#so i guess i could see it as the guy getting exploited and then grabbing all the other exploited workers in town

[starrycat123-blog]

oksies hi starting a new thread of get to know you

haii I'm moth and also thea you may call me any nickname as well <3

I love musicals so so much (niche and popular!! basic-shaming is lame)

I am superhero obsessed (augh pied piper)

doctor who is my autism (yay river sonf!!!!)

good omens heoughhhhhhhh

super excited to meet you <3333333

Hi moth!! You can call me tetra. Don't worry that's not my real name or anything tho. I took it from the concept of tetrachords in music.

If we're generous about what we call superheroes, then maybe most of the things I like are superhero based. I mean obviously there's marvel and dc, but then there's stuff like dpxdc, sonic the hedgehog (idk if I've ever heard him called a superhero but he kinda is), if we count magical girls then like. Sailor moon and madoka magica

I haven't seen any episodes of good omens, but I read a really good fanfic of Crowley going to therapy a while back, and a couple funny ones with like yelp reviews of Aziraphale's bookstore. Plus I love the good omens analysis posts on here. I feel like maybe I half know some of what's happened in the show but also probably haven't scratched the surface. I'm kinda bad at watching TV shows, so there's a lot of stuff that I know from fandom but haven't seen. For another example of that, I've only watched one or two episodes of Sonic Prime. I reblog posts for it and it sounds good but idk. Just bad at it.

I'm a much more casual fan of musicals, I think for the same thing as above where I just struggle to sit and watch something on purpose. But I listen to the music from them sometimes, I've read transcripts online of a couple, and i swoon whenever I see a post analyzing the meaning of a musical song, especially when they go beyond lyrics and start going into the music theory in the tune. I don't have the skills or knowledge to do that myself but I love it so much

(when the singer changes their technique to enhance the meaning,, when this or that chord is a step outside the key to symbolize change or isolation or anything,,, using instruments as symbols for this or that character,,, tbh it doesn't have to be a musical even shout out to that youtube video by Scruffy on how fnaf's audio and sound effects make it scarier)

Lately I've been bouncing back and forth between Sonic and DPxDC. With hints of Slay The Princess in there bc I saw part of a playthrough of that awhile ago and loved the concept. I reblog madoka magica stuff whenever I see it (except magia record bc I know next to nothing about it) because that stuff makes me lose my mind. The love the pain the hope the despair!! Homura is probably like my ultimate blorbo but I love all the five girls they're so cool. I actually read the manga instead of watching the show though so I'm not as familiar with all the music. Plus I think the show had some extra scenes. Although it's a little confusing bc I think some of the extra scenes I see are magia record so idk.

Also I'm a fan of arts and crafts and will reblog that kind of thing once in a while, along with cute cat stuff.

Super excited to meet you too!

[fatfuckingcatstuff]

Fuck it, two asks in a row 💫cose i can💫

How about mercs (ur choice bestie) x reader whos a climber, full out monkey mode

Heavy is basicly a jungle gym and hes not the only one to suffer. There is a spider jumping around the walls on every map they play now. Holding to walls with no holds no problem and stuff.

(Climbers are so cool omfg)

I prefer platonic but if you get any nice ideas for romantic then go for it

Thx in advance even if you decide not to write this babe <3

~🫀

What's up shorty sure I can absolutely do that

ALL MERCS

oh what the absolute fuck

why can you do this how are you even able to do this when did you discover you could do this

Someone could be in the kitchen trying to grab a nice snack after a long day. Then from the corner of their eye they see their co worker hanging off the fucking ceiling munching away on a sandwich.

They lost something and can't find it? Boom it's taped onto the ceiling now haha.

Initially impressed by your skills yet still somewhat a little horrified.

Don't get him wrong, he's amazed at how you can just scale from wall to wall without falling. He's just scared he might catch you in a horrifying position late at night staring at him, or rather.. waiting to pounce from anywhere.. 😨😨

Scout

Guess whos going to exploit that skill of yours to annoy another merc!!

You guys are the annoying duo now. Teaming up every round, and absolutely demolishing the enemy team with your wack ass skill combos.

Soldier, Demoman, Pyro

Dear lord what the fuck even. No major reaction to it but are silently impressed at how you are able to stick to any surface.

Will get a little scare here and then everytime they catch you in positions you arent supposed to be in, like on the walls for example.

"Oh fucking 'ell mate."

"Mon dieu."

Sniper, Spy

Oh mein gott!

Impressed and would totally not try to implant spider dna into you. (SPIDERMAN REFERENCE!?!? 1!?2!2(#(#!#!#)

Would try to persuade you to let him experiment on you. Trying to see if he could enhance your skill even more, perhaps make you able to climb faster and extend your endurance.

Medic

Oh that's awesome sauce. Would gladly let you swing around them due to their bigger bodies. Making it the perfect jungle gym for you. Anyone who walked by would be a little dumbfounded to see a big guy have their co worker swing here and there from their arms as they did their usual jobs.

Loves to watch you perform any tricks you have up your sleeve. Though a little worried you might lose your grip one day, fall and hit your head.

Engineer, Heavy

[mother-na]

Yandere Policeman!Gojo X Reader X Yandere Policeman!Geto!

A one-shot set in a world where Jujutsu Sorcerers are replaced with a police unit and Curses are just a nuisance. With Gojo and Geto as policeman, you're bound to be caught somehow, since you're a mischievous curse! [Fem Reader]

Warnings!: Dubious Consent, Oral (both F and M receiving and giving), pet names (sweetheart, little curse), virgin reader, spit roasting, praise kink, lmk if I’m missing anything!

MDNI

NOT proof read or edited

You've been having so much fun! Being a human is a boring experience. You have to work to eat and then you just sleep, but not when you're a curse!

As a curse, you just run around, stealing whatever food you want and sleeping where ever you please. What does it matter? Nobody can see you anyway!

Or so you thought. Lately you've been staying in a mall. During the day you eat all the food in there, pet the animals in the pet shops, and ride the kiddy trains with the kids! And then you get to sleep in the mattress store with the poor night shift worker!

You know you haven't been well behaved, but to think that somebody would call the police!

You planned to stay and exploit the mall and leave at the first sign of danger, but you'd accidentally met them and changed your mind…

It was late at night and most people had already left. You'd figured you'd grab a muffin, one of your favorite treats, but sneaking through the staff hall, you'd noticed a handsome man staring at you.

His ridiculously blue eyes caught you off guard for a few reasons. For one, who has eyes that blue? And for two, why were they looking at you?

It took you a moment, but you soon realized that this man was of the policemen sent to subdue you.

You didn't run though. You thought maybe you could trick him into not killing you. Though most policemen just drive away curses instead of killing them.

But you've just about the seductive skill of puppy because rather than doing something flirtatious like flipping up your skirt you… jumped.

Yes jumped, like a dog getting ready to play, your legs firm on the ground and your back bent forward. Which, to be fair, as a curse you've never been able to understand sexual behaviors. You're just a mischievous curse, nothing more and nothing less.

Though, to your surprise, the man didn't have a negative reaction or one of even surprise. Instead, he gave half a chuckle, before mirroring you movements.

He jumped and leaned over just like you were, spreading his legs just like yours.

You couldn't help yourself after that! He's was basically inviting you to play!

You gave another little jump, and he jumped to, an amused smile in his face.

“You're so playful, for a curse,” The man spoke, his hands on his knees, “very human as well.”

You didn't quite understand what he meant, you couldn't look in mirrors or take photos of yourself so you've no idea you look human.

Still, you couldn't help but giggle. He should just shut up and play with you!

You turned your back on him, looking over your shoulder and swaying a little, inviting him to chase you.

“You wanna play? You sure?” the man chuckled, a boyish grin on his face, “Silly Curse, you don’t really think you have a chance, do you?”

You'd thought it'd be fun! And you were very very wrong for a bit there.

The man turned out to be significantly faster then you. You only got away because you morphed through the floor!

It was so scary! One moment it was all fun and games and the next his footsteps are right behind you! You could hear him panting and breathing, his large slender hand hovering just behind your neck.

Terrifying!

You'd thought he was the only one there that night, but you were wrong about that to!

As you caught your non-existent breath and drank some apple juice from one of the kitchens, you were caught by yet another one!

It was only thirty or so minutes later, just how fast were these guys moving?

“I guess Satoru was telling the truth.” a smooth voice spoke from behind you, almost making you drop your juice in surprise.

You huff, why are these people doing this? What jerks.

Taking another drink of your juice, you stick your tongue out.

“Aren’t you childish? Come here.” The man with black hair spoke, soothingly almost, stretching out his arms like he was inviting you.

You knew exactly what this was! He thinks that just because your a little childish that he can just beckon you and you'd listen! Stupid!

With a cocky attitude, you took steps back.

Right into the other’s arms.

Hooking his surprisingly thick arms underneath your armpits, trapping you against his chest. Was the blue eyed one from before!

“Geez Suguru, you almost scared her off! Scary~!” the man holding you teased.

The other man, Suguru, approached, ready to exorcise you, “Lets just hurry this up.”

You held your breath, preparing for your seemingly inevitable end.

But it never happened.

With sudden force, the man holding you lifted you with his arms under your pits, effectively swinging you to his side so his partner couldn't kill you.

“Or~ we can do something else!” the white-haired man proposed.

Suguru’s face changed to one of disgust, almost comically, “Whatever you about to suggest, please think it through…” the man basically pleaded. Poor guy must deal with his partner's nonsense often.

“I propose that we let this curse run around for just a little~ while longer. You know how the higher-ups are, they know we're the best so they plan to have us running errands till we drop, not that we’re at any risk of dying to curses like these~,” the man nuzzled his face playfully against yours, or perhaps it was meant to be condescending?

“So you just want to shirk your responsibilities then?” Suguru surmised.

“Right on the money~! Come on, you can't tell me it doesn't sound tempting.” the man squished his warm cheek against yours and gave the other man his best attempt at puppy eyes.

“C’mon, you smile too. It's your life on the line.” the white haired man spoke, to which you have an awkward smile.

Suguru looked at you two with a tired expression, pinching the bridge of his nose with light fingers.

“Fine.”

And with that, the three of you had an agreement!

It’s been couple weeks since and you’ve completely forgotten your plan to leave.

How could you not, the two policemen spoiled you! Suguru, or Geto, would give you all the attention you wanted, albeit passively.

You could lay in his warm lap and pet your head gently.

He didn’t warm up to you at first, but the more he witnessed your simple behaviors, he too could not help finding your antics amusing.

The other one, whom you discovered was Satoru Gojo, was more of a gift giver than a cuddler, strangely enough.

Sure, he was touchy, but only to tease you. Otherwise, he’d often give you snacks and treats to keep you out of causing more trouble. The more trouble, the more you convinced their superiors that you were more than they could handle.

In the day you got to lay at their feet and be fed and given attention and during the night they’d let you curl up with them in the break room.

You’d honestly thought you had something special…

“Yeah yeah… I know…. No we don’t need backup… yup, yeah. Goodbye.” You heard Gojo mumble into a phone as you eavesdropped on the other side of the door.

“They want us out of here by tonight.” Gojo relayed simply, tossing the phone to Geto who was deep in thought.

“Figures. We have been here a long time.”

“Guess so… ugh, we’ve no choice then. We’ll take care of [Reader] tonight.”

And that was all the go to you needed. You scrambled right out of there!

It’s not like you needed to eat, so you just skipped your usual lunch with the two of them.

You wanted to collect what few belongings you had but… you just couldn’t find them! Your blanket and pillow were both gone! You’ve had them since you appeared in this world.

They were nowhere to be seen! The sun was setting and the store closing… and you still couldn’t find your stuff. In the end, you had to leave it.

“[Reader]~! Where the hell’d you go…?” You could hear Gojo call for you.

Whatever, you thought, they’re planning on killing you so why should you care if they were upset about it or not, you should be upset not them!

Sneaking out to the parking lot, you sulked a bit. There were no cars in the parking lot except the one police car belonging to the duo inside tucked around the corner.

Maybe you could go pop their tires or tear up their seats! It’s not a bad idea.

Hurrying around the corner to get your measly revenge you spotted their spacious black car. It wasn’t one designed to take the arrested since they were in a curse unit so it was quite big. Kinda like a van.

Peering in the front seats it was clear who the designated driver was. The drivers seat was spotless but the passenger had some fast food wrappers at the feet of it.

The image of Gojo absolutely downing several cheese burgers in the passenger seat as Geto watches in annoyance painted a rather hilarious scenario.

Still, you’d come to tear up their car! Looking at it, it’s a fairly new and pristine black car. Though they’ll be needing a better car when you’re done!

Fazing your hand through the front door, you unlocked the door with ease and crawled in. With a sudden burst of energy, you wasted no time in dragging your mildly clawed nails across the front seat. It wasn’t as deep as you’d like, but it’d do.

As you lifted your head to see your work, you incidentally could see something in the back.

In the back of the car on the floor in a neat little pile was your blanket and pillow.

Confused, you allowed yourself to lean over the center console where the cupholders were.

Before you could even think about what it meant, a firm hand pushed your bottom, making you land face first into the back seat.

Suddenly, Gojo was straddling the center console that you were just on and holding you down on the back seat.

Geto stuck his head in through the drivers side door, seeing the damage, and sighed, “Seriously?”

Geto shut the front car door and opened the back where you and half of Gojo were, leaning and placing a knee on the leather seat to steady himself.

“What’s the matter? Running and ripping up seats, why are you so upset?” Geto spoke kindly, though you could tell he was still angry he tried his best to hide it so as to understand better.

“I heard you two talking, you were gonna go against your promise and kill me!” You growled, feeling betrayed and hurt that they’d feign ignorance.

Geto’s furrowed his eyes brows and looked up at Gojo with an angry and disappointed expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that, I’m not the one spying on people.” Gojo weakly defended himself, pressing himself against your back, trapping you underneath him entirely dramatically, pinning the blame on you.

Geto turned to you and crouched down to meet your squished face, “Don’t be ridiculous. We were never going to kill you.” He spoke in his motherly voice, soothing and honest, lifting a hand to run his large hand through your hair.

“Then… what were you going to do?” You asked, confused.

Geto simply smiled and you could feel Gojo’s firm chest rumble as he chuckled.

“This, sweetheart.” Gojo stated simply before using one of his hands to crane your neck upward before consuming your mouth in his.

It was an overbearing kiss. His body weight smooshing you and his hand gripping your chin and neck, keeping you in place.

You smell, feel, and hear him acutely.

The way his scent blanketed you and his warmth ate away at your form and the small little sadistic laughs he released when you whimpered. His fingers digging gently into your skin.

He’d not-so-carefully bite at your ghostly lips, pulling them away before returning once again to thrust his tongue down your throat or, conversely, pull your own tongue down his own throat.

So focused on consuming your lips that he’s left to pant above you, his cruel laugh turning into drunken whispers as his chest heaved against you.

“Perhaps our little curses’ cursed technique is seduction. I’ve never seen you so distracted before, Satoru.” Geto mused to himself.

Gojo unlatched himself from the sloppy kiss, panting, “Ha… I wouldn’t be surprised.” He agreed.

“I was joking Satoru.” Geto mumbled out.

“Doesn’t sound like a mere joke when you’re faced with these lips, Su-gu-ru~. Taste for yourself.”

Gojo raised his body just enough to push your upper half toward Geto and allow himself to squeeze behind you, opening the car door on the other side so he could still press against you.

Geto looked thoughtless for a moment and you almost believed he was going to deny you a kiss, but he leaned in any way.

It was a gentler start then with Gojo. Geto’s kiss was gentle and rather than pushing past your lips like Gojo had, he merely licked at them for a bit.

It was only when you shyly allowed your lips to part, curious about this new experience, did Geto lunge his tongue without warning.

Geto’s hand that held your in place were more gentle then Gojo’s. His large hands holding your cheeks tenderly.

Yet despite his gentle hand, his kiss only got harsher. As though he were trying to consume your soul from the outside, Geto stole your breath as he kissed with more determination than Gojo had.

Of course, Gojo was not still either.

As Geto kissed you with harsh love, Gojo was poking around your skirt and underwear. Your skirt was a bit shabby, old as it was, but that doesn’t really matter given that Gojo was going to pull it down regardless.

Slipping your skirt and, by extension, your underwear off you shivered as the cold air hit your now exposed pussy, a new sensation.

You wanted to ask what was happening, but honestly your stomach was fluttering with Geto and Gojo touching you like this. It made the presumed betrayal seem like a silly notion.

Gojo gripped your love hands and hips, his large hands able to wrap around both, before forcing you onto your knees.

You were about to ask why but between Geto refusing to free your mouth and Gojo’s fingers now rubbing experimental circles around your virgin clit.

Gojo’s fingers were testing their limits, feeling what ministrations made you twitch most, your hole clench in desperation. While at the start it was only half good, he quickly figure out your favorite patterns. Though, even if he hadn’t, the idea that it was his fingers touching you was enough to get you off.

You arched your back, asking for more nervously, before you felt Gojo groping your thighs, no longer touching your stimulated pussy.

But your pussy’s loneliness didn’t last long as soon after you felt Gojo’s hands’ gripping your thighs, firmly, sternly even, keeping you in place as you felt his breath on your pussy.

With an open panting mouth, like a starving man, Gojo used his tongue to swipe one very long, very slow, and very intrusive, slobbering lick across the entirety of your exposed genitalia.

Every time he drunkenly laughed at your twitching pussy with the flat of his tongue pressed firmly against your pussy you could feel the resulting hot breath reminding you just how close he was.

With just one drooling lick, Gojo had managed to use his tongue to invade every last cell of your cunt and effectively make you dumb in the head.

Your hips couldn’t help themselves, wanting to follow that long tantalizing and cruel stroke, but Gojo kept you firmly in place, his hands holding a bruising grip, refusing to give you even an extra inch of his tongue. You could only be mercilessly teased by him.

It was so mind numbing that you had to interrupt Geto’s kiss by allowing your tongue to loll out when you gasped in utter pleasure.

You babbled, wanting to ask what he was doing, wanting to know what this pleasure was, but Geto stared deep into your eyes, a gentle smile gracing your lips.

“Haha… hah,” Gojo pulled away from your dripping cunt, mindlessly laughing to himself like a madman out of breath, “Suguru~, don’t tell me- hah- you’re just gonna sit there and- ha- waste that hot mouth of hers.” He panted.

Geto hummed, “Oh I’ve no plan to waste any part of our little curse. I just want to make sure we’re running at the same pace.”

Geto seemed relatively calm, but you could hear Gojo hurriedly rush to his feet, the sound of a buckle moving, “Oh trust me, I’m all ready to go.”

Geto reached out his hand and grabbed your lolling tongue between thumb and the knuckle of his pointer finger, massaging it there, “I’d say she is too.”

You’d believed Geto to be the only calm one, but as he stood up you realized that what’s in his pants is anything but calm.

From both in front of you and behind you, you could hear the sounds of belts being removed and pants being pulled down. It was a good thing the sun was just about set because what was about to happen shouldn’t be seen by anyone’s eyes.

Geto’s cock, already hard, was already wet at the tip, pre cum pearling as a sign he’d been worked up for a while now. His patience was certainly not something to gawk at.

Geto once again raised his knee to lean into the car, right next to your head so your face was against his warm thigh and, obviously, his cock right near your mouth.

“It’s simple, you just open your mouth and suck, is that easy enough for you?” Geto cooed at you, kindness in his eyes as he pet your head.

You could only nod your head. Ah~ even in such a forceful situation, Geto was so very kind.

Geto allowed you to explore his cock first, to get a handle on it.

Only just as you were lapping up his precum eagerly did Gojo decide he’d waited long enough.

His impatience got the better of him for a moment, his cock slapping against your slick before sliding the tip into your sopping cunt.

Of course, a virgin as you were, you yelped a bit at the foreign burning.

The sound of your pain seemed to force Gojo back to his senses a bit, his motion coming to a halt.

“Oh! My bad sweetheart~, I was too excited, wasn’t I?” Gojo apologized, sincerely for once, gently rubbing your legs and back soothingly.

“It’ll be okay, just take deep breaths and take me in one~ inch at a time, yeah?” Gojo leaned down to whisper to you.

“If it gets to much, just let me know, I’ll give him a good punch for it.” Geto joked.

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad~.”

True to his word, Gojo took it very slow, and Geto didn’t ask you to keep pleasing him while you focused, instead praising you generously for your efforts.

“You’re such a good girl, taking it in so well. You’re so sweet.” Geto held your face against his thigh, stroking your head, occasionally gripping the hair gently.

“Hn- I’ll say. You’re more than sweet, you tasted divine.” Gojo, currently pressed down against you again, groaned in your ear, his hot breath and aroused voice reaching thickly against you, tracing a line steadily from your chin, down your neck, between your breasts, against your tender belly, and finally to your clit, offering a little stimulation.

Gojo’s cock, angled as he’d gone in, dragged steadily across your sensitive virgin walls.

Finally, as his final inch popped into you, did Gojo’s heavy cock kiss your cervix.

You, finally at ease, went back to pleasing Geto. In order to steady yourself, squished so fiercely, you held onto Gojo’s wrists as he held himself up, or barely up any way.

With Gojo now moving at a steady pace, his body sweaty above you, you couldn’t keep focusing on Geto and decided to instead take his cock into your mouth.

His taste was foreign but not at all unpleasant. And his precum was somewhat creamy and sweet!

Of course, the most distracting thing was Gojo’s merciless cock. There was now only a faint sensation of burning as your stomach and pussy exploded with pleasure like firework going off in your belly.

His pace was fast and sloppy but is strokes were lengthy. His fit body allowed him to pull out all the way to the very tip before delving straight back in, his thick head quickly meeting to gently smooch your cervix.

His length throbbed and every time his pelvis met yours there was a good chance you could feel his heart beat through his phallus. Though, you could hear his hammering heart anyhow as he pressed so firmly against you as though wished to become one with you. His wrists too, as you held them, had a quickened pace. You could feel his bulging veins against your palms.

From sadistic laughter, to drunken giggling, to now heavy pants as his face scrunched in focus. His eyes closed firmly and his mouth hanging open as he released deep quiet moans and stifled whispers of desperation into your ear.

Geto was no better. To please him, you completely negated your gag reflux against your bodies wishes and, in your need to please your sweet Geto, recklessly took several more inches of him down your throat than you probably should have.

His heart beat as could be felt. So thick in your throat that it felt as though he wished you could consume him, heartbeat and all.

Geto leaned against the cars door, his body occasionally quaking as he groaned deeply and released gasps intermittently. He had sweat glistening on his face, the hand he’d placed on your face was damp as well.

Eventually, Geto couldn’t help himself and subtly rocked himself into you, his hips stuttering and losing rhythm.

Gojo too was beginning to lose pace.

And you?

You were a mess.

You were coated in their essence, your own essence was coating Gojo’s cock. And your thighs. And probably Gojo’s thighs.

You moaned with abandon, your body thoroughly stuffed in both ends as the only people you’ve known in your life rocked their body inside you.

Their rhythm became a mess.

Geto was gripping the door of the car so hard you swear he was denting it, his cock throbbing in your throat, threatening to burst. His hand was so clearly fighting the urge to grasp at yours and Gojo’s hair as Gojo has hovered so close to you that Geto was now tasked with providing a loving hand to both you and Gojo.

As for Gojo himself, he’d begun cursing, entirely out of breath, and his pace was sloppy. With clear desperation he was humping you like an animal.

Make no mistake, he was pounding you.

You’d kind of thought Gojo was the more experienced with this kind of thing, but he was so clingy and desperate that you’ve no idea where he’d gotten his previous attitude from.

He whimpered and stifled mewls but you heard it all the same.

Geto did too, which is probably why he was now bringing his other hand to give both you and Gojo attention.

As the three of you, sweaty, drooling, and loudly moaning, reached your climax Geto had gripped both Gojo’s hair and your hair.

Gojo moaned, well moaned and yelped honestly, as his cock pumped thick hot strings of cum deep into your sensitive quivering hole, collapsing on top of you.

Geto too had came, straight down your happily swallowing throat.

Geto popped his now half soft cock out of your slimy and exhausted throat as the three of you panted.

You slowly gathered your thoughts. What just happened..?

“S…So… you were never gonna… gon’ get me..?” You asked confused.

Usually Gojo would’ve responded first but you were pretty sure he was half asleep. He moved his arms to around your neck and shoulders and cuddled you close. Fairly certain his bare ass is hanging out the car currently, but he doesn’t seem concerned.

Geto laughed with half a breath, “No, sweetheart. How could we ever? We were going to take you with us.” Geto assured you, fixing his pants.

Looking back, it made sense. Your stuff was in the car and everything. How embarrassing… and to think you messed up his car.

“‘M sorry! About the car… I mean…” you apologized, burying you face into your arms, embarrassed.

Geto smiled gently, closing the car door on his side and going around the car to fix Gojo, “It’s alright. I mean, I’m mad sure, but I get it. You were fearing for your life after all.” He responded, pulling up Gojo’s pants and lifting his feet into the car so he could close the door.

Geto entered the drivers seat door, taking a seat and pulling out the car keys.

“You don’t have to fear anything anymore. We’ll take care of you, we promise.” Geto tenderly spoke, before driving you to live with your new family as your eyes fell closed.

The two of them will care for you for as long as they live, and when they die, they’ll make sure you come with them. They just love you that much.

This ain’t proof reeaadd

[sadhornydemons]

Rapid-Spoiler-Season-Speculation: Mastermind/Sinmas

Mastermind:

After a bout of angst filled episodes, I'm theorizing that this one might be the nice change of pace: fun, filler episode/calm before the storm.

Not to mention, a nice mixup of two villain groups.

The Cherubs mention they are waiting for I.M.P. to return to Earth, but the D.H.O.R.K.S. seem to have a portal to get to them faster?

Robot? Robot with a skull chest emblem? Well, if they already have a Loona Fursuit, I guess they could just be into making freaky shit now. Could they send it through the portal? In which case,

There's a massive battle going on in the Lust ring.

Blitz is missing from these scenes until this one where he appears to be at the Pride ring.

Where the crystal portal is finally shown, see previous example:

D.H.O.R.K.S. appear defeated (but still alive? Well, it's not like IMP kills humans for a living..oh, wait) and Blitz is grabbing the card off their desk.

End of screen captures/speculation for this one, but I feel like events have to be running gradually in the background of the last few episodes for the doo doo to really hit the fan in the last:

Sinmas:

First, let's talk voice actors. Harvey Guillén came in fairly recently, but has been confirmed to voice Vassago. Now, they can always work around voice work to be added later, but I'm really leaning towards his character not appearing until this last episode.

Jason LaShea voices Andrealphus, assuming this shot is from the finale:

I think it's likely that Andrealphus, being a minor character, only appears in one or two episodes. With that in mind, let's assume the following scenes, which share the same background images, also take place in Sinmas:

We see at least one Sin, confirmed members of the Ars Goetia, and several sporting crowns. Aka the higher ups & royalty of Hell. And Stolas is missing. Oh, but Andrealphus states he will summon him.

(Off topic, but does anyone in hell know/care that Stolas's ex wife tried to have him killed? Paparazzi mobbed his hospital when he was hurt, but no one followed up on that news story?)

Likely the same scene, "You are a disgrace." Unknown character states. Whom? Ozzie? Stolas? The demon who took the last blueberry muffin from the snack table?

"Where is Stolas, anyway?" Well, this is the only image of him that appears to be from the finale:

1) Is that a blessed weapon sword?) 2) Is that a Gabriella hair stripe or an 'I was frozen today!' Anna-inspired white stripe?)

Which matches up with this:

And either Stolas left the refrigerator open for 4 solid episodes resulting in his mansion freezing over or his in-laws are relatives of Elsa's and favor home renovations.

Okay, buckle up sluts, MASSIVE SPECULATION TIME:

What would cause Stolas to move out?

Or rather, what would force Stolas to move out?

Andrealphus wants his money and property, Stella just wants him dead, but she has to follow her brother's wishes. Andrealphus tells her, "I say we bid our time. And wait for the chance to gain the upper hand."

And they might had had it all along.

You know, I wanted to say that Blitz fully and unprompted, spelled out, in detailed terms, how he was using Stolas's item to gain access to the mortal world immediately upon meeting Striker, but in watching it again:

Striker seemed to already know? So, either, Stella knew and told him or he did his research (if the IMP commercial from the pilot is still canon, they basically broadcasted it). But Blitz does go a step further and literally job interviews the guy, likely giving him even more info in the process.

Stolas even states, more than once, that they're not suppose to be using the book and that it's 'less than legal' even in hell.

So far, Stella has only been attacking Stolas. Striker knows Octavia is Stolas's main weakness, but hearing all the 'Blitzy' mentions during torturing, maybe he'll relay that there's another way they can exploit him. After all, Stella just thinks of him as any interchangeable Imp.

Stolas stated before that he would not leave Octavia, so maybe this was the reason he returns to the palace? But not soon enough, considering...*

The voice over does not match the scene, but it is as follows:

"You never loved mother and you don't love me, you love HIM!"*

Back to the image, is Via a fast learner or does she have the Grimoire? During the Loo Loo Land flashback, Stolas, having studied the book for a decade at that point, still needed it to travel to other planets.

And IMP seemed to be using the crystal in the last episode..

And if that's not complicated enough, let's get back to the Hell High Council meeting,

It sounds like they're discussing Stolas, before Vassago asks, "Where is Stolas, anyway?" Before demanding that they summon him, "at once!" Fortunately, this parrot's suppose to be a good guy, since unfortunately it seems like Stolas is in real more trouble.

Is it the illegal spellbook loaning? The (still alive?) D.H.O.R.K.S. having him on film? Satan help him if someone also managed to record him twerking on stage at the Verosika Mayday show.

We'll have to wait and see, but Stolas appears to return to the mansion with Blitz afterwards.

< / End MASSIVE SPECULATION >

Well, that's what I came up with. We've got 6 more months to go, and as the episodes do FINALLY get aired things might become more clear.

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Mortal Kombat: Special Forces: Welcome and unwelcome guests.

Summary: A soldier walks into an auto-shop. Stop me if you've heard it before.

@vivilovespink

Chapter list.

Chapter list part two.

Chapter list part three.

Jax entered the warehouse, switching on the light to find no company. Things were going great.

Come on Jarek. You love making dumb decisions.

When it came to Kano's top lieutenants, Jax found Jarek the most... low-level. He was brutal in a fight and could be intimidating with his penchant for violence, but without any fear to exploit or backup to lighten the loads, he was just a tough guy with a glass jaw.

Something tipped over and hit the ground with a metallic clanging sound. Jax whirled around and saw a friendly face.

Bell. He’d seen better days, but it was definitely him. Despite the situation, Jax chuckled.

“Bell. What’re you doing here?”

“The dragon's captured me, I just managed to escape when I saw you.”

Jax nodded.

"Well, my vehicle is nearby, wait there and I'll drive you to base."

Bell shook his head.

"There’s an equipment room nearby, they’re probably expecting you. It'll be easier to take them down if there's two of us.”

Jax noticed the strange tone to Bell's words, but decided to save the questions for now.

"Let's not keep them waiting."

—-

As they walked to the trap, Jax asked Bell a question.

"Do you know where Sonya and Daniel are? And what about the others?"

Bell bristled a bit.

"Wexler and Lance are dead. I don't know where the Blades are, I woke up seperated."

Disappointed by the answer, Jax rounded the corner to find a door that was clearly their destination.

Jax opened the door, seeing several Black Dragon thugs, including Jarek

Jax heard the click of a gun.

“Bell, please don’t tell me…”

“I’m sorry,” and he did sound apologetic, “But you’ll be okay if you just do what they say.”

Jax kept his face stern as Jarek walked right up in his face. Jarek’s smug face was similar to Kano’s, both just making Jax want to slug them right in the jaw.

Jarek smirked, enjoying his perceived power.

“Gotta admit, I hoped you wouldn’t fall for this trick. Guess you’re dumber than I thought.”

Jax smirked, looking around the guards with no fear.

“Too scared to take me yourself?”

"I'm not scared of anyone."

"Is that why you made an ambush instead of facing me like a man?"

Jarek's smirked dropped, throwing a punch at Jax's face. Jax let it hit, giving Jarek the brief satisfaction.

Hey, I'm willing to throw him a bone.

Jax took his fighting stance and murmurs came from the thugs as they stopped to watch. Jarek cracked his neck, pulling out a bloodied hatchet.

"Let's go, big man."

Jarek swung his weapon wildly, Jax dodging and weaving to land a hit to his back, but getting a small cut on his cheek as Jarek lashed out.

Jarek twirled his weapon, voice taunting his opponent, a mistake.

"Not so tough now, are ya-

Jax ran up and rammed his knee into Jarek's chest, making him drop his weapon and allow Jax the chance to lift him by the neck and punch him hard in the gut.

The audience winced, one of the m cheered. Jax hopes it was Bell. Jax dropped Jarek, taking a few steps back and giving a beckoning gesture.

"Come on, give it another shot."

Jax grabbed Jarek’s left fist, then his right fist and squeezed hard enough to make his opponent cry out in pain.

“Gotcha.”

Jax slammed his knees between Jarek’s legs, dropping him in a solid hit. He looked to the crowd, slamming his fists together.

"Anyone else want a try?"

Everyone dropped up their weapons and Jax gave Bell the order to call in a pickup vehicle. Left alone, Jax picked up Jarek's communicator and switched it on, hearing Kano's voice.

"Is this Jarek or Jax?"

"What do you think?"

A chuckle.

"I think you're gonna love what I have to say."

"Start talking."

[us2dinosaurplanet]

Sonic’s Return-First Part

Hey, guys, what’s up? This is Fox McCloud, and man do I have a story to tell you.

It all started when I was offered a favor from my former teacher, Master Lisa, to visit Sonic and Tails for her since she was too busy to see them herself. Misty tagged along so she can introduce me to their new buddy and an old friend of hers, Knuckles.

We finally arrived at a grassy field on their home world. There we saw Sonic the Hedgehog and his 2-tailed friend. Misty went off to look for Knuckles while I stayed behind and chat with the boys. Sonic: “Yo, Fox, long time no see.” Me: “Took the words right out of my mouth, Sonic. I can see you lost weight since we last met.” Sonic: “Don’t remind me. I can see you have changed a lot, too.” Me: “I know.” Tails: “So, what have you been up to lately?” Me: “Plenty, but things have been slow since I defeated Andross 8 years ago.”  Tails: “Gee, I thought you were very busy. You are after all Fox McCloud.”

Tails then turned his head and shouted for some reason. Tails: “The famous hero of the Lylat System.” Me: “I know, but even heroes have their slow days.” Sonic: “Try decade.” Me: “Right.”

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, this pink hedgehog, who goes by the name of Amy, came in unannounced. Amy: “Do my ears deceive me? Are you really THE famous Fox McCloud?” Me: “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

Then Amy grabbed my hand and shook it beyond the Richter scale. Amy: “Oh, Fox, I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you in person. I’ve always wanted to meet you ever since I overheard stories about your heroic exploits. I was so excited when I heard that you were coming. I thought this would never come. And now I’m right here, shaking hands with the greatest hero in the entire Lylat System. Pinch me, somebody, I’m dreaming!” Me: “OK, OK, I get it. You’re happy to finally see me. Now, will you stop shaking my hand?”

Eventually, Amy stopped shaking before she tore my entire arm off. Me: “Don’t you ever relax? I mean, sheesh, for a girl, you sure know how to give out powerful handshakes. Ouch!” Amy: “I’m sorry, Fox. It’s just that I’ve heard so many great stories of you and that you’re a famous hero and I’ve always wanted to meet you. I guess I got carried away. Oh, please forgive me, Fox. I promise I’ll be careful next time.” Me: “OK, OK, calm down, I forgive you. I guess I could give you a second chance.” Amy: “You will? For real? Oh, thank you Fox. We got off on the wrong foot, so how about we start over. Ahem. Hello, my name is Amy Rose. How are you doing, Fox?” Me: “I’m doing just fine. How are you doing, Amy?”

She whispered to herself, but I could hear what she was saying. Amy: “He said my name!” Me: “Amy!” Amy: “Uh, I mean, I’m doing just fine, too, Fox. Thank you for asking. There, was that better?” Me: “A little.” Amy: “Oh, thank you so much for giving me a second chance, Fox. You’re so cool and very handsome, too.” Me: “Uh, yeah, right, thanks.”

What you just saw was start of a beautiful friendship…to Amy.

[orphic-exe-archived]

(dream, nagito)

before we begin

only a small percentage of viewers are subscribed to the channel

so please consider hitting that button if you end up enjoying this battle

enough of the prattle

you and me in a 1v1

i dont see much challenge, but it still seems fun

it's no pet war, but ill beat you in one verse

and leave you like your dog: hit 'n speedrun

count em up, my WR w's are more plentiful than the wounds that you cut in your arm

you dont really set a high bar talkin bout your fine art

my avatar's drawn more consistent than your sprites are

you hopeless loner, glad you know your own worth

dont need to dig down to know this stepping stone's below dirt

i know you wanna get hinata, but your luck's not so grand

if you cant even boost the odds of you huntin your man

howd you not hit byakua's imposter even with the pounds that that dude sports? (george!)

guess this rapid fan is only catchin hands with transplants corpse (george!)

grab a bow and arrow for this ghost white barebones

you could grow a forrest with that bonemeal hair, bro

check all the careers im settin the stage for

while your lymphoma's set in the stage four!

what a grand display!

with all the wars you struggle to bear

im mere trash in the way when compared to the ultimate square

but when it comes to despair?

i have none left to spare

so make like that disc pair

give it up in this pair

i went through with one goal: exposing the traitor

while you got exposed exploiting the traitors

pursuing that dough, then toy with your players

tom's suicide note is your kinda paper

and paired with your stan audience?

ive inhaled gas less toxic

he labels himself spotless

but ive got it!

let me break it down:

not a perfect roster your team crafted (huh?)

ultimate imposter of Team Crafted (huh?)

then it met the same end cuz then schlatt won (huh?)

and turned l'manburg to l'manhunt!

and "normal"s the only way to describe your catalogue of bland songs

tell that plastic cg ragdoll

"it's best to keep the mask on"

oh, c'mon i thought you toted bombs

with just a glance at your chances, your fans went "no that's wrong!"

ironic clay lacks foundation with all the arguments he's built

and you're only blessed with fortune when it's from your parents will!

you started your wooden arc sailing on a ship

that explains why, on the microphone, you failed to land a hit

you're numb as it gets; your luck must've gun to your head

but you're only firing blanks like it's russian roulette!

your franchise took the stage, and it ignited some flames

but ill be snuffin you all out like a fire grenade

call my fans creepy, stanning every student around

but your only friends now are like george, not found!

your hopes are shining through, but it's just a matter of time

'fore the net treats you like tommy and wilbur:

"it's banishing time" (monokuma says this bit)

you couldn't kill tracks, but you still lack a clean record

congrats, youre not the blackened!

so what's your excuse for the n-word?

every time drama comes up

you dont respond and let it be!

all you can speedrun from

is your responsibility!

luck's an awful talent

but you don't even share it

you're gaming's worst cheater on the scene since pro jared!

so here's my statement:

how fitting that dream's your name

as you're to be quickly forgotten once your crowd of teens awaken

your hopes for world renown and loving fans got to see the day, but

we all know the dark path your DreamWasTaken.

that’s pretty impressive that you memorized all that ngl

if you want an essay of useless information about the mystery flesh pit national park, the mandela catalogue, or the hit roblox horror game doors, i’m your guy 😔

[istherewifiinhell]

hey u all remember the be fucking cool rule right. and uh bweep

how am i not dead yet....... guess ill just have to.... ki-. KISS HIM ABOUT IT (any). so anyway

How Starscream Won, Ending the War, Bringing Peace to two Planets, and becoming the ultimate Ruler of all of Cybertron (all while bagging two husbands): As told by himself

[ID: transformers fanart, optimus, starscream and megatron standing in an intimate embrace, in profile. G1 ish, except megs has a different shaped black helm, more detailed face and robot goatee. Starscream in the middle, the others crowding in, nosing at his helm, and gazing down lovingly. Starscream looks to the viewer, with a smug smirk. He's in his coronation pauldrons, and a little version of the crown doodled over his head, complete with golden lines for emphasize. Starscream is held from front and back, Megatron holding his shoulder as he sits on one of Megatron's thighs between his legs. Optimus, hugging him around the cockpit, and pushing one leg out with his own, which Starscream reaches back to grab. Starscream's other hand grabbing the back of Megatron's neck, and rear boot thrown up, by Megatron's hips.

Colour coded text with arrows above them reads OP: Loves indulging his purposely annoying husbands Meg: Helplessly drawn in by his infuriating husbands Star (There's two arrows): Has Won (The love and attention of his two very important and powerful husbands) The background is Cybertron and a very nebulea/galaxy like depiction of space. END]

suffice to say that this post fucking BEWITCHED ME.....

#[GETS COVID] #ohhhhhhhh. thinks about it. HHHH. buh. guh #literally good from every angle. thinking about oppie and his two asshole husbands (he likes them) #screamer like the cat that got the cream with his two most powerful guys in the world husbands. #MEGS... [has to calm down] WELL. i think he has big emotions. #his two husbands that infuriate him so much [not mutually exclusive with. being besotted with them]

i mean im not too... married (badump tsk) to the like political marriage part of it but like. whatever substitute in that they just give him whatever title and rank on the autobots he wants. and he's not murdering anyone cause hes in manipulation mode which keeps him busy enough...

Like, u know me, I know Oppie like things about Megs even when they are enemies (its true i asked him myself) AND. there ARE some similarities between megs and screamer... so like. he stops murdering and oppie notices hes smart and funny and yes mean (but in the way he likes)... AND YES. We have established Megstar are like that on purpose, AND. (gestures broadly everything ive every said about megop). Suffice to say hes so pissed off and jealous and horny he cant think straight. Just finding any excuse to get into their business in skirmishes and other wise.

which. basically my point is. screamer who realises this war could go on indefinitely. and he could keep trying to defeat the autobots and over throw megatron indefinitely.... Or. he could flip the whole playing field every six ways from sunday. destabilize the decepticons by leaving, destabilize the autobots by being a controversy, destabilize megatron by fucking with his emotions, and destabilize optimus by ingratiating himself and gaining all the sympathy points he can.

who's to say how it goes with getting people to a negotiations table... not exploiting the fact if he can get megop fighting one on one they tend to get really. um... Passionate.... definitely not. but then. if you have a reunited planet under and alliance of the two factions leaders.... well. just who could we find to represent the rank and file plight of both factions... ; ]

anyeay ur gonna see every fucking version of this cause i PUT A LOT OF EFFORT IN. and then u cant SEEEEE all of it. do u know how many abhorrent to me stock photos i had to grab for this. so many weirdly posed white bread generic couples...... anyway.

[ID: 1. Just the lines and colours of starscream, u can see his amber glass cockpit, and more of the purple pauldron, which as little gold embellishments. 2. optimus and starscream, u can see the small part of his window chest, and more of his hand resting on starscreams cockpit. 3. megatron and starscream. 4. the full piece without the colour filter, which makes it less cool toned. END]

is the filter doing literally anything..... everything i make looks so much more red on my phone than my laptop.... but smth smth nighttime lighting. i dont know what any of the layer settings do. okay so theres not actually anything u miss on megatron cause hes the on top layer so i didnt draw anything unnecessary anyway. but hes there for symmetry. always inventing new fucking helms for that motherfucker, listen. trying to help u, and i thought it was more important screamers hand cover up the unknowable g1 neck situation, than the helm.

and yes everyone decided to take off their extraneous bits so they could get up in there. lol. i wasnt even gonna try. cept oppies backback. i know how do that one.

and heres the background... realised screamer was giving real the world is mine miku vibes. so. space and cybertron

[ID: 1. An abstract and stylized cybertron, glowing gold core and a gesture to the circular cityscapes all across it. 2. filter over it that makes it look more like a planet with an atmosphere with a day/night divide. END]

unclear if cybertron has an atmosphere (well actually sometimes it does but its a whole thing). OR A STAR. for that matter.

anyway if u made it this far. congrats. u get a prize

sideblog debut. DEFINITELY BE COOL. (idk how im gonna use it yet BUT LMAO. u know...really consider ur personal tastes on that one)

.

[jackharlou]

Can you write something about him driving and you getting turned on by it? Idk I just find hot how (some) guys drive lmao

"Can you pick me up?" - you asked Jack through the phone, standing in the VIP area where you and your friends were celebrating your best friend's engagement. You were feeling a little too tipsy so you wanted to leave.

"Of course, mama. I'm done here at the studio, I could be there in like 15 minutes" - he answered.

"That sounds great. Drive safe"

"Always. I'll see you in a few, I love you"

Exactly in 15 minutes you were saying goodbye to your friends, the ones who yelled at you for leaving so soon.

You stumbled out, pushing people around because of how hectic it was inside. You felt relieved to step out, breath fresh air and see Jack in his car, waiting for you.

"I'm so happy to see you" - you said as soon as you got in the car.

"I'm guessing you didn't have fun" - he said laughing.

"Oh no, I did. We had so much fun, I'm just happy to see your pretty face again. You're so cute" - you said leaning to grab his cheeks and kiss his lips.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you this drunk" - he was still laughing.

"I'm not drunk, I'm a little tipsy, that's it" - you sat back on your seat and he leaned over to buckle up your seat belt.

"Let's get you home" - he murmured on your lips before sitting back and starting the car.

At some point you turned to look at him and couldn't remove your eyes from him. His left hand was grabbing the steering wheel, his right one caressing your thigh. He was so focused on the road, and when he's concentrated he usually bites his lower lip. He looked too damn good.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" - he asked looking at you for a second.

"You're just too damn fine"

He laughed and even in the dark you noticed his cheeks getting red - "the drunk, sorry, the tipsy you makes me feel like the hottest man alive"

"Because you are" - you said extending your hand to caress his cheek - "but wait, the sober me doesn't make you feel like that?"

"It does, you're just more loving when you had alcohol"

"Well, I'm gonna make sure I change that, because I find you hot as fuck in every state am in" - you kept looking at him, and at some point he had to change lines on the street. The way he looked back and steered the wheel made you horny and you needed to have him now - "Can you pull over?"

"Why? You want to throw up?" - he asked concerned, looking at you.

"Just do it"

Thankfully it was late and not to many cars were passing by, so he was able to park on the side of the street.

As soon as you felt the car stop you unbuckled your belt, leaned and unbuckled Jack's too.

"What..." - he couldn't keep talking because you were already on top of him, eating his mouth - "Fuck, ma, someone can see us"

"I'll be quick, I promise" - you said as you lifted your dress to your waist - "I need you now, daddy, please"

"Whatever my baby wants" - he pushed the seat back, giving you more room to move, while he did that you stood a little to pull his sweat pants down and pull his already hard dick out.

He surrounded your hips with his arms and with one hand he moved your panties to the side. You grabbed his dick and placed him on your entrance, letting yourself move down slowly, feeling him go deeper and deeper inside of you.

"Fuck, you're so tight" - he murmured leaning back and resting his head on his seat with his eyes closed. You took advantage of his position to kiss and suck his neck, something that with time you learned he loved.

"I love how big you are, you fill me so good" - you murmured close to his ear, bouncing your hips and taking him as deep as he could go.

You jumped on top of him for a few more minutes. You kissed, touched each other and moaned like crazy.

"I'm gonna cum" - he announced, which only made you go faster.

"Fill me, daddy, cum in me" - you whimpered. He hugged your body, with his face buried in your neck and moaning loud. In seconds you felt him exploiting inside of you, making you scream his name and cum with him.

"I fucking love you" - he whispered against you lips before eating them.

"I love you too" - you said. In that moment you looked up and saw red and blue lights behind the car - "Fuck, cops" - you said before jumping back to your seat, trying to fix yourself while Jack did the same.

Luckily the cop knocked on his window when you were more presentable - "Good night, sir. Is there an issue?" - Jack asked.

"You can't be parked here" - he said in a bad mood.

"I know, sir, I'm sorry, my girl was feeling sick so we stopped really quick"

The officer pointed at you with his flashlight - "Everything ok, ma'am?" - he asked.

"Yes, I think I had too many tequila shots" - you said faking a sick face.

"Were you drinking too?" - he asked Jack.

"No, I picked her from the club after work"

"Hold on..." - the officer said, and you thought "we're screwed, he noticed what just happened" but luckily for you, he said something way different - "You're the kid who sings that "Poppin" song, right?" - you couldn't help it but laugh.

"Yeah, that's me" - Jack said laughing too.

"My daughter plays that song non stop. Do you mind if we take a picture? She'll kill me if I tell her I met you and didn't ask for one"

Jack nicely agreed and you just sat there watching him make a video for the officer's daughter while you could still smell the sex you just had in the air. The situation only made you hornier.

"Thank you, son. Drive home safe" - the officer said before going back to his car. When Jack rolled his window up you bursted out laughing.

"I hate you" - Jack said before starting the car and driving.

"That only made me hornier" - you said, making him look at you.

"He made you horny?" - he asked confused.

"Ew, no" - you said loud - "but you were trying to save your ass while I could still feel your cum drip out from my pussy"

He didn't said a thing but made you get home in a few minutes. As soon as the car was parked in your garage he ran to your side, picked you in his arms and took you to your bedroom.

"My turn now" - he said before ripping your dress apart.

[folk-ever-lore]

Abandoned

“Are you kidding me?” She yelled, finding it hard to believe that someone could really be that stubborn. But Bruce Wayne always did find a way to surpass expectations didn’t he? “I know you don’t like me and all that, which is your call, but those are your sons. Are you really going to abandon them like that?”

“I’m not abandoning them,” Bruce hissed, angry spitting from his words. It was clear to anyone in the room, even if it was just the two of them at that point in time, that he couldn’t stand her. Although he’d actually had decent reasoning to hate her in the past, he had no such reasons now. If he could get on with Harley and Ivy then he could get on with her. “You’re a villain. You’re just telling me this in order to distract me so that you can go through with another one of your plans.”

“Goddammit,” Marinette yelled, disbelief showing evidently on her face. But he wasn’t looking, didn’t care. All he cared about was himself. As always. How anyone could ever remotely consider him a good parent was beyond her. She was very glad that Dick had taken on the role of parenting Damian, because hell if Bruce had ever done it. “In case you haven’t noticed I’m dating Damian, one of your sons, one of the good guys in this scenario, and I haven’t hurt anyone who wasn’t one of your rogues in over a year. You’re just too stubborn to see past your big head to see that your kids need help.”

He shook his head. She’d made false attempts to change in the past, only to later betray them and he wasn’t going to start believing her and her lies now. All that would do is put him at risk for further betrayal. “No,” he said harshly, typing on his computer, doing nothing in particular just to show that he didn’t need to pay attention to her. To show that he was the superior one out of the two of them, that he didn’t need to listen to her. “This is what you do. You lie, you gain our truth, you betray us, you steal and the cycle starts again. I can’t trust that you won’t do the same again now. And I can’t believe you’d come up with such a ridiculous lie. My sons would never put themselves in a situation where we were the only ones that would have the power to save them.”

“So you’re not going to help me save them then?”

“I will not support you in anything that you will use to betray us once again with.”

“I thought you were all about giving your villains chances for redemption.”

“I am,” he agreed. “Just not when they’ve exploited those chances as many times as you have.

“Fine then,” she hissed, venom dripping from her words, begging to kill, to attack. “I’ll save them myself.”

***

She may have been anxious to go and recover her friends, and her boyfriend, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have common sense. She had to take the time to formulate a plan rather than rushing in immediately. Her first plan of action was to head down to her nearest safe house and use the resources she had there to help her search and narrow down where they could be.

And who had them. But she could guess who that was though, there was only one person who’d semi-recently broken out of Arkham and hated their entire family more than anyone else did. Who else would it be but the Joker? No one else would dare kidnap the Bat Family, or at least not that many members of it at one time.

She grabbed anything she thought she may need to rescue them, including but not limited to some of the guns Jason had left over from one of the he’d visited to get away from Bruce (those would certainly be helpful if she wanted to shoot Bruce is he ever showed up), a spare miraculous to wear (but hopefully not to use) incase something happened to the cat one and some bataarangs that she totally hadn’t stolen from the Batcave. She also decided to pick up some of Damian’s daggers that he’d left with her in case anything ever happened to his main stash.

After that she sat down at her computer and began her work on finding her friends; she wouldn’t leave Damian, or Tim, or Jason, or Dick at the hands of the Joker - not like Bruce had. Especially not after what happened last time Jason had been locked in a warehouse with the psychopath. She didn’t have much time to spare, and she wasn’t willing to waste a second of it.

First, she looked into the many warehouses in Gotham. It was the classic villain place to hold hostages, she’d certainly held a few hostages in a warehouse before. There were a few Joker branded ones that he tended to have used a lot in the past, but after quickly checking those over Marinette soon decided that he would have found a whole new place to store the bats he’d managed to collect today, so that he’d have more time to play with them.

After what felt like far too long, she finally found where the Joker had taken them. A warehouse on the east side of Gotham. It had been abandoned for the last couple of years, but every so often some street kids would find it and use it for a bit, so she’d placed cameras inside so that she could help any that made their way to the warehouse.

She may have been considered one of Gotham City’s Rogues, but that didn’t mean she was a completely horrible person (even if Bruce couldn’t see that). After all, she’d been a hero for years, she couldn’t have done that if she didn’t care about helping people.

It was even one of the main reasons why she’d ended up being classed as one of the many rogues of Gotham. She’d moved to the city in order to make a difference and help the people that lived there, but when she’d tried Batman had only told her that he didn’t accept help from outside heroes. So she’d started using the cat miraculous instead of her normal ladybug earrings, started going by Lady Noire instead and stole what she could from the obnoxiously rich and gave to the street kids who needed the money to survive.

Of course, over the past couple of years, she’d used some of the money she’d stolen on herself, but that’s all Bruce focused on when he was making her out to be the bad guy. Honestly, it hadn’t even been that much. Only enough to support her in the months when she wasn’t getting as many commissions.

Not that the oh so great Batman had ever noticed what she’d really been up to, all he’d cared about was that she was a thief in ‘his’ city. His kids had figured out what she had been doing though, and then soon became her friends. Or, in Damian’s case, became her boyfriend -  much to Bruce’s disgust.

With the information she needed to go save her friends, Marinette called her transformation, grabbed her supplies and headed over to the warehouse as fast as possible.

She couldn’t be too late. She couldn’t be. She refused to be too late. She refused to be.

If she was too late … she didn’t want to think about what could have happened in the time it had taken her to find them without the superior resources that Bruce kept locked away in the Batcave just because he was a controlling, prejudiced asshole.

She wouldn’t be too late. She wouldn’t be.

She’d arrived. But was she too late?

The door to the warehouse had obviously been locked, but she had no time to waste trying to undo it using the ‘proper’ Batman approved techniques. “Cataclysm!” She muttered as quickly as she could in order to avoid the Joker noticing, calling her power to destroy the door as quickly and efficiently as possible.

As the door crumpled into dust, she moved to a blind area in the cameras to transform and recharge Plagg. “Eat quickly,” she begged the kwami, “we don’t have much time to spare.” And soon enough Lady Noire was ready to rescue those that had been abandoned by the oh so great Batman.

She didn’t exactly sneak in as the collapse of the door had caused a bit of noise but she was as quiet as she could be, but it seemed like it was safe to say that if the Joker hadn’t really noticed her at all, he wasn’t paying too much attention to anything but his captives.

Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian had all been tied up and hung from the ceiling with their bodies tied with rope, so that they didn’t stand a chance of escape on their own. That didn’t matter anymore. She was going to save them, unlike Bruce.

Marinette hated to think of how the Joker could have gotten his hands on all of them. What had that mad man done to those she loved? How had he hurt them? She was going to kill him (and Bruce) if she got the chance.

She used the darkness of the miraculous to almost blend into the shadows so that she could get closer to her friends without alerting the ignorant Joker that she was there.

“Damian,” she whispered as she got closer using the baton provided by the miraculous to carry her voice upwards, quiet enough so that only he could hear her. “I’m going to get you down from there but I need you ready to land safely and be ready to fight while I get the others down. Can you do that?”

There was as big a nod as he could manage while tied up without alerting the Joker.

“Excellent.”

She brought the baton back down so that she could hold onto the end before elongating it to  use it to propel herself upwards, to Damian’s height up in the air. Pulling one of her boyfriend’s daggers from her suit, she used it to cut the rope holding him up. Once free, Damian slid down her baton in order to make a safer descent to the floor and pulled one of his daggers from his utility belt and made a start on attacking the Joker.

Meanwhile, Marinette focused her attention on freeing the others. First Tim, then Jason and finally Dick. When she moved onto Dick, it was easy for her to tell that he’d been injured the most, probably because he’d been focusing on protecting the others than himself like usual,  so she made sure to keep hold of him as she freed him, and brought him down towards the ground by changing the height of her baton once his ropes had been cut.

“You’re safe,” she repeated to Dick when he looked at her with a confused look on his face. “You’re safe, Tim’s safe, Jason’s safe, Damian’s safe. You’re all safe now. He can’t hurt you.”

“Thank you,” he managed to say slowly as she sat him against the wall so that he didn’t take part in the fight with an obviously very broken leg.

She nodded, “of course,” before heading off to join the fight.

Once everything was over and done with, the Joker sent back to Arkham and those she cared about as safe as they could be, she got help from Damian to carry Dick over to her safe house. It was much nearer than the stupid Batcave, and hell like she was going to let any of them head over there anytime soon.

“We should go to the Batcave to get medical assistance,” Tim had argued when she’d told them where they were going to spend the night, at least the night longer if she had anything to say about it.

“Not a chance in hell,” she’d hissed. “You will go back to that cave over my dead body.”

Damian had simply sighed and inquired, “What has father done now?”

“He abandoned you,” she admitted after a couple of seconds of glares from them all. “I told him what was happening and he refused to help.”

“He abandoned us, what a big surprise,” Jason retorted. “What else is new?”

“Come on,” Marinette sighed, leading them in the direction of her safe house. “Let’s get you all to safety.”

[lyon-amore]

Oath

JakexFem!Mc  One-shot Suitable for everyone. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A year had passed since we had managed to save Hannah and Richy. MWAF had kept him alive although in poor condition. He was urgently hospitalized. For Hannah, she still had to go to therapy and consult with lawyers and police officers about her situation in the reckless murder of Jennifer Hanson.  All of that made me open my eyes and leave my job where the only thing my boss did was exploit me. I yelled four things at him and left. I decided to go to Duskwood, live there with my friends and help Hannah recover.I got a job in the library, surrounded by so many interesting books… And that Jessy was grateful because she knew that she could trust me to offer information.  I came to live in Duskwood because of Jake. I was sure that he would have liked to be there with her sister and help her, but by helping us in the last moments I told him to run away so he wouldn't be found, cutting off any connection with all of us.  As far as I'm concerned, I didn't mind. The last message I got from him was that he was in a safe place. There were no more messages after that.  Well, okay, maybe I was a little sad about not getting texts from him, but I wasn't going to stay like my friends weren't important either. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dan Would you like to go to the Aurora tonight?  Cleo You're kidding? Phil still forbids us from going  Dan But maybe our little detective will let us sneak in.  MC Being a friend of the owner doesn't mean that I can easily take you  Richy In addition to the fact that she herself made the sign that Thomas and Cleo are prohibited from entering 😬  MC Sorry guys, at first I thought it was a joke 😅 I never thought he was really going to hang it Thomas Don't worry MC. Besides, tonight I was thinking of meeting up at Hannah's.  Jessy When do you think she can get into the group?  Thomas She is still affected, but she has already started to have a little normal life At least I know she has a group chat with Lilly and MC.  Cleo And how do you see her, MC?  MC Good, well…As far as it goes, it seems that she is doing a little better These things aren’t quick to bounce back Jessy 😔​  Richy You don't have to say it It was good that at least we were together at that time  MC You were brave both 🙂  Richy Thanks MC😁  Dan And what about the virtual criminal?  Jessy DAN! 😠 Richy Dan!  Cleo Dan 🤦  Thomas Dan…  MC Calm down guys, I'm fine 😅 Nothing yet But as long as he's okay, we don't have to worry. Jessy But leaving you alone... 😕  MC I'm not alone I have you guys 😄  Cleo 😊  Richy And that makes our “favorite” womanizer have a free hand 🤨  Thomas I don't think that will happen  Jessy At least if we leave Phil alone with MC for a long time 😳 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Just then, in the group with Lilly and Hannah, we received an image of the Duskwood map. Exactly a specific place. I keep looking at the picture. It doesn't come from who it is.Lilly's text makes me react. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lilly MC!  MC Yes, I see it  Hannah But what is?  MC I think I know Lilly Do you think it's Jake?  Hannah It has to be him Who else could send this to us without a profile? But this part of the map…  MC It's the church -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  I had seen too much of that map to know where it was. I smile. Maybe there is something in there for us. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Hannah Then we have to go!  Lilly What if it's not him? What if is someone wanting to set a trap for us?  MC Well, we have to take a risk I plan to go Hannah Me too  Lilly God… I guess I'll have to go because I can't leave you girls alone...  MC See you there  Hannah See you later, MC  Lilly Please don't be late I want us to be together...  MC I will not be late ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Luckily, it was break time. I grabbed my jacket and bag, walking out of the library and putting up the sign that we'll be back open in half an hour. I was hoping it wouldn't be too long, I don't want to be fired either. Lucky it was close. Near the church Lilly and Hannah were waiting for me. When I saw them, I gave them a big hug like it had been a long time since we'd seen each other. We were a disaster, the three of us together.     "So we have to go in?" Lilly asks, looking carefully around.     "Jake may not be here, but at the same time, he may have left us something." Hannah gazes determinedly at the church.     "I agree, since he wouldn't want to put us in danger," I say, clutching my bag tightly.     "Then let's go…" Lilly takes our hands, like a scared little girl.       I understood it. It was too hopeful to think this way and then give ourselves a reality check and get into trouble. There was no one inside the church. Totally silent. We walked down the long hall, the smell of incense accompanying us. There must have been a Mass earlier. But what exactly were we looking for? We began to look through the benches in the background, each time going further forward. But nothing.     "Now what?" Hannah asks, crossing her arms sadly.     "Maybe it was a joke if we haven't been caught by now." Lilly seemed more upset, seeing how her older sister had been disappointed that she hadn't found any clues about her brother. I decide to go to the big table at front of us. It was the only place we had not yet examined.Below it were three small boxes with our names. My heart began to beat fast.     "Hannah, Lilly! Here!“ I yell, picking up the small objects.      They approached and I gave them each theirs. Opening them revealed some small SD cards and a set of headphones. Typical of his puzzles.     "I guess there's something that wants us to hear or see what's in it," Lilly guessed.       << Please, don't let it be a farewell audio…. >>  I sit away from them, wanting some privacy if I wanted to see Jake. But will it be a video? Will it have his voice or will it be distorted?  I had never heard what it sounded like before and was curious to know. I put the card in the mobile, waiting for him to read it. It contained an audio. Well, it was to be expected. I put on my headphones and, with my finger trembling, I press the audio. Preparing myself for the worst.   "Hey, um... Wow, I'm bad at this..." The audio starts and I laugh as I listen to him speak. It didn't have the distortion. His voice was clear and mature, but he seemed nervous. "I never thought I'd record an audio with my voice, so I hope you don't laugh." Too late “You must imagine that this must be a farewell audio, but it's not” I notice the audio a bit strange, there seemed to be a background echo "MC, I just wanted to thank you for all you have done. Yes again. I don't think I'll ever know how to thank you." I try to control myself, but the tears that come to me are of happiness. I feel important. Not because he has to tell me, because I've come a long way in having courage with myself as well.     “Surely you must be angry that it wasn't a video, but I had my reasons for not making one. And also because you don't deserve it, didn't I tell you not to go to Duskwood?" He makes me laugh. I broke his promise, but he never said that I couldn't come after finding Hannah, it was a hole in his promise. "I suppose I can forgive you, but for this time.” I close my eyes, feeling calmer. Hearing him makes me happy. I take the mobile to my chest, continuing to listen."I'm trying to find a way to see you, but for now, I guess I'll just have to wait." I don't care... I don't care because I know you're okay, Jake...  "I wish I could see you, sitting there in the church, listening to the audio for you" I open my eyes nervously, looking around, does he suppose or is he looking at me? Is here?      I check my mobile, noting how much audio I have left. It doesn't put it on.     "What the..." I don't move. I stare at the phone in surprise. Do you mean…     "But who knows?" The echo… sounds very clear… or is it just the headphones? “Maybe I'm right where I need to be now.”  I feel as if someone breathed on my neck, just at the same time those words sounded.I'm shaking...I can't control myself...     "It's not my imagination, is it?" I ask, my voice cracking. "Please tell me it's not my imagination."      I reach my hands to the headphones to take them off and hands hold mine as if helping me take them off. Electricity runs through my entire body.     "Depends on what you think at this moment," says the same voice on the audio.      I turn and see a man with dark hair and a tired look. But he smiles for me. I've never seen him and even so, I can quickly identify him.     "Glad to meet you in person, MC," Jake says to me, very slowly, leaning against the bench.     "I could say the same, Jake." I wipe my tears, smiling back at him. "But what are you doing here?" I thought you were running away. "     "I've been keeping you guys hanging around Paris for a while." He winks at me mockingly and I laugh. “Besides, I wanted to come even for a little while to see my sisters.”     "I understand. ”      I find it normal. I look over at Hannah and Lilly who are looking at us and smiling. Wait... They don't seem surprised... Did they know all this time? I look at them angrily and then at Jake.     "I can't believe it... ”     "Don't get mad-"     "I'm not mad, more like I'm surprised."     "That's not what your expression says."       This is what I get for trusting a family that loves to keep secrets. Jake takes my hand and strokes it. Great… I can't get mad now. I blush and so does he. Giving me a look that made me embarrassed, it seemed like she was admiring something.     "I've dreamed for a long time of being able to see you and hold your hand..."      My face burns when he says that. Aah... Please... Let this really be real...     "Me too..." I whispered, looking down.     "MC, I may not be in Duskwood for long" I look up, scared of losing him again now that he's here ", but if I didn't tell you now, then I wouldn't know when" I nod with a lump in my throat “: No matter how far away I am or how long it takes to get back to your side, I want you to know that there will be no one I want to spend the rest of my life with." I can't stop shaking and Jake sees it, grabs my other hand and tries to calm me down by circling the backs of my hands with his thumbs. The sound of my crying rings through the whole church.     "You can't tell me this to give me false hope…" I say, though it's hard for me to speak, "You just can't…"     "It's not false hope." I look into his eyes. Yes, he is being sincere, but what can I do if I know that I will be waiting for him again, without knowing a single word about him? I lied when I said I was fine without him. I'm not "I will always come back. I swear to you. "     “Swearing is a very personal thing, Jake…"     "That's why I do it." He rests her forehead against mine. We are so close... Can you hear my heart?  ", you are so important that for you I would give my life.”     A sigh escapes me and I hear him laugh. I can't help it, those words make me emotional.      As if both of us were thinking about it at the same time, we slowly get closer until we kiss. It's an awkward kiss at first, but as we continue, he becomes confident and brings his hand to my cheek, caressing it lovingly. The lump goes away and I feel much better than before.We don't even realize how long we've lasted if it wasn't for Lilly.     "Guys, you remember you're in a church, right?" she asks us, from across the benches.      We break apart and I hide my face leaning on her shoulder, embarrassed. We break apart and I hide my face leaning on his shoulder, embarrassed.    “Lilly, it's not cool to interrupt them,” Hannah says, and I hear her giggle a little.    "I asked for your help, but there was no need to break the moment," Jake sounds annoyed as he strokes my hair.    "You would have thanked us after nine months if we hadn't stopped you," Lilly continues jokingly.    “Lilly!” Jake and I shout at the same time, and both sisters laugh. Jake looks at me and I see how he smiles shyly.I give him a small kiss on the lips and hug him, dropping to my knees on the bench.     "I'm glad you're here... "     "I'm glad too."      He hugs me tightly, as if he doesn't want to let me go.  With this oath, it is enough for me to be happy. If he'll always come back to me, then waiting won't matter to me.

[retronamic]

Arcane Women and their S/O at a Haunted House

..........yea I gave up on studying anywayssssss

TW: Gatekeeping, Gaslighting and Girlbossing

Gender Neutral! Reader

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Г Vi |

- Was actually the one who suggested that you guys try out the Haunted House. You weren’t so keen on the idea though. I mean running through a dim, musty room with people in costumes, grabbing and screaming at you wasn't exactly your ideal carnival date, but it was apart of Vi's. So being the amazing partner you are, you agreed.

- She could hear the reluctance in your answer. But don't worry, she vowed to protect you, and if you ever needed a strong bicep to grab onto....she's your girl.

- Wellllll what she vowed didn't translate well into what actually happened. Don't get me wrong, she DID protect you and you did have a strong bicep holding you up, buttttttt not in the way you imagined.

- Vi thought the best strategy was to throw you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and sprint through the house, ducking and dodging mfs that popped up randomly, and screaming her head off XD

- " (Y/N)?! You ok? Don't worry, we are almost at the end and I got you so- AAAAAHHHH BACK UP! BACK UP! DON'T MAKE ME PUNCH YOU THROUGH THAT WOLF HEAD!" (god you love this woman so much)

- The only thought you had through the whole ordeal was, "Why the hell would you suggest the damn haunted house knowing damn well you couldn't handle it?"

- When she finally let you down, you gave her the hardest death stare you could muster. When she saw your face, she knew she messed up. She felt bad for carrying around like a rag doll and also possibly threatening some of the workers too.

- "Hey (Y/N), I-I'm sorry about that whole thing. I just wanted to kinda show off a bit in front of you, but seems like I just messed that up. I'll make it up to you though, ummm we can go on any ride you want now. How about the ferri-" *Mwah*

- Staying mad at Vi is almost impossible for you. Watching her stutter and scratch at her neck trying to explain. She knew she messed up and let her pride get to her a bit, but when she pouted at you, you couldn't hold it.

- You just leaned in and gave her the biggest kiss on the cheek. You pulled away giggling and telling her that as the best ride you've been on, and you didn't mind being handled like a ragdoll. Plus the conductor was kinda cute too.

Г Sevika |

- You were the perpetrator in this one. You practically begged Sevika to go in with you. She told you to forget it since she knows that you are a scaredy cat and will just be screaming and grabbing onto her the entire time (not that she really minds that though)

- You kept on begging knowing that when Sevika had her mind made up, it's almost impossible to get her to change her decision. But you knew one guaranteed way to get her to agree.....exploit her ego (Gaslight. Gatekeep. Girlboss your way into that haunted house)

- "Ok Sev, we can skip this ride, I guess. I understand that you're scared of haunted houses and wanna settle for something moreeee "tamed" like hmmmm the teacup ride :)))"

- The moment she deadpanned at you, you knew you got her right where you wanted her. Next thing you knew, you guys were both in the waiting line.

- The haunted house wasn't soooooo bad. Let's ignore that fact that Sevika was right about you screaming your head off and clinging to her like your life depended on it :))) Sevika was exactly as you imagine, just chill. She treated like it was nothing, well granted being from the Undercity, she's seen worse, trust me.

- The best part of the ride for you was when one of the guys in a zombie costume tried to make a grab at you but then was met with one of Sevika's famous death glares, then immediately backed up and tripped over some props (definitely a core memory for you)

- After the ride, she could see you were still trying to calm down after nearly ten minutes of full on screaming your lungs out. Her heart broke a little when she was you trying to secretly wipe tears from your eyes and quiet your sniffles.

- She pulled you by the waist so you could snuggle your face into her side. "Hey- how bout we go to that booth over there and see how many stuffed animals I can win you? And if it's rigged- we can see how fast I can get the vendor to shit his pants like the wolf dude?"

- When she heard you giggle, her worry cleared a bit. You guys spent the rest of your carnival date shaking down vendors and stuffing your faces with all kinds of food.

- Well the face stuffing was more a "you" activity. Sev just watch in awe and slight fear as you threw back 2 corndogs and a large popcorn in under five minutes.

Г Grayson |

- Like Sevika, not a fan of haunted houses, plus she thinks they are a waste of carnival tickets since most of them (if not all of them) aren't scary. But does that make a difference to you? Nopeeee :)))

- But unlike Sevika, convincing Grayson wasn't thatttt hard, you had a formula to this by now. First, tell her what you want, if she refuses, up the stakes with body contact. Preferably an arm clutch, neck hold or your personal favorite, the neck tuck (basically tuck your head into her neck). And always the cherry on top....the puppy dog eyes. You knew once you unleashed this combo, you had it in the bag.

- And soon as you know it, your gripping onto Grayson's sleeve and ducking behind her every time someone jumped out at you guys.

- Grayson being the calm, cool and collect woman she is, just guided you through the ride even giving you little encouraging remarks here and there.

- "I'm right here darling, no need to rip my sleeves off. We are almost at the e- Sir. I know you're doing your job right now but can't you see my partner and I are having a moment? Thank you. Now where was I love?" (The workers are going thru it)

- She would chuckle every now and then at your reactions. She couldn't help it. She wasn't trying to make fun of you, it's just the way you clinged to her and ran to hide behind her or in her arms was too adorable.

- You definitely got some kisses with cotton candy on the side after this :)))

Г Caitlyn |

- She was the one who pulled up into the line for the haunted house. She's raved about how she has always wanted to try them out. Her mother didn't really allow her to go in the haunted house when the carnival came, cause she was worried Caitlyn couldn't handle it.....and she was right.

- You don't know who was screaming louder, you or your girlfriend who had her hands in front of her face the entire time.

- You had to hold onto her and guide her through the ride, even though she would jump up at the slightest sound. She was so jumpy to the point where she almost kicked a worker in the face.

- They had jumped from behind the wall and landed directly in front of Caitlyn with a fake chainsaw in hand. It was almost like an involuntary reaction when her leg flew up merely centimeters from the worker's face.

- At the end of the ride it was as if a switch was turned on and she just changed back to cool and collected Kiraman.

- "Well that was certainly thrilling, was it? Now let's go find another ride preferably something less.....haunted house-ish?"

- She did her best to make it seem like she wasn't shitting her pants five minutes ago. But if you held her hand you could feel her shaking (Poor babyyy :((( ). You pressed the back of her hand to your lips and gave her a reassuring smile. She bent down a bit and gave you a "thank you" kiss on the forehead.

Something about putting Caitlyn in pink makes me feel like I broke some unspoken law :\

[lemonpika]

>>dacryphilia with ema

dacryphilia: is a non-normative sexual interest in which sexual pleasure and arousal is derived from crying and/or tears

A/N: Please keep in mind that any acts depicted in any of my work is 100% consensual and I will not have it any other way >:) Also, the reader is written to be afab just to clarify! As always, I really hope you guys enjoy this piece :)

!!NSFW!! MINORS DNI

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“That’s right. Cry for me, you worthless slut.”

Eren fucking loved seeing your pathetic little face drenched in tears. The tiny, weak whimpers you let out only egged him on. Your legs were wrapped around his hips as he mercilessly pounded into you. After all, he knew better than anyone else that you were likely going to implode from the pleasure shortly. He had a firm grip on your neck in order to maintain leverage over your now weakened body. By this point, your mind and body have been sapped of coherent thought and energy as you let him take you. More tears welled up in your eyes as he pressed his thumb to your throbbing clit. He knew exactly how to make you come undone as quickly as possible. In fact, the act of exploiting you like this only made him want to devour your willing body further. He clamped his mouth on the intersection between your neck and shoulder which caused you to shudder from the sudden impact. Your thighs began to quake as his unrelenting pace started to quicken. He was rocking into your top wall in all of the right ways and you felt yourself on the verge of release. But before you could be tipped over the edge, Eren pulls out harshly. Thus, leaving you completely empty-handed. A dark smirk crept onto his features as he tightened his grip on your neck.

“Seeing you cry is fun and all.. But what I really want you to do is beg.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“God, baby.. You look heavenly right now.”

Armin would be at a complete loss of words as you sat there on his lap. Normally, he would be the one to cry out of pleasure. But tonight, I guess he was pushing all of your buttons just the way you liked. With a nipple in his mouth, you continued to bounce on his cock with your arms wrapped around his neck. The angle his cock was slamming into you was perfectly aligned with your top wall. The pleasure sent shockwaves through your system as you began to shake a little bit. He quickly went to grab hold of your ass in order to give you a more guided approach. However, he just ended up getting caught up on how good your pussy felt and ended up leaving his hands there on your ass. Armin loves seeing you enjoy yourself so thoroughly. Especially if it means that you’ll grind your hips on his like this. He knew that your pussy was still sensitive from when he ate you out a few minutes ago and he wanted to take full advantage of that. Before you knew it, the two of you were now on the floor. Before you had any time to react, Armin pulled your hips up to match his as your back arched downwards. Without warning, he slipped back inside of you with ease. Suddenly, you were struck by a completely different sensation as his thrusts became deeper and deeper. More tears began to well up in your eyes as your face was pushed down onto the floor. Peering over to look at your expression, an uncharacteristic wave of sadism coursed through him as he gave your ass a harsh slap

“If you keep making that face, I’ll really give you something to cry over."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“You like it that much, YN? You’re so fucking dirty..”

It was Mikasa’s first time going down on you and you weren’t sure what to expect at first. But those doubts were left unfounded as she swirled her tongue around your now hardened clit. You’ve never felt this good before and hearing her insult you in between licks made your eyes roll to the back of your head. The combination of feeling her tongue swarm your clit and her hot breath teasing around the area was what originally brought you to tears. But now, she’s prodding at your entrance with her two greedy fingers. You spread your legs wider in anticipation. As you do so, she easily slips inside of your soft walls and begins the search for your elusive g-spot. It doesn’t take long to find it since your reactions painted a very clear picture as to where it was. Now with both her unrelenting tongue and fingers, you began to sob as this unfamiliar feeling began to well up behind your clit. Soon, she began to harshly suck and nibble at your clit as she inserted a third finger. With the pleasure beginning to become almost unbearable, you sharply hooked your fingers into her short hair and pulled with great force. Seeing this as a sign of your upcoming orgasm, she quickens the pace to where her tongue and jaw starts to hurt. Finally, you cried out one last time before squirting all over her face. Completely dumbfounded by what just happened, Mikasa stared at you with glazed eyes as she positioned herself to go sit on your face.

“Now, make me cry.”

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[aurumacadicus]

@winterironmonth prompt -- SFW Monday: Trope/AU, Word

Trope/AU: Strip Poker

Word: Lucky

I, um. Was halfway through the story when I realized that the trope was Strip Poker, not the AU. So. Enjoy I guess. Blacklist ‘long post’ etc.

For universe clarification: Sometimes, people want to play strip poker, but they don’t actually want to strip, so they can pair up with a ‘Doll’ who is willing to strip in their place. The Avengers are basically like the Leverage team except Tony is their private benefactor (he needed their services and then he was like “Hey what if you guys didn’t have to scrape to get by and also Bucky rail me on the regular” but like. Who is surprised). Strip poker with Dolls has become a pastime for rich people, who love showing off their pretty things. Tony is no longer allowed to actually play at these games because everyone knows he cheats and everyone at least tries to pretend they don’t, which is fine because he is an attention whore and loves being a Doll, and also Bucky is a skilled player who lets people strip his Doll down to his underwear before he takes all their money.

--

Tony frowned, fingers fiddling with his cufflinks nervously as he examined himself in the mirror. He used to enjoy this part of the job, but he’d come to realize that he was easily the oldest Doll at these parties now. He knew it was just to provide a distraction as Natasha and Clint snuck in to steal whatever they’d been hired to get, but he wondered if he truly provided all the distraction he used to, especially when there were younger women with soft curves and men with muscles so sharp that they could cut a man. He stepped closer to the mirror, hand dropping to fiddle with one of the buttons on his coat. Then he reached up to brush his hair back, turning to look at the gray starting to thread into it with a grimace. Should he go on a diet? Dye his hair? How long could he keep this up before he had to go back to being the silent money for the team?

“How’s my lucky charm tonight?” Bucky asked as he came up behind him. He paused with his hand halfway out to grab Tony’s hip, raising his eyebrows. “He’s not doing great, I see.”

“I’m fine,” Tony said hurriedly, dropping his hands back to his sides. He lifted them again to smooth down the front of his jacket and cursed himself for the nervous action.

Bucky stared at him with the same calculating eyes he used before a brawl, looking for weaknesses to exploit to get it over with as quickly as possible (or, on the rare occasion he actually hated somebody, how to avoid it to draw the fight out longer). Tony hated him for a moment, because he knew Bucky was going to charge on no matter how many signals he gave to back off and leave him alone.

Better to just get it off his chest before Bucky went for his throat with it, Tony decided. “I just think,” he began slowly, carefully considering each word before he spoke. “That perhaps I’m… not the distraction I once was when we started this act.”

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky hummed, raising an eyebrow at him. He leaned his weight back and crossed his arms over his chest, that silent ‘go on’ that Tony always hated because it was exploiting his need to fill uncomfortable silences.

And Tony fell for it, like he always did. “I just wonder how long I can do this anymore, before we have to switch someone else in, like—like Steve, or Thor, or—Sam is very handsome, and he’s got this charming smile to go with his muscles,” he added nervously, looking back down at his cufflinks. Should he take them off? Lots of newer Dolls had started coming in street or club clothes. Perhaps the suit was a bit old-fashioned. “I’m not really—useful anymore, am I? Or I won’t be, soon.”

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, both brows furrowing now.

Tony tried not to sweat with anxiety. He wished he knew Bucky as well as Steve, so he could know what that meant without having to ask. He stared at himself in the mirror, running his thumb over the edge of his beard. The suit was probably too much. He started wrestling with his cufflinks to get them off.

“Ms. Van Dyne,” Bucky said suddenly, and Tony whipped around to look at him in terror. He was holding his phone up, brightly lit speaker button pointed toward him. The number at the top was blank, but most numbers were hidden for this type of thing.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” Janet Van Dyne’s tinny voice replied.

Bucky let his eyes trail up Tony’s body slowly, then he said, “My boy thinks he’s not pretty enough to be a doll anymore. I keep tryin’a tell him he’s perfect, but he thinks he should take off the suit and just spectate now.”

“Nooo don’t let Tony do that!” Janet wailed immediately. “He’s the only reason I host these stupid games anymore! All these new guys who keep showing up with Dolls showing off their goods already—Tony is the only one who knows how to have a really good time!”

“He thinks he should dye his hair,” Bucky added, a sly smile finally twisting his lips as Tony shuffled awkwardly under his gaze.

“NOOO DON’T LET TONY DO THAT!” Janet wailed again, and she actually sounded like she was in tears. “Silver foxes are in! And he still has an absolute dump truck so don’t let him go on a diet either! Bucky there are three other players who only come so they can get Tony to take his clothes off don’t let him take this away from us!”

“Jan,” Tony choked out, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Jan did not let the fact she was on speaker phone and had been the whole time deter her. “Tony! You have to come, and you have to wear that new Tom Ford ensemble I saw you buy!”

“I’m wearing it,” Tony admitted, shuffling closer to the phone. “I just… wasn’t sure…”

“Tony you really are the only reason I host these events anymore,” Janet told him sincerely. “I know you’re sensitive but there’s no reason to be insecure. Everyone’s eyes are on you at these events. Especially since that time you stripped to show off that limited-edition silk lingerie that you stole out from under me at an auction,” she muttered, mulishness coloring her tone now.

“I look better in scarlet,” Tony replied automatically.

“WHY DO YOU THINK I’M SO MAD ABOUT THE IDEA OF YOU NOT COMING ANYMORE THEN,” Janet bellowed. Then she was back to business, stern. “You will show up, you will be the belle of the ball, and then Bucky will punch everyone who makes a lewd comment about you after you strut off the stage. Please. This is the best entertainment I get. Bucky punched Hammer in the nose last time.”

“You didn’t tell me you punch people when I leave!” Tony exclaimed, hurt, and looked up at Bucky with the doe eyes he knew he was weak to. “And you punched Hammer and didn’t tell me?!”

“I don’t want to encourage your smugness,” Bucky deadpanned immediately.

“Oh, we don’t need any encouragement, Bucky. We’re the idle rich. We have nothing else to do but be smug,” Janet told him pleasantly. “Anyway Tony, I’m glad you’re there. I’ve been leaving red wine in the vault for Clint and Natasha, but the hors d’oeuvres are fish-based this time, so I was thinking a nice bottle of chardonnay?”

“Clint and Natasha are heathens who wouldn’t know how to pair wine with an old boot, so just leave them what you think is best,” Tony answered automatically.

Bucky stared at him, face blank. Tony blinked back at him innocently. He got the feeling that Janet was doing the same thing he was on the other line.

Finally, Bucky said, “Janet knows we’re stealing from her.”

“I’m not fucking stupid! Tony designed my security system!” Janet scoffed. “But I figure, your team only takes on jobs that you think are worthy causes, so if you’re stealing it from me, it saves me the hassle of trying to find out whether the person who wants it is actually genuine. Tony usually gives me a head’s up so I can have my security guards focus on other things.”

“Please tell me that you’re fucking with me right now,” Bucky begged, emotion finally creeping into his voice. It was too bad it was despair, Tony thought, because he thought that the deal he had going with Janet was actually pretty good.

“What part of ‘I only throw these parties to strip Tony’ wasn’t fucking clear, Barnes?” Janet hissed. “I throw these parties to strip Tony and that’s it. You wiping the table with everyone once you’ve gotten Tony down to his underwear is just a bonus, because these other idiots are too stupid to realize you’re counting cards.” Her voice went pleasant again. “Since I’ve probably successfully reassured you, can I get a sneak preview of what you’re wearing under your undershirt and slacks?”

“Lace,” Tony answered over Bucky’s sputtering.

Janet sighed dreamily. “You look so good in lace. Well! I have to do some finishing touches for the party. Tell Clint to keep his salmon fingers off the glass cases, he got ham grease on one of my necklaces last time,” she added, and then the phone beeped as she hung up without a response.

“Do you mean to tell me that you let all your friends know when we’re coming to steal shit from them,” Bucky asked, and there was the anger Tony had been expecting.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “No, just Jan, and that’s because we grew up in each other’s pockets. We know we own stuff that our parents got under suspicious circumstances. Bucky, Jan is literally the only other rich person I’m actually friends with. Except Victor von Doom,” he added, mostly to himself. “Whether we’re friends or not depends on the phases of the moon and whether Mercury is in retrograde.”

Bucky made his special ‘I fucking hate rich people’ noise that was specific to when Tony said something that made him feel very, very tired. “So this isn’t a legit job?”

“Of course it’s a legit job. Jan is just helping us by drawing attention off,” Tony scoffed again. “Not only is the brooch we’re stealing going to disappear, but a very valuable prototype she was ‘holding’ for me to keep copycats off my back. ‘Tony Stark and Janet Van Dyne can’t be in on the theft ring,’” he added in that mocking voice he used specifically for other rich people. “‘Didn’t you see they had those things stolen too? And what’s worse, Stark’s couldn’t even be insured.’ As if they won’t all be chomping at the bit to get their hands on my contraband prototype. Rich people are so fucking stupid, Bucky, it’s almost embarrassing to be one of them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Steve?” Bucky asked, irritated.

Tony scowled at him. “I kind of figured it was just something everyone knew, considering Jan literally leaves a tray of hors d’oeuvres and a bottle of wine in the vault for Clint and Natasha and turns the cameras off. They’re not stupid, either, so they had to know Jan was on our side. Why else would Clint be clumsy enough to leave ham grease on a necklace, unless he was comfortable? Anyway, now that I’ve been reassured,” he continued when Bucky’s glare did not ease. He began powerwalking past him. “I need to go do some makeup, just a little eyeliner to make my eyes pop, nothing big—”

“You’re telling Steve,” Bucky said, hand clamping around his wrist, and turned to drag him to the living room of the suite they were renting.

“Aw, come on, this isn’t my fault,” Tony begged. He considered going deadweight, but Bucky hadn’t said anything about canceling the engagement, and he’d hate to get the Tom Ford dirty before Jan could see him in it.

“Steve’s in charge, you know everything, you’re telling him,” Bucky told him firmly.

“Telling me what,” Steve asked as Tony grumbled about being the money behind the team, so he should really be the one in charge, even if he did like the way Bucky’s eye twitched whenever he called Steve ‘boss.’ “What’s going on?”

Tony considered lying. He really did. Then he could run while Bucky was doing that thing where he bellowed like a wounded animal and paced the floor trying to decide if it was something to scold him for. Ultimately, he decided not to, because he was feeling good about being a Doll again and he wanted to ride that high until next time, when he’d doubtlessly feel self-conscious again. “Jan is in on the jobs we do at her place,” he said.

Steve stared at him. He stared back. He noticed Natasha getting up from where she’d been sprawled in the window seat and slinking back toward her room. Clint had rolled under a couch and had probably disappeared; disappearing was one of his skills, after all.

“What the fuck does that mean,” Steve began, standing, and both Tony and Natasha bolted back to their rooms and locked the doors. “WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN,” Steve shouted, and then, “Clint did you just roll out from under the couch and fucking bite me?!”

Tony promised himself to get Clint something shiny for taking one for the team as he locked himself in the bathroom for extra measure. They’d have to leave for the job soon. Then Steve would be too distracted to ask.

[yeojaa]

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag.  You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.  

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash.  You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  idiots to lovers.  fluff, angst, smut.  the holy trifecta, babies!  explicit, obviously.  

tags / warnings.  mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc.  12.2k of nonsense.  pure nonsense, i tells ya. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow​ dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her.  i love you both sm!!!  ✨💜

author note.  the long-awaited fic is here!!  i really hope you enjoy it.  if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something?  i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot.  anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you!  stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker.  That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him.  It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard. 

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove.  Sometimes, she’s by herself;  often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste.  They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique.  Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be.  You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit. 

“He has no idea.”  It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts.  “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder.  How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair?  It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie. 

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”.  Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else.  Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention.  Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him.  Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face. 

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,”  she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does.  She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough.  Zero tact, though.  Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble.  You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested.  “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags.  (God, what awful taste.)  There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best.  (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction.  You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place.  Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on.  When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes.  He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW.  Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress  is.  

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect.  It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.  

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?”  He upspeaks.  It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first.  A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect.  “What’s the item and the name it’s under?”  You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine.  Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” 

You’re floored.  This is Jeon Jungkook?  This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger?  You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face.  It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers.  “I’ll grab it!  The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly.  He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends.  He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance.  It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears.  There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.  

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend?  I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.”  Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off.  “She said she was leaving on Friday.”  Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made.  “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall.  You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.  

You do feel bad.  Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this.  For hurting this stranger.  (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”  Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality.  He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip.  He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet. 

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off.  Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in.  (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.)  As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth.  “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend.  Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid.  Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours.  Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say.  Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation.  “Oh, maybe.  I’m sorry.”  The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t.  That’s a thing, right?  Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?  

God, you’re an altruist. 

“It’s fine.”  When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not.  You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word.  (You won’t.)

“Here it is!”  Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands.  If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing.  You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand.  He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying.  You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.  

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found.  Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start.  Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,”  you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands.  It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card.  The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently.  You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder.  It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum.  (You either, but still.) 

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers.  “What?”

“You know— that!”  She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago.  “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,”  you correct. 

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response.  There it is. 

“What?”  There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable. 

“What?”  It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery.  You can read every emotion that runs through her expression:  shock, displeasure, confusion.  

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth.  (She really does remind you of your little sister.)  “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder.  You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now.  There was no way he didn’t. 

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts.  That’s all.”  You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done.  You’d want to know if you were him.  Consider it an act of goodwill. 

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind.  What’s done is done.  Now he knows, or something close to it.  The chips would simply fall where they were meant to. 

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him. 

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift.  She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway.  Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding.  It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship. 

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening. 

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter.  “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression.  “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.”  You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person.  Sensible. 

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.  

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front.  You suppose it’s your responsibility now.  You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell. 

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker.  “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”  

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?”  Upspeaking again. How cute. 

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.”  You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter.  “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“  It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable.  “Thanks.  I didn’t even notice.  Um, I can come pick it up today?”  There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back.  “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out.  He truly was a sucker. 

“That’s fine.  We’re open until six tonight.”  

“I’ll be there before dinner.”  As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough.  “Before six, I mean.  Um, is around five-thirty okay?” 

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation.  Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation.  “Of course.  We’ll see you then.” 

He hangs up immediately. 

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last.  It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest.  You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon.  You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday.  Somehow, you like it more.  The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair.  It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person.  (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him.  Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.  

“O-oh.  It’s you.”  The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified.  “I m-mean, just—”  He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again.  “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.”  Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.  

“That’s right,”  you say evenly, expression neutral.  It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.  

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary.  Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room.  You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.  

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?”  He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store.  You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.  

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again.  He makes the same trip twice more.  “Can I have it?”  To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed.  He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress.  Good job, you think.

“Of course.”  You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter.  Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip.  You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything.  (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment.  Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides.  It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended.  Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact.  “May I have it, please?” 

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand.  You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable.  Is he going to say thank you?  Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems.  “Why did you do it?”  There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?”  You know what he means.  You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?”  Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you.  You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him;  it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side.  For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies.  It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his.  “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?” 

“What do you mean?”  

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror.  He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.  

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head.  It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.  

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.  

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin.  (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes.  Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.”  For once, he doesn’t sutter.  The lisp doesn’t present itself, either.  Was this the same Jungkook?  You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?”  He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name.  How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit?  It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?”  The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no.  You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly.  It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.  

“I mean like— talk talk.”  The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else.  His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.  

“Sure, we can talk talk.”  

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.  “Are you asking me on a date?”  

“W-what?  No!”  Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears.  “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding.  Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance.  He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow.  Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.  

“So, what do you want to talk about?”  It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down.  His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving.  You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie.  It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall.  “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly.  “Huh?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  

“Um—”  He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence.  There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking.  “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out.  “You want to talk about… you?”  

“That sounds bad.”  The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.  

“It’s fine.  We’ll talk at dinner.”  

He nods.  You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy.  Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.  

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?”  He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden.  Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure.  (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.”  Everything here is incredible.  You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place.  His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel.  You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish. 

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections.  Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?”  You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.  

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute.  “So?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often.  As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper. 

“Oh.”  Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth.  He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle.  You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting.  He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected.  It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline.  “What?” 

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot.  You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip.  Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.”  It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you.  You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel.  Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you.  You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable.  A little different, sure, but altogether nice.  Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake.  You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water.  “You’re welcome, I guess.”  

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not.  His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does.  (Seriously, how big are his eyes?)  You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth.  Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?”  He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.  

“What?”  You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”  

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out.  It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent.  Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.”  Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.  

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare.  “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?”  The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.  

“That’s not my name.”  The bite disappears past his teeth.  You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook.  Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do.  Juvenile in a way but enticing in another.  You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,”  he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down.  (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.)  “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation.  He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations.  He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.  

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea.  Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,”  you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.”  He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact.  “You care about people.  You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone.  You want to do what’s right.  Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words.  Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.  

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey.  He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts.  He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up.  He decorates his apartment with the most random things:  limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates.  He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years.  All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on.  (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.)  He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his).  He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,”  he insists from behind his coffee cup.  

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”  

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable. 

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.”  It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap.  It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now.  He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had.  Youngin is good for him, though.  You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips.  When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone.  “Girls are scary.”

You laugh.  Cackle, really.  You can’t help it.  He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon.  He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak.  He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says.  (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary.  Death is scary.  Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.”  He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest.  From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture;  from him, it’s patient.  “Girls aren’t scary.  Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.” 

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”  

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good.  Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags.  Like he’s living life in greyscale. 

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze.  Instead, he laughs.  “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.”  You’re adamant, insistent.  He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft.  An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.  

You want to protect him, teach him to fly.  Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.  

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes.  He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it.  He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.  

“Fine,”  he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long.  It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused.  It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days.  You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.  

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse.  If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton.  He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew).  He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it.  (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?”  It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso.  It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm. 

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him.  He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for.  To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings.  “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.  

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is. 

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence?  (You wish you were joking.)  It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.  

“This one?”  He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face.  Medium-weight cashmere.  Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist.  It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,”  you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels.  “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law.  You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.”  He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.  

Your response is a shrug.  “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.”  You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates.  You know there’ll be something good on the menu.  

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist.  You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him.  Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink.  Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.  

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch.  That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other.  “Hey!  You’re leaving already?”  It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone.  It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes.  For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes.  “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.”  A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh?  Well, that’s certainly something new.  Good for him, you think. 

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.”  It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words.  “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her.  Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes).  Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date.  It’s a big deal. 

“Yeah—“  Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky.  “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother.  “Go get ‘em, tiger.”  

“I will,”  he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.  

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place.  It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look.  “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”  

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?  

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever).  It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you.  He’s going on a second date, after all.  Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant.  You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine.  Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine.  The two of you are friends.  You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come.  Baby boy was growing up. 

“Y’know.”  You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment.  It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?”  He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.  

You wiggle your hand dismissively.  “Second date and all that.”  

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on.  It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots.  “Just stick around.  I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him.  “Fine.  I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door.  “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,”  you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake.  It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook.  This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook:  Hey. from jeon jungkook:  I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook:  If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook:  Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date.  It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing.  (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook:  i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops.  Of course.  He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions.  (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook:  it’s fine!  have fun! to jeon jungkook:  turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up.  Good, you think.  About time he finds someone nice.  You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.  

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact.  He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic. 

“I want you to meet her,”  he mumbles, like that makes it better.  As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”  He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over.  (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.)  You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.”  But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is.  Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately.  “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that.  No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman.  It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set.  Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise.  It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch.  (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)  

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.”  His vague response speaks volumes.  The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery.  When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway.  “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!”  Of course.  It’s obvious.  She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that.  (He is.)  “I’m not coming to dinner.”  

“You’re already in the car,”  he reasons.  

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve.  Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.”  When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him.  Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal.  Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,”  he repeats, almost pleading.  You can’t look at him.  You won’t.  The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause. 

“Fine.”  You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off.  You’re not actually mad.  Just worried.  You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand.  It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person.  You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that.  Should, anyway.  You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.  

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it.  He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line.  (Truthfully, it’s your fault.  All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by.  You’ve got a reputation to uphold. 

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat?  How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer:  you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.  

“What’re you doing here?”  At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness.  Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really).  “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge.  It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired.  So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance.  He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin.  You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.  

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)  

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day.  “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,”  the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well.  Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,”  you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold.  You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else.  If you had to guess, it’s her perfume.  It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses.  You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.  

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter.  You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare.  “So?”

“W-what?”  

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning.  Something’s happened.  Must have.  There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?”  You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him.  He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.  

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression.  He’s stalling, you can tell.  You hate when he does this.  You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small.  “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced.  What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges.  You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual.  Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned.  (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.  

“So.”  You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves.  You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest.  He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs.  Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.”  The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said.  Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.  

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look.  It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?”  It explodes out, a question that demands an answer. 

He’s staring past your head, unblinking.  You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp.  “I c-couldn’t.  It was just…”  The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”  

“Just—”  There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot.  He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise.  He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket.  “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean?  Feel right?  

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete.  It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down.  Didn’t he understand that?  Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.  

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’”  You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window.  “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately.  He doesn’t. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” 

“You like her, right?”  

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out.  Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there.  “So, you like her.”  It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way;  you don’t mean it in any way but supportive.  You just want him to be happy.  “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”  

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer.  But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise.  Hope, maybe?  Fear?   

“What?”  You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight.  He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer.  (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”  

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest.  His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair.  He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer.  Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,”  he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.”  It’s cruel.  “You’re making a bad choice.  You’re into this girl.  Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements.  “I’m not dumb.”  There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask.  It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.  

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.  

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay.  Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question.  You can’t blame her.  You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.  

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.  

“What?”  It’s less snark, more sigh.  You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.  

“What’s going on with you?”  

“Nothing.”  

“Bullshit,”  she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter.  “You’ve been in a bad mood all week.  I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.”  She’s right, of course.  You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what.  “Did something happen?”  

You grit your teeth.  An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,”  she tries again, concerned.  

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!”  She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly.  “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough.  So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right.  It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload.  (Maybe it’d be helpful.  Probably.  But you’ve never found comfort in other people.  At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.”  Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on.  “It’s fine.  Really.”  You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile.  “I just need to get some sleep.”  And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.  

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action.  It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.”  You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater.  He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,”  he mutters, refusing to meet your stare.  At least, you think he’s refusing.  It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.  

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes.  It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away.  It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?”  You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated.  He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding.  “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.”  This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him.  He hums a noise but offers nothing further.  

This is how it’ll be then.  Fine.  If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go.  He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth.  “I—  I don’t—  I didn’t say that.” 

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.  

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now.  Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.  

“W-what?”

“Tell me.”  You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round.  “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters.  What have I got that she doesn’t?”  

“You’re serious?”  

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.  You think he might say no, outright refuse.  You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.  

“You’re funny.  You’re honest.  You speak your mind.”  You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people.  He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him.  “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t.  You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”  

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen.  As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.  

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.”  He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again.  “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”  

There’s something thick in your throat.  

“You make me want to try.”  He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it.  “Y-you make things not so scary.”  

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you.  He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself.  You make me laugh.”  He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.”  You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit.  Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.  

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs.  Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words.  They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism.  “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention.  “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here.  Just a chance.”  He’s got a peculiar look on his face.  “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?” 

All of a sudden, he’s close.  Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be.  There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down.  The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.  

“You kind of ruined my life.  I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense.  You’d ruined his life?  (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.)  You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.  

“I’m kidding.”  

It feels like whiplash.  You’ve created a monster.  

“But you do owe me, I think.  So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing.  He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams. 

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out.  He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed.  He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money.  He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.  

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him).  If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either.  Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge.  He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,”  he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you.  You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom.  “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff.  It’s adorable.  

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends.  You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head.  You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.  

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.  

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups.  Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.  

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together.  Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects.  Surely there’s more to this.  Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?”  You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.  

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”  

“A playsuit?”  You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in.  Would it even fit?  Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns.  “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected.  Or at least, you think it does.  If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim. 

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal.  He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,”  he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds.  The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs.  He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick.  “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.  

“Use your words, gorgeous.”  As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck.  He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”  

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob.  Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh.  He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be.  The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.  

“You like this, don’t you?”  His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy.  “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,”  you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts.  The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin.  Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.  

“Good girl.”  Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips.  You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall.  Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips.  “Such a good girl for me.  My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she?  Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard.  Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate.  It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest.  Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it.  Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear.  You know he’ll catch you.  “I want you.”  

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same.  Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.  

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm.  The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,”  he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer.  Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am.  I am.  I am,”  you chant, tears welling along your lash line.  They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.  

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you.  It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you. 

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much.  Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings​ @veronawrites​ @notmontae97​ @papillonsgf​ i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

[oraclemilf]

Hare-Brained Scheme

MCYTblr AU Exchange @mcytblraufest gift for @apatura-iris-atelier

For easier reading convenience and applicable tags check it out on ao3

Technoblade had been in a lot of sticky situations in his life. If Technoblade were the kind of person to be completely honest with himself, he’d admit that maybe some of those times were… potentially avoidable. Maybe.

It’s not as though Technoblade is stupid, far from it, he’s regarded by his community as a guy who can get things done.

Do you need someone to calculate the odds you win the prank war with your neighbor? You call Technoblade.

Do you need someone to tell you why all your crops keep dying? You call Technoblade.

Do you need someone to help you fudge your part of a group presentation? You call Technoblade.

It’s just… Technoblade had a weakness. A massive, debilitating weakness that just so happened to be extraordinarily easy to exploit. However, Technoblade, in all his infinite wisdom, learned to keep this weakness a secret, so no one could ever exploit him.

“I cannot believe your plan to lure citizens into a metal cage with carrots actually worked.”

Some situations, however, were completely unavoidable.

Techno groans as the world begins to take form around him in throbbing, painful waves. He hears something clatter and painstakingly wrenches his eyelids open to stare down the startled form of his assailants in a dirty, abandoned warehouse.

At first glance, Technoblade sees two figures, both clad in haphazard villainous costumes and cowering away from his deceptive carrot prison.

One appears to be some sort of avian hybrid, as evidenced by his small red wings flaring behind him and flapping as he back-pedals away from the cage, pulling the other with him by the arm.

The other figure, being much taller than the other, trips over his acquaintance, before face planting on the concrete with a yelp and belatedly teleporting away a second too late. Techno nods to himself. An enderman hybrid then.

Both costumes follow a similar pattern, just being black jogging suits outfitted with elbow and knee pads with hand-crafted cardboard devil masks. However, it seems the enderman hybrid attempted to spice up his persona by adding a genuinely authentic-looking crown and jewelry, while the avian skipped the bells-and-whistles and instead attempted to add an emblem in red duct tape on his mask and chest. What it was supposed to be, was anyone's guess. If Techno was gonna take a shot in the dark, he'd say it looked kind of like an upside-down T.

Techno hauls himself into a sitting position, before cocking his head at his attackers, unimpressed.

“Bruh… What were in those carrots?” Techno moans, rubbing his head. He unpins his flower crown from his updo and shakes his braids loose. “I mean, they were delicious, but I did not want to take that nap.”

The enderman hybrid shakes himself out of his stupor, before grabbing the arm of his compatriot and turning to whisper into his ear.

“Tommy, I thought you said your drug mix would keep him out for a whole day! It’s only been an hour!” He whisper-shouts at the avian, unaware that Techno’s ears begin to twitch as he speaks.

“Shut up Ranboo!” The avian, Presumably-Tommy, growls at Probably-Ranboo. “My drugs are– My drugs are like beautiful, respectful women who are perfect all the time. It’s his stupid flowery pink bitch body that's broken.”

Techno rolls his eyes at the squabbling of the Definitely-Teenagers and leans over from his sitting position and taps a sharp nail against the lock of his cage.

“I hate to break up the middle school drug ring committee but can I go home now?" Techno drawls, withdrawing his outstretched hand to slump against the bars. “Because as much fun as this is, I need to go take a Big Kid dose of Tylenol.”

“I– you– bitch– we’re not fucking middle-schoolers bitch! We’re big men and supervillains and we’re holding you for ransom and you’re gonna die bitch!” Tommy splutters, going red in the face, still maintaining his distance from the cage.

“You’re not going to die if we get our ransom money.” Ranboo amends helpfully.

“Right… So what is this like one of those social experiment videos for TikTok or…” Techno’s sentence trails off as he begins to look around the abandoned warehouse for hidden cameras, still leaning on the bars for support.

Tommy’s wings puff up, as he begins to stomp towards the cage. “What? No! We’re fucking real-deal supervillains bitch! Look scared!”

“Mm… Nah.”

Tommy’s hands ball into fists at his side, and his wings flare wide, which would almost be impressive if his wingspan was over 2 feet.

‘Listen Bitch-Face! I’m the Red Streak, and I’m the meanest electrokinetic you’ve ever seen. Yeah, I’ll shock your grandma while she’s knitting you a scarf, and then, while she’s all shocked and shit, I’ll throw her off a pier!” Tommy’s hands begin to spark for dramatic effect.

It’s almost intimidating until one of the sparks catches on the edge of his sweatshirt top and ignites. For a moment, it seems to evade his attention, as both Techno and Ranboo stare at him wide-eyed, in abject horror. Smugly, Tommy tries to plant his hands on his hips in victory before noticing the small blaze that is making its way up his side. Shrieking, Tommy throws himself to the ground and begins to stop, drop, and roll in what can only be described as practiced precision.

On the heels of Tommy’s failure, Ranboo seems to catch his second wind and struts forward as well. “And I am the cunning villain Call of Duty! And I possess the ability to call simple-minded creatures, much like yourself, to my aid!”

Ranboo begins to fish around in his jogging suit pocket before procuring a small tree frog, that he gently sits on the ground.

“Attack Minion!”

Minion valiantly hops towards Technoblade, crossing the barred threshold into enemy territory. Minion faces her enemy and daringly launches her tongue at Technoblade’s fragile kneecap, hitting it with unimpaired precision.

Even so, the accuracy does nothing to change the fact that tree frogs are harmless to any creature larger than a fly. To Minion’s credit, Techno is impressed enough with her bravery (and cuteness) that he abandons sulking against the cage wall and scoops her up to place in his overall pocket.

“So is it just frogs?”

“Huh?”

“Is it just frogs that you can control?” Technoblade asks, using one finger to gently pet Minion on the head.

“No! Of course not!” Ranboo splutters, disgruntled.

“Yeah!” Tommy pops up, freshly extinguished. “He can also do toads!”

“Shut up To– Shut up Red Streak!”

“Okay. Okay,” Techno waves his hands in a calming gesture, instantly quelling any bickering before it had the chance to start, “here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna let me go because between you and me no one is gonna pay any ransom for me. I live alone with my dogs and I don’t think they’ve learned to crack safes yet.”

The boys begin to protest and Techno raises a finger to shush them.

“And I’ll help you come up with less awful villain names. Because c’mon bro Red Streak? That– Heh– That sounds like something you don’t wanna see after you wipe. I mean, at that point just stick with Tommy.”

“How do you know my-”

“And Ranboo don’t even get me started, like, you just stole the name of a mid-level first-person shooter, and their lawyers are ruthless bro, you’re not gonna be able to market anything, not a good time.”

“How- how do you know our names?” Ranboo stutters, his look of shock evident even under his mask.

Wordlessly, Technoblade motions up towards his giant, fluffy bunny ears.

“Oh.” His shoulders slump, defeated.

“Fucking- fucking wait a second.” Tommy shakes his head, pulling off his mask. “Now that you know are real identities, why don’t we just kill you, and come up with better names ourselves?”

Ranboo perks up. “Yeah!”

Tommy reignites his lightning, which now looks much more intimidating when not being aimed at his clothing. Ranboo unsheathes a sword from his belt and they both advance on Technoblade. Minion lets out a strangled croak and ducks down into Techno’s pocket in fear.

Techno reassuringly pats his Minion Pocket, sighing. “Fine. I’ll choose blood.”

As the boys advance onto his cage, Techno rears back and slams the door open, sending both boys flying. He then uses both hands to propel himself forward and flip onto the top of the cage.

“It’s over! I have the high ground!” Technoblade yells triumphantly. Minion echoes him in a croak of victory.

“Fucking how?” Tommy splutters. “That door was locked!”

Laughing, Technoblade draws out a slightly worse-for-wear bobby pin out of his Minion Pocket, before tucking one of his braids back with it.

Both pseudo-supervillains clamber to their feet as Techno readies himself for another attack, before they’re interrupted by the warehouse door crumpling like wet tissue paper. Stepping into the warehouse, accompanied by his horde of sentient shadow vassals, is the Top Hero, Crowfather.

Everyone is silent as he strides towards the battle. Technoblade can’t help a small gasp of surprise. He didn’t think these vagrant teens would be big enough targets to warrant hero attention, much less attention for the number one hero in all of Ohessempi.

Crowfather dramatically sweeps off his hat and disregarding Technoblade entirely, turns his steely gaze towards the amateur supervillains. Both gulp as they cease all aggressive action to cower.

“Ranboo. Tommy. You little shits are in so much trouble.”

Oh. Crowfather knows the vagrant teens. Okay.

“We weren’t actually gonna--”

“He kicked us--”

“We just wanted some money to–”

“You never wanna hang out with us anymore--”

Crowfather holds up a hand. “Nope. Not listening. Both of you get home before I got to start crafting a belt.” He reaches for his Hardcore Heart belt in warning.

At the mention of a belt, both boys gather up their supplies and scamper off into the night, escaping Crowfather’s Disappointed Dad aura for a short while. Some shadow vassals trail after them, Crowfather clearly not quite done with either child yet.

As soon as they’re out of sight, Crowfather’s menacing aura dissipates and he groans, hands shooting up to rub at his temples.

“Sorry about the idiots. They’re feral.”

At the display of genuine human emotion, Techno shakes off some of his star-struck awe to shrug nonchalantly.

“Eh. I was handling it.”

Crowfather glances around, nodding at the evidence of Ranboo and Tommy were getting their asses kicked.

"I can see that. Impressive, Tommy is a powerful electrokinetic and Ranboo is an experienced telepath. What troop unit do you belong to mate? I’ll write you a good review.”

Techno shakes his head, grimacing.

“Nah, Nah, Nah. I’m not a suit-wearing kind of guy. I’m just a farmer. Just got caught in the wrong place wrong time, you know how it is… If I’m free to leave..?”

Techno hops off the cage and glances rapidly in between Crowfather in the door, indicating his desire to no longer be there.

Crowfather blinks surprised. “Sure mate, although I think you’d be good–” His sentence peters off as Techno quickly rushes past him and hops off into the night.

All Crowfather hears as the pink blur whips past him is a distant “Byeeeee.”

*** A short while later, Philza, the feared villain Angel of Death soars high above the crumbling expanse of his kingdom, watching his civilians unseen under a cloak of darkness.

Finally spotting what he was looking for, he lands on a nearby building and watches as Technoblade arrives home, mobbed by dogs, and disappears into his house, only to reemerge a short while later with a watering can.

Watching Techno tend to his flowers with a mild sort of interest, Philza blindly digs through his pockets for his burner. Upon finding it, he flips it open and speed-dials the only number saved.

Eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat, the Angel of Death smiles. “Hey, Sneeg? I think I found the perfect fit for our plan.”

Below, Techno finishes up tending to his plants early. Maybe it’s just his run-in with the teens, but he can’t shake the feeling of being watched.