#someone slap some sense into Buck too

[stvrpst]

“Him as in?”

“Tommy,” he says. “His name his Tommy. He was the guy that helped fly us out when cap and Athenas cruise went missing.”

“That was nice of him.” Frank hums.

“Yeah,” Eddie shifts in his seat, “yeah, it was. I’m not denying that. It’s just—“ He cuts himself off. There was so much he needed to say, so much he needed to get off his chest, but for some reason there was something stopping him.

“Just what, Eddie?” Frank pressures.

It was a simple question, but Eddie didn’t have a simple answer. He didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words, but he tried regardless.

“The guy thinks he knows Buck, when he doesn’t, At all.” He says, glaring at the floor. “He thinks he knows Buck better than anyone at the 118, when he doesn’t know a fucking thing about Buck.” He argues, finally glancing at frank.

“How so?” Frank interjected.

“Because—“ he takes a deep breath and recollects his thoughts. “He calls Buck, Evan.”

Yeah let’s start there. That fucking name.

There’s a small pause. Eddie can see the confusion cross franks face, but it’s gone as fast as it came. He kinda feels bad for the guy, he knows he’s not making much sense right now, but he’s too caught up in his emotions to care.

“And that’s an issue, why? After all, it is his name, Eddie.”

Eddie shakes his head, because no. It’s not his name. “No. No, you don’t understand—“ He stops. He wanted to just give up explaining all together before frank cuts in.

“—Then help me understand, Eddie.”

He wanted to go home and sulk in his misery. He was feeling too many emotions at once and it was overwhelming, but alas, he made a commitment to therapy. He gathers his thoughts before trying again.

“Sure, from an outside perspective it may not seem like a big deal that Tommy calls Buck, Evan,”

Frank nods in approval, encouraging him to continue.

He licks his lips.

“But people who know Buck, call him Buck, not Evan. People who know Buck, knows he hates being called Evan, but Tommy doesn’t know that because he doesn’t know Buck.” He lets out in frustration.

Everyone knew Buck hated the name Evan, and no one used it unless they were really trying to get Bucks attention. Everyone knew that except for him.

He glances up toward frank, expecting him to say something, but he just stares in expectation. Eddie assumes it’s his silent look of encouragement to continue because he knows there’s more, so he continues.

“And it’s not just that. It’s the way he speaks about Buck, the way he talks to Buck, it’s his body language, his mannerisms towards Buck. I hate it, and I hate him.”

“Hate is a strong word, Eddie.” Frank chastised.

The look Eddie throws towards Frank was heated. The nerve. Because yes, Eddie knows it’s a strong word, and he mean’t it. “Well yeah, that’s why I chose to use it.” He bites back.

A visible expression paints franks face. Eddie can’t tell if he’s satisfied or surprised from his response. All he knows is that he juts something down in his notebook. He hasn’t used it this entire session, so he has no idea whether his decision to write something now is good or bad.

“Carry on.”

“Tommy doesn’t know Buck the way Maddie knows him, he doesn’t know Buck the way Chim or Hen knows him, he doesn’t know Buck the way Cap or Athena knows him—“ He takes a deep breath, Calming himself. He’s getting worked up now.

“—He doesn’t know Buck the way I know him.” He finishes. Eddie knows his voice broke saying it, but it was true, and God did it hurt. Why couldn’t Buck see that? Why couldn’t he see that he’s the one that knows him?

“But Tommy speaks to Buck and us like he does. Like he knows Buck better than us, and it kills me.” He concluded.

A look of understanding stains franks face, and eddies just glad he has gotten something off his chest. There’s a pregnant pause, and Eddie expects Frank to make his comments like he always does, but he doesn’t. Instead, they sit in a comfortable—or, more so comfortable on his part—because the silence is making Eddie everything but comfortable. He just wishes he would hurry up and speak.

like a prayer answered from above, he does just that.

“And how does this whole situation make you feel?” He inquires.

Eddie scoffs, the look he shoots him is nothing short of irritated. ‘How the hell do you think I feel?’ He wanted to barked back, but decided against it. Frank must’ve caught on to his expression before adding, “I know it’s a dumb question, but it’s my job as your therapist to inquire about your feelings.”

He sighs. Why was talking about your feelings so hard?

“I just wish Buck felt the same way I feel about him.”

“He could feel the same way for you.” Frank adds, and yes, he just lets it loose. He knows about Bucks and Eddies impending feelings for one another, and he’s getting quite tired of seeing the two running around each other in circles.

“That’s bullshit.” He says, leaning back into his seat. “He doesn’t love me the same way I love him.”

“How so?”

Eddies Scoffs yet again. If Buck felt the same way, he wouldn’t be sitting here in a therapy chair. “How do I know?”

Frank hums.

“Because Buck didn’t choose me.” He reminded. “He chose Tommy.” It hurt saying it out loud, but it was the truth. Didn’t hurt any less tho.

“It’s still a possibility that buck loves you just as much as you love him.”

Eddie snorts. “I thought so too at first, but then reality hit.”

“And your thoughts changed, why?”

Knowing the answer hurt, but having to say it out loud hurt even more.

“Because if he loved me, why did he go on a date with another man, and why did it have to be Tommy?” He looks toward Frank expecting an answer, he knows he’s not gonna get one. “He told me he would always choose me—“ he stops. He feels his eyes starting to sting, but he refuses to cry. “—Why would he say that and then choose someone else?” He whispers, looking towards the floor.

He knows he’s asking rhetorical questions, but he can’t help it. He just wants to make sense of it all.

“He injured me, and I still forgave him. Because that’s what I do, I forgive him because I love him.” He sighs. “So yeah, he can maime me, but my love for him will always go above and beyond. I love him to the core—”

There was a short pause.

“—But I guess my love for him wasn’t enough for him to choose me.”

Sneak peek of the fic I’m writing! There might be a few mistakes, feel free to let me know if you spot any! I’m always open to constructive criticism! but I’m still deciding on whether or not I’m actually gonna post this fic when I’m done😭 let me know if I should! I might change some things so if I do end up posting it, it might be different from this draft, and it will be posted on ao3. Also, don’t worry it’s a happy ending:)

[norikuna]

CREAM SODA — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → you've always known that gojo satoru is a real piece of work. arrogant, haughty. definitely has a praise kink for when people always call him 'the strongest.' but you're not even friends anymore, so this isn't any of your business...right?

what you didn't know is just how nasty he is, caging you in front of a mirror to lick away blood that he spilled from the veins of another man, one who dared to touch you.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. secondary love interest in the form of a random oc, jjk lore being mildly twisted, history around the world, in-jujutsu universe (not an au), gojo going feral and batshit bonkers, rough séx, créampíe, INSANE glass-shattering jealousy, hate séx but only a bit, brééding, oràl (f. receiving). enemies to lovers, former friends, PLOT AND WORLD BUILDING BTW this isn't pẃp, éxhibitionísm, mirror séx, overstímulàtion, bratty reader but with a reason to be a hater, working together on a mission, mentions of alcohol and the crime underworld, DEFINITELY a bit dark because reader goes through emotional whiplash, descriptions of a fight and heavy injury, biting because i always somehow write gojo as a vampire type of freak?? the PRIME example of the miscommunication tropes and a case where neither person is in the right...nuance is your friend here, fake bodyguard!gojo, reader wears a dress + makeup for a formal event, angst, hurt, lashing out, some comfort and fluff

excerpt: part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

word count. 22k!!!!!!! AURKAY!! song inspiration. cream soda — exo, is there someone else — the weeknd

a/n. spent way too long trying to learn ps for the header 😭 wrote this only because of the new grey suit gojo art <3 there's a secondary love interest in this for the ✨ plot ✨ but he's just a character i made up for this story. i would have used one of the other jjk men but it would made it into an au that i didn't feel like expanding on 😭

mp3.. feel that tinglin', that silky smooth cream, each swirl deepens the flavor, babe. baby, go dumb dumb!

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your fluttering pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

wait. you need to pause this tape, and do a little rewind.

how did you end up here, getting finger-fucked in a luxury five star suite? by the one man on earth that you swore that you could never stand?

(earlier that day)

the chandeliers had been shimmering overhead like stars, each fine crystal caught the golden light and scattered it across the grand lobby, and it was making your eyes flare and twitch.

this entire hotel felt frozen in time, some opulent relic of the roaring twenties, translated straight into tokyo's beating heart.

it was all so...pristine, and gaudy. and even the air carried that faint scent of hefty chanel no.5 and furniture polish.

but hey, this cheque wasn't coming out of your pocket, so who were you to complain?

that's how you rationalised it to yourself, right after a smartly-dressed waiter had floated past with a tray of shimmering champagne, one that you had easily helped yourself to.

ah, fuck it.

let the bill rack up on yaga's card. the least he could do after volunteering you to the higher ups for this mission.

a thick folder rested in your lap, clipped papers inside threatening to spill over from the sheer volume of information, that made your head spin.

of course, it was all courtesy of the jujutsu administration's obsession with drowning sorcerers in needless bureaucracy. and so you leafed through it idly, your thumb skimming over the crisp edges.

names, places, dates, all laid out in haphazard detail.

what a mess, it was a lot, but not enough to fill in the gaps that gnawed at you. the higher ups never gave you everything, fuck, they hated making it easy. still, your eyes caught onto key phrases.

urgent recall of cursed object. yes, that's why you were here. and not enjoying your saturday afternoon at home.

declaration of most expenses covered, in the instances of losing a limb. fair enough, insurance was honestly hell these days.

gain access to the auction being held by the voiceless. find their leader, naoki sato.

you knew of the voiceless, most higher grade jujutsu sorcerers did. a crime syndicate so shrouded in mystery. operating overseas for decades without so much as a cloudy whisper to the general public.

you made an unimpressed face as you kept reading, crinkling sheets under your fingers. smuggling, extortion, and a great deal of unexplained murders that would leave the cast of criminal minds scratching their heads.

how tasteless. still, you weren't the law, each to their own.

however, something made this case different. it made it your apparent problem.

for the voiceless were not your usual ragtag team of ruffian criminals, intent on scamming the vulnerable and sad.

their ranks comprised of wayward jujutsu sorcerers, with a hearty appetite for special artefacts, including cursed objects.

and now here they were, back on tokyo's soil, their hands covered with more than just the regular mundane crimes that could land a man behind bars for life.

you shifted in the plush, sinking seat. flipped to a page that had been practically painted in the most unforgiving shade of neon yellow highlighter.

ah, so this was the cursed object. raijin's amulet.

there was a grainy, slightly off-centre photograph clipped to the top of the document. the image was not much to look out, all washed colours and shadows that clearly didn't speak highly of the skills of whoever was behind the camera.

a circular pendant, a darkened forged creation of bronze and jade, covered in the soot of the ages gone by. spiralled with intricate carvings that reminded you of swirling storm clouds on a summer's evening.

and at it's centre sat a jagged shard of some precious golden stone, rough-hewn at the edges.

you were certain that this was the cause behind the distorted photography, for a modern camera was simply just not meant to capture such high levels of cursed energy.

there was even a faint shape of a dragon coiled around the pendant's edges, with its claws gripping the frame as if guarding it...or imprisoning it.

you weren't sure which. you're not sure you wanted to know which.

the accompanying notes were sparse, filled with frustrated gaps that left you squinting.

believed to be an ancient relic of the heian era. captured from the treasure hoard of the early medieval sorcerer, ryōmen sukuna, after his death.

huh, you hadn't heard that name since your school-days, back when you had poured over fraying history tomes, trying to pen the perfect essay to beat out suguru's flawless grades.

said to be imbued with the power of the lightning deity, raijin. capable of summoning and manipulating thunder, and disrupting various veils and curtains. last known location: the british museum, 1982. current location: unconfirmed.

clearly not an artefact meant to sit behind public museum glass.

dangerous in the wrong hands, and priceless in the hands of all. this must have been at least leagues above your current pay grade.

your thumb hovered over the corner of the page, bruising the white paper underneath as you scanned over the rest of the text, hoping and looking for a section that would be titled: and here's how to track raijin's amulet down and find it, with no bloodshed, and just in time for dinner!

no such luck.

"figures," you muttered under your breath, shoving the folder shut with a disgusted sigh.

this entire mission reeked of playing politics. for years, the voiceless had operated under the radar of other nations, disguising the tell-tale jujutsu as unexplained natural disasters and accidents.

there had been no intervention. they had been untouchable because no-one had the foreign jurisdiction, nor the guts to intervene.

but now, with the voiceless back on home soil, it seemed the higher ups wanted to make a statement. something like 'hey, we're actually useful at our jobs of protecting the jujutsu world!' and who better to clean up their mess than you and...

gojo satoru.

speak of the devil. you glanced up towards the grand entrance of the hotel lobby, as an unfortunate doorman stood by revolving, glass doors.

your...partner strode in, with dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and you scrunched your nose, taking in his appearance.

despite gojo's striking features that could render anyone speechless, he always looked like an odd bird of prey to you.

hawkish with creepy eyes, like a big snowy owl that had been hit by a curse, transforming him and forcing him to assimilate into the world of humans.

"i wasn't sure if you would come," you called, hoping that you masked the bitterness well that he had arrived, and significantly decreased the quality of your day.

"you wouldn't say that in bed," was gojo's snarky, automated reply, before he gave you a mildly embarrassed look, as if his immature mouth moved faster than his common sense did.

"still, sorry to keep you waiting," and gojo was crushing the heel of his boot into the cream marble of the floor, tapping it, all ridiculously long legs in the same uniform dress pants that you also donned, "traffic was hell."

"you don't even have a license," you grouched with a glare that you hoped was sharp enough to cleave time and space, but you stood up all the same, "and i wasn't waiting, i was working."

click! click!

gojo snapped his fingers, reaching for the folder stacked in your arms, "yes, of course you were, sweets," and he clicked his tongue, "now, why don't you hand that to me, and go check us in? i can look over what i need to do, let's get this done before night falls."

the audacity. the absolute nerve. how so typically gojo. swooping in at the last minute for kill shot, as usual, while others poured through all the paperwork, and did all the mental heavy lifting.

"you mean what we need to do, gojo," you snapped, your scowl deepening, "you're the late one. you go check us in."

gojo arched a pale brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he wished he could just unwalk through those doors now, caught between amusement and exasperation. "you used to be so nice. what happened?"

"tsk! i think you happened, gojo. didn't ask to be stuck here with you."

"ah, so you do think about me, at least. but now you're jus' so difficult all the time."

"fuck off, i'm not difficult!" you shot back, before shrinking at the foul look that an elderly couple had directed your way, muttering something about how youth just didn't know how to act indoors, "i'm just saying it's not fair -"

"fine, whatever. don't care, sweets," gojo interrupted, already rolling big, blue eyes and turning away, "i'll go do it. you just stay nice and comfortable here."

and just like that, after comfortably raising your blood pressure (and heart rate), gojo satoru strode off towards the vast front desk, hands shoved lazily into his pockets, as though the two of you weren't on the clock to hunt down and find a dangerous criminal, his syndicate and a cursed object.

you trailed behind him, resisting the violent urge to grab his stupid sunglasses and fling them across the lobby. or stomp on them.

or just sit on them.

meanwhile, your eyes landed on the last and final page of the file, where a bright pink sticky note stood out sharply against the dull black and white of the case file.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

the words were scrawled in thick, impatient strokes of a black marker. the kind that spoke more of efficiency, than humanity.

typical. there was just nothing that higher ups of the jujutsu world loved more than lopping the head off anyone that they deemed inconvenient. quick, clean and final.

still, this decision wasn't your business, not really.

you looked up to see gojo casually leaning against the counter, and his entire demeanour radiated smooth confidence as he spoke to the receptionist.

the sweet-looking woman had fumbled her worlds almost immediately, and she had dropped her pen twice. and he had caught it with an easy smile and wink that would have made you roll your eyes clean out of your skull.

you wanted to gag.

in less than a minute, gojo had the black keycard in his hand, spinning it between his fingers like some trophy as he sauntered towards the elevators.

you sighed as he stopped in front of you, extending the card with a flourish, like a knight presenting a courtier with a wreath of fresh-cut flowers.

"we're here for a mission, gojo. not to get it wet."

the tips of his ears flushed a bright, vibrant red. but his grin didn't falter as he huffed, and snatched the keycard back. leaving your arm floundering in the air before you dropped it.

"how crude. that's not even what i asked her. but still, you're welcome, sweets," he had said, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated stretch of his arm.

"i didn't say thank you."

gojo smiled, tilting his head in that distracting, no. what? in that irritating manner of his, "no need. i could feel the gratitude radiating off you," and he's crossing his arms against his broad chest in a way that made the tailored uniform seem unfairly snug, "warms my heart."

"what if you don't have a heart?

for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flashed in gojo's eyes, irritation easily — but something unrecognisable, but he must have smoothed it away with practised ease. for that same cocky grin returned like clockwork, infuriatingly charming and just as insincere.

"what if it only beats for you?" he shot back, wiggling his fingers dramatically, and the motion was so over-the-top that it leaned closer to sleazy than heartstopping.

"now i'm worried, you need to get shoko to check that out. sounds like a serious health issue."

"your tender concern for my well-being is what keeps my blood pumping," and you know that gojo has little regard for the personal space for others, the way that the distance between you is closing once more, in a way that makes your own pulse flicker.

"please," and you take a deliberate step back to reclaim your own space, "if i wanted you gone, i wouldn't waste my time hoping for a heart attack. i'd do it myself."

gojo shrugs, tilting his head like you had just told him a sweet joke, "you're cute when you're homicidal, y'know that?"

"and you're insufferable all the time. we all have our talents."

gojo's barked out a laugh, and the sound is annoyingly genuine. it has you grinding your teeth together, making your jaw tight.

"hey, gojo," you swivel back to the towering bean-pole behind you, leaning against a steel bar.

"mhm, what?"

"i'll give you a hundred thousand yen if you keep your mouth shut during the entire elevator ride," you mutter, staring at the ground floor map, and up to where your suite was meant to be, hands fiddling over the buttons.

"deal."

you glance back, "that easy? clan money running low, gojo?"

gojo sighs, shaking his (ridiculous) snow-cone hair, "you have no idea. spent it all on a sweet talkin' girl who kicked me to the curb. even took the dog with her. who takes the fucking dog?"

despite yourself and your iron-clad resolution to not validate gojo satoru in anything, you snort, the first genuine laugh he's pulled out of you.

you choose not to notice how his eyes suddenly seem a shade brighter, as you snicker, "you're so ridiculous."

he doesn't reply as you press an index finger into the cool metal of the elevator button, and you turn around to see him sadly miming out his broke plight, with a sack of imaginary things over his shoulder, jingling the few coins he has.

tsk. you bite your lip to stop the corners of your lips lifting up to match gojo's own, wrinkling your nose in faux distaste as you spin back around, with gritted teeth. away from the mild bane of your existence.

true to his word, and shockingly so, gojo stayed silent through the elevator ride. mostly.

you caught his restless sighs, the shuffle of his ridiculously polished boots, and the occasional sharp intake of breath like he was simply dying to say something, but kept biting it back.

good. for once, it was nice to make gojo satoru stew.

the elevator dinged, and you had already stepped out, planning to ditch him in the suite, but clearly, gojo had other ideas.

"alright, sweets," he said, hand extended, "i won the bet. hundred thousand yen, i can take a cheque too."

you stopped short, glaring at his outstretched (sculpted) hand.

"right now? just as we're gonna plan how to catch a criminal? can't we do a pay later type of thing?"

gojo's responding grin was wolfish, and his voice dropped enough to make you bristle, "sure. pay later, with a kiss."

your groan must have echoed down the hall, and without thinking, you shoved past him. your shoulder colliding with his chest in a way that was deeply satisfying.

"my kisses," you snapped, refusing to look back at him, "are worth way more than a hundred thousand yen."

gojo didn't reply immediately, no. and for a second, you thought had finally managed to shut him up enough for a moment's peace to gather the thoughts that the white-haired man always managed to unravel.

but when you dared to glance back over your shoulder, his sharp gaze was fixed on you, and his lips were pressed together oddly — the faintest dusting of cherry pink peeking out underneath his sunglasses, and falling over his cheeks.

nary a peep from gojo then, save for him rushing past you to slot the keycard into the door. but holy fuck, the sheer luxury of this suite almost made you forget that gojo satoru even existed.

sleek dark woods, glowing orange accents, and a massive window that offered a panoramic view of tokyo's skyline. and then, there was the bed.

ridiculous in its decadence. a king-sized masterpiece, draped in plush linens that looked softer than the clouds dotting the afternoon sky. framed by polished ebony bedposts that gleamed in the warm light of the suite. the mattress was practically calling out to you, to sink your back into it.

wait, where was the other bed?

"nope! absolutely not," you blurted, spinning on your heel to face gojo who had sauntered in after you, pausing mid-step and clearly, equally caught off-guard with a stunned expression on his face — before morphing into something maddeningly smug.

"what?" gojo said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it's a bed. you've seen one before, right?"

you tried to speak in a way that wouldn't quite make it show that you felt like your tongue was lead, jabbing a finger at the bed as though it had personally offended you, "there's only one!"

gojo's lips quirked upwards, his blue eyes gleaming with that irritating mix of amusement and mischief, most likely derived from your displeasure, "now look at that, we can count to ten. baby steps."

"don't start with me," you snapped, "i'm not crashing out there. i'd rather sleep in the hallway."

gojo tilted his head, the white tufts of his hair falling around his face, as though he were considering the suggestion seriously, "not sure the hotel staff would appreciate you loitering in their five-star corridors. won't stop you though, sweets."

"you can sleep on the couch," you try to offer helpfully, relishing in how it's his turn to scowl at you.

gojo's glancing towards the sleek leather sofa in the corner, most likely worth more than your monthly rent, "tempting," he drawls, "but i don't think that thing was designed for someone with legs this long," and he's slapping his hands on his thighs, and you do your very best to not track your stare down.

"then curl up like the overgrown house cat you are -"

"fuck you mean by that?"

"or sleep on the floor!"

"i'm liking these options less and less."

but then gojo straightens, and you're starting to see a small tick reach to the corner of his bright eyes, the faintest hint of irritation seeping through his drawl, "you know, for someone so desperate to avoid me, you spend a lot of time wondering where i'm gonna sleep."

you hate the traitorous flush heating up your face, "i'm thinking about it because you're my problem."

"well i hope i'm at least your favourite problem," gojo murmurs, brushing past you to toss his dark bag onto the bed.

"so, what's it gonna be?" gojo's voice was a lazy purr, patting the mattress beside him with a grin that could have launched a thousand arguments, "join me, or keep fighting a losing battle? because -" he faked a yawn, "i think i'm starting to get a bit sleepy."

"sleepy? you're a grown man, and it's barely three in the afternoon."

gojo arches a pale brow, and you have to force yourself to stop staring at the pink curve of his lips, "and? scared you won't be able to resist me in the middle of the night?"

"you should be scared you'll wake up with a pillow smothering your face."

gojo sighs, melodramatic and loud, rolling over onto his back, "i'd rather be smothered by -"

"gojo!"

his laugh is low and rich, and it vibrates in the air in a way that make your teeth itch, and your eyes roll, desparate to change the subject and actually get back on track.

you shove the hefty file in his direction, letting him flounder to grab a hold of it, "last page. naoki sato."

gojo's entire demeanor shifts, and falls under the mention of the name, eyes a touch darker, and suddenly serious in a way that almost makes you regret being on the clock. but he's pushed himself up from the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.

"what about him?"

you frowned, still turning over the situation in your mind, "well, he's supposedly working out of this district right, i mean, even this hotel? but why? i always thought crime bosses had creepy lairs in dark alleyways or something. and not," you gesture to the five-star architecture around you, "this."

gojo's broad shoulders shrug in that lazy way of his, like everything was beneath him, but there was something else flickering behind his perched sunglasses, "i've never even met him. just heard of him," but gojo seems to be chewing each word, as if choosing them carefully, "but what i've heard? not your typical criminal? he flies high, lives the wild life out in the open, rich and shameless."

you privately held back any biting comment that came to you as easy as breathing, about gojo also being the epitome of rich...and shameless. time and place, yeah?

gojo, thank the lucky stars, had not noticed you fighting demons to keep a straight face, "but then every so often sato vanishes off the radar, and then, bam!" your partner splayed his fingers, "he strikes again. always showing in a different place. the united states, france, england, egypt..."

you raise an eyebrow, tapping at your phone, "egypt?"

"egyptian artefacts are ridiculously powerful, sweets. i mean, on a whole other level. they aren't linked with y'know...jujutsu," he gestures vaguely between the two of you, "but whatever they've got is ancient and ridiculously potent. last the higher ups heard, naoki sato managed to get his hands on an old obelisk."

you shake your head at the prospect, humouring gojo, "whatever for?"

"whatever twisted things he does in his free time, fuck if i know. but of course, he couldn't control it. instead, it summoned the spirit of a massive serpent, killed a bunch of innocent civilians."

you have the faintest collection of the mythos surrounding an ancient serpent, and the thought makes you shudder, "wouldn't the local authorities have arrested him for that?"

gojo pushes his sunglasses up his head, so you're now looking back at unblinking blue eyes ringed by white lashes, "how do you arrest a guy who's practically a ghost? they couldn't even find him after all that shit. besides, his technique is something else. enhance. practically has control over every cell in your body."

you nod slowly, hoping that you're piercing it all together correctly, "so this auction is because he's got more of these artefacts? like raijin's amulet?"

gojo nods sharply, and you're struck by the intensity of big blue eyes with whorls of storm clouds lingering between his gaze, "i guess even villainous criminals want to make profit. but we can get a front row seat to whatever he's planning next."

"and stop him before that."

"right. that's what i said."

your frown deepens, "how the fuck does an entire auction stay hidden from the public?"

after all, you had scoured the floorplan of this hotel from base to rooftop, and not a single room or corner would accomodate naoki sato, and the voiceless that follow him.

gojo shrugs with infuriating nonchalance, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bed, "there's jujutsu that can create entire illusions. beneath this very hotel lies an entrance to a hidden ballroom, but it's been in and out of use for decades. we jus' need to slip in, find sato, and maybe shake him a few times until he spills the amulet's location."

you cross your arms, and the unfortunate truth lingers on your tongue, "if it were that easy, the higher ups wouldn't have sent you with me as backup."

"was that a compliment for me? careful, you might actually start liking me now."

and at your affronted expression, laugher is spilling out gojo satoru, sharp and cocky and awfully infectious.

you hated the sound, not because it wasn't nice, but because it was. too rich, too easy. the kind of laugh, from the strongest sorcerer to walk the earth, that made you wonder if ever took a damn thing seriously. with the unfortunate side effect of questioning why it was so annoyingly attractive at the same time.

nobody should get to look that good while being such an unbearable ass. it was unfortunate, you thought grimly, how much you liked seeing him laugh though.

"i don't think i'd ever like you at all, gojo."

but alas, the world has a cruel way of making you wish that the earth swallowed you whole. and your heart and mind certainly aren't on speaking terms with each other to coordinate properly. for the barb flies out of your mouth like an uncontrolled reflex, a rogue arrow hitting its mark.

and you're left grimacing as gojo's smile stills. not vanishing completely, but frozen while something cooler and sharper slips into his gaze. the awkward silence that follows is loud enough to make you wince and pray that a lightning bolt strikes you down right now.

gojo gives a quiet cough, and you're wondering just how much of his nonchalant facade he has left intact. fuck, you were a bit of an ass yourself.

"ah, gojo. i didn't mean -" you started, stumbling over the words, desperate to backpedal, if only for the sake of the mission. right?

"don't strain yourself pretending," gojo cuts you off, and you're mildly stung by the smooth edge of venom coating his voice, despite his relaxed smile, "let's just get this job done, yeah? it's just us two here because no-one else could put up with you. i was the only one left who actually wanted to try."

well. ouch, that was a low blow. motherfucker.

your jaw tighten, and for a moment, all you can do is stare into vibrant blue eyes. surely, that wasn't true...right? and how awful that the sharp look in his eyes softened into a smug satisfaction as he registered how his own barb had found his mark.

now, gojo satoru is leaning back with an air of victory, crossing his arms as if to bask in it. talk about drawing more blood from a wound than necessary.

"you're awful, gojo," you bit out, praying that whatever tremor lives in your throat is not enough to appear in your voice.

"yes, i know. you say that all the time."

it was almost tragic, you thought bitterly, how in those fleeting few minutes, you had found gojo satoru bearable. likeable even. insightful, in his own smug way.

but now, the two of you were back to square one, staring each other down with walls firmly back in place.

sure, your quip had been mildly unnecessary, but it wasn't like he hadn't heard your blithe and bland comments by now?

but still, gojo's words gnawed at you. the idea that no one else wanted to put up with you, except him, of all people, burrowed deeper than it had any right to.

maybe it was petty, but you weren't about to let gojo satoru have the last word.

"remember that the higher ups want naoki sato executed," you said, breaking the terse silence.

gojo didn't even glance up from the file he'd been pretending to skim, his long fingers casually flipping a page. and that nonchalance made your stomach churn with irritation.

when he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of curiosity, and disdain, as if you had become a particularly stubborn puzzle that he'd decided was not worth solving, "yes, i know that too. so what?"

"you and i both know you've had trouble executing criminals in the past."

a calculated jab, sharper than they needed to be. and you saw the impact hit almost immediately. gojo's jaw tightened, and the glint in his frosty blue eyes disappeared, replaced by something darker, furious even.

suguru geto was still well and alive, often appearing on television as a friendly priest who would cure one of all their ails such as lower back pain or bad headaches, for the low price of joining the ranks of his organisation (read: cult). but he still remained a sore point for...everyone. you, included.

gojo, especially.

and now the air between you shifted, chilling like a winter draft had snuck into the room. your eyes fell on gojo's knuckles as they tightened around the file, his expression stony.

you shouldn't have felt proud of yourself for getting under his skin, for pulling a genuine reaction from him. but you did. you'd found a crack in his flawless armour, without needing to bypass infinity.

and it was satisfying.

"f-fuck you," gojo said finally, the razor edge in his voice was matched only by the glare he pinned on you.

you crossed your arms, doing your best to feign indifference despite the adrenaline surging through you. ignoring how you felt an awful pit in your stomach sprout, rendering you rather nauseous, and quoting his previous words, "don't strain yourself pretending it's not true."

gojo satoru's glower could have melted steel, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd gone too far. but he stood, slowly, his movements deliberate as he slammed the file shut with a resounding snap.

you watched as he snatched up his smaller bag, and swung the door open with enough force that you were surprised that it didn't fall off its hinges, "just be ready by the time i get back. 'm gonna take a walk."

and you were left, alone, in a room that suddenly felt so much more suffocating.

you weren't sure how long it had been since gojo had stormed out, leaving the room icy in his absence. you hadn't moved from your spot by the door, though you told yourself that you were entirely fine.

arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, defiant line. but even as you stared at the dark panels of the door, the lie began to unravel.

you told yourself that you just didn't care for gojo satoru. that you didn't like how he was too loud, too reckless, too overwhelming, a force that just didn't fit into the neat confines of your world.

the heat rising to your cheeks must have betrayed you, as did the tight knot in your chest. it had been...not your wisest choice to lash out at him, or to even bring up his name. suguru geto, a wound that would never close for anyone.

but more than that, you hated the memory of his expression just before he left. hurt, and anger. and something far more raw.

he would come back, you knew that much. gojo was much too dutiful to leave a mission and abandon a chance to do some good in this world. it should have been a comfort, but it did little to ease you. instead, that certainty only twisted the guilt tighter in between your ribcage.

finally, you yanked the door open, fuelled by an impulse you didn't care to name. you wanted to catch him outside, mid-pace and brooding. just so you could say...something. anything.

but the hallway was empty, stark and silent, with only the dim flicker of warm light as your witness. you bit your tongue as your stomach churned sourly with disappointment.

and instead, you just slammed the door shut, letting the sound reveberate with just as much force that gojo had slammed the door with, on his way out. you leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you did your level best to swallow that lump of regret making a home in your throat.

pacing helped for about...three minutes. shuffling through the case files on the table did nothing but remind you of why you were here, why you had both been sent. after all, was this mission not bigger than you, or him? was this not about bringing naoki sato to justice?

it didn't feel that way.

your gaze landed on the garment bag handing from the chair, untouched from when you had pulled it out earlier, back when gojo had been inviting you...to bed.

sort of.

you unzipped the bag with (mildly) trembling hands, letting the fabric spill into your grasp. no doubt that the dress was beautiful, a masterpiece of icy, powder blue and shimmering sequins that caught the light like scattered stars.

well, this had certainly been worth half your paycheck.

your fingers brushed over the delicate embroidery, and for a moment, you felt a mild sting of your own hypocrisy and yearning heart. you accused gojo of being cold, distant and unfeeling, and yet here you were, holding a dress that reminded you of him in every way. the pale blue of the fabric, like the frost in his storm-eyes when they rested on you for too long.

if you ever came face to face with cupid, you would beat him with a baseball bat.

you sighed, dropping the dress onto the bed before gingerly stepping out of your uniform, as cool air stung your skin.

what had you been thinking, treating gojo like that? he didn't deserve your anger, not truly. you knew how much your former classmate carried, how much he gave himself to this cursed and thankless world.

but of course, the little pronged-devil on your shoulder whispered around the shell of your ear. he often drew equal blood from stinging cuts, no-one wanted to put up with you, anyway.

still, there was no use in showing up to a gathering of some of the world's most rich, wealthy and seedy looking like a hollow and shaken ghost. and this mission was just not about gojo, it was about the greater good of the jujutsu world, and that's what you repeated in your head like a mantra, as you swiped plush-red across your cheeks and lips.

a diamond necklace around your throat was the final touch. well, you say diamond, but the truth was more...cheap. still, the strand shone in linked chains of pretty crystals. and that had still been a minor fortune for one who lived on a jujutsu paycheck.

the hours had stretched the afternoon into evening, settling a fragile calm over the suite that made you ache to stretch your limbs out, and take in some fresh air.

but the silence was shattered by a sharp knock at the door, purposeful and deliberate. and it made you freeze, hands still resting on the straps of your glitzy shoes, a frown knitting your brows.

gojo had the keycard, did he not? but who else would be banging your door down?

with a sigh, you stood and lifted the hem of your dress as you crossed the room. opening the door with every intention of scolding him for whatever drama he was dragging in this time.

instead the words just about died a sad and lonely death on your tongue.

gojo satoru.

for a brief second, your thoughts emptied entirely, as though he had cast infinite void right over you, leaving you staring with a heart that hammered like a caged bird.

gone was his usual, drab uniform. instead, he had swapped the dull fabric for a sleek, black dress shirt that clung just right, paired with a crisp, grey jacket that framed his broad shoulders.

you tried to not let your gaze linger on the open gap right under the white tie that hung slightly loosened from his neck, where silk kissed creamy skin.

but gojo’s face was unreadable, distant and cool. you hated how his mere presence always seemed to tilt the world off its axis.

and you blinked, forcing your mouth to close, and you stepped back to let him in. 

"you’re late. again," you snapped, but your voice lacked its usual venom, tempered by the sharp edges of minor guilt that refused to settle in you.

"whatever. ‘m here now, aren’t i?" gojo’s tone was casual, but his eyes lingered a second too long, leaving your skin prickling with self-conscious awareness. 

it seemed that the universe needed to hit you with some karmic intervention, and you decided to take the rare moral high ground, "about earlier," you began, trying to steady yourself, "i shouldn’t have said -"

"forget it, sweets," gojo interrupted with a shrug, though his jaw was tight, "i’m not keen on hearing excuses. i get it."

you bristled, biting back the immense urge to shove him, an urge that becoming disturbingly frequent, "i wasn’t making excuses," sounding out each word slow and deliberate. anger simmering under the surface at his holier-than-thou attitude, "that was an apology."

that made gojo pause, and now he fully turned to you, expression shifting. though it was hard to read, caught between painful acknowledgement and absurd pride that would include him admitting that he was affected by what you said.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips.

"tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

gojo slid a pair of tinted sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them up his nose, smooth and practised, "in a room full of the filthy rich and tastelessly overdressed?" his pink mouth twitched, "you’ll fit in perfectly."

gojo was right. this was just…tacky.

the ground floor of the building had been nothing but a sleek, cold lifeless maze of marble, and now he had led you down into what could only be described as a scene for criminals with bad taste. an abandoned parking lot stretched out in front of you, a grimy stretch of concrete that left you expecting a quiet dead end.

until gojo waved his hand, and the illusion clearly met for non-sorcerer eyes shattered.

before you, a set of massive double doors emerged, seemingly from nowhere, and the lifting of the veil had left you disoriented, nauseous. but when the doors swung open, you almost felt like you were stepping into a warped fever dream.

this room inside was the most bizarre mixture of garish opulence that you had ever seen. gold…everything. the walls plastered in a deep red, like someone had dipped the entire place in velvet swathes and then covered it with more gold leaf.

plush, overstuffed settees sat like soft, jewel-toned thrones in every corner, and glass boxes lined the walls, each holding what looked like nothing more than expensive junk, tacky figurines and diamond-encrusted trinkets.

it was the kind of place you’d absolutely expect a mob boss to call home after a particularly long, indulgent afternoon making questionable life choices.

the hall reeked of wealth, the kind that demanded to be seen. opulence dripped from every corner — gilded fixtures, crystalline chandeliers, and glass displays showcasing treasures that screamed money but whispered nothing of taste. you twitched as you passed a goblet encrusted with enough jewels to buy a small city-state. the thought of how much it probably cost made your stomach twist.

"focus," gojo muttered at your side, his tone clipped. he squinted slightly, his sunglasses doing little to shield his six eyes from the garish light that spilled over the room like liquid gold., and you could tell it was a bit...much for his senses, making him blink rapidly. "we’ll sweep the displays, see if the amulet’s here."

you tilted your head, gesturing toward his snowy mop of hair, the unruly strands falling messily over his face and grazing the edge of his glasses. "and you’re sure they won’t recognise you, in this whole...circus?"

gojo's responding glance was sharp, flat, and utterly devoid of humour.

"most of these people wouldn’t recognise a threat if it was biting them in the ass," he said, voice low and laced with disdain. "they’re not sorcerers. just your garden-variety rich and bored — criminals, trust fund brats, maybe a politician trying to look cultured. the kind of people who buy antiques because they match their curtains and makes them look good for their friends."

the corner of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upward at his cutting dismissal of the glittering nonsense around you. he had hit the nail on the head, making contempt seem like an art form.

and worse, you hated how there was something almost…sexy about it.

the thought hit you like a slap, and you forced it down immediately. gojo and sexy didn’t belong in the same sentence. not in the same universe. fuck, not even as a passing joke.

"charmed as i am by your high opinion of humanity," you said dryly, trying to ground yourself in sarcasm, "maybe don’t make it obvious you hate everyone here. we're not here to arrest every person in this room."

gojo snorted softly, his lips curving into what might have been a smirk — or at least the ghost of one. "you think so little of me. i don’t hate everyone." his eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before returning to the vast hall ahead.

it wasn’t much. barely a glance of electric blue. but it was enough to send your pulse into a sprint, and fuck him, he had to know it. you turned your attention to the nearest display, praying he didn’t notice the warmth blooming in your cheeks.

traitorous.

"let’s just find the amulet, and sato. and get out of here," you said briskly, your voice a shade too sharp.

"mhm," gojo's voice was infuriatingly calm, but when you looked up, his gaze wasn’t on the displays. it was on you.

"you look lost."

a voice, smooth and low, slid over you like silk, stopping you cold in your tracks. it hadn't come from gojo by your side, thank the heavens above, but it didn't make your heart any steadier. you turned towards the source, and your stomach did a three-point flip.

well. hello, gorgeous.

the type of good-looking that just felt unfair. the type that made you forget your name for half a second, and then hate yourself for it. the strnger stood out against the room of puffed-up men in overpriced suits, glittering with real diamonds of their cuff-links, and rolled cigars in their hands.

your eyes fell on dark auburn strands that fell in perfectly tousled strands over his forehead, and a tailored black suit that hugged a slender waist.

"i hope you didn't wander into the wrong hall," the stranger said, curling his lips into a faint smile, fraught with suspicion as it was.

you forced yourself not to stare — at an absurdly sharp jawline, at big brown eyes. but words were a different matter entirely. you struggled to conjure them, grasping for anything remotely coherent.

you settled on an appropriate response.

"um. no, we didn’t."

not your finest moment. not even close.

before you could mentally regroup with a few brain cells, a sharp jolt yanked you back to reality. you sucked in a sharp breath as gojo's long fingers pinched the underside of your arm, a deliberate sting that left you glaring at him.

he didn’t even bother to meet your eyes.

his entire focus was fixed on the stranger, his posture taut with unspoken tension, gojo's jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a perfect tooth.

the air shifted subtly, a faint hum of energy emanating from gojo. you knew that hum. it meant trouble. gojo, ever the master of simmering hostility, was gearing up for something, and he was looking weirdly agitated.

and you found it tasteless to jump the first person you had run into here.

"i usually know most of the guests at my events," the stranger continued, his voice calm, unbothered — but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

oh.

you felt your stomach plummet as recognition dawned.

naoki sato.

no wonder gojo looked ready to snap someone in half. naoki wasn’t just anyone — he was the head of the voiceless. the host of this auction. the man whose fortune was built on enough shady dealings to fill a large library. the one who had more blood on his hands than those who had been dealt life sentences.

one of the most wanted jujutsu criminals in the world.

"you've — " gojo started, his voice sharp, but you cut him off with a forced, almost too-bright smile.

"you've thrown quite the party," you said, your words tripping over themselves as you elbowed gojo subtly, hoping to god he’d take the hint. "i’m actually quite new to the area. just exploring, hoping to find something good tonight."

gojo let out a low grunt, a sound that promised retribution later. you ignored him and plastered on a wider smile, one you hoped would distract from your partner's upcoming reversal: red.

"and, ah. this is my bodyguard...genji," you added, giving gojo's arm a firm retributive pinch through the fabric of his jacket.

the look he shot you could've melted steel, but you held your ground, determined not to let him ruin this.

if for once, he could take your plan into account, a great deal of bloodshed could be avoided.

naoki's faint cherry smile widened, bemused, "your…bodyguard?" he echoed, gaze flickering to gojo satoru.

gojo who stood like a coiled spring, gojo who certainly was no method actor. his icy glare practically speaking volumes of 'i will burn this room down.'

"well," naoki drawled, his tone almost playful now, and you flushed, "i hope you find what you’re looking for here."

behind him, his entourage, a cadre of hulking men stuffed into suits barely containing their bulk, followed with synchronised precision. they looked more like walking fortresses than bodyguards, with their cold and suspicious eyes cutting through the room as they passed.

one of them shot you an odd look, and you forced yourself to feign interest in a nearby display of sapphire-encrusted forks.

the moment the criminal was out of earshot, gojo leaned down, "genji? really?"

you shrugged, ignoring how you felt your nerves fray. and refusing to meet him half-way, "what? okay, i panicked. it was the first name i thought of."

"yeah, that was so convincing," gojo muttered darkly beside you, and you caught some bitten off words about how he was never going on a mission with you again, how yaga should never have roped him into this.

all things you blithely ignored.

you didn’t need to look at him to know he was furious. it rolled off him in waves, the tension in his posture, the barely audible hum of cursed energy still crackling under the surface.

"we don't even know where the amulet is. and imagine if we show up in front of yaga without it. you can do whatever you like with him after we get our hands on the cursed object," you whispered back, pretending to study the ridiculous cutlery with exaggerated focus.

gojo lowered his head, as though he suddenly saw the worth in gemstones embedded in cutlery, but just enough so he could glower at you. "you're flirting," he hissed, "i could have blasted through half this room, and just finished the job by now."

you coughed and hackled, "not all of us think effective battles are fought with a hollow purple."

"and not all of us,” gojo bit back, "feel the need to blush like schoolgirls the second someone bats an eyelash at us."

heat shot through you, part anger, part something you didn’t want to name. "blush?” you snapped. "i wasn’t blushing."

"you just wanted to jump his bones. thought we weren't here to get it wet."

"i'm not entertaining this conversation," but your voice was mildly higher pitched, drawing attention, "is that why you were there? standing like an idiot, or a jealous ex-boyfriend?"

gojo's sneer faltered, just for a split second, but it was enough to make your heart lurch with a strange, vindictive triumph.

"i wasn’t jealous," he said, "i was doing my job. y'know, being a jujutsu sorcerer. bringing a criminal to justice."

you opened your mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. because he wasn’t entirely wrong, and that infuriated you more than anything.

so instead, you lifted your hand, placing it firmly on his shoulder, onto the crisp and fine fabric of his jacket. you didn't miss the way he stiffened, briefly disarmed.

"look, i've got this. just stay close."

gojo's jaw tightened, and you could feel the unspoken protest simmering there. before he could get a word in, you turned away and called out.

"hey! naoki!"

the red-haired man stopped mid-stride, turning his head back toward you with a quizzical look. the confident words you’d planned evaporated the moment his sharp, brown eyes pinned you in place.

"i mean, naoki sato. mr. sato," you fumbled, mentally kicking yourself.

brilliant start. truly one of jujutsu tech's finest.

naoki raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from confusion to faint amusement. his gaze flicked to gojo, who had crossed his arms like a fortress of disdain and immense ill-will.

"found something you like?" naoki asked smoothly.

you ignored the huff that escaped the white-haired man next to you, and forced a smile, "actually, i was hoping you could help me choose something out. i'm not an expert here, and there's just so much to see."

naoki's bodyguards shifted, their expressions darkening as if you’d committed some unspoken faux pas. but the crime boss merely tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"ah, well," he said, drawing the word out lazily, "i don’t usually get this forward with my clients, but i suppose i'll make an exception."

his eyes slid once again to gojo, who was now glowering at a waiter hovering too close to his personal space, on the edges of infinity. "your bodyguard," naoki added helpfully, "can walk behind you. perhaps he'd like a drink to keep him occupied."

gojo's snarl could have peeled garish paint off the walls, "i don't want it."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the stubborn ass.

instead, you pasted on a smile, tight and sweet, and shot gojo a look that could cut glass, "our host is offering you something. you want that drink, genji."

"i don’t want cream soda," gojo muttered, all mulish in his six foot three glory.

gritting your teeth, you flashed naoki a helpless look, like what can you do? bodyguards, am i right?

and you reached for the waiter's tray, grabbing a tall glass of the offending soda and thrusting it into gojo's warm hand. then you leaned in, your voice a whisper, "take it. smile and act normal. ten minutes, that’s all i need."

for a moment, his blue eyes locked on yours, a storm of irritation twirling in them. you were now close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to notice the faintest hitch in his breath.

but gojo, for once, didn’t argue. with a final glare, he downed half the glass in one long, defiant gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drank.

naoki laughed, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement, "you're very kind to the help. shall we?"

you shot gojo satoru one last look — a mix of triumph and warning —before stepping forward.

but your partner, predictably, looked like he'd rather swallow glass than stand a moment longer here. still, bodyguard is as bodyguard does, and he trailed after you like a reluctant shadow.

"i must admit," naoki began, his brown eyes catching the glittering lights as they swept over you, "it's rare to see someone so beautiful at these things. i think i would have remembered seeing you before, too. i'm usually stuck with old men trying to swindle me out of my fortune."

a flush climbed up your neck, unwelcome and irritating at what must have been calculated words, enough to flatter and also to disarm.

behind you, gojo audibly scoffed, clearly abandoning all manner of proper etiquette. you glanced over your shoulder to see him gripping the stem of a champagne flute, his knuckles white. the empty glass of cream soda had been abandoned in favour of something stronger.

he caught your eye and rolled his, making a slicing gesture at his neck followed by a pointed hurry up motion.

"ignore him," you murmured to naoki, pushing forward.

naoki’s eyes gleamed with amusement, easily unbothered as he gestured for you to continue walking. "does your bodyguard always look like he’s seconds away from murder, or is this special treatment for me?"

you didn’t dare look back at gojo, “he’s just protective," you said carefully.

naoki chuckled, "protective, sure. but of his job...or you?"

the words struck a nerve you refused to acknowledge, so you pressed the conversation forward. ignoring the jitter that erupted in your stomach.

"can i ask...," you said, tilting your head just enough to feign casual curiosity, "are these all cursed objects? or just pretty trinkets?"

naoki's amusement didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened, assessing you like you were a puzzle he was only now beginning to piece together.

"why?” he asked smoothly, "are you interested in jujutsu? i thought you were here to...browse."

fuck, caught, but not completely.

you played it off with a small shrug. "some members of my family dabble in jujutsu," you said, letting a sliver of truth escape, but letting the rest of your words drip with lies, "i can only see curses, i'm not a sorcerer. but most of my family still hates me for how i was born."

behind you, gojo shifted, his movements a touch sharper than before. he hadn’t known that, hadn't known the small truth that you had snuck into your words.

but naoki's expression softened, his smile more thoughtful now. "that’s rare. and often not appreciated, i imagine.”

you hesitated, cautiously, but nodded. "not by them, no."

"i understand. my parents hated jujutsu. thought it was unnatural, and against the way of the world. my grandfather...he was the only one who didn't," and there's a quiet sincerity threading naoki sato's words, "he raised me when my parents refused to. at least, until he passed."

something in his story tugged at you — a familiarity you hadn’t expected. your family’s disdain for your own jujutsu, their rejection, mirrored in his words. it was unsettling, but oddly not unwelcome.

"i’m sorry about your grandfather," you said softly.

"and i, about your family,” naoki replied, a calm mask settling over his features once more, reminding you so painfully of the sorcerer who trailed behind you, "no-one should be made to feel lesser, sorcerer or not."

you caught your lip between your teeth, hoping the red stain didn't catch onto your teeth, "i thought most sorcerers hated humans."

naoki shrugged, "we aren't all that different. all flesh and blood with temporary lives."

oddly wise words from a mass murderer, thief and criminal.

you glanced over at gojo again, and just as you predicted, his scowl deepened and the glass looked like it was about a shatter in his hands. if looks could kill, naoki sato would be the first to go, no questions asked, followed by you.

naoki snickered, "your shadow grows restless."

"ignore him, please," you muttered, stepping closer to a glass case to distract yourself, "what’s this?"

naoki followed, stepping closer so you could catch the scent of expensive almond and saffron, "ah," he said, gesturing at the artefact inside, "a blade, from ming dynasty china. the jade serpent on the hilt grants its wearer the ability to control minds. some say it can even raise the dead."

the claim sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with feigned interest, nodding as naoki moved on.

"and here," he continued, pointing to a golden ring, with an oddly boyish grin for someone dealing in murderous items, "the lion's eyes. said to see through any veil, any curse. the last treasure of the dynasty of the pharoahs."

you tried to listen, but gojo's presence loomed larger with every word. his disdain for naoki sato, his barely concealed anger at the stolen objects— it was all too palpable. when you glanced back, his scowl had deepened, and the champagne glass in his hand looked on the verge of shattering.

if looks could kill, naoki sato would already be six feet under. you would be next on the list.

you swallowed hard, turning back to naoki sato and pointing at the next display. "and this?"

naoki pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "the broken english crown. apparently worn by the last king to die on the battlefield, and i haven't tried it on," he shares this with you, with a conspiratorial smile, "but legends say it fractures the bones of anyone deemed not powerful enough to wear it."

this criminal was not what you had expected at all. it was hard to reconcile the image of a hardened criminal with years of ruthless ambition, with this effortless charm and disarming way of making you lose the blurred line of correct propriety. you tried not to stare at how the warm light caught his auburn hair, like the autumn leaves in the dappled sun.

and yet, it wasn’t just his looks that threw you off. it was the way he carried himself — like he had nothing to prove and everything to hide. dangerous in a different way, one that was far harder to guard against.

it reminded you of gojo satoru.

"you know, i have to admit," naoki said, gesturing to the gilded displays around him, "most of this stuff? tacky as hell. but then, you would be surprised what most people would pay for tacky."

from a swindler, fraud and scammer? you were quite sure.

"funny, coming from someone whose livelihood depends on it. isn't that gaudy by association?"

naoki winked, and you averted your gaze from long brown lashes fluttering against soft skin, "touché. but people don't want to just buy the artefact, or the cursed object. they want the story. that shit's priceless."

you swallowed, focusing on how gojo was trying to draw your attention to a glass case hidden by all the others, and you hoped you weren't squinting, "so, you're just a storyteller then?"

but beside you, naoki sato tilted his head, "you could say that."

you thought of the clipped photos printed into the file. some in black and white, and some in raging shades of colour. where naoki sato's hands had painted entire buildings in shades of sticky red, and heads rolled on the floor. where his enhance technique could burst arteries and lungs, leaving people in pieces on the floor.

"sounds dramatic," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"life's dramatic, and too short to not take what i want," naoki replied with a faint smile, his hand lightly brushing your waist as he guided you further past long tables.

you leaned into it without thinking, a tiny movement that made a creamy, berry flush paint over naoki's features. and the sorcerer's laugh was warm, low, like he’d already won something you didn’t realise was at stake.

behind you, a sharp cough broke the moment.

gojo.

you let your lips curl into a faint smile and leaned into naoki's just a fraction more, with a very deliberate look, one that spoke of triumph and having tamed a beast.

gojo's scowl deepened, his shoulders taut with barely restrained frustration, and he started mouthing at you, silent as his lips parted. if you read his mouth carefully, well...

he was calling you rather unflattering names.

"what's that?" but it was gojo's voice that roughly cut through the air, like gravel grinding underfoot. his shaded eyes were fixed on the glass case tucked in the corner.

you followed his gaze, past his outstretched arm, and your stomach twisted.

raijin's amulet.

the cursed object you’d been hunting, the one you’d sworn to protect at all costs, gleamed innocently behind its protective glass. you could recognise the serpentine dragon coiled protectively around the stone at its centre, its intricate carving daring anyone to claim it.

your frantic eyes met gojo's. his were sharp, seething. then, both your gazes flicked to naoki.

naoki, of course, noticed nothing — or pretended not to. he let out a soft hum, following gojo's pointed stare.

"the bodyguard's interested too?"

you coughed, cutting through the rising tension before gojo could turn that look into something explosive. the glass case between them might as well have been kindling for the fire brewing.

"it's mainly for academics," you said, feigning an air of curiosity. then, with practiced innocence, you tilted your head and smiled at the dangerous special grade cursed object as if it were nothing more than an ordinary trinket.

"but it’s so pretty. what is it, really?"

naoki's hand tightened subtly on your waist, and you tried to ignore the guilt that bubbled up in your chest when his sharp features softened at your feigned interest.

"it’s just an old thing," he said, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret meant only for you, "did you know it once belonged to ryomen sukuna?"

your mouth was dry, but you kept your face blank, tilting your head as though you’d never heard the name before, "sukuna?"

naoki pressed his palm to the glass case, his expression shifting into something darker, more reverent.

"the king of curses," he murmured. "lived over a thousand years ago. ruthless. when he died, most of his treasures were plundered by clans too greedy for their own good. but this..." he tapped the glass softly. "this one? it wasn't easy to get my hands on."

you leaned closer, feigning fascination while calculating your next move, trying to figure out how you could get close enough to that glass case without shattering the illusion cast on naoki sato, "what does it do?"

for a moment, naoki's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. but just as quickly, his expression smoothed out, and he chuckled.

"trust me, beautiful," he said, his voice like silk with an edge of warning. "you don’t want to wear that thing. i could get you something far more...safe."

you forced a smile, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine. instead, you threw a quick, desperate glance at gojo — a silent plea for the strongest to listen to you: i'll distract him. you get the amulet.

gojo's expression tightened, but his head snapped once, briefly, in the faintest hint of acknowledgement.

time to move.

you let out a soft, breathy laugh and tugged naoki toward a table, your hand brushing his arm with casual ease. "let’s sit," you suggested, leaning into his toned chest just enough to sell the act. "all this walking is making me tired."

naoki's laughter was warm, a touch too easy, and he let you guide him without resistance, "tsk, whatever you want," he murmured.

now you're trusting gojo satoru, simply because you had no other choice. he had to get the amulet out of the glass before alarms began to blare, and before needless blood was spilt over the glimmering floor.

and so you sat, letting naoki have his back to gojo, oblivious to the white-haired shadow slipping closer to the case. your eyes lingered on gojo, pulse racing each time he disappeared behind one of naoki's own burly guards.

but then naoki sato's gaze locked onto you, drawing your attention back with a searing warmth that caught you off guard.

"so," he asked, eyes glinting, "what do you think of all...this?"

"it's impressive," and you're surprised at how the truth has found a home in your mouth, "i didn't ever think of different sorcerers, around the world."

naoki leaned closer, with his elbows on his thighs, propping his face upon his hands, "most people don't. here, it's all about jujutsu. tokyo, this. kyoto, that. the higher ups are so narrow-minded. stuck in their ways, obsessed with tradition. they don't know anything about the world out there."

for a moment, his words startled you. they weren’t the boastful musings of a crime boss but something else. they reminded you of how gojo spoke about the rigidity of the old ways, about why he fought so hard to change things, to create a better world for jujutsu sorcerers.

ah, focus.

"hey," naoki suddenly said, pulling you out of your thoughts. his gaze was sharper now, more intense. and over his shouder, you caught the faintest blur of white hair in the background, gojo's movements.

but it was hard to focus on anything but naoki sato's face — the sharp lines softened by his proximity, the warmth in his dark eyes that you didn’t want to admit was almost magnetic.

he was a man marked for execution, and the warrant must have been burning a hole through your suite on the highest floor.

yet here he was, looking at you like you were something worth risking everything for.

and suddenly, you weren’t sure you wanted to see autumn's locks matted with rusted blood. to see eyes go dull and lifeless.

you felt like you had the moral spine of a sponge.

"can i kiss you?"

the question hit like a punch to the gut. your lips parted, but no sound came out. and suddenly, the steps in the background stopped too.

naoki's hand came up to your jaw, his touch unexpectedly reverent, and all you could think was: distraction. right. distract him for gojo. what the fuck is taking him so long?

so you closed the distance.

naoki's lips captured yours with a softness that disarmed you, but the kiss was anything but tentative, and you could taste a sweet tang like lemons and sugar. but you let his large hands pull you closer and his touch was warm and intoxicating.

the kind that made you forget, just for a moment, that this was all a ruse.

his lips moved against yours with a heat that made everything else fade to black, and his hands slid down your waist and back, tracing lines that felt dangerously real.

when you finally pulled away for air, your lips tingled, and your breath came in short bursts. you couldn’t help yourself — you reached up, your fingers brushing against his now-flushed lips, glossy under your touch, and you hated the way your stomach twisted from the way naoki sato melted under your touch.

focus, again.

you hoped, prayed, that gojo was doing his part, taking advantage of the way you had naoki sato, one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, wrapped around your finger, and bruising his tongue into your mouth.

but your gaze flicked upwards, past his shoulder and collided with something that stopped your heart cold.

electric blue. devastatingly vibrant, crackling with a fury that hit the air like a thunderstorm.

gojo's eyes pinned you in place, shadows pooling in sharp cerulean, from shades that had slipped just a touch down his nose. no mask to shield whatever expression gojo had clearly painted across his face.

hurt? anger? what the fuck, was that betrayal?

your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to dig your nails into naoki's tailored jacket, to hiss at gojo to get a move on. to stop standing there like he had been hit with a shovel.

but the words didn't quite form, didn't pull at the corners of your mouth to silently shape them. his expression just held you captive, no. shamed you.

and that made you angrier. he had no right to look at you like that, like you had just crossed a line that you didn't even know was there.

but under you, naoki shifted, tilted your chip up to meet his lips again, and you let him. you...wanted him to. but the heat of his lips didn't drown out the chill of gojo's stare. your own body betrayed you with a shiver, one that you couldn't quite place yourself.

nerves, or desire.

the kiss was firmer this time, insistent, as if naoki sato was staking his claim in front of an invisible audience. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw with maddening ease, over the pulse of your neck.

and for a second, it was too easy to fall into the lie. but you felt it: the searing weight of gojo's glower burning into you, not far away.

naoki pulled back just slightly, his breath fanning your lips, "hey, you're distracted," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his eyes scanning your face as though he wanted to read every thought. "should i be offended?"

"no," you said quickly, almost too quickly, "just a lot to take in."

naoki smiles, all coy and glazed lips, clearly pleased by what he thought was pure flattery, and not the glowering six-eyes shining behind him. "good. i think 'm gonna like leaving you speechless."

part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

naoki's warm thumb lingers against your jaw, and your breath hitches just enough for the sorcerer to notice. you don't miss how his eyes darken, a hint of triumph gleaming in them.

you risked a glance past his shoulder again, and gojo was still there, stony-faced as naoki's own guards. but there's something else broiling in his eyes, rolling over his face like a thunderstorm cracks over a grassy plain. the fury in his eyes hadn't lessened, but now it was laced with something sharper, something that you can finally read.

jealousy. absolute glass-shattering, world-stopping levels of envy paint over gojo satoru's face.

the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

was he jealous of naoki sato? of you? of this entire charade that you both had agreed to? or rather, the one you had roped him into.

the idea shouldn’t have thrilled you, but it did. and it terrified you just as much.

you let naoki kiss you again, forcing yourself to deepen it this time, your hands coming up to rest against his hard chest. you don't miss how he suddenly parts from your lips, panting softly into your mouth, and suddenly you're hit with the most awful wave of longing for a man who cannot have.

naoki’s large hands, however, weren’t idle. one brushed the edge of your dress, under the shoulder strap of your powder-blue gown, his thumb grazing against the fabric, and your breath hitched.

you shift, your breath stuttering as naoki's other hand slides higher, his fingers brushing against the flesh of your thigh, pushing your dress higher, and his hand brushes against the silver details on the side, scratching your skin. it's maddening how cool air meets the heat of your now exposed skin, and naoki's mouth crushes against yours, as if he's equally savouring the taste of you.

"t-there are people here," you gasp, your voice a fractured whisper, trembling at the edge of composure, "what if they can see or watch?"

gojo satoru is here. gojo is watching. you know your partner is close enough to hear every breathless sound you make, every treasonous whine that slips past your lips.

but naoki sato's mouth is curved into a plush, wicked smile, "let them look," and his teeth are grazing against the curve enough in a way that makes you arch your back into him, he who is now leaning over you, as if he's the one trying to capture you, "who cares - hah?"

any reasonable thought of your duty. of honour, of a mission flees from your head.

the sight of gojo's softly parted mouth and darkened eyes as he watches you in another man's arms spurs you on, and you let naoki sato press his lips against the hollow of his throat.

naoki's long fingers are blazing as they reach the very apex of your thighs. as they press two rough pads into the sopping slick that's gathered in your panties, as they run themselves along dampened fabric in a way that has you openly keening.

"can i?" and your eyes meet the mahogany gaze of the man above you. it's electrifying. you should be ashamed, furious at how you're just being taken like this, on display. but this is a room of the seven deadly sins, where each corner of the room is a lesson in hedonism, and obscene wealth.

"please."

but your eyes are only on gojo satoru behind him. on how he catches the pale-pink of his bottom lip between his teeth, and his face is seething. how his darkened eyes drop to naoki's hand working its way between your legs, and you wantonly roll your hips up to meet him there.

you let writhing fingers slip under the waistband of your pale-blue underwear, dipping into glossy, thick arousal. but you also don't miss the tent in gojo satoru's grey slacks, only metres away, and the frenzied look making him look pained.

you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy moaning openly, spreading your legs just a bit wider, so gojo could get a glimpse of your drooling cunt.

"fuck, 's good. so good, naoki."

a finger travels up, away from your winking entrance to press a soft flick against your throbbing clit, "yeah?"

and the beautiful man in between your legs all but purrs. pleased beyond measure at how you've apparently been captured, heart and soul by him. and your attention snaps back to how he suddenly draws his fingers off your soaked cunt, and brings them up to his mouth.

"sweetest thing i've ever tasted, i think 'm gonna have -"

and then, it hit you.

a hot, sticky spray of liquid.

the scent of iron slammed into your senses as fresh blood splattered across your face, your chest, and stained the delicate blue of your dress into a deep and damning red. it clung to your skin, to your lips as you pressed your mouth shut, fighting the bile rising in your throat.

reversal: red crackled in the air, cursed energy humming sharp, and it had sliced through the hall like a whip. naoki's arm had been torn from your waist, wrenched away as he staggered back with a guttural hiss, and you avert your eyes from the blood that paints the space between you.

"that's enough."

gojo satoru's voice is like a thunderclap, reverberating around your ears, and when you finally meet his gaze, you're met with unbridled fury. you're not sure where his shades have gone, but you're met with the full weight of six-eyes, blazing and unrelenting.

naoki stumbles ahead of you, clutching his shoulder where blood seeps through his fingers, torn between shock and raw rage. his cherry-lips are curled back into a snarl, flush with indignation.

"hah, you're a sorcerer?," and naoki sato's voice drips with venom, heavy with disbelief.

you're not quite sure gojo satoru needs to answer. not when his presence alone sends waves of cold through the hall, cutting the air precisely, cleaving it.

but there's a man running towards the commotion, a guard encumbered by a hefty black suit, and there's a cold shock that runs through you as your eyes fall on the gun at his side.

"we think that's gojo satoru," the guard wheezes, breathless.

"you're telling me this now? i gave you fuckwits one job," naoki snarls, shaking the man, with his nails dug into the guard's shoulder.

and you're quickly pushing your dress down, letting the fabric spill over your legs once more, fighting back the hot sparks that sting at your eyes.

it's enough to snap naoki's attention back to you. and for a moment, for the briefest of moment, he wasn't the hardened criminal you had been playing this dangerous game with. a boy your age, wild and beautiful, and utterly undone.

and it heaves your stomach at how the fury in his gaze trembles slightly, just enough to reveal betrayal underneath that strikes you harder than any limitless could.and it struck you harder than any whip of magic ever could.

"i must be stupid, fuck," naoki's voice cracks as he spits the words, his expression twisted with something raw, something painfully human, "you’re a jujutsu sorcerer too, aren't you?"

the accusation was a dagger, his voice trembling with disbelief but its wholly true, and your head wavers in a half-shake, half-nod.

"you’re with him, aren't you? just another one of the higher up's lapdogs?"

the words weren’t a question — they were a condemnation.

naoki's lips are curled, and his bloodied arm is now trembling but steady, defiance burning through the pain.

and a whisper in your mind tells you to smash the glass case holding the amulet, to push through it with your bare hands, just so you can bleed alongside him.

but naoki sato's bitter scoff shatters that thought, and his gaze must have followed yours, sharp and knowing, for his hand has moved faster, pulling the gun from the guard's holster.

the blast came before you could even think, loud and jarring.

but you never saw the bullet's path, only gojo.

gojo, whose arm has snapped in front of you like a barrier, impossibly fast, and well within the bounds of his infinity. as if he had tore through space itself.

the bullet collides with infinity, ricocheting into the chaos of the panicking crowd.

naoki’s gaze didn’t waver. it slices back to gojo, sharp, calculating, and darkly amused. he must have seen it now, everything.

the truth was etched in the way gojo had positioned himself, the way his blazing blue eyes never left you, the unspoken claim humming in the air like a second heartbeat.

naoki sato's laugh is lower, bitter, and you watch the mesmerising plink! of crimson on the floor.

"he's protecting you, isn’t he?" his voice dripped with venom, each word striking like a dagger, "how sweet.”

and just like that, something broke. gojo's restraint, most likely.

you can see how his fingers are flexing, his hands lifting and cursed energy is coiling at his fingertips. his thumb and index finger brush, a telltale sign of an impending blast. hollow purple.

you clench your eyes shut, bracing for the devastation of the impact —

but naoki sato was faster.

his arms snapped outward, a surge of his own jujutsu ripping through the space between you. the bodyguards around you crumpled like ragdolls, their bodies bursting under the pressure. blood sprayed in thick, sticky waves, painting the walls, the floor — against the edges of infinity.

you opened your eyes in time to see gojo falter, his hands trembling as he stared at the carnage. even he, the unflinching sorcerer, the strongest, looked shaken by the sheer brutality of what cursed technique: enhance was capable of.

and in the heartbeat of his hesitation, naoki was gone.

"fuck's sake! s-satoru! let go of me!" you snap, voice cracking with fury as you fight against gojo's tight grasp.

his vivid focus shoots back to you, his expression a storm of anger and disbelief, "what?" and gojo's voice is razer-sharp, "if you think i'm letting you go after that stunt you pulled -"

"shut up!" and you can feel your own desperation cut through the air, "you go after him, i'll go after the amulet."

you toss your head to the shattered glass and the chaos erupting all around you, "if that thing gets lost in the mess, we've done this all for nothing!"

gojo's jaw is clenched, his mouth pressed into a hard and furious line. for a moment, you think he's going to argue with you again, but then you're dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

pain shoots through your knees as you land, but you're soon hauling yourself up.

"go!" you hiss, shoving at his shoulder, "i'll come find you when i have it."

gojo hesitates for a fraction of a second longer, then he's gone — a blur of movement faster than your eyes could track, leaving you alone in the chaos.

your hands tremble as you grab a heavy steel bar from the wreckage, swinging it with all your strength at the glass case. the sound of shattering glass barely registers as you reach inside, your fingers curling around the cold, smooth surface of the amulet.

wild shocks run through you, and you almost keel over, feeling the rush and pulse of such a cursed object against your skin. but it's safe. you have it now.

with it clutched tightly in your hand, you turned and run.

by now, you can't find it within yourself to stop the hot tears from running down your cheeks, streaming freely as you tear through the blood-soaked scene.

you run, the air sharp and cold against your skin, your heartbeat an unrelenting drum in your ears. the thump! making your head pound.

you can follow the residuals of gojo's cursed energy, lingering like a sickly beacon, drawing you back to the dull parking lot. you pushed open the doors with both hands, red smudging onto the concrete as you ignored the sting of your palms

and then you saw it. saw it all.

the scene hits you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath clean from your lungs.

a body lies crumpled on the ground, its lifelessness more harrowing than the carnage that surrounds it. blood, thick and sticky, smears across the concrete. massive pillars, toppled like a child's toys in the wake of a clear explosion.

your gaze snags on a limp hand sprawled on the floor, and you feel your stomach twist. instinctively, your tongue slides against the back of your teeth, and the metallic tang of iron is already sleeping into your senses.

and then, there was gojo satoru.

he stands amid the wreckage, like a figure carved from shadows, and ice. and fury. his chest softly rises and falls, as though he had been running for miles, his hair disheveled and darkened with sweat.

the sight of him might have almost been human, almost comforting. if not for the gore streaked across his hands, and the thing he drops onto the concrete with a hollow thud.

you don't look at it. you don't think you can. your stomach knows the truth before your mind catches up, bile heaving within you once more.

the head of naoki sato. he would never have stood a chance against the strongest sorcerer in modern history.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

you mind flashes back to that dastardly pink sticky note, still stuck to the case file.

what did you feel now? anger? sadness?

maybe both. maybe neither.

the blood pooling in front of gojo is already congealing, its sickly shine dimming in the cold, fluorescent light of the lot.

you were tired of seeing blood, of tasting it on your tongue, of breathing it in like the very air you needed to survive.

you’d thought there would be relief in the end. but instead, disappointment had rooted itself deep inside you, twisting itself.

naoki sato, for all his crimes and cruetly, had been...something. somewhere beneath the sly smirks and sharp words, there had been glimpses of something that almost looked like hope. he had said he wanted better — for everyone. for you. was it a lie? or had you twisted his words into something more comforting than the truth, desparate to see light where there was none?

your throat burns, but no tears come. just a hollow ache that matches the cold weight of raijin's amulet in your hand. you looked at it now, the thing you’d fought so hard to win, its edges biting into your skin, the dragon leaving its mark.

gojo's voice cut through the silence, low and ragged, and tired, "don’t look."

you hadn’t even realised you were staring, your eyes hovering dangerously close to the lifeless hand on the ground.

"i'm sorry," he had continued, his tone strangely neutral, as if apologising for a cracked glass rather than the irrevocable violence around him, that seemed to trail after him, "i had to do it."

you laughed then, short and bitter, the sound cracking like a whip against the cold air. "had to, gojo?" your voice trembled, not with fear, but something darker. something far more raw.

his gaze had snapped to you, and there it was — the thing that always churned between you two. a storm of emotions, tangled so tightly you could no longer tell where hate ended and yearning began.

"you think this is the resolution i wanted?" gojo shot back, his voice laced with something too jagged to be regret. "you think i enjoyed that?"

and in the most twisted, perverse theatre of your mind's eye, you see gojo's open-mouthed stare, focused on how another man touched you, made you his.

"i don’t know what you enjoy anymore," you take a step closer, your grip tightening on amulet until your knuckles whitened. but the air pushed from your lungs, "but - god, gojo. forget it. i-i don't even know. 'm sorry, too."

gojo sighs, and you see the exhaustion hanging over him too, "we'll go back tomorrow morning."

the walk back to your room is…suffocating. the air is thick with everything that you just cannot say, words that you can't even bring your heavy tongue to shape.

gojo is beind you, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing between your shoulder blades, but you just can't turn around. you don't dare to. raijin's amulet is still clenched in your hand, and its edges are cutting into your palm, a form of self-flagellation you suppose.

you push the door open, and your breath catches and hitches as you slip inside, slamming it shut after he follows. locking it with shaking hands.

in the suite, the moonlight now slices through the half-drawn curtains, as the tokyo skyline glimmers underneath you. it's painting silver lines across gojo's spectral frame, and he strides to the amenities sink, a smaller outlet near the door.

you watch, as though you're holding a sacred vigil.

your gaze doesn't leave gojo's figure as he throws his jacket off his sharp torso with a disgusted sigh, leaving him in his black dress shirt and a loosened tie.

still watching as his movements are tense, restless as he cups water from the faucet in his hands, splashing it onto his face.

when he finally looks up, gojo's white is hair dripping, his tie slightly askew, and his tired eyes catch yours like a snare.

for a moment, you’re frozen. neither of you say a word. the air feels too thin to breathe, and his gaze is too much — too piercing, too relentless, too him.

you can’t take it.

with a sharp motion, you slam the amulet onto the table, the sound echoing through the quiet room. you spin on your heel and lock yourself in the bathroom, shutting him out.

inside, the luxurious space feels surreal. marble floors gleam under the soft glow of recessed lighting, gold fixtures glinting and stinging your eyes. it smells faintly of jasmine and mint, too perfect for the mess you're about to create.

you grip the edge of the sink as the first sob wrenches its way out of your chest, hot and raw.

tears spill over, cascading down your cheeks in waves you can’t control. they come faster, harder, until you’re gasping, choking on gulps of air that burn in your throat.

you sink onto the cool floor tiles, your knees pulled to your chest as the sobs wrack your body. the weight of everything, what you did, gojo's eyes gleaming, naoki sato's hands on you, the smell of blood, it all crashes over you like a tidal wave. it’s too much for a human heart to bear in one night.

but your hands are shaking as you reach for the hem of your once beautiful dress, peeling it off with clumsy, desperate motions. the air is cool against your skin, you who is now left in undergarments.

and you stare blankly at the blood that smears your arms and legs, before grabbing a small towel, dampening it under the sink and wiping crimson stains away.

small cuts sting on your skin, faint patches where glass struck you, and you hiss.

a knock rattles the bathroom door, sharp and unrelenting, dragging you back to reality.

you close your eyes and exhale through gritted teeth, your voice brittle, "not now, gojo."

silence follows, stretching out long enough to offer the illusion of peace. but then it breaks. another knock, louder, more insistent this time.

"satoru, i swear to god," you snap, your exhaustion fraying into something sharp, laced with more venom now.

there’s a sigh from the other side, audible even through the thick wood, "don't make me blast this door down."

you groan, rolling your eyes as you toss the bloodied towel onto the counter, "you wouldn't dare."

"try me. just open the door, would'you?"

you don’t have the energy to argue, and something in his tone tells you that gojo isn’t bluffing. and so you dragged yourself upright, swinging the door open with more force than necessary.

gojo stands there, with damp hair still clinging to his forehead, beads of water trailing down his templates. and his sleeves are rolled up now, revealing thick forearms flecked with rust and crimson. it wouldn't be his. no, gojo hasn't bled in over a decade.

you straighten, aware of your own state right now. in your undergarments, only shielding you from being entirely bare under his gaze. but the only clothes in this room with you are now crumpled on the floor, in a heap of ice-blue and dark red.

let him look. he's seen more than enough now.

and so you lean back against the sink, crossing your arms as your eyes meet blue, "what do you want?"

gojo hesitates, his jaw tightening as he braces himself. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough around the edges, "just...asking if you're alright."

the laugh that escapes you is sharp and hollow, devoid of any humour, "why wouldn't i be?"

gojo's faze flickers, his expression unreadable, but his eyes linger a moment too long. you let him trace the dried blood smeared across your collarbone, the faint scratches on your skin.

"after all of that tonight..." he starts, but the words hang in the air between the two of you, unfinished. his voice suddenly falters, and you're struck by how gojo's razor-sharp confidence has dulled into something weaker, more conflicted.

you know exactly what he means. the stunt he's referring to, in his own earlier words. you wonder what exactly is eating at him now. is it honest concern, pride? residual envy?

"please, trust me. i'm fine, we managed to do what was asked of us, anyway," you clip curtly, hoping your tone is final enough.

gojo looks at you like he doesn't believe a single syllable that slips from your bitten lips, but then his shoulders sag and he exhales sharply, "fine," he mutters, turning on his heel as if he's the one that can't stand to be near you any longer.

"wait."

the word slips out before you can stop it, and gojo pauses, and his eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

you swallow hard, suddenly unsure of yourself, and lift a clean towel from the counter, helping yourself to another one of the hotel's free amenities, "can you help me with this?"

an olive branch.

you gesture with a single finger, over dried blood that has streaked over your back, your neck. the hollow of your collarbone.

you can see the refusal dancing on his tongue, the hesitation in the way his throat bobs, and how gojo's eyes flicker over you once more.

but he doesn't refuse. gojo just wordlessly steps forward, taking the towel from your outstretched hand. you watch, silently, as he moves to the sink and runs it under cold water. you're sitting on the edge of the counter now so you face him, watching the warm golden glow of the overhead lights in his pale hair.

the porcelain is cold against your thighs as you angle yourself away from the mirror, facing gojo. the towel in his hand drips faintly, and you watch as he hesitates again, just for a fraction of a second before stepping closer.

at first, his movements are slow and careful. he's raising the towel, and his hand is steady as you feel the first touch of the cool fabric against your back. a shiver practically races down your spine, not from the cold, but from the way his arm snakes behind you, brushing against your bare skin.

it's subtle at first, but you notice it. the hitch in his breath, the faint tremour in his movements.

gojo, who is always so infuriatingly composed, is shaken. you hear it in the sorcerer's uneven exhale that he doesn't quite manage to suppress, the way his fingers press the towel just a little too harshly.

the suite is silent now except for the faint drip of water and the rasp of fabric against your skin. you should say something, anything, but the words don’t come. instead, your gaze fixes on him, his profile illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom light.

gojo's features are always striking, almost ethereal: the ice-white hair that falls messily against his forehead, the long white lashes that frame those sharp, cerulean-blue eyes. there’s something softened by the warm light, as though the harshness of his presence, of a man who stands above heaven and earth, has been dulled just enough to make him seem almost...human again.

but you feel as though your heart must just give way, pounding so hard that it may burst. where the blood that fell from another man's veins had somehow drawn a line to gojo satoru instead.

an hour ago, you had been arched into another, naoki sato, one who had been a dead man walking. an hour ago, his hands were on you, his lips hot and insistent, and his eyes were warm, and now he’s gone. dead. gojo made sure of that. and that was always meant to happen.

the thought should make you furious. it should make you push gojo away, but instead, all you can do is sit there, feeling his hands —gentle now, impossibly careful, on your skin.

it's wrong. it's so deeply, fundamentally wrong, and yet the space another man left feels like it was carved out for gojo satoru all along.

gojo's touch slows as he runs the towel over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone with a precision that feels almost tender. your eyes slip closed for a moment, the warmth of his hand lingering even as the cold water wipes away the blood.

then he moves again.

it happens fast enough that you barely register it. one second, gojo satoru is standing tall and focused on the task, and the next...he's leaning down. his breath ghosting over the hollow of your neck.

you feel your entire world tilt as his lips press softly against the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, a touch so light that it feels stolen.

but now you've frozen, every breath catching as though the air was snatched from your lungs. every nerve feels as though it's on fire, hyper-aware of how soft the brush of his lips was, the faint scrape of his teeth just shy of your skin.

how gojo's lips were almost reverent, like a prayer offered in silence. how he was worshipping something he couldn't ever have.

but your eyes snap open to meet his.

gojos's cerulean eyes are molten, the usual ice cracked and melting into something deep and desperate and all-consuming. they bore into yours, wild and unguraded, and the pale lashes framing them tremble lighting as though even he's unsure of what he's just done.

but gojo's pupils are also blown wide, and electric. like a storm trapped in glass.

you swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. slowly, cautiously, you dip your head, just enough to give him permission without saying a word.

the look in his eyes shifts — hunger, disbelief, and something darker all tangled together. he presses his lips to your neck again, firmer this time, lingering as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. then again, slightly higher, his breath hot and uneven against you.

"satoru…" the name slips from your lips in a whisper, trembling and unbidden.

the warmth of his tongue catches you off guard, tracing the curve of your neck in a way that sends a jolt through your entire body, heat down to your thighs. it's...unhinged, but the part of you that should push him away is nowhere to be found.

gojo pulls back just enough for you to see the faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain dark, intense, and burning with something that feels too big for the room.

"another man got to taste you," he whispers, "now i've tasted him."

you almost laugh, sharp and bitter. the sound lodging in your throat. the absurdity of it all, the jealously lacing his words like a poison vine, the way his breath still fans against your skin.

"that's insane," you manage, your voice shaking. it does little to stop the searing heat curling low in your stomach.

for a second, gojo's breath is still hot against your neck. and then suddenly, his hands are on you.

and fuck, it's not delicate at all. there's a roughness to his touch, desparate and unrestrained, as though something inside him as finally snapped.

his palms trace along your bare shoulders, sliding down to your arms, and then to your waist. his fingers press into your skin with a heat that makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. you don't even realise when you had opened your mouth slightly, panting as if you're trying to pull more air in.

"gojo," you manage, barely audible, and you're acutely aware of the low tense ache beginning to throb in your groin.

his hands slow for a moment, resting on your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself, or stop himself. and gojo's eyes find yours again, and they’re ablaze.

"can i keep going?"

you wonder just how you've managed to unravel this man, to leave his voice hanging by a thread in the air.

you don’t answer right away, your head swimming with confusion, slick desire, and something dangerously close to surrender. gojo satoru is watching you so intently it’s like he’s searching for every unspoken answer written on your skin.

finally, you shift — subtle, but enough. your knees part slightly, just enough for him to step between your bare thighs.

"what do you want me to do?"

you're aware of the insistent, rhythmic pulsing under your panties. of how every small shift of gojo's body against yours amplifies the soft arousal forming, as your heart pounds faster.

and so you let your fingers hook onto the pale waistband of your underwear, and you watch as his gaze follows your movements.

"i want you to touch me, there. please."

you hear the white-haired man breathe out a thankful, reverent fuck before he's following the path of your own hands, hooking a slender finger into your waistband and pulling your underwear down, and off.

and you're so painfully aware of your own arousal right now, the wet that is pooling beneath you. it feels like a relief, parting your legs so your searing heat meets cool air.

"that's perfect, look at t-that," and you're suddenly whining as gojo's fingertips begin grazing sloppy folds, raking themselves over your fluttering entrance, "she's practically been beggin' for my touch all this time, hah!"

"you - ohh, gojo!" you moan, feeling awfully faint from the rippling warmth making your cunt tighten around him, each pshh! echoing in your burning ears, "y-you wish!"

gojo's laugh is a little crazed, undone as he rolls his fingers in practiced curls, at an inhuman pace. bullying his fingers into your opening, as he rasps, "yeah, i w-wish. 'm wishing for this all the time. you never knew, huh?"

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your winking pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

and god, that's exactly where your eyes are. falling on a tense forearm around your waist, as the other works its fierce way through the clamping, gummy walls of your leaking cunt. and you're shuddering underneath him, feeling each brush of his fingers in you.

"w-we make a pretty sight, don't we, yeah?" and the words are spilling from gojo's lips with a certain smugness, but it's rough around the edges, strained. and you just can't look away from how utterly ruined he looks, from touching you.

you watch the glossed shine of your trickling pussy twinkle in the warm lights, as gojo pushes your thighs open wider. his frame leans over yours, taut and straining. and his lips are flushed and parted, betraying the deep ache of his breath.

"go onnn, say it. c'mon," and now gojo's whining in your ear, letting his hand push further into the mess as your pussy is practically weeping onto his fingertips, "won't let you c-cum if you don't say it."

your chest heaves with each desperate, gulping breath. and you can see gojo's vision narrow on how your tits threaten to spill out from their confines, the swell of your chest rising as you try to draw air through your close orgasmic daze. where the edges of your vision blur, and your heart is pounding erratically, "ahhh, gojo! 'm gonna, i think 'm gonna, oh my god!"

but there's more, you want so much more.

and against better thought, you push and elbow back into gojo's chest, heaving as he flicks his thumb over your aching clit.

"hah, what is it now? fuck was that for?" and the man is scowling at you, seemingly irritated that you drew him away from the hypnotic pull of your pulsing walls.

you swivel, away from the mirror so you're facing him. and your eyes fall on the heavy, pitched tent in gojo's grey slacks, one that must be aching and awfully painful from the way he's running his pink tongue over his bruised mouth.

"wan' more, gojo. on the bed."

you've reached up behind your back, unhooking the clip that was holding your bra together. it falls, and you toss it into the pile where gojo had flung your clingy panties, over your gorgeous dress.

and you think gojo satoru might have just had a minor heart attack.

his expression has shifted, lips parted as he takes in your naked form. you think you hear his breath hitch, as his eyes roam over you, unblinking. you're certain that the mildly brighter light in the room has nothing to do with what's overhead, rather the bright blue of gojo's six eyes.

you snicker at his dumbstruck expression, letting your hand curl around his wrist — marvelling at how he almost whines at the sight of you pushing him out of the bathroom suite, and onto that glorious bed that the two of you had argued over earlier in the day.

"n-not so opposed to sharing a bed with me now, sweets? oh, fuck," you don't let him get any more words out, since you're reaching for the sleek leather belt threading through the loops of his slacks, pawing at them so you can finally undress him. have him as bare as you are now.

something in your desparate touch must have made gojo snap, because now he's shuffling the two of you around, so you're practically splayed out under his warm, large hands. thighs spread, parted so your dripping cunt is displayed to the room, as he scoots closer. his knees pressing against the carpet.

"hnnghh, f-fuck, look at her. practically cryin' on me."

and what a sight. gojo satoru, the most powerful man to walk this earth in centuries is slumped beneath your thighs, close enough to your clit that when he breathes, he knocks his nose right over the sensitive bud, coating his face in that syrupy glaze.

and then its slow, painful. how his long tongue descends onto your weeping pussy, writhing flat in wide, broad strokes that leave you whining out his name.

you spread your legs even wider, fighting against gojo's tight grip on the flesh of your thighs. the thighs that are trembling as he brings his teeth up to graze your clit, and your arousal drips from his lips. making candied pink lips look like they've been glazed and dipped in sugar.

briefly, in the back of your mind, you wonder how you're going to continue to function tomorrow. how you're going to even be able to walk after gojo satoru has rendered you boneless.

you also wonder if there's a cosmic deity out there, looking at an invisible and heavenly camera with a dull look on their face. something like what can you do?

"mmhph, y'know i l-like this a lot better than that drink from earlier," and he's cooing at how you squeal and moan, "hah, what was that s-shit called? a cream soda."

you pull at the white strands of his hair, yanking gojo's head back from where his tongue had been lolling around your clit, ignoring his whine, "if y-you make a stupid, fuckin' joke about creaming, i'm g-gonna leave."

gojo rolls his eyes, but this time? this time, there's no malice in it, no irritation. his expression is almost fond, if not shadowed by the enormity of his own lust, "leaving before the main event is dumb choice, sweets."

"tch! get to i-it then, oh! what the fuck, gojo!"

he's found the right place to prod, to roll his fingers over the hood of your clit, occasionally propping his mouth down to suck at it lightly. your mouth is clamped shut, so you don't release an absurd amount of babble, wordless and airless about how good he's devouring you.

"hah," gojo huffs, pressing three flat fingers against your entrance, letting them curl into your walls, enough to tease you, "i can feel her beating for me. 's pulsing all over."

"c-can't you jus' make me cum?" your hands are desparate for some friction, running past your perked tits, down to his hair again. now clamping your thighs around his head, and the soft, snowy hair of his head tickles at your skin.

"can' believe you're talking shit when i'm e-eating you out," gojo chuckles, but you're just too mesmerised by the glint of your slick lighting a beacon over the lower half of his face, strands of slick as he pulls away from your pussy, "y'not that patient, huh?"

he's practically attached to your clit now, kissing it with a tender and yet firm press of his lips, seemingly aware of just how sensitive you are to that type of pressure.

you whimper and mewl as gojo's head disappeared back between your legs, deeper and lower as his tongue pushes into your pussy, flicking shallow thrusts that makes you breathe out gasps of his name.

"now i think 'm gonna cum, so close, satoru," with your hand firmly lodged in his platinum strands, you're rocking your hips messily, sloppily against his awaiting mouth.

"y-yeah? go on, sweets," he's moaning now too, and you don't miss how the edge of the bed rocks just a bit from him grinding the frame for some release on his own erection.

your orgasm makes your mind foggy, and you practically quake in gojo's large, warm hands. with a sharp cry of his name, followed by an endless chant of praise for the unearthly man between your legs, lapping at you as though you are his last drink, his last meal on this earth before he ascends elsewhere.

the hard streaks of white shoot through your vision, even as you come down from the incredible high, and you realise gojo has not stopped.

gojo's jaw is still locked as your slick dribbles down your folds, into his open mouth and onto his waiting tongue. the extra stimulation makes you deliriously cry out, "fuck, s-satoru! 's too much, holy fuck!"

you were still shaking, and a second orgam blurred your sight into an incredible spectrum of colours, white hot starlight and streaks of blue. that cascade of vivid tints flood your vision, each one jerking your hips and cunt forward until you felt your legs give way.

until gojo finally separated himself from your thighs, satisfied at how he had pulled two climaxes from you.

he's absolutely lost it, lost in that daze of being pussywhipped, and his eyes gleam with a feverish intensity. and when he crashes pink, glossy lips down on your mouth, you can feel him shake under your touch.

you moan, loud, as he nips at your lower lip. at how you can taste yourself on his tongue, syrup strands falling into your mouth as gojo suddenly twitches.

"i think 'm gonna have to be in you right now, otherwise i'll literally fuckin' die."

a breathy laugh falls from your lips as your partner pulls himself up, heavy limbs finally extracting themselves away from your naked body, reaching up to hook his fingers over the black crinkle of his rumpled dress shirt, pulling the fabric off.

leaving your mouth dry.

the moonlight spills over gojo's torso, and you track your eyes over his broad chest, rising and falling and flushed from his own arousal.

you follow the faint dusting of pale white hair as it disappeared past the waistband of his slacks that he's quickly making short work of, and you feel your pussy clench thinking about how badly you need to jump gojo satoru's bones.

but you're too transfixed by him, by the sculpted figure of a supposedly cold and arrogant bastard you've spent months and years rolling your eyes at.

he's real. all hot flesh and blood, and stunning. not that sneering, and infuriating man who's always one step ahead, always one callous word away from making your blood boil.

for a different heat has settled in you now, as your eyes fall on his throbbing cock that has sprung forth, up over his stomach. the tip is an angry, and furious berry-pink and you wonder just how you're going to make these inches fit.

"hah, didn’t think you'd be this shy, you know,” he says, voice a low, husky tease, as if he’s been watching your struggle. gojo's eyes glint with amusement, but there’s something deeper beneath it, something that you hope with lead him to take mercy on you.

"n-no. no," you repeat yourself more firmly, but it's far too breathless to be convincing, "no, 'm not shy."

but it's hard to form coherent thoughts when gojo satoru is towering over you, and his absurdly long and girthy shaft is twitching in between your slick folds.

"fuck you, s-satoru," you're whimpering, feeling the pulsing, rounded head of his flushed tip brush past your sensitive, drooling slit, "taking too long. jus' put it in already."

"mhmm, sweets," and gojo's bustling at your thighs now, pinching the soft and tender skin in retaliation for your touch undoing him so easily, "she can't even be patient, hah, trus' me. just lay back."

you comply, just this once. just because gojo satoru's cock looks so big, you think you need to gather all your thoughts so you'll be able to form coherent sentences later.

resting your head back on plush sheets, with the skyline twinkling in your peripheral vision as gojo's aligning himself with your cunt. he's gasping in low, shuddering breaths as his tip teases and hooks onto your inner walls.

"look at thaaat, oh! baby, fuck, wasn' even joking before, just sucking me up so fuckin' good!"

you don't reply, just mewling as he pushes inch after veiny inch into your dribbling walls, gasping as his large hands rest on the back of your thighs, pushing them further up so he can slot his torso in between your legs.

"oh my god, satoru! s-satoru, hnnhgh, it's too much — i don' think it's gon' fit," you always thought you would be embarrassed to lose composure like this in front of gojo, but you find yourself panting into the crook of his neck, raking nails down his flushed neck.

he's big, and you can feel every vein of his tapered curve hitting the right spots within you, as you shift your hips, desperate to let his sinuous cock kiss every inch of your pussy lovingly.

"gon' dumb already?" gojo's huffing, but you can see that he's not unaffected. his eyes are glazed over, hazy as he slowly draws his hips back just an inch, before scooting them forward already, "jus' gonna have to make this pussy learn from now on. don' worry, sweets. it'll fit."

the 'from now on' makes something in your pounding heart flutter.

but you have little time to focus on it as he bottoms out in your drenched cunt, as though you're hearing the slosh of your pussy coat him entirely, right up to the wiry, white hairs on his groin.

"hahh, there we go! the w-wonders of a positive attitude, don'tcha think?" and you're left with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he begins to pick up the pace. a steady staccato that has you jostling underneath his ministrations.

you let his mouth chase yours, capturing glossy lips with your own bite, letting him pant, and whine and praise the heavens above for how tight you're snatching him right now.

"she's p-perfect, isn't she? t-thought about it so much, y'got no idea, got no c-clue about how much i thought about you under me like this n' how you'd f-feel!"

gojo satoru is absolutely drunk from a nectar that he has tasted once. the same nectar that coats his cock in frothy, filthy rings as he pistons his hips out of your pussy.

"happy for y-you, satoru," and you're letting your nails scratch over the shell of his ear as he twitches and shudders, "but fuck, y'talk too much! jus' focus on fucking me!"

gojo's mouth quirks upwards, that knowing smirk playing on his lips as he looks at you bemused, and so hazy.

"god, a lot of that attitude now, hahh?" and he's drawling the words out, and you don't miss how he shudders when you clench around his shaft, on purpose. he's leaning in closer, barely brushing past your lips, and you wonder briefly for a split-second, gojo satoru might just really love you.

and then, without warning, his hand comes down to your side, just underneath the fat of your tits, pinching lightly at the abdomen. causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, and a dizzy huff of his name.

if you ever believed that gojo satoru was malicious in the workplace, a bane on your sanity, you had not been prepared for how he was stretching you out in all the right places.

that inhumane pace of the strongest had him snapping his hips sharply, over and over until he's hitting the spongy patch, deep within your walls.

"clamped around me like, ohh, like a fuckin' vice," gojo's grunting now, each breath coming out short puffs that match the timing of the slap! each whack of his cock delivers, pressing your hips together and coating his hips in sweet slick.

"mmph, feels so good, satoru!" you squeal, pressing a hand over your mouth so you don't wake up the entire top floor of the hotel, tits jostling with each shuffle and movement.

it's all coming down on you too quick, that electric haze shooting down your spine. made all the worse by gojo groaning and slipping his hand between his jackhammering hips, down to where your clit is practically throbbing for his touch.

he's running tight circles, before pressing the flat of his thumb under the hood of your clit, ripping a raw cry from the back of your throat, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as gojo's lips are leaving blooming marks over your neck.

"satoru, i t-think 'm gonna c-cum again," you moan, fluttering your lashes against your skin, rolling your hips up into gojo's quick fingers and brutal cock. but it feels different this time, nothing like your past two orgasms. you feel something draw its claws further into your groin, like you're going to burst and the breath will be stolen away from your lungs.

you hear gojo say something, snarky but tender as he laughs into your collarbone, as he's slapping his fingers down quickly over your clit, making you jolt. but you don't hear his words as blood roars in your eears, gushing all over his cock with a clear, sticky sheen that coats him deliciously.

makes gojo satoru groan out filthy praises over your marked skin, "didn' know you were that nasty? hahh, squirtin' over me on your first go, yeah? it's gettin' too much for me too, s-sweets. think 'm gonna hafta maaa -"

you have no inkling as to what gojo was aiming to groan out, fluttering his own blue eyes shut as his orgasm catches up to him, pumping you insanely full of thick, stringy seed. practically painting your inner walls a translucent white as you huff and whine.

but in the back of your mind, you think he wanted to marry you. a bridge you'll cross when you get to it.

"fillin' you up, good, aren't i?" and he's lost in a daze, and you watch as his muscles ripple in the light of the moon, pectorals gleaming as he stuffs you further, as if plugging his seed to stay in you, making you squirm from the delicious stimulation.

you should have paid a little more attention to your surroundings. less attention to the thick veins of his cock drilling a home in you. or less attention to how his lips curl up into a sweeter smile as he presses soft, happy kisses to your cheek while you lay exhausted, caged by his thick arms.

then, you might have noticed the lights flicker and then shatter for half the hotel's rooms.

the morning sun peeks through the curtains like an overenthusiastic alarm clock, dragging you out of sleep with its gentle warmth. you stretch lazily, limbs still heavy and sticky from the weight of...the previous night's activities.

the sheets feel ridiculous soft, kudos to the insanely over-priced hotel. and for a second, you entertain the thought of just staying here. forever.

that is, until your eyes fall on raijin's amulet over on the wooden table.

and the fact that gojo is nowhere to be found.

you blink, squinting at the empty space beside you. your first instinct is to check besides the bed, and then under it, for fear that the six-foot three man has simply fallen off.

but your gaze falls on a tiny pink sticky-note on the nightstand. one that you suspect was pilfered from the scattered case file on the couch. you peer at looping cursive, scrawled in a blue marker.

don't eat anything yet! gone to get a proper breakfast!

you can't help the soft huff that leaves you, fond in its escape. you feel this sudden urge to don some proper clothes, to go down and join him in the warm sunlight.

but then you pause. perhaps, you ought not to. it would be fun to let him miss you just a bit. the thought of the gojo satoru standing there, waiting in line for entirely average pancakes is amusement enough for you.

but before you can pull the crisp sheets over your head, your eyes catch a glimpse of something else by the bed. a small, satin-blue box that didn't exist yesterday, in the world of cruel choices and...semi-successful missions.

the memory of yesterday pulls a frown from you, but you shake your head, determined to clear your thoughts.

you reach for it, letting your fingers run over the smooth surface, before tugging at the silver ribbon cautiously. half-expecting to find something weird like gojo's usual idea of a joke like a half-naked framed photo of him with a lipstick print.

ah!

but instead, inside the box lies a thin necklace. you've stared longingly enough at shop windows to know that these are real diamonds. not the cheap kind either, a well-cut carat that makes you gasp to yourself, a flush running over your cheeks.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips. "tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

you pick it up, feeling the cold weight of it in your hand. what is this, romance? a necklace? gojo satoru doesn’t even do romance. at least, not in the way anyone would expect.

he’s the kind of guy who would absolutely get you diamonds just to throw you off balance. mission accomplished.

you glance at the sticky note again, then back at the necklace. this is way too much for your sleep-addled brain. and yet, there’s this funny little thing inside you, a warm spark that you don’t know what to do with.

fuck, when did he even have the time to get this gorgeous gift?

you’re definitely not soft, but gojo does this thing to you — he has a way of turning your whole world upside down, and now…apparently, he’s gone and done it again.

your cheeks warm, but you don't admit to it. not yet. but there's no denying the softer spot that's growing in you, the urge to have gojo satoru in your arms in this very moment so you can run your hands through soft, white hair to watch him purr. to see his cheeks flush from a sweet blush as his blue eyes flutter shut.

your eyes fall on his crumpled uniform jacket from yesterday, his discarded clothes. perhaps, you could just join him. after all, you feel words threatening to spill from your mouth and you want him to hear them.

a surprise of your own? you think you want to see gojo satoru speechless for once.

do not plagiarise or repost! likes and reblogs appreciated. btw, this jenny packham was the dress i envisioned for reader but imagine whatever you like!

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Toji being tied up...

“Have I ever told you what a pretty thing you are?” Toji’s words fall sweetly off his lips, as he tries to reason with you.

“Only a million times but, the blindfold is still going on…” a giggle escapes your lips as your hands come to his head to place it on, careful that it’s not too tight. Standing back to admire the handsome man tied up in a chair, blindfolded in front of you.

Toji is the type of man that would do anything for you. So when you suggest that you tie him up, he happily obliges. Finding the dynamic interesting. Such a big man at the will and mercy of the woman he loves. Restrained and only wearing his boxers. Muscles tense as he adjusts to the rope binding. The sight was truly one of a kind.

You place a soft kiss on his lips causing his arousal to spike. His boner only grows harder at your sudden touches against his hot body. His breath hitches as your hand glides across his heated skin, eliciting a shiver of anticipation that travels up his spine.

“You’re such a tease… I can’t see or touch you now.” Toji complains, a hint of playfulness in his voice. He struggles against the rope, lightly tugging on it to check if it was easy for him to escape. If he really wanted to he could break through them like nothing but he knew better than to upset you.

A smirk appears on your lips at his protests. “Just be a good boy and we’ll both feel good… okay?” You continue to tease the man in front of you, still peppering soft kisses to his cheeks. He can’t deny that this is turning him on. His heart rate is at an all time high at the sensation of your lips. He’s never been the one for submission but the idea of being at your mercy in this state gives him chills and his cock twitches with an almost painful buzz.

“Fine… I'll let you have your fun,” He smirks in your direction. The way his face was still so expressive even with the blindfold on drives you crazy.

Your hand traces all the curves and crevices of his chest, swiftly running your fingers over his sensitive nipples. A jolt of pleasure travels straight to his groin. A gasp leaves his thin lips, as he jerks his hips up. Your hands continues down his abdomen, feeling every muscle tense under you touch as you finally land on his cock.

You begin palming him through the fabric, your hand working meticulously to tease him. Driving him right to the peak before you stop with a smirk. Still not being able to see you, he relies on only sensing what you will do next. “Stop that…” He growls low in his throat, a shudder once again running through him.

“Why…? Are you going to cum?” You whisper into his ear, hoping to get a reaction out of him. “Y-yes… but please…” He groans, his hard chest heaving as he tries to get his words out. “Please what, Baby?” your hand slowly continues its rhythm on his cock. With a heavy breath, he finally tells you what he most desperately needs.

“Fuck me already… please,” He bucks his hips up into your hand again. Itching for some relief for his agonizingly hard cock. The sound of his pleading is like music to your ears. You never thought such sweet sounds and words could come out of someone like him but, here he was. You finally straddle him, pressing your whole body onto him.

His breath falters in his throat as he feels the heat of your body against his. His primal instincts take over as he smells your sweet scent mixed with your arousal. He hears your soft voice so close, telling him how good you're going to make him feel. You wrap your arms around his neck before you begin grinding yourself against his clothed cock.

A deep guttural moan escapes him as he feels the movement of your hips on him. The weight of your body on him finally gives some relief. Toji feels like he could come right then and there. Once again tugging on the ropes, in desperate need to touch your body. He couldn’t break out though, not just yet. He was going to see it through.

You pull down his boxers, his thick cock springing free, slapping his stomach. An angry shade of red at the tip just proving how much you’ve been teasing him. “You like this don’t you?” you ask him, an innocent tone in your words that Toji knew was just to taunt him. You swipe your finger over his tip, collecting his glossy pre cum on it. Toji throws his head back at the sudden touch, he was so sensitive right now and your teasing wasn’t helping.

“What do you want, baby?” you whisper again into his ear. His heart pounds as your words leave him stunned and breathless. Any dignity that he had left disappeared at that moment. “Please… please fuck me already,” he begs with a strained voice, his thighs flex under you. Just proving how much he needs you.

You finally give the poor man what he wants, slipping him into your wet entrance. So slow it’s torturous for him. He inhales sharply when he finally feels himself all inside you. He quivers at the feeling of your warmth, fighting the desire to thrust upwards. He becomes so delirious he could not stop begging you. He wanted you to start moving, his cock couldn’t take anymore teasing. “P-please… ride me… use me please…,” he groans with a tremble in his voice, his face twisting into a mix of desperation and shame as he pleads with you.

How could he beg like that and not give him what he wants. You move yourself up and down him, feeling the way his hard cock molds your insides. The way his tip was hitting just the right spot. Heavy balls filled with hot cum slapping against you everytime you moved down. It's not long before your body betrays you. You wanted to see his fucked out expression in all its glory. With one finger you remove the blindfold, throwing it down the floor.

Green eyes meet your gaze, eyes wide and vulnerable. The intensity of his need for you is almost overwhelming. Still not being able to touch you, he is grateful he can see you now as you ride his cock. His expression full of lust and surrender for you. “Yes… fuck, look at me. See what you do to me woman…,” He pleads with his deep voice, his stare burning you alive from the inside out.

His body tenses and you knew he was close. His own hips now bucking up to meet your movements. The look of admiration in his eyes was starting to fluster you. Your hands slowly drags up to your clit, rubbing it yourself to make sure you orgasm with him. Toji's brain short circuits at the scene unfolding right in front of him. As much as he finds it hot, he wishes it was his fingers pleasuring you. His thrusts become deeper, desperate to cum and finally get his hands on you.

“You feel good baby?” you coo into his ear, as you also approach your high. “Soo good, so good f’me…,” he throws his head back again, feeling you clench around him tighter. “Cum.. cum inside me,” you moan, moving up and down on him faster than before. Your words push him over the edge. A string of curses followed by your name leaves his mouth. Hot spurts of cum fill you up as his body convulses under you. Both of you orgasm in unison.

His head comes to rest on your shoulder, as he tries to catch his breath. Giving you both time to savor the moment before you untie him. All you can do right now is admire the mess you made of him, pressing chaste kisses to his cheek, and thanking him for doing this.

Toji doesn’t know how to react to praise but, his cock sure does. It’s not long before he grows hard again. Your eyes widen as you feel it under you, eyes shooting up to meet his. He gives you a cocky grin when you notice he broke free from the restraints. Lifting you like nothing, he carries you to the bed. Placing you on the bed, he begins to devour you with his eyes.

“My turn now princess…”

Discord. Masterlist.

[k-hotchoisan]

7 minutes in heaven (Mingix fem! Reader)

Synopsis: a game of spin the bottle lands on you and Song Mingi for a dare of 7 minutes in heaven.

Right. We all know what’s coming.

Genre/warnings: sexual tension, sex, obviously, unprotected sex, orgasms, hickeys, cream pies, dirty talk, pet names (princess)

Word count: 2.3K

A/n: I just found out like what 7 minutes in heaven meant from my friends and I was instantly like “it’s basically sex???” Bro she was just tired of me at this point.

Also this is pretty fucking filthy. I would love Song fucking Mingi to ruin me like that too. ❤️

Spin the bottle, spin the fucking bottle.

“Oh come on. Just fucking come!” San whines. “You have me there! And Song Mingi is coming!”

“Song Mingi? Why the hell is he going?” You whip your head at San.

“‘Cause he’s Yunho’s friend?” San answers matter-of-factly, scrunching his eyebrows at you. “And he’s your crush?”

“Oh my god, San. Fuck off”, you wave him off in annoyance. As much as he was right, you hated that he was right. You and Mingi’s friendship started through mutual friends, and for some reason, it seemed that you fell for him during the course of the friendship. And you hated that, because the basis of the friendship was just extreme playfulness and constantly getting on each other’s nerves.

On that one time when Yunho teased Mingi about the both of you being a couple, Mingi smacked Yunho, outright denying any ounce of feelings between the both of you.

So now, it was two things—seething hatred and an ugly crush—the biggest paradox of feelings you’ve ever had. You spent the past few weeks lessening your meet ups with Mingi, and he didn’t question why.

And now suddenly a party that he’s gonna be at? No fucking way. San doesn’t relent though, for some reason he was hell-bent on getting you to come, and he wouldn’t tell you exactly why.

“What would it take for you to come?” San questions as he leans into your shoulder, giving you the puppy eyes that could never out-do Yunho’s.

“Five hundred bucks,” you answer, pinching his nose as he winces in pain, slapping your hand away.

“Yeah right”, San rolls his eyes. “I’ll introduce you to someone, okay?”

That isn’t the main point but you sense San’s sincerity, so you decide to humour him.

Little did you know that it would snowball to whatever had happened.

Your arm is hooked around San as the both of you enter Yunho’s spacious apartment, greeting the people as the both of you slither past them to look for the host. San spots Yunho from a distance and waves to him to get his attention. Yunho turns his head and pats the guy beside him to get his attention.

And it was Mingi.

Mingi has an unreadable expression the moment his eyes land on you, noticing your hand around San’s arm. He gives a small smile as the both of you walk over to greet Yunho.

“Hey. I’m glad you made it”, Yunho greets, giving San a hug as San removes himself from you, and then patting your head. Mingi still has his eyes on you, and you pretend not to notice.

“Yeah, I had to hold her at gunpoint for her to come”, San jokes, using your head as an arm rest. You roll your eyes.

“Damn. You really didn’t want to see me that much?” Yunho asks, pressing his palm against his chest, acting heartbroken. You playfully give him a light shove.

“It’s been awhile, y/n. Nice seeing you again”, Mingi chimes in, giving you a smile. You stare back, exchanging a small smile back at him. It had definitely been a couple of weeks since you contacted him, since the bullshit he spout.

“We’re going to play Spin the Bottle now, and you came just in time for that. San, y/n, you wanna join?”

Your gaze holds Mingi’s, almost challenging him and your grip tightens around San’s arm.

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

A circle quickly forms as everyone sits, there is about seven people in the circle, a mix of girls and guys, including you and Mingi, both of you sitting across each other. The game goes on pretty normally in the first hour, but as the drinks started flowing in, the questions and dares starting getting more spicy.

In the fourth round, the bottle spins, and it lands on Mingi.

“Truth”, Mingi says.

San pushes the question, “Have you liked anyone in the friend group before.”

You don’t catch Mingi’s gaze at you because you were too busy whispering something to San.

“Yeah.” A few “ooohs” echo in the room and you purse your lips in curiosity.

A few rounds later, the bottle spins, and it lands on you.

“Truth”, you say.

Yunho rubs his hands. “Is there anyone in the room that you wanna kiss?”

Fuck. The alcohol was definitely kicking in, but not enough for you drunkenly answer right away. You really wanted to lie.

Everyone had their eyes on you, curious of your answer, especially Mingi. He’s quiet, his gaze piercing into you, and you catch wind of it. Your anxiety slowly dissipates as you decide to be smug with that motherfucker. You know he’s gazing at you, and you hold the stare before shifting your gaze to San, who was fighting for his life with the alcohol, before saying, “Yes.”

Considering that your small gaze towards San wasn’t missed out by majority of the players, they laugh and clap their hands, evidently fooled by you. You smile as you sip your alcohol.

The bottle spins. And it lands on Mingi.

“Dare”, he says, almost too confidently.

Hongjoong immediately pushes, “Seven minutes in Heaven, to whoever the bottle lands on.”

Mingi scoffs, feeling confident, as he reaches for the bottle to spin it.

It spins, and it the neck lands on you. Your eyes widen in shock because you really did not expect that. Mingi has that unreadable expression on his face again, before Hongjoong smacks his back, reminding him of his dare. The players roar in excitement and whistles.

Seven minutes of being trapped in a room with each other.

Your mind is racing, but you tell yourself, anything could happen, including non-sexual things. The both of you could just sit alone together, albeit in a little bit of awkwardness, and just wait for the seven minutes to pass. Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad.

You and Mingi stay seated on the bed of a guest room, not saying anything to each other.

Seven minutes start.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asks after long pause.

“No?” You lie too quickly.

“Then why haven’t you been replying to my texts? We used to hang out so much.”

“I was just busy.”

“Liar.”

You glare at him, and he holds the stare.

“You’re finally looking at me properly”, he says, and your heartbeat ups another notch.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Not really. You couldn’t really blame him, but at the same time, what happened genuinely did make you upset.

“No”, you reply, turning away, only for his fingers grab your chin.

He sighs. “Please stop looking away from me. It’s driving me crazy.”

Good. That’s cause he deserves it. The way his fingers are pressing onto your chin was starting to make you heat up.

“No. It’s mostly a me problem”, you vaguely tell him. “You sure you’re okay with doing this when you have a crush within the friend group?” You ask, as you lie onto the cold sheets.

Mingi doesn’t answer you, but he towers over you, looking at you with some sort of lust and desire—it was looking very dangerous.

“I’ll answer you non-verbally, if I get your consent”, he responds, his breathing getting heavier. You decided to take him on and nod.

He leans in and kisses you, feeling every part of your mouth, as he groans into your mouth. The alcoholic taste lingers, mixed with his saliva, tasted strangely sweet. He pulls your shirt off as you unbuckle his jeans.

The way his wet and leaking cock presses onto his underwear fucking scares you because he was so fucking big. He tugs your bottoms and undergarments off, almost too desperately, then soaking his fingers with his spit as he starts rubbing your clit slowly. Electric pulses through your spine, in pleasure as your back arches, and soft moans are leaving you.

He plunges in both hands when he deems you wet enough and you cry out as his fingers curl into you.

Five minutes.

He continues to fuck you with his fingers and you hands claw his arms, desperate for something more hotter, and bigger.

He pulls out, leaving you clenching at nothing. Mingi’s underwear is removed way too quickly and you gasp at his length and girth. He was not fucking around. He wraps his hands around his cock and pumps it a few times, giving you a small show of his groans and small bucking hips.

Four minutes.

Mingi lift your legs to his shoulder as you lay on your side as he slides his cock into you, before fucking you into the bed, his grunts and moans filling up the room. Fuck. His cock is too fucking big. It’s just dragging against every single nerve in your wall. Your hands were gripping onto the sheets, as you fail to keep your composure, and your moans.

“Fuck. You’re so tight”, Mingi exhales as he pulls out before slamming into you again as he drinks your whimpers and cries. “So fucking good.”

He lets your leg fall, and he fucks you from behind, his hands gripping your hips. Your limbs were starting to feel numb from the pleasure. He stops for a second before grabbing your waist, to put your back to lie against his chest. This only fucks up your sanity because his cock was stuffing your wet and abused cunt from the bottom.

“Mingi, it’s too much—fuck—so fucking big”, you cry out, your mind going hazy as he sucks against the skin on your neck. Your head was lolled back, and your eyes are rolled back too, feeling nothing but the sensation of Mingi’s cock going in and out of your hole, as you cream on his cock. Fuck, it felt like heaven.

“Such a good girl. Keep moaning for me”, Mingi hums as he, himself, also was struggling to form coherent thoughts as you were squeezing him out. His moans were trapped in your head because his lips were close to your ear. His fingers pinching your nipples before slapping your cunt gently, causing you to squeal and tighten around him and his voice goes up and octave.

“We have three more minutes,” Mingi says, his eyes glancing at the small timer facing the both of you. “We should really at least finish it with something good—like this”, he says as pushes into you so deeply and your body becomes paralysed, his cock slightly bulging your abdomen, your mouth is open but no sound is coming out. Your thighs tremble as tears pool at the corner of your eyes. Your pussy flutters around his cock as your orgasm hits you in waves. Mingi thrusts in you shallowly, his full cock still deep in you.

“Y/n, you’re creaming so much. It feels so fucking good. I’m gonna cum too, Princess”, he encourages, rubbing your clit in slow circles, tightening another knot in your abdomen.

Two minutes.

Mingi just wants to continue fucking into you until he’s satisfied, and once you feel his cock twitch in you, you know he’s close.

“So tell me, who was it did you want to kiss between the guys?” He suddenly asks, slowly decelerating his thrusts, and you were about to lose your fucking mind.

“Was it Choi fucking San?” He asks, his fingers cupping your chin to ensure you face him. He smiles, loving how fucked out you looked, ruined by him. “Tell me, princess.”

He pulls out in such a slow and painful speed that your thighs tremble from the way his cock just drags against your walls.

His grip on your cheeks lower to your neck, and he gently squeezes.

“Answer me”, he demands.

One minute.

“Fuck—it’s you. It’s fucking Song Mingi!” You cry out, craving his cock to fill you up like cockslut you were.

His eyes grow wild as he lets go of your throat , his hands slithering to your bottom of your thighs, spreading them even more as he bottoms out in you, slamming his cock right into you until you start seeing fucking stars behind your eyelids.

“Good girl. Take my fucking cum”, he says as he fucks into you one more time, his cock squirting strings of cum right into your pussy as your second orgasm overwhelms you, leaving you whimpering and shaking from the overstimulation as Mingi empties in you.

The timer goes off, the alarm annoyingly loud. Mingi gingerly pulls out of you as you twitch, and lets your head rest on the pillows. Your cunt was still throbbing, as it flutters at nothing while Mingi’s cum leaks out of you. He looks at you and smirks, like you are his favourite masterpiece. He inches forward and presses his lips onto yours as he strokes your hair.

“That’s my princess. I think it’s pretty obvious but I like you. I really, fucking like you”, he confesses. As you were about to reply through half-lidded eyes, the door knocks.

Mingi pulls the sheets over you before answering the door. Yunho had his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. He spots you heaving softly against the guest bed and immediately puts two and two together.

“She’s not playing anymore,” Mingi answers, blocking his view.

Yunho scoffs. “Took the both of you fucking long enough. The tension was crazy. We’re going to get more drinks so the both of you can continue your own little game.”

Mingi laughs as Yunho leaves, before shutting the door behind him.

He stares at you, curled up in bed, still looking dazed, and walks over to you. He pulls the sheets off, and a mix of his cum and your arousal just dripping past your inner thighs, red flushing your ass and your cheeks.

Mingi licks his lips, suddenly hungry again as he towers over you to spread your legs once more, pushing in a finger way too easily, the sounds of his cum squelching out of your pussy as your eyes roll back again. His fingers cup your chin, forcing you to face his lustful gaze.

“Seven minutes are up but now we’ve got all the time in the world, princess. I’ll show what real heaven feels like.”

[yanderestarangel]

"My heart belongs to you alone..."

TW: insecurities, jealousy, reader has trust issues, make-up sex, dom!bi han, praise, v!sex, ftm reader, rough sex, smut, little angst, afab anatomy.

⸺ Your insecurity was never new to him, however, Bi Han didn't really understand why you doubted his conduct and fidelity, but he was an understanding man, who loved you and understood that certain aspects would have to be worked on in your core - From past relationships, he was proud of you and even if he didn't say it verbally, his heart cried out for every piece of you... However, not even the cyromancer's solid passion and love stopped you from feeling hurt and insecure again.

Your jealousy and doubts were so visible that it even hurt, especially when you saw several people - new ninja recruits - trying to flirt with the grandmaster, you tried to control yourself, tried to control that underlying sadness that was trying to climb back into your mind and dope your senses...

But it was too late, especially when I saw some of them whispering about how much they wanted to sleep with their man. Bi Han wasn't stupid and he knew they were trying to flirt with him, he wanted to be a polite leader but that disgusted him, especially because he said several times that you were his partner, but it didn't help and it was too much for you to bear - when he realized you had already left for home which led him to cancel the rest of the training for the next day and go run after you, you were his number one priority.

⸺ Your body was lying on the bed, wrapped like a snail in several sheets, while the copious crying was audible, sub zero was a patient man... But at that moment, he knew that words wouldn't help enough, so he decided to act, act in the best way you could think of - taking the sheets off you with a quick movement, and forcing you to look deep into his eyes, "-Look at me." he ordered sternly, your eyes boring into his, seeking understanding.

"-Do you really believe that I would betray you like that?" His tone softened slightly. "-I chose you because you make me feel alive again. Because you bring light back to my dark world. Do you understand?" This time, he didn't even wait for a response from you, forcefully tearing any fabric that still prevented him from seeing your pretty pussy in his hungry eyes.

You babbled incoherent thoughts to him, letting your insecurities speak louder, which made Bi Han angry. With a violent movement of his hips, he buried himself completely inside you, moaning deeply as he did so - He gave you a light armbar on your neck - reaching down, he slapped your ass hard enough to make you scream before returning to his merciless pace.

Bi-Han grew in frustration, seeing you continue crying because you were insecure, but he held you in place, even if painfully, his cock throbbing against your cunt. "-You know that's not true baby boy...," he snarled, his free hand reaching between your legs to roughly rub your clit through - He began to thrust faster, harder than before, asserting his dominance over you both physically and emotionally.

His pace didn't slow down even as tears continued to trickle down your cheeks, staining the sheets beneath you. "-Listen to me boy." he commanded between heavy breaths. "-I choose you every fucking time. No matter what anyone else says or thinks, it doesn't change how I feel about you." His pace didn't falter, if anything, it intensified.

His hips bucked faster, harder, driving him deeper into your tight channel. Your moans turned into high-pitched whimpers, muffled by the hold on your throat. "-You are beautiful," he growled, his voice hoarse with need. "-Oh- So fucking beautiful... How could I change you? How could I leave you for someone else- You are my husband, goddamnit! And don't you dare forget it!" As he spoke, he began to thrust deeper and harder, pounding into you relentlessly.

The combination of pleasure and pain was overwhelming, causing new tears to well up in your eyes. But despite the carnal and mental pain, something inside you calmed down and you relaxed a little, as you looked directly into his eyes - He moaned deeply, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss. "-That's a good boy... Cum, cum for me, my angel." Sub-zero groaned deeply, his cock twitching violently inside you as your orgasm washed over him - he followed suit seconds later, filling your pussy with hot cum.

His hips continued to rock back and forth for a few moments before he finally released his hold on your throat, allowing you to gasp for air - panting heavily, he turned to look at you, you both sweaty bodies intertwined in a mess of flesh and fluids. "-That was... intense," he managed between heavy breaths. "-But I think we both needed that... Never forget that I love you... never despise yourself again, I love you, I fucking love you."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[lizzy019]

𝒮𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓇.

Dallas Winston x Brat!Fem!Reader

cw -> drug intake (cigarettes), degradation, missionary (?), forced submission is implied, minor injuries, overstimulation

Word Count -> 2.3K

This is such a toxic idea 🤤🤤 I got a lil carried away too 0.0

The dingo was packed tonight, and Dally had plans to go and hang out with some of his other friends so he wouldn’t be left out of all the fun.. plus drinks and money. So when he alerted you on his hangout and when he’d come home, you immediately pounced on the idea of joining him for drinks and fun. It wasn’t like you had anything spectacular you wanted to do in the evening anyway.

Dally had a hard time saying no to you, and with your persistence and aggressive attitude toward the subject, inevitably he caved in. Soon you both were dressed and ready to leave, and that’s when everything kicked in. Your competitive nature sprung forward when you arrived at the Dingo, a group of rugged greasers playing poker alongside you and Dallas.

It was silent most of the time, the occasional disappointed grunt or angry huff was all that was to be heard for the longest time. Until you found yourself internally cheering when you found out a way to win. It was then when you placed the card down when your turn circled by, winning the game while smirking ferociously at your victory. The money was handed to you, and the total had come to about $145.

Dally was practically hollering out in joyousness that you’d won, what an amazing champ you were, and all in all acting like a sweet idiot with the way you had gotten the money. Fair and square too! You split it in half with him, $72.50 each.

Excited with your luck, you presumed that you’d win another round if you played again. So that was what you did. The cards were shuffled and handed out, the player on your left started the game and everyone had taken their rightful turns. A card here, an annoyed huff in response, another card, on and on. You were sure you were going to win, and with the cards you had, you didn’t doubt yourself in the least!

Until.. someone else had placed down their cards and smirked, taking the money on the table rightfully and counting it gleefully. Smugly, almost. You were enraged, your cards were slapped down onto the table before you paid your portion and stomped out in disbelief. You almost had it!

Dally followed you shortly, chuckling when he saw you flail to pull out a cigarette. He couldn’t lie, seeing you angry was one of the things he enjoyed most. It brought him a sense of direction, how your thought process was and how he could maneuver it to get an advantage out of it.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart, it was just a little game. We still got money outta it.” He tried to coax you, tease you to further aggravate you. Luckily for him, it worked out in his favor.

A grumpy expression graced your features, the money in your hand becoming rather futile to aid in your anger and disdain as you walked swiftly to his vehicle. Maybe it was your over competitive nature, or maybe it was just the fact that you lost the opportunity to get a good chunk of money, but you tried to mask your discontentment with “I don’t care.”

The car ride to Buck’s was awfully silent, the only noise heard was Dally’s breathing and the sound of the car’s engine pushing to drive you both to your destination. Once you had arrived where you were supposed to be, you hopped out of the car first and stomped your way in, not really waiting for Dally as you entered past Buck.

Dallas had to apologize for you, following behind in a light jog before his hand cupped your waist to stop you from running away further. He had started to find your disappointment for losing rather annoying as time passed, but he tried not to make you angrier by putting you on the spot about it.

“Sweetheart, stop runnin’, I don’t like cardio.” Dally hummed, giving your rear a soft squeeze as he led you upstairs to where his apartment was.

The place reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, all of Buck’s place did. Regardless of it, you found yourself being forcefully seated onto Dally’s mattress as he changed out of his regular jeans and shirt to some lounge clothing, your eyes watching the sight with rapt attention. From his lean body to the way his cock so effortlessly showed through his boxers, you knew he’d call you some kind of pervert for looking, so your gaze shifted back to your lap.

Dally had finished dressing, taking out a cigarette and lighting it before offering you a drag. You happily accepted, taking a small drag and huffing out the excess while handing it back to him. Tobacco always soothed you.

With tender hands, Dally gestured for you to lift your arms so he could take your sweatshirt off.

You did as instructed, hands raised as he lifted the fabric off of you to leave you in a simple tank top. It was out of comfort, and outside was always cold anyway during the nights in Tulsa. You always tried to act tuff and not fear the cold, and yet every night you went out, you went back to Dally’s shivering. But what could he tell you? You were stubborn anyway.

With a tired expression, you found yourself getting into Dally’s bed to sleep on for the night. Not like he’d mind anyway. And with that, you nestled yourself into his bed, cheek pressed to the mattress as you let him sleep on the one pillow he had. Sure, you were his girlfriend and typically were more greedy, but he was just as tired, if not more than you were.

Dallas had plopped himself beside you, face on his pillow as he squished out the cigarette bud of his since it was redesignated useless, and his arm draped over your waist to bring you closer. It was comfy, and oddly warm with his body heat crossing over to mingle with your own.

Soft kisses were pressed to your facial features, nose, forehead, lips, cheekbones, and wherever else was available for him to gently peck his lips. You reciprocated gladly, a hand of yours moving to gently hold his abdomen and making sure he didn’t pull away too early.

Your lips had found his in your haze, gently pressing and molding around his until your lips seemed to fit perfectly together. Your hand that rested upon his abdomen was used as leverage to push his back to the mattress, your own body crawling atop his until your legs straddled his hips. The kiss continued on, engulfing your senses until you were simply fuelled on Dally’s taste.

While Dally wasn’t quite used to being dominated before, he let you have this one. His hands quickly found your asscheeks, gripping them through the fabric of your jeans and squeezing like they were his lifeline. In a way, it felt like they were.

Tongues began to entwine and twirl around each other’s, creating a symphony of soft hums escaping you both while you both greedily grabbed at each other. You had to break the kiss so you could take off your shirt, tantalizingly slow, before your bra was unclipped and your supple breasts were shown to him as his prize for waiting.

Dally’s hands immediately found their way to them, using his palms to rub their entirety while his fingers squeezed gently at the soft flesh, making his indulgent grasp only further cling to you. You could only smirk with faux malice, your body shifting away from his greedy hands as you found yourself teasing the cock hidden in his jeans from the exterior. Your nimble fingers traced across the small bulge forming in the confines of the denim, a small smirk gracing your lips as you slowly, agonizingly slowly unzipped his jeans.

“Excited for me just from some kissing? You little bitch, I didn’t think you were so desperate for me.” You chided, taking his half erect cock into your palm, fingers wrapping around it with a good pressure before bobbing your hand up and down to pump his needy cock.

Dally had soft moans escaping his puffy pink lips, his hips trying to meet yours as the small puff of pubic hair grinded against your hand. It was a desperate attempt to get the pleasure he seeked from you, and he knew how pathetic he looked.

“Sweetheart, you were jus’ so pretty when angry. So hot when you were fumin’ over losin’ the stupid game..” He moaned softly, watching your hand move and glide so effortlessly on his cock. Well, maybe the reason it was so effortless was because his poor urethra was oozing precum and aiding your ministrations.

This had caught your attention, his reasoning for why he was all over you. However, your pause was enough for him to make your world flip over, your back being heavily pressed into the mattress as he adjusted himself on top of you. Soon, you felt hands fumbling over your jeans and its button, the noise of the zipper being quite loud in the now rather silent room as he chucked off your pants and undergarments in one motion.

Dally’s fingers had found their way to your exposed pussy, fingers pushing past your vulva and penetrating into your awaiting core. This pulled a moan from your chest, head being thrown back onto the pillow as your hips lazily tried to meet his hand.

“Oh, Dally! Fuck yeah, put those fingers in me!” You ululated, a soft mewl stringed with your last few words as you tried to be that power bottom your ego said you were.

His expression turned a little solemn, and he almost instantly pulled out to smear your arousal liquid onto his mouth. It was a silent way of showing how he was in control, and how he wanted you to listen to him now.

You whimpered quietly when his cock was angled at your entrance, your features becoming more furrowed and nervous until his tip pressed against your labia until he pushed with enough force to get the head of his cock into your awaiting cunt.

With sloppy, uncaring thrusts, Dally began his little journey with you to see if you could find heaven on Earth. His cock thoughtlessly kissed your cervix as if trying to find its way inside, only to be forced back out when your body reacted instinctively and pushed him out. This caused a sinister grin to form on Dally’s lips, his teeth showing in a vicious manner.

He adjusted his position, hovering overtop you in a half plank with one hand in your hair and the other stabilizing himself as he rutted his hips into yours. Little memories repeated in his head of your anger-filled tone, the way your eyebrows furrowed when you got angry or the way your attitude flew up every time you got too frustrated with his teasing or something else. He loved when you got upset, the way you handled your anger had him losing his ever-loving mind.

Your nails dug thin roads into his back and shoulders, your legs swung around his hips and made sure he couldn’t pull away. The cord in your lower tummy began to tighten so gleefully, as if expecting some grand surprise at a finish line. No, your poor pussy was getting its hopes up.

“Dal- oh Dally! Fuck, there! Yes!” You whined and mewled, thrashing as your body found itself right on the edge of sweet toe-curling release.

Dally couldn’t help but move his hips a tad faster, watching your body squirm and writhe from his movements, the helpless sounds escaping you were all too pretty for him to stop. Soon enough, he felt your pussy walls pulsating with your rapid heartbeat, it was a signal that you were right there at that ecstasy level and just needed a push to send you over.

So what did he do?

His rough hand came down to find your clit and he captured the sweet hard bud in between the pads of his index and thumb, tweaking it just right until you came. Like a vice grip, your walls seized onto his cock, holding onto him for dear life as your fingertips dug little crescent shapes into his back.

Dallas didn’t stop there however, no. He needed his release too, sweetheart.

So with overstimulated whines and cries, he kept pistoning his hips to yours, pelvic bones hitting each other’s until after a good few moments, he ended up shooting his seed into your welcoming womb.

His body weight dropped atop you in his haze, arms curling slowly around you as he let his cum simmer in your hole for a bit before pulling out. The overstimulation had a soft whimper escaping him, but he found himself too relaxed with your arms around his back to quite care.

“Ahh, sweetheart, that was amazin’. We gotta do that more often, yeah?” He hummed happily in your embrace, face finding purchase in your warm neck and he pressed the softest kiss to your warm flesh.

“Yeah, I like that idea. It’s the best one you’ve ever had, Dal!” You teased, hearing him scoff. You smiled, bringing the blanket to cover you both.

“Anyways, you get some sleep, y’hear?” You murmured, gently scratching his scalp to ease him some more until he nodded and proceeded to succumb to the strengths of his exhaustion.

Not long after, you found your own eyes fluttering shut and all the noises around you to become quiet until it was just Dally’s rhythmic breathing keeping you soothed. The blackness of sleep was comforting with Dallas, you’d come to realize.

But it wasn’t like your ego would admit it.

[myimaginarywonderland]

I present to you:

Tommy and Josh are friends. Somehow after some calls they got friendly and at one point decided to just hang out after exchanging numbers and texting for a while. They clicked. They found out they both were gay and it's so easy to finally have a friend that gets it.

So at one of their hangouts after the hurrican thing Tommy talks about the stunt the 118 pulled and he is like making fun before he talks about this guy being a literal golden retriever, trying to encourage the them and Josh just laughs and says "That's Buck alright." And Tommy just slowly turns to Josh with a look, a look that Josh has come to know and Josh goes "No Tommy, no."

And Tommy is all like "I didn't even say anything!"

And Josh is like "I get it trust me. First few times I meet him, I also crushed but that man is straight and also a giant idiot. His heart is too big and he wouldn't know how to turn you down. As his friend, I am telling you do not."

And Tommy goes "fine" and then they continue on with Tommy telling Josh about meeting up with Eddie and Josh makes a joke about the two army guys obviously bonding.

Cut to like three weeks later (They have both had different shift schedules and Josh has helped Maddie with the wedding) and they meet up after the restaurant date and Josh can sense something is wrong with his friend.

He wants to probe but Tommy just says "Thought I had a chance with a cute guy bit turns out he wasn't ready for something" and Josh gets it. He's been there, it sucks sometimes and he just offers his friend a shoulder to lean.

Another two weeks pass and when they meet up again Tommy is smiling. Like his nose scrunch smile which he only does when he is really smitten and Josh has truly only seen it once. So he immediately goes into questioning mood but Tommy just laughs and says "You know that cute guy? I think he is ready" but he won't elaborate further. And Josh is trying but Tommy just keeps giving vague answers and wow, Josh truly has never seen Tommy like this and feels a swell of happiness because whoever has his friend smiling like that better be good and worth it.

Josh also coincidentally has a meet up with the Buckley-Han family (they are already married to him basically) and he notices how Buck is glancing at his phone a lot and having this goofy smile and wow. He makes a joke about Buck having found a new girlfriend and Buck sort of freezes and now Josh feels bad but then he smiles such a soft smile it kind of hits him in the chest when he says "I am seeing someone and I am really happy." Cut to Chim wanting to probe but Buck not bugging and Josh just feeling happy for his friend. Maddie suddenly turns and ask "Did you want to bring them to the wedding?" and Buck kind of sheepishly replies "I already invited them." And Maddie softly chuckles talking about how gone her brother is and Josh is suddenly aware that Buck is using only they/them which isn't weird but it's not how Buck usually talks.

And Chim pipes up and says "With how much time you have been spending talking complaining about Tommy before, I have no idea where you suddenly got a date" and OMG.

Buck flushes a bit, Maddie laughs and Josh slaps a hand over his mouth to stop a giggle coming out.

Buck notices of course he does and when they are done later he pulls Josh aside and wants to talk but Josh just throws himself at Buck, hugging him.

"If you break his heart as his friend I have to hurt you. But as your friend, I couldn't be more happier for you" to which Buck kind of melts, chuckles and returns the hug.

On the way home, after some more heartfelt words because he knows how difficult and hard this can be, Josh stops the car at Tommy's flat, knocks up a storm and pushes past Tommy only to explode in the hallway as soon as the door is closed.

"YOU ARE DATING EVAN BUCKLEY AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME!"

And Tommy is a bit flabbergasted and laughs to which Josh kind of gets upset and says "I love you, I am fully in support of your relationship, I couldn't be happier, he is a catch but damn, are you telling me I could have had a chance?"

Which just causes a ridiculous laughing and giggling fit between two grown ass adults that Josh and Tommy will be happy to deny ever happened.

[cjlouwho]

Well, I was waiting for the more recent ep of 911 to come out to see how it was handled, but I've finally submitted my criticsm to abc. I think I covered all the bases:

I have been a fan of 911 since the show first aired and I was happy when the abc picked up the show after it looked like the show might be cancelled after season 6. However I must say, I have been steadily getting more and more disappointed with the show in that time. While the big disasters are certainly fun and flashy, the personal stories for the all main characters seem to be recycled from previous seasons and their characters don't seem to be experiencing any growth. The only story line I have been interested in since the start of season 7 is that of Buck. His bisexuality arc, while it did at first come as a surprise to me, soon made me realise that this had been telegraphed as part of his character for a while, and I was excited to see where this might lead for him. His relationship with Tommy as well, had me excited as to Buck's growth, as it looked like he was finally maturing as a character and I was looking forward to finally witnessing a new relationship within the show as well as a new character, both of which had the potential of finally bringing some fresh stories to the table.

While I was highly disappointed in the dissolving of the relationship because I was a fan of the pairing, and the waste of the potential stories the show could have brought us, it was the handling of the breakup that was most upsetting.

For starters, it really highlighted the lack of story cohesion. It showed either the writers couldn't be bothered or just didn't care to research their characters or the show's timelines to make sure the story make sense. Episode 8x06 was just a mess of storytelling, and the characters we saw didn't even match the ones we saw in just the episode prior. It felt very much like it was written for shock value with very little thought put into it other than they just wanted Buck single again.

I also understand that there are many people in the queer community who have been very disappointed in the handling of this story line, and while I am not queer, I understand where they are coming from because I feel it too. The show's inability to outright declare that Buck is bisexual, and even after the most recent episode, the constant insinuation that someone who is bisexual needs to "explore" in order to know themselves is a stereotype that is quite frankly, disgusting and outdated. (I was personally insulted at the mindset that someone's "first can't be their last" as I felt it was a slap in the face to the many couples, both straight and queer, who's first *is* their last.)

But what has been even more disappointing is the care - or lack of - that the show seems to have towards their actors - specifically the guest actors who play Buck and Eddie's love interests. There are a small group of fans who believe that Buck and Eddie will end up together, and for years they have been harassing 911 fans who don't agree with them, the show's writers and any actor who plays a love interest they feel "gets in the way of their ship". Lou Ferrigno Jr especially appears to have copped far worse than any so far, even having death threats sent to both him and his family from these people, yet there has never been a single mention from any of the showrunners asking these "fans" to stop. Despite the writers implying in interviews that Buck and Eddie ("buddie") will never happen (and Ryan Guzman (Eddie) saying that his character is straight), I feel the writers need to directly state they have no plans to take the characters in this direction, or at the very least, call out these people and state that in no uncertain terms that this behaviour is unacceptable in order to try and put a stop to the harassment that, in particular, these actors are recieving for simply doing their job. However the fact that neither of these things have happened gives me reason to believe that the showrunners are perfectly happy stringing along these fans because keeping these few viewers to maintain ratings is more important than protecting their supporting cast. And as I am someone who takes mental health seriously, especially within the workplace, I feel I can no longer in good conscience support the show. Which is a shame, as like I have said I have been watching from the very beginning, but as long as the show refuses to let the characters evolve, keeps reinforcing harmful stereotypes and won't do anything to protect their staff from bullying (because as history has shown, if they try to bring in someone else as a new love interest for either Buck or Eddie, those poor actors will receive the same vile harassment from the "fans" that Lou received) I am not inspired to watch.

Please do better.

So glad you wrote in!! Thank you 💕💕💕

[catiuskaa]

Yeah, Flowers Follow.

You have always been committed to your duty at your mom's flower shop since she got hurt carrying bags of dirt over a month ago. It was mostly just you and the flowers, until he barged in one day, slapped 20 bucks on the countertop and with a passive-aggressive tone, asked: "How do I say fuck you in flower?"

because seo changbin + fluff will always have me in a chokehold. And a flower au? fuck yea, bring it on, babe.

inspired by this pin which I'll link here

edit: omg guys you loved this so much I just couldn't resist making a part two, still, this can be read as a stand-alone, although I hope you guy's like this one as much as its 'second part', which I'll link here

Word count: 5k. Binnie isn't mean, ok? He's just emo and tough-looking. And kinda introverted. fluff fluff fluff. swearing. kinda horny towards the end, but no spice added. Lol

You wiped your sweat from your forehead, rolling your sleeves up with a huff as you took back in your hands a big old water can. You watered the lilies and small ivies that remained outside of the flower shop, quickly waddling back inside for more water.

Your mother was usually the one who took care of Lilac, the flower shop. At first, it had been her and your aunties, but it all flew away after your grandma's passing. You had been young, so much that your memories of the time were mostly made of blurry faces that were not present in your life to this day. Your mom had been okay taking care of the small flowery world she built, but an accident with a heavy bag of dirt over a month ago made you complain. She reluctantly let you handle the store until her back got better, which was coming along slowly.

After watering the plants, sweeping the floor, pruning the bonsais, and preparing the several bouquet orders you had for the day, you ran out of things to do, settling to play some jazzy music while you reviewed your class’ notes as you waited for clients.

Your evening was quite calming. Clients came in like droplets, so the shop never felt too crowded. Most of them asked for flowers for their loved ones, some even speaking about their partners, how they had met, or the dates they were excited to have.

It was cute. You had always been fond of the small flower shop and shared the interest with your mom, reason why you didn't care about taking the lead for a while or doing your homework there. You loved the way the flowers brought people together, and the stories and meanings that they had behind them.

Just as you figured out the answer to that one question you had been stuck on, the bell rang, indicating someone's presence inside. Someone that approached you in a rather passive-aggressive manner.

"How can I say 'fuck you' in flower?"

Words that you had never imagined coming out of someone's mouth —which was something, considering the wide range that your imagination could reach sometimes—.

You carefully observed the man's gestures, who didn't stop scanning the place. Years spent helping out at the flower shop had given you a kind of sixth sense, one that allowed you to easily see through people's appearances.

"Do you have anything in mind, or do you not care as long as it is full of loathing?" You inquired with a sweet smile.

Changbin found himself suddenly falling into the harmony of your eyes without realizing it. You quickly left the books on the shelf under the counter, lowered the music and turned to him. Your eyes rested on his, brown and limpid, to which he adopted a belligerent posture in response, an action that —to his surprise— did not unsettle you. He quickly shook his head, focusing on the anger that remained inside of him.

"Make it striking. Something so colourful that can even hurt to look at." You giggled.

"Intense." He held back a smile, his lips twitching. "One second."

He stared at your figure as you went to the small workshop behind the counter. The feeling that Changbin had at first had nothing to do with what he was perceiving at that time. A pleasant floral smell, mixed with mint and lavender essence filled the building. It wasn't only the exquisite aroma that captivated the man, but the beautiful colourful landscape that that small establishment hid. The white wood decoration made any bouquet or flower pot stand out as if it were the icing on a cake. The large windows allowed a large amount of light to enter, and they gave amplitude to the small place.

It was a beautiful place, but strange. Peculiar, for sure, and it was due to the chromatic order of its flowers. Sorted by colour scale, regardless of the species. The red roses were with the poppies, the tulips with the clivias and the orange jasmines. The ferns, aloe vera and fittonias were also together, despite having nothing to do with each other. The coves, cherry blossoms and hydrangeas shared a common space that at first glance, they should not have. It was a beautiful chaos, but it was still a floral hustle and bustle.

"Do you like it?" You asked sweetly when you came back.

"It's not bad." He replied vaguely. "It's..." Ravishing "...small."

From his attitude and the way he studied the place, almost as if he expected some kind of danger to appear among the pots and leaves, some would say he was not to be messed with, but to you, he looked like someone rather shy and quite sceptical, nothing to do with what he might seem as, considering that tattooed bad-guy build and the killer stare that he carried around. A thought occurred that his somewhat murderous look did not allow him to say what he really thought.

Nevertheless, you could agree with him. Not only was it a small store, but it was a disarray of varieties. Nevertheless, to Changbin, above all, feeling watched all the time was something he was used to, yet your stare felt different, making him feel more goosebumps the longer he was under your eager gaze. He couldn't help it, but when you looked at him so kindly, he felt strange.

He wanted you to stop looking at him.

"Orders arrive on Wednesdays," you mentioned, already arranged behind the counter. "Shop opens at nine, so feel free to arrive whenever. I will need more flowers for your bouquet, so until then, I'm afraid I can't have it. Either that or..."

Changbin interrupted you. He couldn't stand to have those deep-coloured eyes immersing in his own.

"Wednesday is fine." He said in a huff.

You smiled, dimples on display. "Okay! Then as long as you stop by on Wednesday, we can arrange the bouquet. I'll be here, spraying water to the chrysanthemums, alliums and hydrangeas."

Changbin felt his chest tighten, his eyes wandering around your features, your dimples, your lips. He stopped himself, took back his cash almost in a hurry, and left almost as quickly as he had arrived.

"See you then, and thanks for shopping in Lilac!"

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

Wednesday. The delivery truck was parked on the street facing the back of the store to unload the flowers you had ordered for the week.

To your surprise, Mystery —the nickname you had chosen for him, that sounded way better than 'fuck you flower boy'— came back precisely at nine am, and again, surprisingly enough, he wasn't alone.

He looked way more relaxed with his friend, the anger that almost shocked you looking long gone as his features didn't remain tense.

The bell rang as you were preparing the workshop for the arrival of the many flowers.

"Wow, this place is lit." His friend had good taste, judging by what you could hear.

"Thank you!" You mentioned with a cheeky smile, startling both men when you came out of nowhere. "Sorry, the truck’s outside, but I’ll be here in a minute."

You approached the delivery guy, who was opening the truck and setting the ramp so lowering the different flowers wouldn’t be too hard.

“Hey, Jerry!”

A comfortable chat took place between the two, who had met each other several times ever since your mom got hurt.

Inside, another conversation was happening. “Remind me, what are we waiting for, buddy?” Han asked as he wandered about in the colourful building.

Changbin sighed, frustrated at the reminder.

“The boss said something the other day I didn’t like. As a matter of fact, I despised it,” he grunted. “He looked at my desk and saw the bouquet I kept there, the one we got for that other show, you know?” Han hummed, paying attention. Weirdly enough, Seo’s eyes never left the backdoor you had gone through, not even when he continued. “So he mentioned how untidy my desk looked, how disgusting it would look when the flowers died, and hinted that flowers would look way better in his studio. It made me fucking angry. I don’t care if no one likes you that much to give you pretty flowers.” Han cleared his throat, allowing Changbin to return from his hating cloud. “Yeah. Uh. So we’re here to plan his bouquet.”

“Sheesh, I get that. The boss can be such an asshole sometimes.” Jisung mentioned vaguely. “But why nine am?”

Because I needed the excuse to see her. “I want to get this over with. If I’m lucky, he’ll even brag about the flowers.” He smirked, hiding his true intentions.

He suddenly heard some giggles through the door you had crossed. Han arched his brows.

“So you offered to pay for coffee and takeaway tonight for me just so I’d come with you here only to get flowers for the big man? Really?” He said, faking innocence as he settled his elbows on the counter, holding his cheeks in his hands, almost like a toddler.

He gave Han a side-eye. He shrugged. “Give me one more sign, and I might start thinking that…”

Bin covered his mouth. “Don��t. And that also goes to don’t lick it, or I’ll make sure Minho air fries you.”

Jisung lifted his hands, giving up. “I wonder what’s going on back there.” He smirked, teasing.

Changbin didn't want to flutter around you two, but he knew that putting the flowers in the store wasn’t that hard. He clenched his jaw unconsciously.

"If I had known that you were looking for an employee, I would have come running," said the boy, putting his cap back. “If you are looking for more staff, you know where I am.”

"It's very kind of you, but I never looked for anyone in the first place. Mom wouldn’t even dare to accept it,” you laughed. “Also, I wouldn't bother you knowing that you have your own trade. In addition, I get to put my skills to the test, but I can get quite moody sometimes. I bite, you know.”

He arched an eyebrow. "Don't worry about any of that. Working with you would be a thousand times better than distributing flowers throughout the city.”

Maybe it had been how you laughed or the snarky reply he had just heard, but Changbin needed that man to leave. Now.

Your eyes landed on that buff silhouette who entered the inside of the truck. Seo continued to unload the flowers. You tried to finish the conversation, but the guy wouldn’t stop talking while there was a client of yours doing your fucking job. You grew tired of Jerry, and you got up inside the trunk, willing for the man to take a hint and leave already.

Han couldn’t believe his eyes.

"Oh, please don't," Jerry went up too. "I'll take care of moving the plants.”

"Don't worry, it's the last one.” You tiredly smiled at him.

You took the remaining bouquet and got out of the truck behind Seo while the delivery guy wondered when the flowers had been unloaded. You quickly said your goodbyes before you returned to the counter.

"Thank you for lowering the flowers, it was not your job yet you did it anyways,” you smiled shyly as you started preparing the table in front of you with different sorts of labels plus the diferent tools you needed. “Sorry for the wait.”

“You’re fine. Don’t worry.”

Han stared blankly at the man who scolded him singlehandedly every day he was late to the studio just by a minute. He then stared back at you, then at his friend.

No bloody way. Holy shit.

"For your order, I found something the other day I though you might enjoy," your smile widened, your eyes like crescent moons as you handed him a small book.

“Oh.”

It was an old copy of a book that read “The Language of Flowers.”

“Maybe you could search up in the insults chapter if you see any meaning that you think could suit.”

He looked at you and quickly back to the book so he wouldn’t drift away in your eyes like days ago.

“Yeah, fine.”

Changbin was not very talkative, but the bitter tone with which he spoke was unusual. Han could tell, years of knowing the man allowed him to feel a bad mood in the way he communicated. His gaze was more frivolous than usual, and he squeezed his lips as if he didn't want to say anything. Shockingly to him, you noticed and were unable to let it go.

"Is something wrong?" You questioned softly. “Are you upset?”

Changbin hesitated. Han gave him a soft kick where he knew you wouldn’t see it.

“Yes.”

You started slowly writing in the labels before you as he, at the same pace, passed the pages.

"May I know why?"

Changbin cleared his throat. Shit, why was he so nervous?

"That guy was just talking, and that's why I had to do his job,” he grunted.

"I... I'm sorry." You looked down, sounding sincere. “If I hadn't given him a conversation, he would have started unloading the flowers.”

It wasn't true, and Changbin wasn't an idiot. That guy wouldn't have taken his eyes away from you unless he didn't have enough time to finish his shift.

But that didn't matter to him. What mattered was that your voice didn’t sound the same when you talked about this guy. It didn’t sound right.

"What type of flower is a Forget-Me-Not?" Han interrupted, looking at the book, reading past Changbin's shoulder. If he continued like that, Seo may not scold him anymore. For a short time, at least. Maybe a week.

"Oh." You recovered your kind smile, and the knot that had formed on Changbin’s chest untangled as soon as he heard your excited tone as you showed Han the small blue flowers. “They actually import them, from Mexico! Did you know?” You asked no one in particular, the two men in the shop suddenly interested in the topic as you continued to blabber about flowers.

To Changbin, only when you talked about them, your voice seemed less annoying. Even pretty, he could admit —not out loud, obviously—. But he liked it, mentally classifying your sweet tone of voice into “I-would-listen-to-it-to-fall-asleep”.

No one would notice.

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

“Dude. You are like, I don’t know, totally in love with her?” Han said as he took a sip from his takeaway coffee as he entered the recording studio and sat on the sofa.

In his mind, just because he hadn’t paid for it, it tasted ten times better, even though if it was the same he chose every day.

The accusation almost made Changbin spit his own drink. He stared at it, wondering if there could be something in it that could’ve explained why his face felt so hot all of a sudden.

Fuck, was it that noticeable?

“Yeah man, it is really noticeable.” Han smiled, surprised at his silent victory. “You look at her like Minho Hyung looks at his cats. It’s sickening, really.”

Changbin frowned. “I do not.” Jisung deadpanned.

“Says the man that made me third wheel in a fucking flower shop.”

“What are you guys bickering about?” Chan asked with a small smile as he got inside.

“Changbin is in love with the flower girl two blocks away.” Han teased in a sing-song voice.

“Fuck that.” Chan’s eyes grew big with emotion.

“Shit, he is.”

“Actually, Hyung,” Jisung mentioned as he handed Chan the other coffee he had bought, “I think she might like him back.”

Changbin coughed violently. The others smiled.

“Why the fuck would she?” He frowned again, his eyes not leaving his phone. “I literally met her last week and behaved like a piece of shit.”

Both Chan and Han smiled, knowing that by not refusing the allegation, Changbin was actually interested in Miss Flower Girl.

“Remember the analogy I made with Minho and his cats? Same shit goes for her. I’ve never seen anyone staring so intensely at someone’s eyes.” Han trembled, exaggerating. “Chills. Literal chills.”

Small hope was planted in Changbin’s heart, but he tried to shove it deep inside him. “Either way, after I go and get the flowers from her, whatever this is, is over. There’s no chance,” he shrugged.

Chan and Jisung shared worried looks. Despite what Changbin could show to people, he was a loving, sensible person. They both knew that if he had silently admitted the existence of a crush on this girl, it was because he meant it. And for a guy like him, who was often viewed as mean and rude or even dangerous, he usually chose to approach new people the less, so whatever was going through his mind meant a big deal.

Chan tsked. “Maybe it’s none of my business, bro, but after Hari, I’ve-.”

“Spare me the trip, Hyung,” Changbin interrupted in a low voice. “She’s been stalking me for months since I broke up with her. I really don’t want to hear it.”

Chan patted his back, a sad smile on his features as he looked at his friend.

“S’good, man. No hard feelings.”

After working on some tracks for a while, the topic was thoroughly avoided by the members, until Changbin sighed.

“Okay. You guys can stop your mind games.”

The others gave him a puzzled look.

“Whaddya mean?” The Australian wondered.

Seo let a small smile show as he passed his hands through his face.

“I really want to see her again.”

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

So thanks to Chris, the bell in the flower shop rang once again. You were humming a popular song, one that Changbin knew, so instead of approaching you, he wandered through the isles filled with flowers, listening to you as you continued the melody.

His heart beat like crazy when after a while, he opened and closed the door again, pretending he hadn’t been there listening to you.

“Oh, hey, Mystery.”

Your smile made his heart skip a beat. The sundress you were wearing, along with the short brown apron, made him swallow dry.

“Flower girl,” he greeted. You lifted your eyebrows.

“That’s a change of attitude. What can I do for you today?”

Do me. “I was wondering if you could deliver the flower bouquet. Is that possible?” He asked politely.

Your dimples showed when you smiled at him, looking for a notebook in the mess that your study guides made.

“College?” He wondered, staring at your eyes daringly as he pointed to your books.

“Music major, final year,” you grinned. “For your delivery, write the address here, and I’ll deliver it myself,” you played with a strand of hair, quickly moving it behind your ear.

Chanbin’s hands tickled. He wanted to do that too.

“I wouldn’t do it usually, but I figured you wouldn’t enjoy seeing Jerry again.”

He scoffed as he scribbled in the notebook. You cackled.

Suddenly, a loud noise from the workshop startled both of you, who were kind of lost in the other’s eyes.

“Girl, are you still here?” Your mother asked loudly.

You facepalmed, mouthing ‘sorry’ to Changbin, to which he quickly gestured that it was fine.

“You ok, mom?” You replied.

“I’m fine! God, you spend your days here. If it were me, I’d be outside kissing boys!”

Your face turned red in the blink of an eye. “Mom?!” Changbin held back his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand.

She never answered, just chuckled teasingly.

Changbin quickly closed the notebook and gave it to you, his cheeks suddenly almost as red as yours.

“See you soon, I guess?” He smiled, still holding back a loud cackle.

“Stop laughing.” You snickered. “But yeah. See ya… eh…”

“Changbin. Seo Changbin.” He left, smilling like an idiot.

You opened the notebook as you raised the music’s volume again, blushing furiously at your discovery.

Along with the address of what you recognised as some well-known company and the name of who the flowers where for, he had left a note below it.

In case you want to go kiss boys.

Was that… his phone number?

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

After closing the shop for the day, you stared at the flower bouquet as you were walking down the street, headed to where Changbin had written down. After figuring your way out with the maps app on your phone, you decided that taking your bike would be stupid, as it only was two blocks away.

The mix of colours was striking. At least, it had that. You hoped the person who would receive it would like it, meanings aside, considering you put effort into it.

The company was bigger than you expected. Before you could allow yourself to enter and look around, a security guard stopped you.

“Excuse me, miss, no one is allowed inside without a pass,” he explained.

You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck. “I was just here to deliver this…? I wasn’t told about this restriction, my client just said that I should deliver it in person.” Yeah, that was a lie, but he didn’t know that. “Would it be ok if I went inside? It’ll be only for a minute.”

He sighed, then shrugged. “I don’t think I’m allowed to let you pass…”

“Oi, Hyung!”

A somewhat tall man —at least taller than you— approached you two.

“You’re Flower Girl, right?” He said, sounding excited, failing to hide it. “She’s with me, don’t worry.”

You entered the company with him, but after that, you stopped and turned to him.

“I appreciate the help, but who are you?”

He smiled. “Yikes. Forgot about that. My name is Chris, it’s nice to meet you. I am close friends with Changbin.”

Your eyes softened, and you smiled. “Oh, I see.” You then looked back at the notebook you carried, the one Changbin had written down in. “Do you know where could I find Park Jin Young’s office?”

Chan looked at you weirdly. “Changbin paid for flowers for the big man? Damn.”

You giggled. “It’s not what it looks like. These flowers all have different meanings, and none of those is a good one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! For example, the orange carnations?” You pointed out one of the flowers. “Those mean ‘I hate you.’”

Chan snorted and laughed at every meaning of every flower you gave him.

“Chan!”

He turned around to face whoever had called him, seeing Changbin approaching him, looking anxious.

“Chan, she’s fucking downstairs.”

Chris’ stare turned darker. Your heart tightened in your chest.

“Stay with her. I’ll go see if I can talk to security.” Chris managed to say before he rushed downstairs.

“Bin, is everything good?”

He noticed your presence, to which he froze for a second. Time started to feel slow. His spine locked up, and his shoulders stiffened. He even felt his shirt stretch in a sudden motion.

“Flower Girl.” You could feel the sudden state of relaxation he arrived, his figure visibly less tense.

You hesitated on what to do but then chose to act by instinct. Hugging him.

He tensed up again, the sudden act taking him by surprise. You tried stepping back, feeling like you had made him awkward, but he then pulled you in a bear hug.

“Thanks, pretty.” He whispered in your ear. “I needed that.”

“S’ok.” You smiled, a fluttering feeling settling in your stomach

He stepped away, shyness all over him. You smiled at him, but something changed as he looked at someone behind you.

Before you could turn around to see what had been the issue, he got way closer than a second ago, a hand travelling to your cheek, directing your face to meet his.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Seo whispered, just before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your confused self couldn’t manage the sudden emotions that ran through your body. You felt his tongue brush your lips, and you had to make an effort not to drop the flower bouquet when you started matching his pace, feeling him smile in between the kiss.

Concentrated on the man that had a hand on your face and an arm around your waist, you were too into it that you didn’t hear a woman gasp at the end of the corridor, leaving in a rush, crying fake tears.

Don’t get Changbin wrong. Seeing the girl that had tried to manipulate and gaslight him out of his music career just so he could spend his time doing stuff for her, things she took for granted, he figured the only way of making her leave should be a harsh one.

And okaaaay, he might have been dying to kiss you for a while now.

After texting Chan that she was gone, you both eventually arrived in front of the office.

He stayed behind as you entered, approaching a somewhat 50-year-old man with clothes as striking as the bouquet you had in your hands.

“Who sends these?” He questioned, his features suddenly looking younger when he smiled.

“Seo Changbin, sir," you bowed. "Have a good day!”

You couldn’t help but snicker when you closed the door. You found the three known men standing in front of you.

“So? Did he like them?” Han inquired.

“Pfft. I made that bouquet. Of course, he loved them.” You bragged jokingly.

The three of them offered to give you a quick tour, as it wasn’t common to have the opportunity to see the JYP building from the inside. Before you realised, it started pouring outside, heavy rain that looked like it wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

You cursed under your breath. If you even dared to walk under that rain, you would end up swimming your way home, your skirt and your blouse ruined.

3RACHA stood behind you, noticing that you were still at the entrance after a bit. Both Jisung and Chan ushered and pushed Seo to where you were.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, in a tone softer than what you expected.

“It’s just… ugh.” You looked at him, then tsked.

He froze when you got even closer, passing your hands above his shoulders. He had to hold back a shiver when your hands brushed his neck.

“Got no one to do this for you, I guess?” you gently fixed his collar, hands lingering on him more than they should have.

He couldn’t hold back a smile, looking at you differently, in a more intense way.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You ended the topic quickly, your eyes wandering from his eyes, then his lips, and back to his eyes again. You swallowed dry. “I can’t go back home with this rain, but my phone died, so I can't call for a cab or an Uber.”

He looked at you up and down. “Are you in a hurry?”

You stared at him, trying to match the intensity from before. “Not really. I just don’t have anything better to do. Why?”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

Neither Chan nor Han could say that Changbin was the messiest of the three, but he still was messy a generous amount. So when he got into the studio and picked up everything in less than five minutes, they gave him a look.

“Use protection, you bitch.” Jisung teased. Bin ruffled his hair.

“Fuck off," he chuckled. "See you tomorrow, guys.”

He guided you to the parking lot, and you both started driving.

Changbin’s grip on the steering wheel tightened when he noticed how your skirt rode up your knees when you sat down.

“Wait, I didn’t give you my address.” You realised, confused as to where was he going.

“I know.”

You looked around when he entered an underground parking lot, then parked and quickly got up to open your door.

He got really close, unbuckling your seat belt.

“You don’t need to be home tonight, right?” His eyes didn’t leave your lips when he asked.

“No.” You answered, almost in a whisper.

He took your hand as you got out of his car. Changbin walked with you to where the elevators were, hands still linked.

“Where are we?”

He pressed the elevator button and looked at you, even more intensely than later at the studio.

“My place.” He kept looking down at your lips. “I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

You woke up the following morning with a warm body next to you, the feeling making you snuggle closer to Changbin, passing his arm and setting it on your waist.

The sound of a notification made you groan in a low voice, reaching for your clothes and grabbing your phone from your jacket’s pocket. It was your mom.

You didn’t arrive last night. Where are you?

You smiled and replied.

I went to kiss a boy, like you said.

You went back to bed, looking fondly at the man next to you.

A buzz from your phone made you wake up from your daydreaming.

Cheeky girl. Flowers follow?

You laughed. As a florist, your mom had made up the expression one day. When saying “flowers follow”, it meant that there would be a positive outcome of whatever you had on your hands.

You knew that to your mom, in this context, 'flowers follow' meant just one thing.

Yeah, flowers follow.

Yeah. You might have fallen in love with him.

Don’t you dare come back home without that boy. I’ll cook something!

“What’s got you all smiley?” A sleepy Changbin made you giggle even more.

He, on the other side, could definitely get used to a morning like that.

You left your phone on the bedside table, and then got close to him again, tangling your legs in between his. He poked your dimples, and you chuckled.

“You, silly flower boy.”

~Kats, who has the urge to put lil’ details in every fic, like how the flower shop is named Lilac, which means ‘first love’ in flower, or how the flower that Han asks about means 'true love'.

(if you ask me, she was humming Come Inside of My Heart, bc I fucking love that song)

[revalition]

OCT 4 - DRAMA

Play the actor. Lie and detect lies.

the composition of this one is gross but that's what this is all about - making something not great really fast every day and posting it anyway haha.

also if anyone recognizes what the middle one is from I'll give you a hundred bucks (Lie)

as usual, nerding out under the cut

drama drama drama drama

starting with this one because I literally just slap these in here in whatever order I come across them in. There's no rhyme or reason to it. I probably searched on "I" because I like seeing skills talk about themselves haha

at least he's trying to stop you...

Drama nicknames!!

the council!! I refer to my personal skills as the council sometimes haha, drama my love.

drama will break you out of the loop if all the others fail you!

ty drama, you poor thing. who is 'us'? Harry's the only one there, so is he referring to them and the other skills? harry and the multitudes that are drama? you go ahead and protect all of you from the fear honey

ily drama, they react sooo dramatically to being rejected

drama! nooo. what is there to say? these are different highly expensive ceramic boots???

drama! no!

I'm not certain what chain of events leads to Kim inspecting the boots later, but this is too funny

drama. please. honey.

he's so bad. an excellent lie detector, a fantastic liar, but also a compulsive liar!

At least sometimes he urges you to lie for good too.

drama ily. even if a wall of text is my idea of entertainment. i peruse fayde for fun, drama would die

dramaaa

I just love the wording of this one, it's so funny.

this one's right after limbic system tells you it's time to wake up. it's a bit melancholy...

you tell her drama, tell her about your and harry's many heads.

Sometimes he uses I, sometimes we. The other skills always refer to drama singularly (he, this one, etc.). I'm never quite sure if I should use him or them...

dddrama

denial, denial, denial...! but ty for trying

random but this is the maximum number of ssss... used by drama. 10 in a row!

I was highly offended in my first playthrough when I got this. I got it fast too (though not as fast as the sorry cop...) And I had 1 INT so I had barely heard from Drama! I was like, what's with this guy? I'm not boring >:(

drama's comments on kim are very important to me. I also have a rather dry sense of humour and cast off things I don't understand as joke. at least drama gets it.

also the things I would give to have someone whisper 'that's sarcasm, sire' to me. im not sure i invested my irl skill points in the right stats :,(

Like, I've got skills in my head and they can't even decode social interactions for me? cmon guys

Also! had some fun running the different language versions of Drama's name through google translate. It's hard to know how accurate the translations are but they are diverse! Acting, drama (ofc), art of drama, dramaturgy, mysterious (???), dramatic arts, acting arts, theatre, showmanship. I like it... gives a little more insight into what Drama's skill represents. Because he is so much more than *just* drama, and at the same time, drama is an umbrella that includes everything he's good at. hmm.

Another random fact: Drama calls you sire 91 times! (and my liege 16 times). And Harry only once, when you fail karaoke...

Other things I keep track of: he says sorry only twice! never says fuck. and only damages your morale on one occasion. These things are oddly important to me and I want to place them in a spreadsheet. Maybe I want to sort by most apologetic skill okay? Skill that swears most. Skill that calls you by your name most. I'm so normal about these guys.

[devirnis]

Okay, after having a few days to process, I am allowing myself one vent post to get it out of my system and then it’s back to ✨positive vibes✨ only

If I see one more goddamn smarmy post about how “the writing was on the wall the whole time” (with the undercurrent of “you were too stupid to see it, I have the only valid interpretation”) I’m going to lose it

Had we not had 8x05, the breakup still would have bummed me out, but I would have said, you know what, fair, we didn’t see a whole lot of their relationship, a lot of it was fanon and headcanons. We had a good run. But we did get 8x05, apparently some of it filmed out of order knowing a breakup was coming, and what was the point? To be cruel? It felt like a slap in the face to people who liked that relationship.

They could have laid some groundwork to show some cracks in the relationship, but no. Ignoring disingenuous interpretations from people who have been rooting for the ship to crash and burn since day one, 8x05 established Buck & Tommy as a solid couple. Tommy gets along with Eddie, the three of them had great chemistry together. Tommy takes care of Buck when he’s hurt. Tommy thinks the curse is a bunch of bs (as does Eddie) but still went with Buck to have a funeral for a mummy. It’s like I watched someone cook an elaborate, delicious dinner for me and then they immediately threw it in the trash, and other people around me made fun of me for being blindsided and upset because I should have seen that coming.

I won’t pretend the general audience is a monolith who all have the same opinions. I’m sure there are people who don’t care and just shrugged their shoulders that another relationship of Buck’s fizzled out. But I have 2 friends who watch the show and aren’t Fandom Fans, and they are always my barometer for how people who don’t have brain rot (affectionate) feel about the show. One really liked the relationship, the other was neutral to mildly negative on it, and both of them agreed that it felt like the breakup came out of nowhere and made no sense given the context of the previous episode. So please stop pretending that it’s only BT fandom fans who have their knickers in a twist about how it played out.

If this isn’t leading to buddie, then I don’t want to see another love interest for either Buck or Eddie for the rest of the show. Tommy had so much potential to break the cycle of Buck’s love interests (and interviews from last season seem to support that they were aware of this and planning on utilizing that) and throwing it away feels like such a waste.

So yeah, instead of being just bummed, I’m pissed. I do not know if there was BTS drama or if Tim got some other grand idea for Buck’s storyline this season — but given how plots are adopted and dropped at rapid fire pace this season (something I was willing to forgive last season because of the shortened production timeline and fewer episodes), I’m highly skeptical that there’s any sort of overarching plan here.

I’ve never thought buddie would actually happen on the show, but I also never thought either Buck or Eddie would ever be anything other than straight, so I’d be happy to be proven wrong. I’m just a little jaded by seeing people doing a victory lap convinced that buddie canon is imminent when I think that they are giving the writers a lot more credit than they deserve for supposedly crafting this epic love story for the last five or so years when a lot of that is also just generous fanon interpretation. I need explicit confirmation within the show by the end of this season that at least one of them has caught feelings or I’m over entertaining the possibility it will actually happen.

I know the joy will come back. But I really hope the same plot lines playing out ad nauseam for every character stops because I’m getting a little tired.

[dangerpronebuddie]

considering that they said they dont wanna make a guy queer and then have him crush on his best friend immediately (cause cliches or whatever) i think eddie is going to be the one to take The Step which makes buddie canon. do you have any ideas or wishes as to what he could do or what could happen?

Sorry, Nonnie, this got long 😁

I'm still a big believer in the fact Buck needs to make the first move, and I could go on for ages about that, but I'm willing to entertain the possibility of it going the other way, or at least that both of them make a move. I think the remark about not wanting him to immediately crush on his best friend is a little misleading (and they can't be any other way, honestly). We've seen how Buck acts with Eddie, he's head over heels even if he doesn't know it yet. He needed to have that realization outside of Eddie, because he needs to ultimately choose Eddie.

I think that, if Eddie were to make the first move, there would need to be some kind of explicit feelings realization on Buck's part. With Buck's history, including with his latest relationship, he was guided towards it. The thought of calling Tommy after that date didn't cross his mind until Eddie told him he should. Buck does exactly as Bobby says in s5. He goes with the flow, landing in relationships with no idea how he got there and no clue what to do when things go south.

If Eddie were to make the first move, Buck would need to be sure of his feelings, cliche or no, because if he wasn't, there would always be that little sliver of doubt that he's with Eddie simply because Eddie wants it. And Eddie knows it too. He wouldn't make the first move unless he knew for sure how Buck felt.

I think they're probably going to reach the realization at the same time, or pretty close to one another though. Buck is already explicitly crazy about Eddie (*flails a hand at 7x04), but he didn't know he was queer until Tommy kissed him. He needed to see that men were an option before he could consider Eddie as an option. Eddie, however, needs to see Buck as an option. I operate under the idea that Eddie fell first, and has at least some awareness of his feelings, but has resigned himself to a life of pining. He knows that if he tells Buck and he doesn't have absolute certain confirmation of Buck's feelings, that Buck will make it happen for Eddie even if he doesn't feel the same. And since Buck told him he can't stop thinking about Tommy (despite his main concern being he lied to Eddie, but that's beside the point here (I have Thoughts™ about the coming out scene lol)), Eddie has once again pushed away how he feels. He now thinks that Buck won't love him instead of can't. It's not impossible, but it is improbable to him.

But, if Eddie were to somehow hear (by accidentally eavesdropping on Buck admitting his feelings to someone for example), there's a chance it would give Eddie the courage to make a move. But it needs to be a slap in the face kind of declaration. There can't be any doubt. Not "I think I'm in love with Eddie," but "I'm in love with Eddie."

And there's this debate going around about who would be the one to initiate their first kiss. If Buck were to confess first, I'm easy either way on who kisses first. (Because it's them, I see it being mutual more often than not, which I could also gab about some other time). But if Eddie were to confess first, Buck initiating their first kiss would make the most sense because it would still be him choosing them. Eddie could lay his cards on the table and leave it to Buck to decide what he wants.

Now that all that's out of the way, there's one or two ways it could go. Firstly though: I don't want them to get together at the loft. That place is a symbol of failed relationships. I think the best way would be if Eddie confesses and then bolts. That part could be at the loft. Say he goes all day thinking about what he overheard and decides he's just gonna bare his soul and leave the ball in Buck's court. Maybe he follows Buck to the loft or they're already there together. Either way, Eddie blurts out a confession in a moment of desperation and then leaves. Buck is completely flabbergasted by the fact Eddie loves him back, but he doesn't know what to do with it. Eddie loves him back, but he just ran from him. That would give Buck the chance to decide what he wants and whether or not he's going to go after it. He decides he does want it and goes to Eddie's. I'm a nut about the doors thing, so I see him knocking on the kitchen door again. Eddie debates not answering because he's terrified. Buck asks if Eddie will let him in and Eddie of course can't deny him anything. He opens the door, Buck asks if he can come in. We get a beautiful slow build up to a kiss, Buck asks if he can kiss Eddie maybe, and that's how we get Buck choosing them. It works with their love language because Eddie always uses words, Buck always uses actions. I'm still leaning towards Buck confessing first, but I can see how it's possible to be the other way around.

[kallie-den]

A Commanding Weakness Ch. 10

Uma Vilchis, the Inyx's mess officer, is the last to fall - and Wasp decides to have some fun giving the plump cook a brand new fetish

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!   For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get   immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps  me keep writing and is greatly appreciated

---

“There we go,” Dr. Hiraga told the mess officer lying in her examination chair. “All done.”

Mess officer Uma Vilchis yawned and stretched as she woke. She blinked a few times. For some reason, she was left with the persistent impression of bright, swirling lights shining straight into her eyes.

“Huh,” she said sleepily. “That really was painless.”

“Is that what people have been saying?” Dr. Hiraga smiled professionally as she made notes on her dataslate.

Uma nodded. “I’ve been hearing all about it for weeks.”

“Weeks,” Dr. Hiraga repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose it has been, hasn’t it? I’ve been too busy to keep track, but we’re finally almost done with the imp- I mean, the inoculation. You’re pretty much the last one.”

“The last one.” Uma sighed as she sat up. “Isn’t that just typical?”

“I’m sorry?” Dr. Hiraga said, taken aback.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Uma shrugged. “It makes sense. I guess the mess officer really is about the last person who needs an inoculation against some kind of alien virus.” She visibly bucked herself up and slapped a forced smile on her face. “My apologies, doctor. I shouldn’t make any of this your problem. I’m just… well, it’s been a long tour. Not a lot of excitement involved for someone like me.”

Not a lot of excitement back home either, although Uma left that part unsaid. The source of Uma’s maudlin mood was simple: she was bored and felt hopelessly overlooked. A solution, unfortunately, was far less simple. As always, Uma tried to focus on her responsibilities as mess officer. On good food, and on being a warm and friendly face to all the weary crewmen who came to the Inyx’s mess hall for rest and succor. Uma liked to think that she played a small but critical part in keeping morale high and making sure the ship continued to operate at peak performance.

But keeping the smile on her face was getting harder and harder. The long tour was wearing on people. The crew was tired and irritable. They didn’t want to chat with their friendly mess officer. And lately, there had been another change in mood, growing steadily with each passing day. Uma couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was like everyone else was in on a secret joke Uma simply wasn’t privy to.

Most of the crew were probably hoping that their mission would come to an end soon and that they’d be able to return home and see their friends and families again. For Uma, though, that prospect offered little comfort. She had a family, yes. Kids, even.  But in recent years, her personal life had seemed just as unrewarding as her professional one. It wasn’t bad, exactly. Just like being the mess officer on the Inyx wasn’t bad.

Uma just needed a little excitement in her life.

“Not a lot of excitement, huh?” came a voice. “Why don’t I help you with that?”

Uma looked around sharply. She could have sworn that she and the doctor had been alone in medbay, but now there was a third woman in the room with them. Uma couldn’t imagine where she might have come from. It was like she had just appeared out of thin air. Strangely, Dr. Hiraga had no response whatsoever to the stranger’s sudden appearance.

Stranger still, there was something familiar about her. Uma could have sworn she recognized her from somewhere. Was she on the crew? She didn’t look like it, not with those technopunk clothes and that unruly, electric green hair. Maybe she had been in one of the briefings that the captain circulated from time to time. Uma barely paid attention to those. They weren’t particularly relevant to the mess hall, after all.

“Hi,” Uma said, for want of anything better to say. “Do I know you?”

“Sure you do,” the punk woman promised as she slouched her way across the room. There was something distinctly sleazy about the way she spoke. “I’m the… uh… how about the ‘uniform compliance officer’?” She snickered. “Yeah. I’m that.”

Uma stopped trying to smile. Something was clearly wrong here. “That doesn’t make sense. The Alliance doesn’t have uniform compliance officers.”

The woman just winked mischievously and lifted her hand with a flourish. “You do now.”

She snapped her fingers.

At once, the room around Uma disappeared, drowned out by a vast, spinning, kaleidoscopic pattern that immediately tugged at her will, promising to steal it away. With her last few moments of consciousness, Uma reflected that, before, she’d been wrong. The lights hadn’t been shining into her eyes. They’d been coming from behind them.

Then, even that thought was gone. The holo-implant Dr. Hiraga had just planted in Uma’s brain drowned out her conscious mind, leaving her nothing more than an empty vessel for whatever thoughts and feelings Wasp wanted to pour into her.   And once Uma was completely hypnotized, the spiral began to pour. Shifting with every passing instant, it encoded its visual pattern with layers and layers of information that swiftly reprogrammed Uma’s mind. The implant had long since been perfected. It admitted no resistance. Within just moments, Uma’s deeply-formed ideas about propriety, hierarchy, and common sense were all formed anew.

Eventually, the implant switched off and Uma returned to consciousness. Blearily, the mess officer rubbed her eyes. The lingering effects were far worse than those of the procedure.

She frowned, confused. The lingering effects of what?

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said slowly, to the strange woman still standing in front of her. “I must have… I must have… um…”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman offered a touch impatiently. “I was just telling you, I’m the uniform compliance officer. Uniform Compliance Officer Wasp.”

“Wasp,” Uma echoed slowly. Why did that name sound so familiar? Then she remembered, and it all fell into place. Of course it was familiar! Uma rose to her feet and saluted stiffly, embarrassed at her lapse of memory. “Uniform compliance officer! Forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wasp said. She was grinning from ear to ear. “At ease.”

Uma relaxed gratefully. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why the uniform compliance officer had come here, of all places. Moreover, though, she was simply embarrassed to have forgotten about her at first. Forgetting about such an important, high-ranking officer was a major faux pas. Fortunately, Wasp didn’t seem inclined to pull her up on it. Instead, she swiped the dataslate out of Dr. Hiraga’s hand and started reading it. The doctor still didn’t react.

“You’re… right, the mess officer!” Wasp nodded slowly. “Uma Vilchis. I remember you from the crew roster. Not from the holodeck, though. Not much of a fantasy life, huh?”

“I suppose not, sir,” Uma replied.

“That’s kind of a shame.” Wasp made a point of looking Uma up and down, plainly ogling her body. She wolf-whistled appreciatively. “I wish we’d gotten to know each other sooner. Could have had some fun with you. There aren’t a lot of women built like you on military starships.”

Uma shifted uncomfortably. The way Wasp was talking to her and looking at her seemed unmistakably sexual and inappropriate - but who was she to question such a high-ranking officer?

“Well, you know what people say, sir,” she laughed nervously. “Never trust a skinny cook.”

As mess officer, that distrust was one thing Uma never had to worry about. Uma was visibly, undeniably full-figured and plump, and always had been. It was all over: her face, her chest, her belly, her thighs. Uma was, quite simply, fat. She didn’t dislike it, even if it sometimes made her self-conscious. Her figure had always been natural to her - not helped, admittedly, by the same love of food that had guided her to becoming a mess officer. A pair of pregnancies had only made matters worse, although, from the whispers that reached her ears, Uma understood that there were more than a few women aboard the Inyx who quietly appreciated the way the extra weight sat on her hips and her ass.

It was, admittedly, true, that her physique wasn’t quite up to military regs. But even stern commanders like Captain Vasser tended to let that particular regulation slip. Nobody wanted to see a skinny cook in the mess hall — and besides, it wasn’t like she was in any danger of being sent into combat.

“Anyway,” Uma added, hoping to put an end to Wasp’s scrutiny. “I think you’ll find my uniform entirely up to code, sir.”

“Hm,” Wasp mused. “Yeah, actually, no. It’s not.”

“It’s not?” Uma blinked, dismayed. She didn’t understand. She was always fastidious in her presentation. She looked down at herself, but saw nothing amiss.

“See, there’s actually a brand new uniform for the mess officer.” Wasp’s grin somehow widened still further. She could barely keep herself from cackling. “It’s just come into force. It’s meant to help liven things up a bit. That’s why I’m here, actually. To bring you up to speed.” She threw an arm around Uma’s shoulder. Uma was too distracted to register that she was a hardlight hologram. “Come with me. Let’s get you fitted.”

***

"D-d-d-,” Uma stammered, blushing so deep she thought her face would melt as the sheer, unrelenting embarrassment she felt robbed her of her words, “d-d-do I h-h-have to?”

“Yes,” Wasp replied impatiently. “It’s the new uniform. Now, hurry up!”

Hands trembling, Uma could only nod meekly and keep working the long, red, soft rope around her own body. Completing the ties - the shibari, Wasp had called it - hadn’t been easy. It was all new to Uma, but she was good with knots, at least, and Wasp had been a very insistent teacher. 

As she wrapped the latest length of rope around her thigh, pulling it tight so it pressed into her soft flesh, Uma once again checked the diagram Wasp had pulled up for her on the dataslate. It was exacting, and following it had taken forever. Uma couldn’t believe how long these regulations were getting, and she didn’t understand why they were being posted on illicit holonet sites - but who was she to question the uniform compliance officer? At least it seemed like she was almost done, but Uma wasn’t sure if that was a curse or a blessing. On the one hand, Uma was keen to put this humiliating ritual behind her.

On the other, if she kept going, she’d at least have more rope covering her body up.

Once Uma finished the knot, Wasp stepped back, looked the mess officer up and down, and clapped her hands together out of sheer glee. “Oh, yes! Looking good, girl.”

Uma wanted to shrink into her own skin.

“I c-can’t,” she bleated. “Y-you expect me to g-go out there? L-like this?”

All the way down her torso and around her hips, Uma was bound tight with rope. It fell about her in symmetrical loops, artfully designed to best accentuate every aspect of the female form. The ties around her breasts pinched and lifted them, making them seem bigger, more prominent, infinitely soft and inviting. Across her stomach, the rope was worked into a diamond pattern, like netting, drawing attention to the pale, alluring skin beneath. Around her hips, the ropes pulled tight, pressing against Uma’s curves and reminding her of their presence with every step.

On any woman, they would have looked unmistakably sexual. On Uma, it was on another level.

At Wasp’s instruction, Uma had pulled the ropes particularly tight around her prodigiously soft body. The effect was magnificent. Everywhere, Uma’s plump body bulged visibly between the gaps in the ropes. It was like she was begging for all who saw her to reach out and sink their fingers into her needy, yielding flesh. Around her stomach, it was especially visible. The rope bondage acted like lingerie, framing and shaping Uma’s belly. It made her look like the very image of fertility.

Nothing could have been more desperately embarrassing.

“It’s your uniform, Miss Vilchis,” Wasp drawled, rising to her feet. “What kind of Alliance officer objects to their uniform?”

“It’s… that’s…”

Uma’s mouth kept moving, but her brain froze up, paralyzed by the absurd contradictions in what she was hearing. It was ridiculous for rope bondage to serve as a military uniform. And yet, it did. That was what the uniform compliance officer was telling her. She could not think otherwise.

“B-but…” Uma said frantically, searching for any way out. “It’s… it’s indecent!”

“Indecent?” Wasp laughed. “Is that any way to talk about your uniform?”

Uma squeaked. “N-no, sir!”

“You should be proud of your uniform!” Wasp declared. “Isn’t that right?”

Uma turned an even deeper shade of red and nodded miserably. “Y-yes, sir. But… I… proud?”

Wasp shrugged, a cruel smirk writ large on her face. “I simply don’t see the issue.”

Uma squeezed her legs together and shivered as she felt rope rubbing against her skin. She knew Wasp was right — she was in charge of uniforms, after all — but she couldn’t help reaching for excuses all the same. “B-but it might… wouldn’t it… um… d-distract the rest of the crew?”

Wasp sighed theatrically. “Maybe, admittedly, this is just a little bit too early for something quite so… open. Even if the rest of the crew have been implanted, they aren’t broken in quite yet.”

Uma had no idea what she was talking about, but a sigh of relief was on her lips as she sensed Wasp’s resolve wavering.

“Fine,” Wasp said eventually. “Have it your way.”

“I can wear a different uniform?” Uma asked hastily.

“Oh, no.” Wasp’s smirk returned with a vengeance. Uma couldn’t help but be struck by the feeling that she’d stepped into some kind of trap. “Not quite.”

Just a few minutes later, Uma was walking gingerly through the Inyx’s corridors, heading for the mess hall - and desperately praying that her embarrassment didn’t show in her face.

They can’t see, she told herself. They can’t see what I’m wearing.

“Good afternoon, Uma!” someone called out, as Uma rounded a corner. A crewman. Uma didn’t know their name, but she did recognize them. A regular friendly face at the mess.

“G-good afternoon!” As she replied, Uma tried her hardest to sound casual. It didn’t work. Her voice was an octave higher than usual.

Mercifully, the crewman didn’t comment. A strange look passed over their face, but they kept walking without saying another word.

Uma sighed with relief - but her relief was dashed as soon as she walked past another vent, and felt a breath of cool air passing over her skin. It was an unpleasant reminder of just how naked she truly was.

She was still dressed in the uniform Wasp had prescribed for her: intricate, bright red rope bondage, artistically wound around her entire body. The only difference was that nobody else could see it. Before sending her down to work her regular shift at the mess, Wasp had issued Uma with a portable holographic projector which, attached to one of the ropes on her torso, projected a perfect simulacrum of her old, standard-issue Alliance uniform.

In a way, it was an ideal solution. Uma’s modesty was perfectly preserved.

And in a way, it solved absolutely nothing.

For instance, as Uma arrived at the mess and busied herself preparing meals for the crew who were just about to come off their shifts, she found she couldn’t quite ignore the way one of those ropes snaked up between her thighs and pressed against her sex every time she moved.

More and more, it was becoming a distraction. A sharp bite of unwelcome pleasure that nipped at her over and over again, threatening to turn her words into moans and fill her face with unwholesome color.

Why did she have to wear this under the hologram? Uma kept asking herself that question. And she kept reminding herself of the only answer she had:

It was her uniform. She had no choice.

All Uma could do was take deep breaths in a bid to stay calm as she started serving the crew of the Inyx their meals. One by one, the weary crewmen came to queue up in front of Uma so she could dole out the meals she had carefully prepared earlier that day. As usual, most of them had little more to offer in return than a nod or a half-grunted acknowledgment. Normally, that would have gotten on Uma’s nerves.

Now, she was desperately thankful.

They couldn’t see what she was wearing. But reminding herself of that did Uma little good when she could still feel the cool air against her bare skin all over her body. When she could still feel the ropes. Whenever Uma looked down at herself, the illusion seemed paper-thin.

She was naked. Worse than naked.

And it was driving her crazy.

Every new face became a source of excitement. Every interaction became a fight to keep a cool, composed demeanor. It didn’t matter what she told herself. Her brain would not accept that she was clothed. It knew the truth and screamed it at her, drawing sweat from her brow and slapping an uneven, nervous smile on her face.

“Hey, Uma!” came a familiar voice. Uma looked up and recognized a crewman — Rhea — who always took the time to chat. “How’s your shift treating you?”

“G-good!” Uma squeaked, then winced. Her voice was horrifically uneven, and elicited a perplexed look in response. Uma’s anxiety doubled. She felt it in her gut as a tight knot. “Um. How’s… yours?”

“Fine, I guess,” Rhea replied. Normally, their exchange might have ended there. But it was too late. Uma had aroused her close attention. “You OK? You seem a little… off.”

“N-nope!” Uma tried even harder to control her voice. It only made matters worse. “I-I mean… yes! I’m OK. Just… um…”

She tried to think of an excuse. Her mind short-circuited. The only thought thundering through her head was a single conviction, irrational but all-consuming.

She can see. Rhea can see. She can see everything.

Rhea’s eyes flicked up and down over Uma’s plump physique. Uma could feel them stabbing into her, sharp as needle points. They seemed to strip away the ephemeral guise of the hologram, leaving Uma’s tender, soft flesh bared for the shocked, lustful gazes of all who had come to the mess.

“We’ve been out here so long,” Rhea offered sympathetically. “Maybe you should take a little more rec time? I’m sure the captain would-“

A cough from somewhere back in the queue interrupted them. “Hurry up!”

“Oops.” Mercifully, Rhea hurried along, freeing Uma from her scrutiny. “Sorry!”

Uma only had a moment to gather herself before she needed to serve the next crewman. As she did, she was panting. She couldn’t center herself. She just kept falling into the desperate thrill of her new uniform.

Then it occurred to her: wasn’t this exactly the excitement she had been craving?

She choked down on the thought at once, guided by two contradictory impulses. One told her sternly that she wasn’t the kind of pervert who would take excitement from something so utterly humiliating. The other whispered that she was exactly that kind of pervert if she found something as mundane as her uniform sexually humiliating.

Uma frowned, assailed by a moment of dizzy confusion. It was like she was on the cusp of grasping some deeper truth - but it never came.

And with the seemingly never-ending queue of hungry crewmen, she had no time to dwell on it. Uma turned to serve the next, and the next, and the next, and with each one, the anxious heat in her body only grew and grew. By the time the next familiar face appeared at the counter, the rope between her legs was pressing so hard against her cunt, every movement was blissful agony.

“Good day, Uma,” said Lieutenant Kuznetzov, greeting the mess officer with a warm smile. “Everything running smoothly as usual?”

It was only recently that Lieutenant Kuznetzov had become one of Uma’s reliably friendly faces. Before, she’d been one of the least approachable of all; a butch, imposing woman with an unreadable face and no words to offer but criticisms. Now, she was unfailingly bright and sunny. She’d grown her hair out into an appealing bob, set off against a full face of makeup. Instead of her uniform, she wore a pretty little dress that set off all her body’s feminine features.

Or was that simply her uniform now? Uma couldn’t be sure.

“Of c-course,” Uma whimpered. As unthreatening as she was now, Lieutenant Kuznetzov’s eyes still felt like hot knives. Uma shivered all over, and felt the ropes more keenly than ever.

Again, Uma’s voice betrayed her plight. She just couldn’t keep it even, not when she was experiencing such constant stimulation. When Lieutenant Kuznetzov gave her a surprised look, Uma thought for sure she was going to be discovered. Surely there was no way someone as perceptive as the lieutenant would fail to notice that something strange was going on with her. But as Lieutenant Kuznetzov looked, Uma started to realize there was something off about her gaze. It was dull, somehow; glazed over, lacking all of its usual sharpness. If Uma hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that Lieutenant Kuznetzov was somehow tranquilized.

As if to confirm her suspicions, the searching look on Lieutenant Kuznetzov’s face eventually slackened into a dull, agreeable smile. “You look nice,” she said, before she took the tray of food Uma was holding out for her and moved along.

It was a banal comment, but it still set Uma twitching with a fierce mix of emotions. She looked nice? What did that mean? Had Lieutenant Kuznetzov noticed something? Uma peered at a nearby metal counter, studying her reflection. She looked normal, didn’t she? Didn’t she?

As far as Uma could tell, her holographic guise was holding up well. There was no hint of the binding ropes beneath. But that didn’t mean Uma looked normal. Far from it. As she looked into the makeshift mirror, Uma was struck by the dumb, nervous grin that refused to slip from her face, and by the hint of lurid color in her cheeks. Even if the ropes didn’t show, the thrill certainly did. Uma was glowing with it.

She looked good.

That simple observation set Uma’s heart aflutter. What did that mean? Why did she look so good like this?

And why was she enjoying it so much?

It was just a uniform, she told herself. Just a uniform. Nothing more. Uma’s brow furrowed. Once again, the blatant contradictions started to gnaw at her. If it was just a uniform, why was she so turned on? If it was just a uniform, why did she feel the need to hide it?

It was almost like-

“How’s it going, babe?”

Uma blinked, startled by the voice. She looked over and saw exactly what she had been afraid of. It was Wasp.

The uniform compliance officer.

As she looked Uma up and down, a ravenous look in her eyes, Uma made herself stand up straight, even though it forced the rope between her legs to press even deeper into her sensitive cunt. Her hands at her sides, she tried to subtly pull on a few ties here and there, arranging them to be just so.

She needed to look her best. Her uniform had to be perfect.

“Very good, sir,” Uma managed, just barely not moaning. It was far from the truth, of course, but it wouldn’t do to complain in front of such a senior officer.

“Great, great,” Wasp drawled. She seemed to be able to see straight through the holographic projection of Uma’s old uniform. Uma didn’t think to question that, although she did notice that Wasp seemed to be holding something behind her back. “You look… mmf. Good enough to eat.”

Uma shivered. She felt herself soiling the rope with her wetness. “T-thank you, sir.”

“But, see, I’m actually here ‘cause I forgot something,” Wasp added swiftly. “There’s, uh, an extra regulation. Something else you need for your uniform.”

“What is it?” Uma asked. The grin on Wasp’s face made her feel like she was stepping on a land mine just by asking.

“Here!” Wasp declared, and revealed the object she was holding with a gleeful flourish.

It was a dildo.

Uma was instantly, utterly aghast at the object. A hundred different protests immediately rose to her lips. This was absurd. A dildo wasn’t part of any kind of uniform. It wasn’t clothing at all, it was a sex toy. This was degrading. Humiliating. Where did Wasp get her authority from? Since when did the Inyx have a ‘uniform compliance officer’? Was that even a real position? Shouldn’t she speak to the captain about this?

Then, almost as quickly, the protests were smothered by a logic that was equal parts foreign, ridiculous, and utterly implacable.

Wasp was the uniform compliance officer. That meant she was in charge of uniforms. And Uma needed to wear her uniform.

Suddenly, as perturbed as Uma was by the object in Uma’s hands. She couldn’t help but yearn for it.

Her uniform simply wasn’t complete without the dildo.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t embarrassed, though. She was. Deathly so. Uma’s cheeks burned bright scarlet as she ushered Wasp toward the privacy of the ship’s galley.

“S-sorry, sir,” Uma whispered. “I… I hadn’t realized. I’ll take care of it at once. Just… in private. Please.”

She was so flustered, she didn’t think to question the way Wasp simply phased through the counter to join Uma in the galley, out of sight of the queuing crew members. A few of them let out impatient sighs, but besides that, none of them seemed to take much notice.

Once the door to the galley slid shut, Wasp held the dildo out toward Uma. The mess officer took it gingerly, and her shame only grew once it became clear that Wasp fully intended to watch her.

Uma couldn’t protest against it. Wasp was the uniform compliance officer. It was her right.

All Uma could do was try to stifle a moan as she pulled the rope between her legs to one side and pushed the seven-inch dildo all the way inside herself.

She failed.

“S-s-sorry, sir,” Uma bleated after the shrill moan erupted from her lips. “It’s u-unprofessional. Sorry. I j-just-“

Her words died. She couldn’t think. The long, hard, silicone shaft inside her pussy was turning her legs to jelly.

“Don’t worry about it.” The lurid, smarmy look on Wasp’s face was all but manic. “New uniforms take a little breaking in, am I right?”

“Y-y-yeah,” Uma agreed breathlessly.

She tried to close her legs. That was a mistake. A sharp, electric shock of pleasure almost made her bend double. Uma tried to take her hand away and found that the shibari tie running between her thighs was taut enough to keep the dildo in place, resting on it.

Uma couldn’t breathe for panting. She could see stars. Her knees were weak. A few droplets of wetness trickled down the dildo and fell to the floor. Her heart was pounding. She had never been so feverishly excited.

“Great,” Wasp said, openly leering at Uma. “Then, I guess you’d better hurry up and get back to work, officer!”

"Y-yes, sir,” Uma whimpered, offering a weak salute. She took her duty seriously, of course, but she couldn’t imagine how she was going to be able to perform it now.

She turned to head back out to the counter, and the very first step she took almost brought her to her knees.

It was impossible to move without working the toy even deeper inside her body, pressing ever more insistently against the most sensitive parts of her. Uma couldn’t even minimize the pleasure without resorting to an awkward, bow-legged gait that gave her away at once. All she could do was try not to let it show, but by the time she reached the counter, she needed to lean on it heavily just to keep herself upright. Uma’s every nerve ending was lit up, hypersensitive, ready to explode.

“Oh, just one more thing,” Wasp said, as she waltzed past Uma. “The regs say it needs to be switched on, too.”

Uma barely had time to process the significance of that before Wasp snapped her fingers — and the toy inside Uma’s cunt started to vibrate.

At once, Uma bent double and came.

She had already been on a hair trigger. The sensation of intense, merciless vibrations radiating from within her core was more than enough to push her over the edge. Uma saw white, and only managed to keep herself from moaning by expelling all the air from her lungs in a desperate, ragged gasp. For a brief moment, Uma forgot her shame and was carried away by the great wave of pleasure that ripped through her body.

Then, a voice called her back.

“Hey, can we get some grub already?”

Uma looked up, and as she saw the queue ahead of her, adrenaline flooded her veins and brought a goofy grin to her face. “S-sure!”

Her orgasm never quite seemed to end, as she forced herself back to the task of serving up hot meals to the Inyx’s weary crew. The pleasure stayed in her body, a constant current, ebbing and flowing whenever she moved. There was no escaping it. Every rope that dug into Uma’s chest, or her hips, or her belly, was a reminder. It all made her shame burn hot, lending a delectable thrill to each and every interaction. Every time someone so much as glanced at Uma, she was forced to ask: did they know? Could they tell?

And she had never felt more alive.

It was just so exciting. Now that her orgasm had thoroughly scrambled Uma’s better judgment, she couldn’t help but enjoy herself. For so long, every shift had been drudgery. But this was the farthest thing from boring. She was afraid of being discovered, yes, but it was a delicious fear. Something to be savored. For the first time in her life, Uma began to understand why people loved horror movies so much. It was just the same: the agonizing tension, building towards the inevitable plunge.

She couldn’t wait.

Uma was still embarrassed and ashamed, of course. Desperately so. She was a pervert. There was no denying it now. It was far too obvious. Instead, she faced a different dilemma. A different contradiction.

Did she really want to keep her uniform hidden? Or did she want to display it for the entire ship to see?

More and more, as Uma fought through her shift, she found herself dwelling on the question. It was an itch, growing and growing by measure. Now that her common sense had been dashed, the notion was all but irresistible. The ghosts of her inhibitions still held her back, warning about what people might think and what it might do to her reputation. But Uma was no longer sure she cared. She just wanted to take that plunge. To be seen. To cast aside the boredom of her life, once and for all.

How would it feel? What kind of look would she see in their eyes? Lust? Shock? Awe? Uma couldn’t wait to find out. Every time one of the crewmen glanced up at her, she was shot through with questions.

Could they see through her holographic disguise? Might it flicker out at just the wrong moment? Or could they hear something in her face? Could they read the unwholesome blush in her cheeks? Could they see the anguished, ecstatic yearning in her eyes?

Questions like that had been eating at Uma all shift. But now, they weren’t anxious. They were hopeful.

For some time, she went on like that, serving food to the Inyx’s crew with hands that trembled more and more with each passing moment. Her arousal grew and grew as the vibrator buzzed within her - but so did her disappointment, as the crewman failed to pay her the suspicion and attention she craved. Eventually, though, one of them paused to address her.

The engineer, Sai Kabir.

“Uma,” she said, stepping up to the counter. “A moment of your time? I wanted to speak with you about a few minor inefficiencies and maintenance issues relating to the galley equipment.”

A shiver of tension raced up Uma’s spine and she nodded, practically drooling as she did. “O-of course.”

She was familiar with Sai Kabir. The engineer was always cordial, if not friendly — and recently, it had been impossible not to take note of the way her chest had been bulging out from underneath her shirt. Uma couldn’t believe the mild-mannered crewman had been hiding assets like those and she couldn’t imagine what had persuaded her to start showing them off — but she had, more than once, been jealous of how the other members of the crew now stared at Kabir. And, secretly, of the blush that rose to Kabir’s cheeks when they did.

Now, though, the other woman seemed to be all business. 

"As part of our routine checks, in engineering we’ve been monitoring the power draw from different sections of the ship,” Kabir told her. “And I noticed some unusual fluctuations relating to your equipment down here. My guess is that the capacitor heating coils have started to suffer ion decay as a result of the unusual radiospheric activity out here on the rim.”

Uma just nodded dumbly, hoping it would seem like she could follow the engineer’s technobabble. In truth, her long words cascaded meaninglessly over the mess officer, adding to the busy noise that filled her head.

“However,” Kabir added, “it’s also possible that it’s due to an adverse feedback loop between your equipment and the surrounding cooling sinks. If they need to draw more power to counteract the ambient heat of the galley, and that power itself produces heat as it encounters resistance in some degraded reactor channels… well, I’m sure you can see the problem.”

“The… p-problem?” Uma panted. Talking was even harder than thinking. “O- of course.”

She really couldn’t. The vibrator in her cunt occupied all of her attention, and every time she twitched, the ropes wrapped around her luscious, plump body seemed to bind even tighter.

“Although…” Kabir’s brow furrowed, and the suggestion of scrutiny made Uma’s heart race. “Perhaps it’s a much more straightforward issue.”

“Y-you think?” Uma forced out. She wanted to moan. She wanted to moan so badly. “What, um, what makes you say-“

Kabir held up a finger to stop her talking. “Can you hear that buzzing noise?”

Uma quivered as another little orgasm tore through her.

“B-b-buzzing noise?” Uma bleated. “That’s n-not… um… I can’t…”

She was grinning. She could feel it. She couldn’t stop herself.

“You can’t?” Kabir suddenly leaned forward, bending over the counter. “It’s right there. Low-pitched. It sounds close. And kind of… wet?”

As she drew closer, Uma felt like her heart was going to explode.

“N-n-no.” Out of instinct, Uma denied it. “I don’t think… I can’t h-hear a-anything! Or maybe it’s the s-s-ship just, um, you know… settling?”

Though she was trying to head the engineer off, another part of her - a larger, deeper part - was begging Sai Kabir to look closer. To notice. To see Uma for what she was: a pervert, getting off on the secret under her hologram.

“It’s not that,” Kabir said at once. “No, it has to be something small. Maybe…” Suddenly, she glanced at Uma’s face and her frown deepened. “Uma, are you alright?”

“O-of course!” Uma squeaked. It was true, in a way. She was on cloud nine. Shame, anxiety, and arousal had all melded together into a dizzying euphoria that she could not escape. It was a kind of madness. “I’m j-j-just… busy!”

As Sai Kabir peered at her, closer and closer, an idea ignited and burned within Uma’s head. What if she just took off the hologram? She could, easily. It was right there, pinned to a rope running along her collar. Then, Kabir would see. She’d know Uma for what she was.

What kind of face would she make? Uma was dying to know.

She couldn’t help but be disappointed when Kabir suddenly drew back. “Of course,” she said apologetically. “You’re working, and I’m bothering you. Forgive me. We can discuss this later when you’re not so busy. Perhaps I’ll come back and we can find whatever’s making that buzzing noise.”

“Oh,” Uma said faintly.

She glanced at the clock and at the queue in the mess hall. The crowd was already thinning out. Surprisingly, it was beginning to look like Uma was going to make it through the entire shift without anybody discovering the secret of her new uniform.

Uma couldn’t take that. She couldn’t take being boring again. And so, driven by the never-ending surge of arousal within her, she made a promise to herself.

When the next person came up for their meal, Uma was going to take off the hologram covering her up.

Sai Kabir departed, and the next member of the crew started to approach. Seconds stretched out to what felt like an eternity. During each heartbeat, Uma was tormented by the knowledge of everything she had to lose if she went through with it — and everything she had to lose if she didn’t.

In the end, it was a snap decision. Before her better judgment could prevail, Uma’s hand reached up and snatched the miniature projector away from her collar.

The veil fell. In the brief moment before Uma’s vision became nothing more than a white blur, she saw the crewman’s eyes widen in palpable awe.

Uma knew at once what the other woman was seeing: Uma’s true self. The fat, bounteously curvy woman was, all over, tied up with ropes that made an unmistakable spectacle of her body. The crimson strands made a gorgeous contrast with her pale skin, making it look all the softer, all the more inviting. Her physique’s proportions, already mouth-wateringly plush, were only further accentuated by all the places in which the shibari ties pulled taut against Uma’s body. She looked incredible. She looked like erotic art.

But that was just the beginning.

Far more striking than simply her body was the look on Uma’s face. The look of unrepentant, ravenous need in her eyes. The shameful blush in her cheeks that made the perverse fetishism of her appearance undeniable. The way her lips were parted and wet, quivering with each panted breath. It made it all so clear. This wasn’t an accident or a mistake. Not something Uma had been forced into. This was something she loved. Something she craved. Now, everybody knew.

And there was no going back.

For Uma Vilchis, that was the best part of all.

Once her vision eventually cleared, she was finally able to get a good look at the woman standing in front of her. The woman she’d exposed herself to. It was Alara Hisarlik, the ship’s counselor.

“My, my,” the counselor purred. “What is the meaning of this, mess officer?”

Uma had no answer for her. She should have been terrified. Instead, the look of vicious, predatory interest in Alara’s eyes only heightened her pleasure.

She wasn’t boring. Not anymore.

More and more of the other crew members in the mess were starting to turn their heads and gawk at Uma. Some of them whispered, or blushed, or pointed. Uma welcomed it all. If not for the toy already in her cunt, she would have been touching herself.

“I think our sweet mess officer is experiencing some kind of… incident,” Alara announced loudly, licking her lips. “She’ll come with me to my quarters. I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry, Miss Vilchis. I’m told my new hypnotherapy program can be terribly effective.”

Uma nodded mutely. She could sense the intent behind Alara’s words. Clearly, this was no longer the wholesome, friendly counselor she remembered chatting with. That was perfectly fine with Uma. She welcomed whatever depraved plans Alara had in store for her.

It was just the kind of excitement she needed.

But as the two of them exited the mess hall and made for the turbolifts, Wasp appeared once again. Uma stood at attention, ready for her uniform to be inspected, but it wasn’t her Wasp had eyes for. The hacker grabbed Alara by the shoulders and hissed manically to her co-conspirator.

“Alara!” Wasp said. “We need to talk. Something big is happening.”

“Not now.” Alara shrugged her off. “I’ve just found a new subject.”

“No time!” Wasp shot back. “You can get to her later. This is huge!”

Alara frowned. “What is it? What’s happening?”

Wasp licked her lips, and Uma could tell if the look of mania in her eyes was born from fear or glee.

“I just intercepted a transmission,” she told Alara. “An admiral is coming to inspect the Inyx.”

---

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[starbuckaroo]

I think I would be happier w bucktommy all these episodes down the line if Tommy still interacted with or asked after Eddie. I know there’s a lot the show doesn’t put onscreen so there’s no reason why it couldn’t have plausibly happened or couldn’t still happen (and I hope it does), but Tommy was Eddie’s friend first! They hung out a lot!

And yet, since he got together with Buck, we haven’t gotten to see them interact.

Granted, there hasn’t been a lot of screen time for Tommy and that’s fine, it’s a short season w very little room to breathe. This isn’t some sort of angry anti bucktommy tirade. But it does make me just a tad uncomfortable the way things are at this moment. Bc it’s not a stretch to theorize that maybe Tommy was hoping things Eddie might go somewhere and when they didn’t, he tried with Buck. I don’t think that’s supported by the text, but it’s also not negated, either. Idk. It’s not a huge deal at the moment, just a little snag?

Listen I am a buck fan but I am an eddie fan!!!!!!! And I am so so sad for eddie this season it’s been rly fucking rough on him! Not like buck needs to change anything (except not be a jealous freak and lash out physically if he can’t use his words), like I said I’m here for bucktommy I think they’re great. But like. Where’s the awkward “hey how do we hang out now that you two make out sometimes” or whatever?? We deserve to see that tbh! It’s a more common issue in queer circles, that ppl have to slip in and out of romantic/platonic interactions when people partner up or break up. It’s also the first time either of them have dated anyone within the LAFD and so it’s the first time this could ever have even come up!

Idk man. Just I keep thinking about how happy eddie seemed when he was hanging out w Tommy and maybe it’s just bc that ep was meant to be from Buck’s pov but i don’t know what’s worse, thinking it WAS real and now he doesn’t get to have that friendship anymore or that it WASNT real and he was never actually having that good of a time.

MY REAL POINT is that anyone who WAS or IS a buddie shipper or anyone who likes Eddie at all has to acknowledge how important buck and eddie are to each other, right? Which means that in any relationship that either of them ever have, if they want it to be serious and have long term potential, they actually need to integrate their partner with their best friend.

Maybe this is too weird for some ppl? It’s always seemed like a given, like if there’s someone new and important in my life, I def want my best friend to meet them and like them bc I want us all to be able to spend time together! I don’t want to feel split between them all the time! And esp with Tommy already having connections with most of the 118/main cast, and particularly Eddie, it would make sense for us to see them interacting!

Idk. I’m probably wanting too much from my network tv show lol I just. I will literally never take bucktommy seriously as a pairing if they don’t manage to address the Eddie of it all. And not in a “address the fact that buck loves him” contrived jealousy nonsense. I mean address the fact that their lives are bound together! And it predates anyone that either of them will ever date! Plus imagine the character growth it would take for Buck to send Tommy to Thursday basketball with like a plate of cookies and orange slices or something but not show up himself. Be like “have fun with the boys, slap Eddie’s ass for me” or whatever 😂 I would believe Buck was finally on his way to being ready for a long term adult relationship if they managed that, is all I’m saying

[loverrofmineee]

The Parting Glass - Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x OC

AO3 | Summary | Chapter 1

Chapter 2- Pilots and Prayers

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first mission for the new crew’s came after a couple of days, giving them time to settle in, but not enough to keep the nerves away. Sorcha could feel the anticipation radiating off of each new face she passed, as the men were eager, or terrified, to go up in the air. She gave each man a small smile in a feeble attempt to ease their anxieties, but there was only so much a pretty face could do.

Bremen was the target of the men’s first mission, which made Sorcha extremely anxious. She was privy to what the plans for the mission were, as the men in the tower talked freely, nearly forgetting the women were there. Each person working in the tower offices agreed to keep quiet about anything they overheard, as it was to be confidential until the crews were told. However, that didn’t stop Sorcha and her bunkmates from discussing their fears quietly into the night. Eventually, the mission day came, and what the new men had been waiting for became real.

Once all the meetings had been finished, Sorcha stood outside the tower alongside Aileen, Lilibet, Anika, and Siobhan. They had been dubbed ‘The Tower Girls’ since they all worked within the tower offices, and were the closest group out of all their bunkmates. As they did with every mission, the girls stood beside the tower, gazing at the crews getting ready to take off. No one ever got on them for leaving the office, since paperwork could be filed at any time, and everyone at the base often left their desks to see the men off.

Siobhan was the first to break the group's contemplative silence, “Do you think they’ll make it?”

“They have to, Shiv. They just have to,” Aileen stated in a matter-of-fact tone. She was the optimist of the group, always believing in the best-case scenario no matter what. Sorcha admired her for it, given that optimism ran low during these times.

“All we can do is hope and pray,” Sorcha comforted Aileen as she squeezed her hand, “They’re some of the best pilots up there, all they can do is stick to their training.”

The girls went silent again as the first fort took off, watching the line of planes exit the tarmac and head into the sky. Even though Sorcha had seen many crews come and go, the pit of anxiety in her chest never left as she saw them take off. She didn’t know every man personally but felt a sense of care for them. Maybe it was because she couldn’t be there for Cormack, not knowing if he had someone to care for him at Kings Cliffe, so she took it upon herself to pray for every crew at Thorpe Abbotts, not wanting them to feel alone.

—-----------------------------------------—

Once all of the forts had gone, the rest of Sorcha’s friends had gone inside, but she had opted to stay out for a few minutes. This mission felt different than the others she had witnessed, now having friendships with the men going up. She and Buck had become fast friends over the weeks, chatting at the officer’s club when Bucky had become too much for them, (though they loved him all the same). Benny had a growing interest in Anika, and turned to Sorcha for advice on how to handle it, taking long walks with Meatball as she gave him tips. She felt that so much was at stake for this mission, needing a few moments to herself to control her spiraling thoughts.

A great distraction came her way in the form of John Egan, who scared her half to death by sneaking up on her. “Jesus, John,” Sorcha spit out as she slapped her hand over her heart, “Never pop up like that again.”

“Using my actual name? Sounds like you’re mad at me Devs,” Bucky said with a half-teasing grin, “I was just wondering if you’d like to take a ride with me?”

Sorcha opened her mouth to give the man a retort about having to work but then debated the question as she saw how nervous Bucky seemed. There was no teasing cadence in his words, only an earnest tone. “Sure, Bucky,” She said softly, “Let’s go.”

Bucky only smiled in return for her answer, walking over to his Jeep and waiting for the Devlin girl to get in. The two were silent for the majority of the ride, both lost in their thoughts. Sorcha knew Egan was worrying about Buck the most, and wondered how to approach the subject. Though Bucky broke the silence first, “You ever wonder why Buck’s called Buck?”

“Honestly,” Sorcha started as Bucky spared her a glance, “All the time.”

“You’ve never asked though,” Egan stated as he threw a curious look her way.

“I just thought it’d come up one day. I know well enough not to poke around trying to find out the secrets of you two.”

A bark of laughter came from Bucky at her statement, causing the car to swerve for a moment. “You’re a smart girl Devs. But Buck’s seriously never told you? Don’t think I don’t notice the two of you chatting it up at the officer’s club when you want to get away from me.” “Who knew you were so attentive?”

“Only when it comes to the two of you,” Bucky stated, his true emotions shining through, “but only because I fear you’re both plotting something against me. Or Buck is tarnishing my good name.”

Sorcha chuckled at his retort, understanding that Bucky was quick to hide any semblance of real emotion that came out of him. “I believe your good name was tarnished long before Buck arrived. Seeing as you’ve flirted with nearly every woman on the base.”

“Are you gonna make me apologize for appreciating the beautiful women that reside here?”

“God, you’re so-”

“Handsome, charismatic, the best air exec you’ve ever seen?”

Sorcha’s head fell back as she laughed at Bucky’s words, causing the man to pull a face of offense. “I think you’re talking to the wrong woman about this. Have Aileen take my place and you’ll hear all the right answers.”

A small blush spread across Bucky’s face at the mention of Aileen, not going unnoticed by Sorcha. “As friends of both of you, I’m only encouraging that you try to at least have a simple conversation with her.” Sorcha spoke as they headed back to the tower, “There’s no harm in that, is there?”

“No ma’am,” Bucky said as he accepted his fate, knowing he couldn’t argue against Sorcha.

“Well then,” Sorcha started as the car came to a stop, “I will see you soon Major. Hopefully, after you’ve gained some courage.” Bucky protested at her insinuation, but Sorcha didn’t stay to hear his argument, giggling as she walked back to the office.

—-----------------------------------------—

The Bremen mission was many of the men’s first brush with death. Out of the 19 forts that left, only 15 returned. Statistically, it was not that bad of a mission, but the men had gotten their first taste of loss during the war.

Sorcha was in the middle of filing navigation reports from previous missions when she heard the sirens. All the women in the office looked at each other with fear in their eyes, believing the worst for a moment. The air execs and senior personnel all rushed outside, preparing for what would come next as the wheels of each plane hit the ground.

“Should we-” Anika started to speak but was silenced as Lilibet shook her head.

“We need to be here,” Lilibet’s tone was strong, as she had been in the war much longer than the other girls since she was from Cambridge. “I know what we’re all thinking, but we know what our duty is, to stay at our desks and do whatever is required. We’ll hear which forts came back soon enough.”

Sorcha nodded her head at her friend’s words, though she wished she could see if her boys were still alive. All she could do was hope and pray.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 91 🔞

Prompt: Continuation of Days 88 & 89

Tags: Cheating. Y’all know how much I eat this trope up by now. Sorry not sorry. Also degradation kink.

Juyeon was shocked. Hyunjae had actually left. He’d possibly accused Juyeon of cheating on him with Eric. Before he knew what was happening, Juyeon found himself walking to Eric’s room. He didn’t even knock when he got there. He simply let himself in and got in bed next to the younger man. Waking Eric up was a Herculean task. Unless, of course, he sensed his favorite hyung in distress.

”What’s the matter?” He mumbled, still mostly asleep.

”Hyunjae and I got into a fight,” Juyeon replied, cuddling up behind Eric.

”About?” Eric grunted, wrapping Juyeon’s arms around his waist.

”You,” Juyeon replied after a protracted silence.

”Me?” Suddenly Eric was wide awake.

“He accused me of cheating on him with you,” Juyeon told him.

”But we’ve never done anything. I mean, we’ve cuddled, but that’s not cheating. Right?” Eric rolled over to look at Juyeon.

”Not to me. It’s not like we’ve kissed or gone beyond that,” Juyeon said.

”Gone beyond that? You can say fucked around,” Eric grinned.

”Shut up,” Juyeon slapped Eric’s shoulder. The younger man laughed. Even though Juyeon could barely see him in the dark, he knew he looked beautiful when he laughed. If you could call a guy beautiful, that is. “No, we’ve never done anything beyond cuddling unless I blacked out and forgot about it.”

”If you did then so did I,” Eric replied. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m not interested in that, but you’re with someone so I haven’t gone there.”

Juyeon wasn’t sure he’d heard Eric correctly.

”You what?” He asked.

”I’m not saying that I’m not interested in fucking around, but you’re with someone so I keep it PG and underwear on. If you weren’t with someone that would be a whole different scenario,” Eric admitted.

”And Hyunjae?” Juyeon swallowed the lump in his throat.

”I love him like a brother. I’m not interested in getting in his pants,” Eric replied easily.

“And my pants?” Juyeon knew the answer already, but part of him needed to hear Eric say it.

”I’m very interested in getting into,” he replied. “And unless I’ve misread some things, you’re interested in getting into mine, too.”

”Yes,” Juyeon squeaked.

”Hyunjae always was perceptive,” Eric said, rolling on his back and pulling Juyeon on top of him. Juyeon whined, a high note coming from the back of his throat.

”Fuck it,” Juyeon crashed their lips together and Eric didn’t stop him. He let his jaw fall open and Juyeon’s tongue began to explore the inside of his mouth. Eric bucked his hips, rubbing their clothed cocks together. Juyeon could feel himself getting harder by the second.

“Is this what it’s like with Hyunjae? You come before you can even get all your clothes off?” Eric asked when Juyeon began kissing down his neck to his collarbones. No marks was probably the worst part of their job.

“No, nothing like this at all,” Juyeon panted.

”Good,” Eric sounded smug. He had every right to be. There was no one else who could get Juyeon this riled up with only a few words.

”I might end up coming,” Juyeon admitted, trying desperately to not bite Eric’s very enticing collarbones.

”How embarrassing for you. First time cheating on your boyfriend and you can’t even hold it until you get your underwear off. I won’t tell, though. I might spoil comebacks, but this will be our little secret,” Eric replied as Juyeon rutted his hips against Eric’s and whimpered.

First time.

“Touch me. Please,” Juyeon panted.

“Where? You’re going to have to be more specific, Juyeonie. Very, very specific,” Eric taunted, his fingers knotted in Juyeon’s hair.

”Finger me. I need your fingers in my ass,” Juyeon was on the verge of begging.

”Not what I thought you’d ask for. Interesting,” Eric mused. He was able to open the dresser drawer and get a mostly empty bottle of lube out. Eric quickly lubed up two of his fingers and slid them down the back of Juyeon’s underwear. He teased Juyeon’s hole as the older man mouthed desperately at Eric’s neck.

“In me. Now. Please,” Juyeon begged. All his self respect was gone. He needed this. Eric slid two fingers between Juyeon’s cheeks then into him. Juyeon’s body gave instantly.

“Did Hyunjae fuck you before you came in here?” Eric asked.

“I top,” Juyeon replied, wiggling his hips to get more of Eric’s fingers in him.

“So you just want me that bad?” Eric complied and pushed his fingers in further, teasing Juyeon’s prostate in the process.

“Yes,” Juyeon straddled Eric and began kissing him again. “I can take more.”

“Think you can take four?” Eric asked.

“Won’t know until you try,” Juyeon replied between kisses. Eric pushed in two more fingers and wasted no time finding Juyeon’s most sensitive spots.

“I’m gonna make you come in your underwear like the desperate whore you are. Then you’ll have to either risk being seen coming out of my room or sleep in your own come. Personally, I don’t want you spooning me in come soaked bottoms,” Eric hissed as he massaged Juyeon’s prostate.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Juyeon whined.

“Sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it? Not my fault your slut cock can’t hold it,” the younger man continued. He pressed down and Juyeon came, wetting Eric’s torso in the process. Juyeon had a death grip on the pillow and buried his face in Eric’s neck to muffle his curses and moans. When he finished, Eric smoothly removed his fingers and wiped them on Juyeon’s underwear.

“Well?” Eric prompted.

“I need to break up with Hyunjae,” Juyeon looked over at Eric.

“Yes, I think you do,” Eric agreed.