in displeasure. “Are you a…Sorcerer then?” 

He stares Jesse down, and you don’t miss the way his jaw ticks just barely before he grits out a low and gravelly, “sure”. But Jesse doesn’t seem to notice. He simply nods, asking his name.

“Toji Fushiguro.”

Jesse sighs, his friendly host mask slipping just a for a second before he recovers. He claps his hands together, turning towards you with a grin that you’re certain is not genuine in the least. 

“Looks like we’ve got another man vying for your heart, ___. How are you feeling about it?”

You tear your gaze away from Toji, nodding to Jesse. “Hey, the fun of the Bachelorette are the surprises, right? I’m definitely looking forward to getting to know Toji a little more.”

Jesse throws his head back with a laugh. “Glad to see you being a good sport about it! Speaking of surprises, we have just one more.”

The doors to the mansion swing open suddenly, cutting Jesse’s monologue off. The sounds of light footsteps fill the space, and you watch the way Toji crosses his arms, how Satoru rolls his eyes, and how Suguru’s nostrils flare. Clearly, whoever is entering the building isn’t welcome. 

Jesse continues his speech. “I know you were looking forward to having time to get to know each of these men one on one, and you will get that chance, I promise. But…”

The cameraman hurries to catch the sight of shoes, slowly walking down the same steps you took into the living space and you spin around to follow the view. As the camera slowly coasts up the form entering the room, so do your eyes, trailing over the tall, well dressed young man who appears before you.

“You’ve gotten a brief moment to talk to each man, have gotten a good feel for who you want to move forward with, I’m sure.”

It’s not really a question. Jesse states this as though it’s a fact, and as far as this show is concerned, it is. Even if you don’t feel as if you’ve gotten enough time with the men, they feel that you have. And all you feel is a tight knot forming in the pit of your stomach, because you’re sure whatever’s coming is bad news.

“You’ll still get your one on one time with each guy, don’t worry, but at the end of it all,” Jesse turns to face all of the men. “___ will be giving out a rose to each man she thinks should continue forward on this journey with her. However, only one of you will be leaving here without a rose.”

“And him?” Choso questions, staring down the man standing behind you.

“Ah, right. Everyone, meet Sukuna’s replacement.”

The man moves ahead of you, taking your hand in his and pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. He’s as beautiful as the rest of the men, and you wonder again how it’s possible for every damn person in the Sorcerer world to be so damn good looking. 

The man has a smile that reminds you a bit of Toji’s, but that’s the only resemblance he shares with the older man. The eyeliner around his eyes looks better than your own, accentuating the color of his eyes, and his hair that goes from blonde to brown at the tips hangs loosely in his face, giving him an edgy look. The multiple black earrings decorating his ears adds to his style, and your heart flutters when he leans forward boldly and presses another kiss to your cheek.

He stands back, letting himself fully appreciate the view. He strokes his chin lazily, nodding seemingly in approval before he mutters, “Not bad.”

Your brows knit together, head tilting to the side as you reply with a quiet thanks. You introduce yourself, gently pulling your hand from his grip. “It’s nice to meet you…”

The man shakes his head, a cocky grin on his face as he speaks. “I’m sure it’s very nice for someone of your…” He looks you up and down, almost amused at what he sees. “...standing to meet someone like me.” It’s all he says, turning on his heel and moving across the room to stand with the other men without another word.

‘Okay, kind of an asshole,’ you think. ‘A hot asshole, but–’

“I didn’t get your name,” you call after him, trying to reel your thoughts in.

He cards a hand through his hair smoothly. “Zenin Naoya.”

Jesse takes over, explaining that while the rose ceremony will still take place, Naoya will be immune as he is taking Sukuna’s place at the last minute. 

As your eyes roam across the room, taking in the sight of all of the men here competing for a chance at love with you, of all people, you can’t help but feel guilty that shortly, you’ll be having one on one time with each of them only to end up sending one home. They each have made your heart race, each have left an impression on you, each have made you feel something. You’re not sure if you could imagine sending any of these amazing men home.

The camera swings towards your face, capturing every bit of tension in your features as your mind reels with the idea of making such a difficult decision.

Your 1 on 1 time begins now,” Jesse announces. “And ___?”

“Yes, Jesse?” You respond, being pulled out of your thoughts.

Jesse offers you a tiny smile, this time it’s genuine. It’s a smile that understands exactly what you’re experiencing, what you’re feeling. He gently pats your shoulder as he moves towards the exit. “Good luck.”

It's Voting Time!!!

Follow the link below to vote for the Sorcerer you think should NOT receive a rose and move on to the next round!

COMING UP ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF BACHELORETTE KAISEN:

The guys get one on one time with you, and one man will be sent home without a rose! (Remember that Naoya is immune!)

CLICK HERE TO VOTE - Voting closes in ONE WEEK on 10/1!

[papurgaatika]

Scarcely Can Speak For My Thinking, What You’d Do To Me Tonight

Pairing: VA! Joel Miller x f! reader 

Minors DNI with my work please!!

A/N: howdy howdy my lovelies. I know what yall are thinking: papaya didn't you post a fic literally less than two weeks ago? And to that I would say yes, yes I did. However, I have been working on this one for a while and somehow managed to finish it on the plane! Thank you as always to my lovely beta readers @carlynkurin and @joelsdagger The title is a Hozier lyric (are yall really surprised?) This is officially dedicated to my beloved @joeloverture and despite my darling vetty's step off of tumblr, she truly deserves the world. also if you're mean to her i will find you. that is a threat

I hope y'all enjoy the read, and that the filth keeps you going in times of need. Peace and love on the planet Earth from me!!! Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Tags: Erotic voice actor Joel! AU, Young Joel, No outbreak AU, smut, condescension, degradation, f! masturbation, praise, squirting, smut, LOTS of dirty talk, oral (f receiving) friends to lovers, fingering, voice kink, Joel loves thighs, Joel Miller arm appreciation, the reader is a mess, no use of y/n, Joel can pick reader up but he’s HUGE so it makes sense, no description of reader, 18+ Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: you have been using audio erotica to get off for a month, and manage to accidentally let it play in Joel's car, leading to an awkward night in 

You let out an exhausted huff as the dim light of your phone reflected on your face. Your headphones connected, your vibrator was charged, but in some godforsaken twist of fate, there was not a single thing worth listening to on the newest audio erotica page you could find. Videos hadn’t been doing it for you, the ethical concerns were too high for you to be horny, and as much as you liked a good fanfic, you had gone through most of the ones you liked and needed something new.  You click on a post with semi intriguing tags, immediately rolling your eyes and exiting out of it when you hear the all too familiar vocal fry of men trying to sound hotter. News flash: you don't. 

You were moments away from calling it a night and opening your backlog of smutty ao3 fics when another post caught your eye. You let out a snort at the username save_a_horse and glance at the tags. Okay you were definitely interested now, a degrading instructional… you hit play with baited breath, prepping for the worst, but you were so mistaken. 

“Filthy little thing aint ya?” the voice rings in your ears, heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly quickly. “Must be so pathetic if you’re clicking on a mean stranger's voice to get ya’self off” his voice was like hot honey. Sickly sweet and keeping you waiting for his every word but with an edge that stung in the best way. You shuffle yourself back onto the pillows and throw your covers off, fully prepared to enjoy this rare gem. Your breathing picks up, heavy with want as the man in your ears calls you a desperate little slut. 

“Go on, get your toy wet slut” his voice croons out at you “know ya have one, too fuckin’ needy not to.'' Always eager to please, your lips find the base of your curved g-spot vibrator and let the soft plastic fill your mouth, drawing sounds that were almost too debauched for you to be sitting in bed alone. “Bet you love havin your mouth filled like that.. Lord, I'd love to have your pretty little lips around my cock” your eyes practically roll back at that, spit running down the base of your toy before he finally tells you to put it in.  

“Atta girl, such an eager thing” The toy sinks into your sopping cunt with ease as the voice envelops your mind, solely focusing on him. You listen with intense obedience as he tells you how deep, how quick, how much you were allowed. “Go on then, fuck yourself on it. We both know you want to” 

You let out a soft cry as you slip the toy in and out, the curve just hitting the spot that makes your back arch. Your breathing hitches as you press down on the button to turn the vibrations on. “Creamin’ all over yourself I bet,” it was like he could see you. Like he was able to see your arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, how the damp sheets clung to your thighs as they shook and twitched with pleasure. 

“Bet you’re so damn close.. Go on then slut, cum while listenin’ to me'' he taunts slightly as your orgasm washes over you in waves. “Gonna ruin ya,” his words are assertive, less of a promise and almost a threat “ain’t gonna cum unless it's to my voice anymore. Good fuckin’ girl”  You take a few steadying breaths as the audio clicks off, and you blink up at your ceiling unsure of how to go on from there. You glance down at your phone which has made its way to the opposite side of your bed and move to grab it.

You hit play on another audio. 

As the weeks go on, you and the mysterious cowboy in your ears have an immensely good time together. You practically spend every night listening to every one of his audios, leaving silly comments on the ones that make you cum particularly hard. It might have been an issue, how often you found yourself waiting for him to upload, how quickly you would pause your tasks to listen to new updates, but you were having fun and it wasn’t like you were hurting anyone in the process. 

You had just finished an audio before the blaring noise of a horn outside your door rattled you. The clock on your phone taunts you as do the several missed calls and texts from your best friend. “Fuck. fuck okay” you grumble, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before tossing a pair of comfy shorts on and grabbing your bag, and heading outside “have you never heard of a virtue called patience miller?” you quip as you slide into the passenger seat of his truck 

“Had it for the first five minutes, but about 10 minutes after that, I was damn ready to break your door down myself” he scoffs “what took you so damn long?” he rolls his eyes as you fiddle with the bluetooth in his car, not wanting to be stuck with what you call ‘old home music’ 

“I was just finishi-” your words are cut off when the sound of a moan plays over the speaker. Just your luck. You kept the grumpiest man alive waiting and then played porn in his car. Hooray for you. “Jesus fucking-” you squeak, fiddling with your phone and closing out of the app “Joel-” you start, cheeks burning and excuses already at the tip of your tongue, before he silently shakes his head and puts the car in reverse. 

The ride back to his house is awkward to say the least. “Joel listen I didn't mean for-” you mumble out meekly, but his sharp gaze on yours has you clamping your mouth closed immediately. You fiddle with your fingers, thinking about playing music, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. The grip Joel has on the steering wheel is practically iron-clad, his knuckles almost white with the tension as he pulls into his driveway and puts the car in park. You walk into his house with a huff, your weekly game nights off to a bit of a rocky start, but you’ve had to deal with worse with him. Joel had given you moral support when your menstrual cup had gotten “stuck” during one of your first times using it, he could deal with knowing you listened to porn. 

You plop down onto his couch, stretching your legs out on the coffee table while he gets you a glass of iced tea. You take a sip of your drink and mentally prepare yourself for how bad he was going to tease you about this, but are met with shocking amounts of silence. For a man who is ruthless on game nights, the lack of trash talk and absolute avoidance was almost irritating you. Finally, after you beat him in uno for a third time in a row, you snap “What is your issue tonight miller?” you groan, placing a +2 card down “Listen I know that was awkward but we’re both adults I don't see what the big deal is'' 

Joel groans and places another +2, changing the color (much to your annoyance,) “just drop it, nothin’s the issue”  You, petulant and stubborn as ever, did not drop it. You huff as you have to take like 5 cards from the deck before getting one that you can play, and narrow your eyes at him. 

“Bullshit” you move to sit cross-legged on the couch “I never beat you in this game, something is wrong with you tonight,”  it was almost as if nobody had ever taught you not to poke a sleeping bear. Or maybe you figured that the bear was your best friend and probably wouldn't bite your head off… probably. 

“Just drop it peaches,” his words are terse, hands gripping his, now slowly diminishing, uno cards much tighter than he needed to. You groan again when you have to get another few cards. The irritation at his childish behavior, coupled with the stack of 20 cards in your hand makes you more of a menace than you probably should. 

“Don't be such a baby, Miller,” you poke his leg with your foot knowing full well he hates it, a yelp leaving your lips as he grabs your ankle and pulls you forward “Joel!” Your cards fly out of your hand 

“Told you to fuckin’ quit it peach.” His voice is a low timber, stirring something deep in your belly. “Never fuckin’ listen to me” 

You just snort at him when he releases your ankle, moving to pick up your cards, “you suck at uno today Joel” you hmph, rising to your feet “'m gonna get something else” you hear Joel protest and try to grab at your arm but you’re too determined and he’s far too comfy to get up quick enough.  You manage to make it to his spare room, swinging the door open, imagining you’d see a shelf with his board games only to stop dead in your tracks, “what the fuck-”

What you had always assumed was just his spare junk room or random linen closet, was what looked like an at home recording studio. A desk with a PC and speakers, full microphone set up, and what you could only assume was something to help with soundproofing  “What the fuck Miller?” Your voice is slightly full of awe, “are you recording shitty male superiority podcasts now?” you tease, a sly grin on your face. 

Despite how pleased you are with that crack at him, he looks absolutely unamused. He practically clomps over at you, big finger poking your ribs ``you know damn well I ain't doin’ that shit.” He rolls his eyes at your teasing. The idea of Joel Miller getting on the internet to talk about women in a way that wasn't him sitting at his desk going ‘they’re the best damn thing’ was laughable. He was a perfect gentleman to everyone, except maybe to you, but frankly you deserved it for all the shit you gave him. 

You squeak when his finger prods at your skin “okay, okay well what creepy shit are you doing in here then?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, sauntering to his PC set up. The computer and speakers were calling out to you like a siren, and you did not have the common sense to plug your ears. 

Joel knew you. He could read you like a fucking book with how close the two of you were. He used to say that the one braincell you had spent fifty percent of its time inside his mind with how predictable you were to him. “Peach do not fuckin’ dare-” his voice is low, warning you. 

If you had better self preservation skills you would have probably heard the alarm bells ringing in your head telling you that he was serious, or paid better attention to the way his sweats were a little more tight. But you unfortunately were a complete menace, so neither of those items really registered to you. You clap your hands in an evil little giggle when you move the mouse “still no password? Shit you make my life so fucking easy-” you grin as you see the different clips of audio layered together in whatever program he uses 

Joel has somehow silently appeared behind you, his hand pulling you away from the computer. “Quit it peach, I’m not fuckin’ around,” he grits out, the hold on your wrist almost impossibly tight. He means business this time, and despite how much of a hellion you can be to him, you didn’t have a death wish. 

You scrunch your nose at him trying to pull your wrist out of his grip “okay jesus chri-” you yank your hand away from his, elbow bumping into the keyboard and are cut off with the sound of a gravely moan coming out of the speaker. Both you and Joel look like deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes flick between Joel, whose face has gone impressively red, and the screen of his computer.  “I- joel this is-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what to say in this situation. 

“Not a fuckin’ peep.” he practically growls at you. Your mouth clamps shut as he leans over you and presses pause on the audio. Your mouth is drier than it had ever been. That was a clip of your best friend, the one who was looming over you at this very moment, moaning into a microphone. You were certain that if you had listened any closer you would have been able to hear the sounds of his hand stroking his cock. The slight creak of his chair, the wet noise of the lube, or was he a spit guy? He however, was not interested in sharing any more of the audio with you, and you would deny it if anyone asked, you were a little disappointed. 

You need to say something, you had to, and despite your better judgment telling you not to, you do. “I mean you sound nice-” You sound nice?? You were so fucking ridiculous, even you knew that wasn’t the thing to say. Joel’s eyes darken at your words, and for a moment you fear he’s going to kick you out, to get truly pissed off at you for the first time since you finished his Dr. Pepper stash.  “I didn't mean-” you try to backtrack “I just meant- it... You sounded like you were enjoying yourself at least-'' you were actively digging the hole that you were in deeper, rambling and stuttering, all while Joel just stared at you silently, his eyes burning into you

You swallow hard, his eyes still not leaving yours “listen I can go I'm sorry I shouldn't have-” you go to make a beeline out of the room but a firm hand pulling you back into the chair stops you. You fall back with an oof and look up at Joel, who by all accounts looked pissed but there was something else. His pupils were blown and his eyes trace every single one of your movements. The bear had managed to lock in the own cage you had set out for him. 

“Didn't tell you to leave.” he practically grunts at you. Ladies and gentlemen, your best friend, always the most well spoken person in the room. You move to protest again, but the look he gives you stops the words before they even form on your tongue.  you bite your lip and fiddle with your fingers unsure what to do “think I sound nice peaches?” his voice cuts through the anxious rambling in your brain and you're almost certain you've heard him wrong 

“Huh?” you look back up at him through your lashes. He was leaning against the wall where his microphone was set up. His sweats were riding low on his hips and his hoodie covered the toned muscles of his arms, that if anyone asked you had never stared at. The tanned skin you never dared to fantasize about in your bed. The hair that covered his arms, the veins that often made more appearances when you asked forced him to do manual labor that you refused to do yourself. 

“Asked if you think I sound nice, Peaches?” he hums, raising a questioning brow at you. your mouth opens and closes ridiculously a few times before you simply just nod at him  “that's good..” he muses as he comes back up to you “do you think about me?” he prods, a patronizing pout on his lips as you gape up at him. “when you're listening to those dirty little audios and lettin’ your fingers touch that needy cunt?”  you can't help but squeak at his words. the way he said them, the way he spoke was just so… familiar  “come on, pretty peach, tell daddy what you think about when you're fingering that slutty little pussy” he practically grins at you and it fucking clicks. 

Daddy. Daddy. It was him. The stupid cowboy, the random man whose voice sent your tummy into knots, the one who had been getting you off for weeks now was your best friend.  “Joel-” you practically whimper at him. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and also very distinctly between your legs. “Listen i didn’t know it was you-” there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, one that you would have told him to wipe off his face before you smack it off in any other scenario. 

“No?” he hums at you, his brow quirked up as he towers over you in that stupid recording chair “didn't know it was me when you were commenting all those pretty little reviews?” You whimper out a noise, somewhere between a no and a general sound of timidity, as his hand tilts your chin up to meet his eyes  “Lemme see if I can remember what it was you said before I got you in the car today peach?” he takes a moment to obnoxiously tap his forehead mocking the way you recall things “what was it you said? ‘This made me late to see my friend, but it also made me ruin my sheets’? Was that it peaches?” 

You take a shaky breath, your skin burning under his intense gaze, chin still in his hands. You nod softly at his question, knowing that if you didn't, he would just push you until you did. His grin turns wolfish at your confirmation, and you feel him shift his legs between yours, pushing them apart “yeah peach?” he tuts at you “made me wait for almost 20 minutes outside your house. just so you could cum to my voice… ain’t real nice of you” You take a wobbly breath at his words and try to reply, unsure of what you would even say. An apology maybe, an explanation? But before you can even move to open your mouth he’s cutting you off again 

“Woulda just given you the real thing baby,” he tuts at you “all you had to do was ask.'' His voice is low and almost condescending. You shouldn’t let it turn you on, you should tell him to fuck off, but you feel yourself gush at his tone, your bottom lip getting caught between you teeth. He whistles at the look on your face, his cock practically straining against his sweats, “bet you’re just creamin’ in those slutty little shorts baby'' his words aren’t a question, he’s stating it like he can read you like a book because he knows he can. His legs shift to press your legs further apart until your knees are bumping into the arm rests, your eyes unwavering from his.

Your breath is caught in your throat as he leans down to you, his lips pressed up by one of your ears “Listen to me like this peaches?” he whispers into your ear, a warm breath making you shiver before he moves to the other side “like having me in your ears with your legs spread?” 

“Yes.. fuck yes yes I do-” your words are rushed and lustful as you feel his hands dip into the waistband of your panties. Your hips jolt up into his touch, panties absolutely drenched with your arousal. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lips parting with a silent cry of pleasure. 

“Knew she’d be droolin’ all over” he hums as he brings his slick covered finger up to his lips and tastes you with delectable pop when he pulls off. “Tastes like I fuckin’ imagined. Like a fuckin’ peach” he groans and for a moment you swear you could cum just like that. 

“Shit Joel please-” he cuts you off with a shake of his head and a shushing noise, as he steps away from you. Your legs are still spread against the chair and you practically whine when he moves away from you, flicking on his recording set up. “Joel what-” he shushes you again, giving you a look that leaves no room for argument. 

“Quiet,” he mumbles, fiddling with the mic and pulling the rolling chair closer to it. “Like listenin’ to me so much, thought i’d use you for better effects. You okay with that peaches?” he asks, looking down at you. Despite the teasing and the mockery, you knew he would stop if you told him you didn't want it. But the idea of him stopping, even for a moment was going to make you explode. You nod, maybe too eagerly for someone about to get fucked on microphone, and he grins. 

“God always knew you were fuckin’ desperate for it” he kneels between your legs, and you stifle a giggle when his knees pop.  “Quit it you menace” He swats at your thigh playful smirk on his lips, making you jump slightly. “Gotta stay real quiet for me, understand?” you watch with bated breath as he moves the mic so it rests delicately in the tension filled space between your spread thighs and his face. 

You nod, lips parted, pupils blown, cunt practically dripping for him. He lets out a soft hum of approval, lips pressing a soft kiss to your thighs “nothing fuckin’ softer than a pair of soft thighs” he muses, half to himself, half to you and the mic “could just live between them forever, die happy if a girl pretty as a peach would let me bury my face there.” You feel yourself clench around nothing, feeling maddeningly empty all of a sudden. You shift to try to gain some friction, the chair giving a slight creak at the change in position. Joel looks up and glares at you, your body going still immediately under the intensity of his eyes. 

He sticks his hand out behind him, pausing the microphone from recording. “You need to stay. still.” he grits out at you “don't need the whole internet hearing how much of a desperate little thing you are.” You nod at his words, hands gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles turn white. He flicks the mic back on and his lips find your thighs again. Nipping and kissing the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts. He slides his hands further up, popping the button open and you have to bite down on your fist not to moan when he drags the zipper down with his teeth. He shimmies you out of your shorts, leaving your bottom half clad in your embarrassingly wet panties. 

He lets out a growl at the sight of your cunt, clothed and practically dripping for him. “Look at her… practically creaming already and I ain’t even touched you yet” He lets his thumb press against the wet spot the slight pressure just barely teasing your sopping hole dragging a breathy sigh out of you. You look down at him, eyes hooded and lips parting, practically begging for him without uttering a damn word. 

He looks up at you as he slides your panties to the side, blowing a stream of cold air straight onto your clit, making you jump. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy…” he practically salivates at the sight of you “nothin’ fucking better than seein’ a drippy, needy, little cunt in front of me…” he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right next to where you want him, where you need his lips 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words. Somehow it felt filthier being able to see the look on his face, the absolute need he had to taste you. The grip he had on your thighs was bruisingly tight, not helping your arousal die down in the slightest. His mouth finally finds your slit, tongue licking a hot wet stripe at an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a guttural moan and practically salivates at the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet” he groans, tongue dipping back down to taste more of your slick. One of your hands leaves the armrest of the chair and moves to cover your mouth when his lips place three gentle kisses around your clit before relenting and wrapping his lips around the aching bud, with a quiet hum. 

You bite down on your hand to stifle the moans threatening to spill, desperate and eager to please him. Your thighs shake when he slips a finger into your dripping cunt and curls them to hit that spot. He lets out a chuckle, lips still sucking on your clit. The vibrations of his warm breath on your aching clit elicited a desperate wine from your mouth, despite how hard you were trying to be quiet for him “Ffffuck-” 

He raises a brow at you, not even pulling away from your skin, his baby eyes just gazing at you from between your legs as his fingers work at you. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth in an effort to stop your sounds, but your attempts seem futile as your climax starts to draw near. Joel slips a second finger inside of you with embarrassing ease, the sound of his fingers curling inside you, joined only by your soft little breaths and his lips on your clit. His fingers stretch you in ways your fingers never have, scissoring and sliding inside of you with practiced precision. “Atta fuckin’ girl..” he growls as your toes curl instinctively, heels digging into his shoulder blades as the coil inside of you finally snaps. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, your thighs clamping around his head as he works you through it “squirtin’ all over daddy’s face huh like the needy thing you are.” 

He pulls your legs off from his legs and hits save on the audio, before glancing back at you with a smirk. “Ain’t posting that anywhere..” he whispers, the gentleness a shocking turn around from the filth he whispered to you earlier. Your breath is still coming out in shaky pants, looking up at him through hazy lids “keepin’ that all to myself” he hums, pressing a little kiss on your head. 

He scoops you up like you’re a ragdoll and practically clomps over to his bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. His fingers work deftly at the tie of his sweats, pushing them off. You squeak softly when you see the trail of hair going down his pelvis, the lack of boxers making heat rise to your chest. You work your top off, while he throws his hoodie across the room, a guttural groan leaving his mouth as he sees your breasts. “Fuckin’ perfect..'' His words aren’t necessarily for you, his thoughts just find themselves being voiced aloud. His calloused hands grope and knead at the softness of your tits before he presses wet kisses to each of your nipples. “Need to be inside ya” he practically begs, cock hard against his stomach leaking pre-cum. 

You could salivate at the sight, hell you truly might have a little bit. “Fuck me, Daddy, need you to fuck me Joel, please i can be good im ready, I'm on the pill-” your words were babbled, fast and rushed together, your intense desire for the man in front of you the only thing your brain could comprehend. Your legs part on the bed, your arousal dripping down your thighs calling to him like flowers call to a honeybee. 

“Christ, baby,” he groans before grabbing your legs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He fists his cock and slides it through your aching pussy, both of you letting out simultaneous cries of shit when your wetness coats his length. He slides into you with gentle thrusts, letting you adjust to his size slowly, before sinking in all the way with a soft whimper “take me so good…” his words are quiet and breathless, almost as if he was in awe of how your body made room for him. 

“Oh my god-” you cry out, your hands fisting in the dark sheets under your skin. “so fucking big joel..” you clench around him, body on fire with how good he felt inside you, with how perfect it was. It was like you were made to take him like this. His thrusts get faster and your legs curl around his waist, pulling him in as deep as you possibly could. The feeling of his hand pressing on your lower stomach has you arching your back into his touch. 

“Perfect fucking thing,” he grits huskier than usual, with a thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. “Feel me peaches?” he thrusts into you again and presses on your tummy “right fuckin’ there.. Right where I god damn belong…” his words were lust filled and hazy, his own need and orgasm clouding all judgment. Your hips roll against his, the coarse hair brushing up against you, and your head lolls back into the mattress as his thrusts get sloppier. 

“Inside, Joel fuck-” you whimper at him, eyes wide and pleading as your second orgasm builds in the pits of your belly “please cum inside me, wanna feel you please..” for a moment he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your pretty little moans and begging are like a dream come true for him. He just nodded and shifted so he was practically cradling your body under his, cock buried so deep inside you that you knew you’d be feeling it for days afterward. 

He grinds his hips lazily against yours while his thrusts are shallow and pointed. Your legs shake while you meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as you both fall apart practically molded together. “Jesus christ-” his breathing is ragged and hoarse “takin’ me so damn good, gonna fuckin’ fill you up” he gives a few more thrusts before he pulls out of your quivering pussy, your own orgasm sending stars into your eyes. 

You both stay like that for a moment, Joel's forehead resting softly on your shoulder as his cum spills out onto his bed. You shift softly to pull him next to you and curl into his touch, giving him a cheeky smile as you tilt his face to meet your eyes. “You…” a breathless little laugh escapes your lips “how long did you know I was commenting on your posts?” you ask softly, brows raised at him. 

He snorts at the question and flicks your forehead gently, earning a playful pout to be thrown in his direction. “Bout damn near two weeks ago” he replies, classic shit eating grin plastered to his face. “Figured it was you when you came over lookin’ like you’d won the damn Powerball and some little fan called peaches_and_cream left a comment about cummin’ three times to one damn post” you let out a muffled groan and bury your head into his chest, mumbling something about him being an asshole before you both shift into a comfortable silence. 

He moves, patting your hip and telling you to go use the bathroom after a few minutes, preaching his favorite safe sex speech and you roll your eyes at him before you saunter over to his bathroom. “Oh and Joel-” you call out before you walk in, eyes meeting his as he waits for you to finish your sentence “send me that audio, would ya?” 

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[inez-winchester-cameron]

Run. (18+)

↠Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Reader x Demon!Dean (mentioned Crowley x Reader)

↠Summary: After running into a dark room, you end up in the hands of the Winchesters, one soulless and one a demon (SMUT, WC:3,490)

↠Cw: Threesome, dub-con, rough sex, choking, nipple pinching/twisting, pussy/face/thigh slapping, blindfolding, oral, throat-fucking, squirting, unprotected sex, roleplay, tying up, degradation, hair pulling, cum in places it shouldn’t be, arousal from crying, just very rough sex

↠Notes: I made a vote the other night abt what fic you guys wanted next and this won :) I’ll probably end up doing the other two at some point but this is what ya’ll get for now. Hopefully this makes up for my lack of uploads. Apologies, I’m a loser band kid and have marching band things to do and those tire me the fuck out. Anyways, I quite literally soaked my shorts writing this so hopefully yall enjoy this as much as I did :)

-

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, you could feel it in your head, your stomach, everywhere. Your breathing came out panicked, after running across the bunker. Your legs could only carry you so far before you stopped, looking around to make sure you weren’t followed. Slowly, after making sure they weren’t behind you, you turned the handle on the door and stepped in, backwards. 

You were being chased by none other than the Winchester brothers, one soulless and the other a demon. Unfortunately, you hadn’t realized until it was too late and they had you right where they wanted you. You were caged in, no matter where you ran in the bunker they could get to you. You knew you were only delaying the inevitable, they would find you and kill you, for fun. You stepped backwards into the room, slamming the door. You let out a sigh of relief and began looking for the light switch but you ran into something. Someone. 

You let out a gasp as you felt a warm tall body, and then the room filled with the deep chuckle of your ‘boyfriend’, Sam Winchester, “Hey baby.” But he wasn’t your Sammy anymore, he had no soul. He took it upon himself to switch the light on and you were met with his sinister smirk. You gasped again and walked backwards but once again you ran into a warm body. This time, arms wrapped around you and you instantly knew they were the arms of Dean Winchester.

“Did you really think you could run from us?” Dean whispered lowly into your ear. You let out a small whimper, as tears filled your eyes. There was nothing you could do. 

Sam chuckled at the look on your face and moved closer, ignoring your flinch when he cupped your face, “Aw, baby, we’re not gonna hurt you.” He gently stroked your cheeks.

“He’s right, princess, we have other plans for you,” Dean adds on.

“O-other plans..?” You stutter out.

“Oh yeah, baby, you were bad,” Sam says, still stroking your cheeks, “We’ve gotta punish you.”

Dean let go of you and walked over to the closet. You soon realized it was Dean’s room that you had stumbled into and attempted to hide in. Dean approached the closet, opening it. You couldn’t see him as Sam made you look at him but you could hear Dean russling around in his closet. Eventually he pulled out a box. He approached his bed and pulled out two ropes. He looked to his brother, “Undress her.”

Sam smirked and turned to you, “Just hold still, baby, okay? Make it easy on me.” You whimpered and shook your head and Sam’s eyes got darker, “I said hold fucking still. Do you wanna be hurt? Cause I’ll hurt you, baby.” You whimpered again but held yourself straight. Even though the situation wasn’t ideal, you had to admit, you were kind of into it. Sam undressed you until you were nude and exposed to everyone in the room. This wasn’t a new thing to Sam, you two had sex a decent amount, but the soulless and Dean part was all new. Dean smirked at the view of your backside he got. A whistle left his lips and your face got warm.

“Sammy, your girl’s so pretty. You should share her more often,” Dean said, with a smirk. Sam just chuckled in response.

“Get on the bed,” Sam pushed you forward and you quickly got on the bed, on your back. You didn’t want him hurting you. Dean smirked at the sight of you.

“Fuck, Sammy,” he mumbled, “If I was you I’d be balls deep in this every night of the week.” Dean started tying your wrists to the headboard, not bothering to check if the ropes were too tight before doing the same with your ankles, making sure your legs were spread. Your face was burning in embarrassment, and Dean noticed, “What? Embarrassed? About little old me?”

This situation was still less than ideal, your boyfriend and his brother were heartless. But with how hot the two of them were above you, you couldn’t find it in you to care. Your heart was still beating out of your chest but you found yourself getting into this situation. You slowly nodded, answering Dean’s question. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked, baby,” Sam muttered under his breath, running a finger up your slit. You shivered at the sudden contact, his skin was cold. Sam smirked at this and kept teasing your slit, refusing to touch your clit or push anything into your hole. Dean stood off to the side, watching his brother play with you. As he watched, his lips curled into a smirk. You instantly knew he had a devious idea, and the thought of that both excited and scared you.

“Hey princess, why don’t we play a little game?” Dean purred, digging around in his box of toys. Sam watched Dean with curious eyes, wondering what his next move would be. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling a bit uncomfortable. You watched as Dean pulled out a blindfold.

“Shhh, it’s okay, princess,” Dean cooed, coming over to you, “We’re just gonna have some fun with you. We’re gonna put this on you and have some fun with you and after a few minutes we’re going to make you guess who it was. You guess right, you get a reward, you guess wrong? Well you’ll see what happens then.”

“B-But I’ve never been touched by you before, Dean,” you looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“But you’ve been touched by Sammy plently, so if it feels unfamiliar than it’s probably me, hm?” Dean explained.

“You’ll do great, baby,” Sam took the blindfold from Dean and covered your eyes. Everything was instantly dark. It was already scary enough fucking the two heartless Winchesters but the added on loss of a sense made it even scarier. Not that you got a choice in the matter, you knew they would be having their fun, whether you were willing or not. It’s not as if you’ve never thought of this before, being completely at Sam and Dean’s mercy. As much as you’d never cheat on Sammy, you have thought about be taken by both of them at the same time. You even found yourself browsing through some of the ‘Dean x Reader x Sam’ written by the Supernatural book community. There was a specific one you remembered that featured Soulless Sam and Demon Dean, and it turned you on more than you’d ever admit. You were brought out of your thoughts by a set of hands on your body, and a pair of lips on yours. 

The hands were big, rough, but the lips were soft, gentle. You found yourself leaning up to kiss the man on top of you back. His hands roamed your body, groping your tits, your hips, your ass. A low growl was let out as you opened your mouth to let him explore. Soon enough, he was biting your bottom lip, ignoring the gasp you let out. His hands got more and more rough, squeezing at your tits and ass. You let out a whine as he played with you, and a small smack was placed on your hip, as somewhat of a warning not to complain. After another moment, the man stepped away and Dean’s voice, “Okay, princess, guess.”

You thought for a moment, Sam was normally rather gentle with you, unless you’d pissed him off and he hadn’t been pissed off at all today..It had to be Dean.

“D-Dean?” You stuttered out and a low chuckle left Sam’s lips.

“Nope,” Sam answered, “It was me, pretty girl.”

“O-Oh..” you replied, suddenly very nervous and scared. What were they gonna do? The boys chuckled in unison at your fear.

“That’s okay, princess, you have two more wrong guesses until you get punished,” Dean explained and it went silent again for another few minutes before a pair of lips was on your neck, kissing. The man on top of you didn’t touch your body, he just kissed your neck before beginning to litter hickeys all over it. He was relentless, never letting up for longer than a few seconds. He spent a long time sucking hickeys onto your neck and marking you up. Moans and whimpers left your lips but he didn’t smack you like Sam did. That was what you noticed and decided would be the deciding key. Eventually, after what you assumed to be ten minutes, he pulled away. 

“Guess,” Sam said.

“Dean,” you said, confidently and Dean smirked.

“That’s right, princess. Marked you all up so everyone knows you’re ours,” Dean said with a smirk. Another minute passed before you felt hot breath on your soaked core. After a moment, a tongue dipped forward and began circling your clit. You bit your lip and a smack was placed upon your thigh at this.

“Let us hear you,” Sam spoke up, but you couldn’t tell if the voice came from between your legs or from elsewhere. You pondered this for a moment and let your lip go as the tongue on your clit kept going. Eventually the man inbetween your legs leaned in and started to suck on your clit, flicking his tongue over it as he worked. Quiet moans and whimpers left your lips as he worked on you. After just a minute or two, he had you shaking as you came on his tongue, but his didn’t let up.

“Please-!” You called out, pulling out the restraints but the ropes were tight, it just caused a burning sensation on your wrists. You stopped pulling but whined as the tongue was relentless, “Sam, Dean, please!” But neither of the boys answered you, continuing to work you towards the edge. Soon enough, a finger was pushed into your greedy, wet hole. Your loud moan echoed throughout the room as he did. Soon enough you were clenching around the finger, nearing another orgasm, but just as you were about to go over that edge, he stopped. An even louder whine left your throat, as the man got up. You heard the loud sound of one of them sucking their finger clean. 

“Such a little slut,” Sam muttered, “Guess.”

Your brain malfunctioned for a second, you completely forgot the point of the game. Shit, who was between your legs?

“Sam?” You guessed, genuinely having no reasoning.

“Nope, was me, princess,” Dean spoke up and a light smack was placed against your thigh, “You better start guessing right or you’re in for a punishment, baby girl.” You gulped, waiting for their next move. After a moment, another man was between your legs and above you. You felt the tip of a cock rubbing against your slit. You let out a whine at the teasing and eventually the man pushed in. You instantly knew who it was, you knew that cock anywhere. You were partially relieved, you wouldn’t need a punishment but part of you was also curious. What would the punishment be? Would they get rougher? 

The man bottomed out and just sat there for a minute, before giving a few slow, deep thrusts. The cock didn’t come back out but Dean’s voice came from above you.

“Who is it, princess? Who’s inside your slutty pussy right now?”

You knew it was your Sammy but something compelled you to answer a different way.

“Dean.”

This time both of the boys chuckled in a sort of sick, twisted way. 

“Wrong,” Dean leaned down and whispered into your ear. You shivered at this and soon enough the blindfold was removed. Sure enough, Sam was inbetween your legs, balls deep in your pussy, while Dean stood off to the side. You noticed that both of them were fully undressed. Your eyes flashed to Dean’s dick and you found yourself licking your lips. Dean’s hand grapped a fistful of your hair and pulled on it, forcing you to look up at him, “Did ya hear me, slut? You were wrong, you’re going to get punished.” Dean then looked to his brother, “What should we do to her Sammy?”

Sam licked his lips for a second, eyeing up your body, before responding, “It’s hard to pick. We could stick something in her pussy and just leave her here for a while. We could hurt her, I know she’s a little pain slut. We could use these holes until she’s sobbing. We could even call Crowley and some of his demons over, let them have a couple rounds with her.” You made a face of digust, but your pussy told the truth, as you clenched down on Sam’s cock. Sam chuckled, “What do you think, Dean? Wanna let her be a little cum dump for everyone we know?”

“As much as that intrigues me, she’s ours for right now. Maybe we’ll leave her here after we’ve had our fill and let her be used by a couple of our buddies,” Dean said, laughing when your eyes filled with fear, “But for now, I think our little whore deserves to be treated like the little whore she is.” Sam chuckled, reaching forward and pinching your nipples, hard. A yelp left your throat but Sam ignored it, twisting them. Another sick amd twisted smirk formed on Dean’s face as he watched his brother hurt you. Sam slowly started fucking you again, still going in slow, deep thrusts. He kept your nipples in his fingers and he kept occasionally twisting them, ignoring the look of pain on your face because he could feel you clenching down on his cock. You were too focused on the pain to notice Dean speaking to you, “Open up.”

After you didn’t answer right away, a slap was placed upon your cheek and you were instantly looking at Dean with wide, scared eyes. He repeated himself, “Open. your. mouth.” You instantly obeyed, sticking your tongue out and suddenly Dean was forcing his cock down your throat. No minute to adjust, his cock was instantly down your cock. You gagged and sputtered but he ignored it, gripping your hair roughly and making your head go up and down on his cock. Sam sped up his thrusts, continuing to twist and pinch your nipples with one hand while the other came down and smacked your clit.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned out, “She’s such a little whore.” 

“I know, man, she thinks I actually like her but truthfully I just like having a little obidient fuck toy. Just an object to help get my dick wet.”

If you weren’t being played with, that comment would’ve hurt but in your current predicament it just made your pussy twitch. Sam brought his hand down onto your clit again and you moaned around Dean’s dick. Both boys sped up their pace at the same time and you were once again gagging on the dick down your throat. Dean didn’t care though, he was getting his fill. You let out a loud moan, nearly screaming as Sam hit your cervix with his thrusts.

“Aww, is my cock to big for your little pussy?” Sam asked, smacking your clit again. You were pushed over the edge at that and started cumming around Sam’s cock. Sam felt this but he didn’t stopped, still thrusting. You whined but they didn’t care.

“Be a good fuck doll, good fuck dolls stay quiet,” Dean commented, wrapping his hand around your throat. He lightly squeezed down and groaned when he could feel himself buried in your throat. He kept his hand tight around your throat and continued using your throat. Squelching noises came from both ends of your body as they used you. Suddenly, Dean pulled out, biting his lip and stroking his cock over your face. Sam watched, smirking. The boys eyes met and they came in unison, Sam in your wet cunt, while Dean came all over your face. Your eyes squeezed shut as cum splashed in them but Dean just laughed, reaching forward, holding one open and purposely getting his cum in it, “Act like a slut, get treated like one.” Tears fell down your face at the cums in your eyes and a choked out sob left your throat. Sam joined Dean in laughing. The boys laughed at you as you kept tearing up, trying to get your vision back to normal. Cum was all over the rest of your face as well, lips, nose, and even your hair. After a few minutes, you sniffled, and managed to be able to keep your eyes open.

“You done bein a baby?” Sam asked, pulling out. The boys switched position and your eyes went wide.

“W-What’re you doin?”

“Did you think we were done with you, princess?” Dean asked, as he lined himself up with your pussy.

“That’s too bad, baby, because watching your little crying fit just got us hard again. Besides, you wanna give Dean a turned with your pussy, dontcha?” Sam smirked.

You hesitated for a moment but silently nodded, embarassed. Sam chuckled, and lined his cock up with your lips. The boys made eye contact before entering you in a swift movement, both at the same time. You gagged on Sam’s cock as well. Sam’s cock was bigger than Dean’s, so it hurt more in your throat but Dean’s didn’t hit your cervix as he entered your pussy. You were greatful for this, as Sam had probably arleady bruised it and it already was sore. Dean set a fast pace, and you moaned around Sam’s cock. Sam set a much slower pace, enjoying watching you choke on his cock. 

“Her pussy’s so tight, Sammy,” Dean commented, “You’re a lucky man.”

“I sure am,” Sam said, “I got the best fuck toy of them all. Even if she’s a whiny little bitch sometimes.” You choked each time Sam bottomed out in your throat but Sam didn’t care, whatsoever.

“Ever made her squirt?” Dean asked, smirking

“Once or twice,” Sam replied, speeding up his thrusts into your throat a little bit. 

“Wanna see a cool trick?” Dean asked with a smirk and Sam nodded. Suddenly you screamed around Sam’s cock, at the feeling of Dean pushing two fingers into your pussy with his cock, “Come on, slut. Don’t be a fucking baby.” Tears filled your eyes at the stretch, it hurt. But Dean didn’t care. He kept thrusting, and began to finger you at the same time, finding your g-spot and roughly pushing his fingers against it. You let out a loud scream again at this. Sam smirked and watched intently while you choked on his cock. As Dean had mentioned, after just over a minute, you were becoming a water founation on Dean’s dick. Sam’s eyes went wide and his dick twitched in your throat. Sam pulled out nearly all the way, leaving his cock to rest on your tongue. He stroked it while watching you squirt all over Dean and he let out a groan, cumming onto your tongue.

 He pulled his cock back, “Stick your tongue out.” You did as told, a pool of Sam’s cum still resting on your tongue, “Now keep that there while Dean finishes his fun with you. Dean didn’t let up after you squirted. Whines and whimpers left your lips as Dean continued to use you, but you were focused on keeping Sam’s cum where he told you to. Sam watched, intently, “Oh and if you spill a drop of that, we’re gonna invite Crowley over and let him have his way with you. All night long.” You couldn’t help it as you moaned loudly and began squirting on Dean’s dick.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, cumming deep inside you as your pussy convulsed around him again. He let his thrusting stop and he pulled his fingers out, rubbing your clit, hoping to make your squirt last longer, “You like that idea, slut?”

“I bet she does,” Sam said, smirking, looking at your face. Your eyes were crossed, tongue was out, but like a good girl, you managed to keep Sam’s cum resting on your tongue, “Good girl, baby. Swallow.” You instantly swallowed it and pushed your tongue out again to show that it was gone. 

“Andddd scene,” Dean joked, pulling out. A genuine smile appeared on Sam’s face.

“You okay, baby? We weren’t too rough?” Sam asked, while Dean started untying you. 

“Come on, Sammy, she loved it.”

You smiled at Dean and shook your head, looking into the eyes of your loving boyfriend, who was in fact, not soulless. 

“Good,” Sam smiled and stroked your cheek gently, “Had so much fun, baby.”

“Same time tomorrow?” Dean joked, which earned him a harsh glare from you, “Fine fine, no same time tomorrow.” A light laugh left all of your guy’s throats and Sam leaned down, giving you a long kiss. Luckily, these men weren’t a demon and a soulless man, they were your boyfriend and his brother, who just happened to stumble upon a fic you were reading and both cared for you deeply. 

Sam pulled away after a moment, “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too, Sammy.”

[the-laughing-lunatic]

uhhhchhdhfhdhd can you maybe do something with the mercs (all 9 if thats cool, but if not then just sniper and medic!!) with a reader that cant sleep so they just. go to their room and ask if they can cuddle with them

(ofc! This was rlly fun to write, I’ll prolly write for all of them later if yall are interested enough :> thx for requesting!)

Medic and Sniper with a reader asking for cuddles (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

☆Sniper☆

He’s a tad confused when you show up to his camper van

I mean, he’d never turn down cuddling you, that’d be bloody stupid of him

“Why you wanna cuddle with me though, mate? I don’t exactly got the most comfortable sleepin’ conditions.”

“Because it’s you, Mick. If you don’t want to, that's fine.”

“Woah, woah, mate you’re twisting my words. I mean, I’d love that. Uh, come in I guess.”

Bro is so awkward omg- 

Does not know how to initiate physical contact at all so he just kind of stands until you lay down on the bed

The bed in his van is already really small so it forces you two to be even closer

He doesn’t really like being super close, but he likes to have an arm around you to have that connection

Kind of guy that needs noise to sleep, he’d be perfectly content to listen to you ramble about anything as he holds you.

Very light sleeper, def gets up in the middle of the night a few times but he’d be very careful not to disturb your sleep

He really does enjoy holding you and would like to do it more, but will absolutely not unless you ask first

In the morning he’ll fix you coffee and fairy bread to be polite

Really wants to do that again but will absolutely not ask you, way too awkward for that

☆Medic☆

You had gone to Medic’s bedroom to ask him if you two could cuddle…but he wasn’t there

You went to his lab next, where he sat hunched over his desk, frantically scribbling away on some papers. “Ohoho! Hello mein fruend, I didn’t notice you. What do you need?”

“I can’t sleep, can we cuddle?”

“If you wish, you may sit here while I work.”

You’d sit in his lap as he continued to write something or other, with one of his arms wrapped around your waist

It was nice for a bit, he’s big and warm, but it was too uncomfortable to actually try to sleep and you were tired

“Mm, Ludwig, when do you actually go to bed?”

“Ahehe, I think around one or two,” he said sheepishly.

“You think?”

“I normally just pass out at my desk.”

“...okay, we’re going to bed now,” you said, getting off his lap and dragging him to his bed

He’d (begrudgingly) come along after a lot of complaining about how he needed to get the work done

He likes having you lay on top of him, it calms him down to feel the weight of you (he def has a weighted blanket on the rare nights he sleeps in his bed)

Traces your skin and absentmindedly talks about where each of your organs are underneath 

He falls asleep very quickly, you have to take his glasses off and place them on the nightstand (mf wears glasses while he sleeps, they’re crooked as hell)

His grip is so tight even as he sleeps though, you wanna move? Ain’t gonna happen anytime soon.

In the morning bro is always awake before you, no matter how early you get up 

If he’s feeling quirky maybe you’ll get breakfast in bed

(He may put caffeine in your food at dinner so you wont be able to sleep and you’ll cuddle him, until you catch him–)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[n0vazsq]

Alley rose | JMM21 x Reader

pairing . . . pepe marti x reader

summary . . . When you're having a bad day, Pepe comforts you and lets you know that he's there for you

request . . . yes!!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . one of my fav songs with one of my fav drivers....its perfect guys <3 also didnt want to depress yall so i didnt make it angsty

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @hwalllllllelujah ,, @parkerloves ,, @paucubarsisimp (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The corner store was quiet except for the hum of the old fluorescent lights, flickering faintly above.

Pepe sat in his car, the weight of his phone in his hand a small comfort as he scrolled aimlessly, glancing up at the door every few seconds.

His heart was restless. You’d texted him earlier asking if he could pick you up, but your message was short and vague, too vague.

The door jingled, and his head snapped up. There you were.

Pepe’s stomach dropped when he saw you. Your shoulders were hunched, and your arms clutched a plastic bag tightly to your chest. Your eyes were rimmed with red like you’d been crying, and your lips looked raw, like you’d been biting them to keep it together.

His heart twisted.

He stepped out of the car immediately, his feet moving toward you before his mind even caught up. "Hey," he called out softly, not wanting to startle you.

You looked up at him, and he froze. Your eyes were tired, and the faint tremble in your lower lip broke something inside him. "Hi," you mumbled, trying to manage a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

"What happened?" Pepe asked, his voice low, cautious. He stopped just short of reaching for you, not wanting to push too hard.

You shrugged, looking down as you handed him the bag. "It’s nothing. Just….a lot."

Pepe frowned, his eyes scanning your face. "Doesn’t look like nothing."

You sighed, brushing past him and toward the car. "I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just go."

He watched you for a moment, his chest tight with worry. But he followed, opening the car door for you. When you slid into the passenger seat, he leaned against the doorframe.

"I’m here if you want to talk," he said softly.

"I know," you whispered, your gaze fixed on your hands.

The drive back was quiet, the kind of silence that filled the car with unspoken words and thick tension. Pepe kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but you just stared out the window, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself like you were trying to hold yourself together.

When he pulled into your driveway, you didn’t move right away. Instead, you sat there, staring at the dashboard, your fingers picking at the hem of your shirt.

"Are you okay?" Pepe asked finally, breaking the silence.

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "I don’t know."

His heart clenched, and before he knew it, he was unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to face you. "Hey, look at me," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You turned slowly, your lips trembling as a tear slipped down your cheek. Pepe reached out, brushing it away with his thumb.

"You don’t have to do this alone," he said, his voice steady.

You let out a shaky laugh, more bitter than amused. "Feels like I’ve been alone for a long time."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. "You’re not alone," he said, his hand still resting on your cheek. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

For a moment, you just stared at him, and then something inside you seemed to snap. You surged forward, your hands gripping the collar of his jacket as you pulled him into a kiss.

It was desperate and raw, your lips crashing against his like you were trying to drown out whatever pain was eating away at you. Pepe’s hands found your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back, his heart hammering in his chest.

But then you pulled away, your forehead resting against his as you caught your breath.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I shouldn’t have-"

"Don’t," Pepe interrupted, his hands tightening on your waist. "Don’t apologize."

Tears streamed down your face now, and you shook your head. "I’m scared, Pepe."

"Of what?" he asked softly, his fingers brushing soothing circles on your back.

"Of losing you. Of ruining this."

Pepe’s chest ached as he cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You’re not going to lose me. And you’re not ruining anything."

You bit your lip, fresh tears spilling over. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know how I feel about you," he said, his voice steady and certain. "And nothing’s going to change that."

You stared at him, your breath hitching. "I’ve been such a mess, Pepe. I don’t know what you see in me."

He let out a soft, shaky laugh, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I see everything. The good, the bad, and all the stuff you’re too scared to show anyone else. And I love all of it."

Your eyes widened slightly, and Pepe smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yeah," he whispered. "I love you."

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the engine.

"Don’t leave me hanging," he said softly, his voice almost pleading. "Don’t leave me alone in this."

You shook your head quickly, your hands gripping his jacket again. "I’m not leaving," you whispered.

Pepe pulled you into another kiss, this one softer, slower. It wasn’t about desperation anymore; it was about reassurance, about holding each other in the chaos.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your head on his shoulder, your tears soaking into his jacket.

"I’m scared," you admitted again, your voice barely above a whisper.

Pepe wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. "I know. But we’ll figure it out together, okay?"

You nodded against him, your arms slipping around his waist as you clung to him.

And for the first time that night, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t drowning anymore.

Pepe didn’t let go of you for a long time, holding you like you might slip away if he loosened his grip even a little. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable anymore; it felt safe. His fingers ran through your hair in slow, soothing strokes, grounding you in the moment.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Pepe asked softly, his voice breaking the quiet. You could feel the smile in his tone, warm and nostalgic.

You nodded against his shoulder. "At the garage. I accidentally spilled coffee on you," you mumbled, a faint laugh escaping your lips despite yourself.

Pepe laughed, the vibration rumbling against your cheek. "Yeah, and you looked at me like I was going to yell at you or something. But you didn’t even give me a chance to be mad, you just started apologizing a million times, trying to wipe it off with your sleeve."

"I was mortified," you admitted, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze.

"And I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen," he confessed, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

Your eyes widened slightly, the weight of his words sinking in. "You’re ridiculous," you whispered, though there was no seriousness behind the words, only a quiet warmth.

Pepe’s expression softened, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "I mean it. I’ve been crazy about you since that day, and every time I see you, it just gets worse."

The sincerity in his eyes made your breath catch, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Pepe…."

"I know I’m not perfect," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I mess up, and I get scared too. But I need you to know I’m all in. For you, for us. Whatever this is, I want it more than anything."

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you leaned in, your hands cupping his face as you kissed him again. This time, it was slow and deliberate, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words.

When you pulled back, Pepe rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "So… does this mean you’re stuck with me now?" he teased gently.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. "I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?"

Pepe grinned, his smile radiating brightness throughout the car. "Not a chance."

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt steady. Like the chaos of the world couldn’t touch you as long as he was by your side.

And as he wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you close, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding onto.

[tima7fa]

Talk To Me

Gojo Satoru x Therapy

Contents: satoru being stupid, reader is a therapist, reader is sugurus sister, didn't adress it that much because my hands hurt and I'm lazy, mention of character death, I honestly don't think this is very romantic probably more platonic, I hate this actually for some reason, this is the longest shit I've written in a while

Note: Satoru doesn't know reader is sugurus sister because she has a different last name, and while she was studying at the same school suguru never knew he had an older sister reader knew she has a younger brother but she never approached him or said anything to him what she regrets the most

And do not attack me yall I don't know how therapy works okay? I've never been there even tho some people tell me I should go to therapy

"Suguru geto is dead."

Your hand froze, the pen you were holding punched a jagged hole through the paper, which became surrounded by a spreading pool of ink. You stared blankly at the damaged sheet, the room falling silent around you in a suffocating hush.

Your gaze slowly met the somber expression of the man seated across from you. "Why are you telling me this, Principal Yaga?" you asked, your voice laced with a veneer of mournful softness.

The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "He was your younger brother-"

"No," you interjected firmly, cutting him off. "I do not know such a man, so please do not speak of him to me here." The harshness in your tone was palpable as you released your grip on the pen, crumpling the ruined paper into an uneven ball and tossing it into the nearby wastebasket.

"You were always a terrible liar, you know," Yaga remarked, reaching a hand out to gently wipe the tears that had carved burning paths down your cheeks. "I would have believed you if your eyes weren't betraying so much grief."

"I'm not crying because of him," you protested desperately, though your futile attempts to stem the flow of tears proved fruitless.

"Child..." Yaga murmured, pulling you from your seat and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You clung to him tightly, burying your face into the reassuring solidity of his chest as you surrendered to your sorrowful outpouring.

After some time, you finally managed to regain your composure. Yaga handed you a stack of files, and your eyes immediately fell upon a photograph of a white-haired man.

"There is someone I need you to help," the dark-haired man began. "Satoru Gojo." You uttered the name of the renowned child prodigy, staring at Yaga with a look of confusion.

"Satoru and Suguru were close friends, with a deep connection to one another..." Yaga trailed off, his expression heavy with concern. "The one who ended up killing Suguru... was Satoru himself. And he is not in a good mental state."

"I know I'm asking a great deal of you, to help the person who took your brother's life, but-"

"I'll help him," you interrupted, offering Yaga a weak, but resolute smile.

The man's eyes widened with surprise, but his gaze remained clouded with worry. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

You simply nodded in response, steeling your resolve to assist the one who had taken your beloved sibling from you.

___________________________________________

It's absolutely preposterous. No, wait - it's downright hilarious. Satoru Gojo, of all people, being forced into therapy? What a cruel twist of fate. He never wanted this, never needed this. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, he's been strongarmed into it, all thanks to Principal Yaga's meddling.

Surely, this has to be some sort of twisted joke. But alas, he has no choice in the matter. It's either submit to this ludicrous therapy session or risk losing his teaching position - a job he cherishes, as it allows him to continue molding his students, pushing them to heights greater than even his own.

And so, here he sits, in this cozy little room, across from a woman armed with a pad and pen, scrutinizing him through his thick black shades. How is he, a sorcerer tasked with the mastery of curses, supposed to confide in this simple human about the intricacies of his life? She likely doesn't even have the faintest idea what "cursed energy" is, let alone the trials and tribulations he faces on a daily basis.

But he can't ignore the neatly maintained amount of cursed energy emerging from her.

Of course, he has no intention of revealing anything of substance. If he so much as mentions the nature of his work, she'd probably have him committed to a mental institution faster than he can blink.

"So what brings you here today, Mr. Gojo?" the woman asks, her voice dripping with false sweetness, a saccharine smile plastered across her face.

Satoru huffs heavily, the irritation seeping into his tone. "I'm not here by choice. Principal Yaga forced me to come here."

"I know," she responds, and Gojo raises a brow, surprised by her candor. "And I can see that this is your first time here."

"I'm asking you why do you think you're here," the therapist probes, her brows furrowing as Satoru satoru shifts in his seat, crossing his legs defiantly.

"Because I was forced to be here-" he begins, only to be swiftly interrupted.

"Why?" she presses, her tone infuriatingly calm and measured.

Satoru falls silent, staring at her blankly, his irritation palpable. This is supposed to be his time to vent, and yet she keeps interjecting, undermining his attempts at explanation. He already finds her immensely grating.

"Mr. Gojo?" the therapist gingerly tilts her head, awaiting his answer. Satoru sighs heavily, the frustration clear in his voice.

"Because Principal Yaga thinks I'm in desperate need of therapy," he spits through gritted teeth, the mere recollection of that argument making his blood boil.

"What about you? What do you think?" she probes further, her expression maddeningly serene.

"That all of this is stupid. I'm not in need of therapy - I'm perfectly fucking fine," satoru retorts, turning his head away to gaze out the window, where the rain has now begun to fall. He's the strongest sorcerer, for God's sake - he doesn't require aid from anyone.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't need it," she calmly asserts, and satoru can feel his nails digging into the flesh of his biceps through his clothes, crescent-shaped indentations surely imprinting his skin.

His gaze snaps back to her, a scowl etched upon his features. "The hell you mean?" he spits, his tone dripping with venom. "I just told you I was forced to be here. Why the hell don't you understand that?"

"If you were actually fine, Mr. Gojo, you wouldn't be here," the therapist repeats, her saccharine smile infuriating him to no end.

"Since it's your first time here, I'll explain to you how therapy works-" the therapist begins, only to be swiftly cut off by satoru's acerbic retort.

"I know how it works. I spill my guts out to you, you give me some useless advice, write some bullshit on your pad, diagnose that I'm somehow mentally ill - blah, blah, blah," he interjects mockingly, rolling his eyes with palpable annoyance.

The therapist pauses, staring at him for a moment before chuckling softly. "Therapists aren't actually supposed to give advice, as we know that it won't help our clients in any meaningful way or may even make them feel worse. So we avoid doing that. Rather than giving you advice, we guide you to see how your feelings, thoughts, choices, and actions affect one another. And we teach you about emotions, thoughts, coping skills, facing fears, and more."

Satoru scoffs in return, unimpressed. It doesn't matter to him what her job description entails. How the hell is he supposed to feel comfortable when he's paying a person to listen to him? She doesn't genuinely want to hear his problems (not that he has any, of course). And who knows, she'll probably gossip about the shit he says with her friends.

"Now, how about you start telling me about your day?" she inquires, switching the subject, having likely noticed his lingering irritation. Satoru scoffs, as though that were a mind-numbingly dull question.

"My day? Same as any other day," Satoru shrugs. "What do you want to know? The weather? I took a very interesting dump in the morning? Got myself some food, did whatever the hell teachers do - the usual."

The therapist sighs, seemingly ready to give up on that line of questioning, or perhaps regretting having asked it in the first place. Even so, she jots something down on her pad, and Satoru isn't sure if what he said was actually so worthy of being noted.

"Do you seriously have to take notes? What was so important in my answer to write down?" he questions, his tone mocking.

"Everything you say is important, Mr. Gojo," she replies with a hum.

"Really? Is it really that important that I took a dump this morning?" Satoru laughs derisively. Therapy is a joke, as far as he's concerned.

The therapist looks at him with those eerily calm eyes once more, her irritatingly artificial smile still plastered on her face. "You're a teacher - what did you teach your students today?"

What.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me what subjects I teach?" Satoru looked at her suspiciously, wondering if Yaga had somehow explained to her that he is a sorcerer.

"You're a jujutsu sorcerer. There's no need for me to ask what subjects you teach," she replied calmly.

Satoru leaned in, his elbow resting on his thigh as he held his chin in his palm. "You seem to know a lot about me, doc. Just who are you exactly?" A grin appeared on his face, as he considered the possibility that she might also be a sorcerer like him. Outside of the jujutsu domain, humans don't typically know who Gojo Satoru is.

"I'm your therapist," she simply replied, and his brow twitched slightly. "You know what I'm asking, miss."

"What do you think?" She tilted her head, smiling at him. Of course, she would turn the question back to him - it always has to be about his feelings and thoughts in therapy.

"You are a sorceress," he muttered, no longer doubting the amount of cursed energy he felt in the room. She must be a skilled sorceress, able to maintain her cursed energy at a small, unnoticed level surrounding her.

But why would Principal Yaga assign a sorceress to him? Was this some kind of trick? The woman before him is probably not even a real therapist. Still, he's never heard of her name before - perhaps she's a sorceress from another nation?

"Close. I was a sorceress," she revealed.

Satoru's brow furrowed. Why did she quit? And why did she become a therapist? Just who is she exactly?

"Now, why don't we get back on track?" she inquired, smoothly switching the subject and ending his train of thought.

The rest of the session was simply her attempting to get to know him better, or rather, analyze him. However, satoru did not give her that opportunity. Why should he? Yaga had only instructed him to attend therapy, not that it had to be effective. Honestly, satoru did not particularly care about this endeavor.

Why should he divulge information about himself to someone he barely even knows? Not to mention, she is being paid to listen to him - she is not doing this out of her own volition or good-hearted intentions.

She likely does not truly care about his problems (not that he has any, in his opinion). So why should his feelings and thoughts matter to her? She is merely performing her job, nothing more, nothing less.

Satoru has no intention of pouring his heart out to a complete stranger he knows little about. He understands that therapy is meant to provide him with a safe space to be vulnerable and open about everything. But he does not feel comfortable in this room.

___________________________________________

Satoru sighs, leaning his cheek against his fist as he relaxes in the chair in front of her.

"You worry too much," he says casually. "Why don't we ever talk about your feelings? We only ever talk about me."

Satoru is aware that she only wants the best for him. He simply does not care. He is here because it is mandatory, not because he wants to be. He does not believe he needs therapy, despite her claims otherwise. As his therapist, of course she would tell him he requires this treatment.

It has been a month since their therapy sessions began, and satoru has not been the least bit cooperative. The only aspect he has enjoyed is the freedom to freely criticize the higher-ups without anyone chastising him or telling him it is inappropriate.

She would always listen intently to every word that came out of his mouth, diligently noting things down in her little pad. Honestly, not even his own students gave him the same level of attention that she bestowed upon him. He couldn't help but appreciate the fact that his feelings mattered in this space, that what he said truly held significance. He liked that. And he couldn't deny that he enjoyed her undivided attention on him.

"Because I'm your therapist, and I'm supposed to listen to you. Not the other way around." She sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "How many times do we have to go through this conversation?" She looked utterly exhausted, and he almost felt a tinge of guilt for making this so difficult for her. Keyword: almost.

He knew that she was simply doing her job. But he didn't care - he would make her tired of him until she gave up on him.

Yet, at the same time, the thought of her giving up on him left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't really want that.

He shrugged, smirking. "As many times as you want to," he said, with his ever-present sense of humor. "I can keep dodging questions all day, if you like. I'm perfectly fine just existing in this room while you try to wrangle me into being vulnerable."

"However, I can't say the same about you, doctor." He taunted.

"I am not trying to make you vulnerable, I'm trying to help you understand your feelings and maybe find solutions for your problems, Mr. Gojo," she said calmly, as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair.

Satoru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he slumped against the back of his chair. "Help me understand my problems. Solve them. Figure out why I am the way I am. Heard it all before."

He knew he had to be here, in therapy, every week. However, that didn't mean he had to be vulnerable or cooperate with all this touchy-feely stuff. He simply didn't like that kind of thing.

"What makes you the happiest, Mr. Gojo?" She began asking him again. Seriously, how many questions did she prepare for him every time? He couldn't deny that he didn't dislike the fact that she worked so hard, just for him.

Hm.

It was a question he had genuinely considered. What made him the happiest?

"Fighting," he said after a pause. He gave a casual shrug. "I enjoy fights. They're fun. And when they get hard, it makes me want to try even harder. So... I guess that's what makes me the happiest - winning a difficult fight."

"The rush of adrenaline makes me feel... I don't know, excited? You know," he muttered, finding it somewhat challenging to articulate.

She scribbled some more notes in her pad. "Is there any fight that made you especially happy?" she then asked, her gaze shifting back to him from her pad.

"Mhm," he hummed, a small smirk forming on his face. This was a fun question for him. "Well... there was the time I got to fight a special grade," he said, the smile widening as he recalled the memory. "And that time I beat Toji. That's a really good memory."

"I would've died. But he didn't use a cursed tool, and didn't cut my head off," he chuckled, as if it were something to be happy about. "You should've seen the look on his face when he saw me, the one he supposedly killed, still alive and kicking."

"But I can't say I'm not grateful to him. Because I got to finally learn how reverse cursed technique works," he said with a wide grin on his face, and she followed suit by taking more notes in her pad.

He noticed her actions and stared at her with an exaggerated eyebrow raise. "Go ahead, make your notes about me being a sadist and liking to inflict pain or something. Then go back and analyze it with all your other therapist friends."

"I already said this before, whatever happens in this room will stay in this room, Mr. Gojo," she replied. "So be not afraid to spill anything to me."

"Yeah, yeah," he smirked, amused.

"What's my diagnosis, doc?" He tilted his head, staring at her as she lifted her head up from her pad to meet his gaze. "I'm a very bad person, don't you think? I love the pain I inflict on curses, I love the way they fear me, the fear in their eyes makes me feel so fucking excited," he laughed loudly.

"And when their blood taints my skin and clothes, it's such a disgusting texture yet it makes me want to be covered more with their blood. It feels so fucking amazing," he stared at her, awaiting a visible reaction, but he was met with nothing but an empty smile and empty eyes.

He hates this. He hates her. She's just an empty shell.

"You're just as crazy as I am, doc. Aren't ya?"

___________________________________________

But before she could say anything, the session had already ended, and Satoru was quick on his feet to get out of there.

Satoru rolls his eyes at her words and sighs. He leans back into the chair and spreads his legs, getting comfortable.

"This is such a pain," he mutters. "Do we really have to talk today? There's nothing to discuss. I'm peachy keen."

"Mr. Gojo, I need you to be a little more cooperative," she uttered gently.

"Do you, now?" Satoru's tone was dry, like sandpaper, his expression unchanging. He tilted his head slightly to the side. He could tell she was running out of patience, but that didn't stop him from being intentionally difficult. In fact, it made it more fun for him. "Yes, it's for your own good."

Satoru chuckles a little bit. "Aaaand here's the old 'it's for your own good' trope again, huh?" He shook his head, feigning mock disappointment. "I thought we were done with that by now, honestly."

"I do think that you really need this," she said seriously. "Look, Mr. Gojo, you might show your playful and cheerful side to everyone around you, but that is only a way to make them feel safe around you. I don't know what it's like to be the strongest, but I know that it can get pretty lonely standing on your own on top."

"You make it sound like I'm unhappy or something," he replied, shaking his head again. "Is it really so crazy for you to think that I'm perfectly fine being by myself? That I prefer being alone?" A small smile appeared on his face again. "I'm not lonely, doctor. I get more attention than I want, actually."

"That's not it," she sighed, shaking her head. "I know you have friends, you're a pretty talkative person and also a person who's approachable." She gave him a small smile. "Still, being surrounded by people doesn't mean that you feel the warmth of comfort. You keep them around you but still hold a certain distance between you and them that you never let them cross. You never let people get too close to you, which is a problem because you're isolating yourself from the world even if you think you're doing the opposite."

His small smile faded, and he rolled his eyes as he began to look agitated. He sat up, leaning forward towards her, his elbows on his knees. "What's with the armchair psychology? Where are you even getting all of this? You don't know me. You can't just assume these kinds of things based on just a few therapy sessions."

"I'm sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, and please do correct me if I'm wrong. But there are a lot of people who feel lonely even while being surrounded by people," she sighed.

"Regrettably, I struggle to forge meaningful connections with others," he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "They fail to comprehend me. They do not know the true me. They would be unable to accept me as I truly am, so I ceased exerting the effort. I stopped attempting to force something that was simply never going to materialize. Therefore, I shall keep everyone at a distance, for that is what they deserve. I do not grapple with the kinds of issues you presume I do, so desist in your efforts to analyze me."

She replied softly, "They are unaware of your authentic self because that is the outcome you desire, Mr. Gojo. If you are unwilling to be truthful about your personality and emotions with another individual, can you genuinely call that a connection? A relationship? It is all constructed upon walls of deception, intended to keep them at bay."

Satoru's response was tinged with bitterness. "So you are asserting that the fault lies with me for people's rejection, correct?" He leaned forward, his arms crossed defensively over his knees. A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I have made attempts to be honest with others. I have exerted the effort before, yet all I ever received in return was judgment and fear. I shall not place myself in that position again."

"The fault does not lie with you that they do not like you. However, the fault lies with you in presenting a false persona to them daily. Allow me to pose a question - from all the individuals surrounding you, can you name a single person who truly knows you?" she inquired.

Satoru's expression darkened at her words, the façade he maintained for others striking a chord. How could she discern this about him? It irritated him, albeit slightly. His gaze hardened with annoyance.

"No," he admitted in defeat. "I am surrounded by those I call friends, yet not a single soul among them truly knows me."

"Why not try opening up to them?" she suggested. "I will not ask you to confide in me, for I understand you do not particularly enjoy conversing with me, and that is perfectly acceptable. However, I am certain that at least one person would be willing to listen. Believe it or not, if they truly care for you, they will accept you with all your vulnerabilities and flaws."

A scoff escaped his lips at her proposal. "I'd rather not," he stated firmly. There was a sense of finality in his tone, and he was resolute in his decision. He had no desire to open up to anyone. That struck him as a waste of time.

"Even were I to open up to someone, there is a zero percent chance they would genuinely accept me for who I am. It is merely wishful thinking on your part, and you know it," he added.

"I would be truly delighted if you felt inclined to open up, Mr. Gojo. I sincerely implore you to believe me when I say I am fully attentive and receptive to whatever you wish to share," she sighed.

"Yeah, yeah..." he responded dismissively.

Satoru maintained his smirk, genuinely impressed by her unwavering conviction. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin pensively. "Why are you being so uncharacteristically kind?" he inquired. "Most therapists I've encountered are arrogant, know-it-all types. You, on the other hand, seem far too amiable. I'm not entirely convinced."

His expression suddenly hardened as he leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You're deceiving me," he declared. "You must have some ulterior motive. Therapists do not pose those ostensibly benevolent questions out of pure kindness. You must be attempting to extract something from me - perhaps a salacious story to sell to the press, or you may have a reporter willing to pay handsomely for such information. Or, it could be that you are merely trying to bolster your own image, and I am the unfortunate individual you intend to 'utilize.' Well, let me inform you of something, my dear."

He seized the arms of her chair, pulling it forcefully towards him until their faces were mere inches apart. Satoru could hear the subtle hitch in her breath, a sign of her surprise at his sudden, assertive action. Maintaining unwavering eye contact, he leaned in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You should understand," he whispered, "that I am no stranger to individuals who believe they have me all figured out. So no matter how genuine you may seem, my dear, I am not so easily cracked." With that, he reclined back in his chair, releasing his grip on her seat. "You'll have to try something else."

For a moment, she remained silent, before letting out a soft sigh and offering him a gentle smile. "Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Gojo." Her words, rather than indignant, carried a sense of empathy.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise. He had expected her to refute his accusations, to insist that she harbored no ulterior motives. But instead, she had responded with gratitude for his candor.

He stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her facade of kindness to crumble. Yet, it never did. This woman, it seemed, was genuine in her compassion.

"If you feel uncomfortable in my presence, please do not hesitate to request a different therapist," she suggested, her tone measured and understanding. "I would be more than happy to make the necessary arrangements."

Satoru's expression darkened at her offer. "No," he said, his voice harsher than he had intended. He paused, taking a breath to regain his composure. "No, I want you," he stated firmly. "I'm cooperating, aren't I? If I wanted someone else, I would have requested a change long ago."

Satoru took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly at her gentle suggestion.

"You were more cooperative than before. And I appreciate that," she said, offering him a warm smile.

Satoru blinked in surprise. He had not expected such a genuine acknowledgment of his progress.

"So... what?" he asked, tilting his head as he considered her words. "You're saying you're proud of me?"

"I am. You're doing great," she hummed softly.

To both her and his own surprise, Satoru suddenly burst out laughing – a loud, unrestrained sound that filled the small space as he leaned back in his chair, clutching his stomach in an attempt to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he managed after a moment, taking a deep breath as he looked at her. "That... that just took me by surprise."

"No, please don't apologize," she quickly reassured him. "I must say, this is the most expressive I've seen you in this room." She chuckled lightly.

Satoru couldn't deny the truth in her words. His laughter finally subsiding, he smirked, crossing his arms. "Expressive? I guess if you count 'laughing like a maniac' as being expressive, I can agree."

He paused, a touch of amusement still in his tone. "I guess I'm improving, if I'm entertaining you."

"So, got something else to ask me, doc?" he inquired, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Tell me, do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?" she asked, her gaze steady and her tone sincere.

Satoru's features twisted into an expression of annoyance at the question. "Of course I know who I am," he retorted, the defensiveness evident in his tone. "What is this, a therapy session?"

"I'm not asking you about the position you've been forced into, and definitely not the personality made up," she said, shaking her head. "I'm asking you – do you really know who you are?"

He let out a dry laugh, the irritation seeping through. "Who I really am? What kind of question is that? Are you seriously going to ask me to define my entire existence right now? Are you expecting me to have some groundbreaking revelation or something? Because I hate to break it to you, doctor, but I'm tired of all this self-reflecting nonsense."

"Tell me the first thing that comes to mind when you think about yourself," she sighed, her patience unwavering.

Satoru tilted his head back with a sigh, closing his eyes. He was doing this not because he genuinely wanted to, but to get her off his back.

After a few moments of contemplation, he responded, "The strongest. I'm unreachable, untouchable."

"If you ask someone else the same question," she trailed off, "what's the first thing that comes to mind when they think of Gojo Satoru? They'll reply with the same thing. But is it really what you want?"

He opened his eyes, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "What I want?" he said, his voice filled with disbelief. "What I want is for you to not ask me weird questions that have no point or answer. I'm perfectly fine with being unreachable and untouchable. That's how I's always been. It's the natural order of things."

"Is strength really what defines you?" she asked. He raised a brow. "What's your point?"

"Do you know who you are?"

"Tell me, will you be Gojo Satoru without your powers?"

This question - it struck a chord within him. He remembers the day Suguru left, and the question that had remained unanswered until now. He had chosen to ignore it, but now it was haunting him once more.

Without his powers? His powers had been such a central focus in his life; he'd never truly considered his life without them. He... didn't even know who he would be. He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest of the strong. Take that away, and who was left?

He couldn't answer that. He simply remained silent, looking down at his hands, his grip tightening on his knees as he felt a sense of defensiveness.

But then, he stopped himself, his grip loosening as he looked at her, still frowning but with slightly less irritation in his expression.

"The therapy session is over," she said softly. "I want you to think about this question and try to find an answer to it."

Satoru let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, the session was finally over. Despite being overjoyed that he no longer had to continue, his expression darkened a little, his brow furrowing in thought. He knew he would be thinking about this, whether he wanted to or not. She didn't even have to ask.

He stood up from the chair and left the room without giving her a last glance. He heard her say something about how he should take care of himself.

The drive back to the Gojo Clan's compound was spent in relative silence. Ijichi kept a watchful eye on Satoru, who remained uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were consumed by the question posed to him during the therapy session.

As the car pulled up to the gates of the compound, Satoru suddenly spoke. "Ijichi," he said, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, "if I weren't the strongest, would I still be Gojo Satoru?"

Ijichi's gaze shifted to Satoru, surprise flickering across his features at the unexpected question.

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Your strength is a significant aspect of who you are, but it is not the essence of your identity." He watched Satoru for a moment, noting the expression on his face. "May I ask why you're asking this, Gojo?"

"Just something that I thought about," he said dismissively.

The rest of the evening was spent in a haze of thought for Satoru, tossing and turning in bed as he wrestled with his questions, doubts, and insecurities. They swirled in his mind, keeping him from finding respite. He had never felt so uncertain, so lost before. Who was he without the mantle of the strongest? What did he even have left?

He tried to shake off these thoughts, to push them to the back of his mind, but the questions persisted, gnawing at him like a relentless ache.

Gojo's thoughts returned to the question she had asked, "Do you know who you are?" He couldn't help but scowl at the recollection. He had taken offense to the question then, but now, alone with his thoughts in the quiet of the night, he found himself truly grappling with the magnitude of that question.

Who was he? This question had never posed a challenge before. He had always known who he was - the strongest. That had been his identity for as long as he could remember.

___________________________________________

The days that followed were restless, as her questions flooded his mind at all times - while teaching, on a mission, or at home. Her question occupied his mind constantly.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There was no point in lying here, unable to sleep. He needed air.

Satoru grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders before quietly making his way out of the room, the floor creaking under his feet in the otherwise silent compound.

As he walked, the echoes of his footsteps reverberating down the hallway, he couldn't shake off the persistent questions that had been plaguing his mind all night.

He reached the entrance of the compound and stepped outside into the cool night air. The stars twinkled above him, a blanket of sparkling lights against the inky sky. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the quiet and the solitude.

But even in the silence of the night, the questions stayed with him, refusing to give him peace. He found himself facing an identity crisis that gnawed at him like never before.

Satoru walked, the snow crunching beneath every step his feet took. He walked with no destination in mind, hoping that maybe the movement and the fresh air would help clear his mind. Yet, no matter how far he walked, he couldn't escape the questions that haunted him.

Suddenly, the thought struck him - perhaps he needed guidance. But who could he turn to? His mind flitted through the people in his life - Nanamin, Ieiri, Ijichi, but ultimately he dismissed each one. They would never understand what he was going through.

But the thought persisted. He couldn't shake off the idea of her help. She had already managed to get under his skin, planting this seed of doubt that had grown into this existential crisis. Perhaps she was exactly the person he needed right now.

Satoru clenched his fists, silently cursing to himself. He had always prided himself on being in control, but now, here he was, considering seeking help from the very person who had caused his turmoil in the first place.

But it was late at night, would she even help him if he called her right now? Would she help him without getting paid, without being in that stuffy room?

As the dial tone rang through the line, anxiety began to creep into his mind. What if she didn't answer? What if she hung up once she realized it was him? He had never called her outside of their sessions before. Why would she answer now?

After what felt like an eternity, the line clicked open, breaking the silence. Satoru's heart pounded in his chest. She had actually answered.

"Hello? How may I help you?" Her voice was sleepy and confused at the late call.

Satoru hesitated for a moment, the sound of her tired, confused voice sending prickles of guilt through him. Should he really be doing this? But he had already come this far; he couldn't back down now.

"It's me," he finally said, his voice low and a little apologetic. "Gojo Satoru. I - I need help."

"Mr. Gojo?" She was suddenly wide awake, she didn't expect him of all people to call. "Of course, where are you right now?"

"I'm... I'm outside," he replied, a hint of shame in his voice. He didn't know how to explain where he was or what he was doing out so late. "I was walking. But I can't stop thinking about that question you asked me in the session that day. And it's driving me insane. I - I need answers."

"Can you be more specific? I'm on my way— ah, shit!" She cursed as she hit her foot with something she wasn't able to see in the dark, she quickly put on her jacket and her scarf and went downstairs.

Gojo heard the clatter and curse from her end of the line, making him flinch slightly. He felt oddly guilty for waking her and even making her come out at this late hour.

"Be more specific?" he repeated, his irritation seeping into his voice. "Isn't it enough that you threw my whole world off-balance? Now you need more specifics...?" But his tone softened as he mumbled, "I guess it'd be better if you were here."

"No. Where are you right now exactly?" She asked, putting her shoes on and finally going outside as it had begun snowing. She quickly got into her car.

Gojo huffed out a sigh, glancing around to get his bearings, "I'm about three miles north of Jujutsu High."

He was still outside the compound, which meant he had walked a considerable distance in his thoughts. The snowflakes were slowly falling from the sky, each one descending gently to the ground. Gojo stood there, watching them fall, waiting for her to arrive and, hopefully, provide some clarity to his chaotic thoughts.

"Okay, stay where you are. I'll be there in 10 minutes." She said as she started driving. "Tell me how you've been feeling today?"

Satoru rolled his eyes slightly as he heard her questioning. This woman just didn't know when to quit. But he was here for an answer, so he might as well satisfy her with some small talk beforehand.

"I've been feeling lost," he admitted after a moment, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Like everything I've ever known about myself has been turned upside down." He paused, a hint of resentment in his voice. "All because of what you said during the session."

"I see. It's good that you've thought about it, Mr. Gojo," she muttered softly.

"Is it?" he snapped. "Because right now, I feel like you've thrown my whole world off-balance. And for what? Because you wanted me to 'think about it'?" Satoru let out a bitter chuckle. "You're cruel, you know that? Or perhaps you just find pleasure in messing with my mind."

"A person needs to know themselves before trying to help themselves." She said. "You don't know who you are."

"And whose fault is that?" He muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. "I had this issue before, but I had somehow gotten rid of it. But now that you've planted this seed of doubt again, all I can think about is questioning who I am. It's maddening!"

He let out a bitter chuckle again. "Are you happy now, that I'm having this crisis?"

"Thank you for sharing your feelings." She said, as if trying to comfort him.

"Don't act so sweet, like you actually care about how I feel," he snapped. He was tired, irritated, and at the end of his rope. "You have no idea what this revelation is doing to me. My whole identity was built upon being the strongest. If you take that away, what's left of me? Who am I without that identity?"

She parked near Jujutsu High, getting outside of her car. "I do know what you're feeling right now, believe it or not I was in the same state that you were in." The snow crunched beneath her shoes as she started searching for him.

Satoru scoffed slightly, disbelief clear in his voice. "You know what it's like to have your entire identity shattered like this? Please. As if you could ever understand my struggle. I've dedicated my whole life, my very existence to be the strongest."

He shook his head, his expression a mix of bitterness and desperation. "But now, all I have are questions. Why am I here? Who am I, if not the strongest? It's like a never-ending abyss of uncertainty."

Here is the expanded version of the dialogue with more descriptive language:

She strode towards him, her eyes finally landing on his familiar form. "Turn around," she instructed gently.

Satoru's brow furrowed slightly, confusion etching across his features at her sudden command. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly pivoted to face her, his expression guarded, eyes wary.

"Where's your blindfold?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

He blinked, surprised by her question. In the whirlwind of emotions, he had nearly forgotten about the blindfold when he left the compound. But what did his lack of the customary covering have to do with anything?

"I don't have it," he responded slowly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't want you to have a headache." She spoke softly, aware of his unique situation - the six eyes that made him perceive the world differently, often leading to painful migraines. Reaching up, she untied her own scarf. "Here, put this on."

Satoru stared at her, a mix of surprise and wariness evident in his gaze. He was unaccustomed to anyone showing him such genuine concern. She had already managed to see through his carefully crafted bravado and delve into the depths of his mind, and now she was extending this empathy? It was unsettling.

Still, he hesitated for a moment, torn between his reluctance and the throbbing ache pulsing at his temples. Finally, he reached out and gently took the scarf from her outstretched hand.

Satoru carefully wrapped the soft fabric around his eyes, tying it securely in place. It felt unusual, a stark contrast to his familiar blindfold, yet it offered a surprising sense of relief. The gentle pressure against his eyes was soothing, and the plush material was a comforting contrast to the chill of the night air.

He took a shallow breath, feeling a slight easing of the headache. He couldn't deny the scarf was helping, but it felt peculiar to be seen and cared for in this way.

"I want you to think about the moments in your life that didn't involve your powers," she said gently, her words a gentle nudge.

Satoru's expression darkened slightly at her prompting. His life had always revolved around his abilities, especially after discovering the rarity of his Six Eyes.

But the thought did pose an intriguing question. He had never truly considered the times when he wasn't constantly using or contemplating his powers.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. "What if there are no such moments?"

"Right now, right here. You aren't using your powers," she pointed out. "I'm sure there have been many instances in your life where your abilities weren't the primary focus - going out with your students, spending time with friends, studying, taking walks, even just everyday tasks like eating or running errands."

Satoru's frown deepened slightly as her words sank in. She was right. In that very moment, he wasn't relying on his Six Eyes to protect himself or perceive the world around him.

He couldn't deny the existence of those more mundane, seemingly insignificant moments in his life that didn't revolve around his powers. Simple joys like laughing with his students, or the solace he found in the company of his friends - times when his abilities weren't at the forefront of his mind.

"You're human, Mr. Gojo," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "So, please, don't treat yourself as if you're not. Your power is a part of your identity, but is it really everything about you? That's the question you need to ask yourself."

Satoru's breath caught slightly as her words sank in. He had spent so many years defining himself by his power, by his role as the strongest, that it was difficult to imagine there was anything else to him.

But she was correct. His abilities were a part of him, but they did not encompass his entire existence. He was more than just his powers. He was a jujutsu sorcerer, a teacher, a friend, a human with emotions and a complex inner world.

"Now let me ask you again," she trailed off. "Do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?"

Satoru exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of clarity wash over him. He understood now what she was trying to convey. His identity was not solely tied to his powers. There was so much more to him than that.

He lifted his head, the scarf over his eyes lifting slightly. His voice was quiet but sure.

"I am Satoru Gojo. Jujutsu sorcerer. Teacher. Friend. Human. And so much more."

"Exactly." She chuckled. "I'm proud of you."

Satoru felt a flicker of something unfamiliar stir within him at her words. He had never heard someone express pride in him, at least not on an emotional level. Usually, it was about his prowess or his accomplishments in battle.

He gave a small snort, trying to downplay how her praise affected him. "You make me sound like a child, Miss Therapist," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh..sorry, I didn't mean to come across that way," She quickly apologized.

Satoru waved her apology away with a dismissive hand gesture. "No, no. I wasn't offended or anything like that," he reassured her. "It's just..a little surprising, that's all."

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head slightly. "People usually praise me for being the strongest, not for being...human. But it's not a bad feeling, to know that someone is proud of me as a person. So thank you."

"No. Thank you for being truthful with me, Mr. Gojo," She hummed softly.

A small chuckle escaped Gojo's lips, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You know, I'm not sure why you're thanking me for doing the bare minimum," he teased. "Being truthful should be expected, shouldn't it?"

"I'm thanking you because I know how difficult it is to be truthful about yourself with someone and to be truthful with yourself," She chuckled.

Satoru's smile widened slightly. Her words carried a sincerity that resonated deeply within him.

"You're right," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not easy. In fact, it's damn near impossible sometimes." He took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh.

"Being honest with yourself, and with others...it requires a certain level of vulnerability and courage, and frankly, I'm not always very good at it."

Here is the response with more detailed and descriptive wording:

"That's perfectly understandable, you are only human and thus not impervious to imperfections. We all have our flaws, fears, and moments of fallibility at times. But that is what makes us distinctly human, what sets us apart from the animal kingdom. We have the capacity to learn and grow from our mistakes, to confront and overcome our fears, and to refine our shortcomings. " She spoke softly, her voice tinged with a gentle empathy. "You should never forget that you are just as human as anyone else—" Her words were suddenly interrupted by a delicate sneeze.

Satoru flinched slightly as the unexpected sound pierced the crisp, cold night air. On some level, he was somewhat relieved that her soothing words had been cut short, as they had started to hit a little too close to home for his comfort.

"Bless you," he murmured, his tone a curious blend of playful teasing and genuine concern. "It seems the frigid weather has gotten the better of you."

"Sorry about that...I'm just not terribly well-suited for cold climates," she admitted, rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to generate warmth.

Satoru couldn't resist the temptation of a mischievous smirk. Here he had been feeling vulnerable and exposed, and now the tables had turned, with her appearing to be the one struggling against the biting chill.

"That's not something one usually hears from someone who was living in the northern regions," he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to poke a bit of fun. "I thought the hardy folk up there were practically immune to the cold."

"Well, you see, I wasn't actually born and raised in these parts, i just lived some years there." she chuckled.

"Ah, I see," satoru nodded, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. "So you're not a true northerner. That certainly explains a lot."

He paused for a moment, a mischievous thought crossing his mind. "But you'll never truly adapt if you don't embrace the cold," he declared dramatically. "And what better way to do that than by engaging in a good old-fashioned snowball fight?"

Without warning, she hurled a tightly packed snowball directly at him, the frozen projectile striking him with surprising force.

"You should be more careful!" She laughed as she scurried away.

Satoru was momentarily caught off-guard by her sudden attack. He blinked, stunned for a moment, before a wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh, it's on now," he declared, his eyes twinkling with competitive delight.

He swiftly leaned down, scooping up a handful of snow and shaping it into a compact, aerodynamic ball, before launching it towards her with remarkable precision.

"Agh!" She groaned as the snowball hit its mark, but her laughter quickly followed. "Cheater!"

Satoru chuckled, not holding back a hint of smug satisfaction. "Cheat? Perish the thought, my dear," he declared, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. "I'm merely making use of my natural talents."

He quickly formed another snowball, his movements quick and elegant, and with a flick of his wrist, he released it, aiming straight for her. "I am, after all, the reigning champion of snowball warfare," he boasted.

"Hey! Go easy on me!" She laughed again, retaliating with a well-aimed snowball of her own.

"Easy? What is this, a snowball fight for beginners?" Satoru teased, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He dodged her projectile with effortless grace, his steps light and fleeting like a shadow.

He swiftly countered with his own snowball, a perfect shot that struck its target, causing her to stumble slightly. "Come on, you can do better than that," he taunted, reveling in the adrenaline of their playful conflict.

"No fair!" She whined as she threw another snowball, this time finally hitting him squarely. "Ha!"

Satoru let out a theatrical groan, pretending to be wounded by her snowball. "Oh, the agony," he clutched at his heart dramatically, a grin betraying his amusement. "I've been hit! What a catastrophic defeat this is."

Not one to be outdone, he swiftly retaliated, launching a flurry of snowballs in her direction with deadly accuracy. "You can't stop the king of snowballs!"

She deftly dodged his barrage of snowballs, her movements agile and nimble. "The rightful queen of snowballs will reclaim her throne!" She chuckled as she threw another well-aimed projectile.

Satoru raised an eyebrow at her declaration, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, is that so? The rightful queen of snowballs, you claim to be?"

He evaded her snowball easily, his laughter echoing through the night. "Well, let's see how rightful you truly are!" He retaliated with a series of perfectly aimed snowballs, each one a testament to his skill and precision.

Some snowballs found their mark, but she quickly retreated behind the shelter of a nearby tree, emerging to launch her own volley of icy projectiles in his direction. "You're cheating!" She accused playfully.

Satoru laughed heartily, his eyes glinting with a competitive spark. "Cheating? Or simply better at this than you?" he teased.

He ducked, weaved, and dodged her snowballs with a casual ease that made it appear as though he were dancing rather than engaging in a fierce snowball battle. "Admit it, darling. I'm just naturally gifted at the art of snowy warfare!"

"Nuh uh!" She laughed, her voice filled with playful defiance as the relentless snowball fight continued.

As the intense battle of wits and wintry wonders wore on, their laughter filled the night air, echoing through the trees. Satoru's competitive spirit was fully ignited, and he wasn't holding back. His movements were swift and precise, each snowball hitting its mark with remarkable accuracy.

"Admit it, admit it!" he called out, his voice teeming with playful taunting. "You can't defeat the Snowball King!"

"The queen will reclaim her rightful place!" She said playfully as she suddenly ran up to him and tackled him, sending them both tumbling into the soft, powdery snow. "The king has fallen!" She laughed triumphantly.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise as he felt himself falling, his balance thrown off by her unexpected attack. He landed on his back with a thump, sinking slightly into the snow, a look of mock indignation on his face.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be, queen?" he chuckled, his tone filled with playful defiance. "You really think you can take down the king with a sneak attack like that?"

"Yeah!" She laughed as she straddled him, triumphantly launching a handful of snow directly into his face. "Payback!"

Satoru sputtered and spluttered as the cold, powdery snow landed on his face, momentarily obscuring his vision. But the unexpected sensation of her sitting atop him, coupled with the icy touch of the snow, sent a shiver of exhilaration down his spine.

He blinked, his eyes glinting with a mischievous sparkle as he grinned up at her. "Oh, you think that's payback? That won't do. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

And in a sudden, swift motion, he flipped them over, now pinning her down to the snow, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. He took a handful of the icy powder and gently placed it in her mouth before she could react. "How does snow taste, my queen?"

She quickly spat out the snow, coughing and sputtering, but he merely laughed in response as he collapsed down beside her, both of them lying in the snow, their breathing heavy from the exertion of their playful battle.

After a moment of catching their breath, satoru turned his head towards her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, a result of the cold. He couldn't help but find her endearing in that moment.

"I would like to know more about you, miss therapist," Satoru murmured, his curiosity piqued. She was silent for a moment, contemplating his request. "What would you like to know?"

"I don't know... perhaps you could start by telling me why you decided to quit being a sorcerer?" Satoru's expression sobered slightly.

She paused for a moment before speaking. "I was previously involved in a perilous mission and perished back then, but I still clung desperately to life. So I made a binding vow, offering my cursed technique in exchange for the preservation of my life, I suppose." She shrugged, as if the matter was trivial. "I'm sorry to hear about your experience," I responded sympathetically.

"It's alright, the practice of sorcery simply was not meant for me. Instead, I have decided to become a therapist, helping people who are part of the jujutsu community, as I understand the daily realities they face as sorcerers."

He hummed thoughtfully as he looked back up at the sky. "That explains why I have never heard of you before," he mused. "Do you have any surviving family members?" he inquired.

"They have all passed away," she replied solemnly.

"I see," he said quietly.

"I apologize for-" he began.

"No need to apologize," she assured him. "I understand your curiosity."