#uh. yeah. they have to. they don’t get a choice

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 1: Bad Influences

Elliot had always been the skinny guy. At 23, he was tall and lean, with a metabolism that seemed to burn through food like it was nothing. He didn’t work out obsessively or follow any strict diet. It was just the way he was. His friends liked to joke that he could eat an entire pizza and still fit into his skinny jeans the next day, and for the most part, it was true. He liked being that way—easy, effortless, and always confident in his own skin.

When Elliot moved to the city for a new job, he quickly realized that finding an apartment he could afford on his own was next to impossible. After a couple of weeks, he found a shared apartment close to work and agreed to room with two guys, both of whom were a bit older than him. The rent was cheaper, and it seemed like a good deal.

The first time he met his new roommates, he was a little surprised. They were both big guys, especially compared to him. There was Ryan, with his thick arms and broad chest, wearing a band t-shirt and cargo shorts, and then there was Mark, who was tall but with a soft roundness to him that suggested he enjoyed a few too many late-night snacks. They both had warm, easy-going personalities that immediately put Elliot at ease. 

“Hey man, welcome!” Ryan said with a smile, slapping him on the back as they shook hands. 

Mark, with a lazy grin, handed him a plate of brownies. “We’ve got more where that came from,” he joked, “but don't feel obligated to eat them... unless you're hungry.”

Elliot laughed awkwardly, not sure what to say. He accepted a brownie and followed them inside. The apartment was cozy, decorated with posters of classic rock bands and sports teams. It was clear they had lived there for a while, and it felt like their space. Elliot tried not to think too hard about the size of the couch or the wide kitchen table that always seemed to be piled high with food containers.

Over the next few days, he got into a routine. He worked long hours and spent most evenings in his room, catching up on emails or watching shows online. He didn’t have a lot of time to get to know Ryan and Mark, but he did notice how much they loved to cook and eat together. It was always pizza night, or they’d whip up something hearty in the kitchen, from massive pots of spaghetti to giant meatloaves. 

Elliot, by contrast, usually grabbed something light—a salad or a protein bar—when he wasn’t too busy. He didn’t want to make a big deal of it. He’d politely decline when they offered him a plate of whatever they were eating, not wanting to come off as rude or judgmental. 

One night, after Ryan made his signature homemade lasagna, he turned to Elliot. “Hey, man, you’re gonna eat with us, right?”

Elliot froze. He had been about to grab a salad, but he didn’t want to seem like he was avoiding them. “Uh, I’m good. Thanks, though. I just ate earlier.”

Mark, who was lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. “You sure? This is *the* lasagna, Elliot. Don’t want you to miss out on it.”

Elliot smiled awkwardly. “I appreciate it, really. I just don’t eat as much as you guys, I guess.”

Ryan set down his fork and looked at him, his expression thoughtful. “Hey, I get it. But honestly, we’re not here to make you feel weird about it. We just like eating together, that’s all. You don’t have to stick to your salad thing just because of us. We’re not judging.”

Mark chimed in from the couch, “Yeah, man, we’ve got no problem with what you eat, but if you’re ever hungry, just join us. No pressure.”

Elliot felt a weird lump in his throat. He’d always been the guy who prided himself on being the one who didn’t care what anyone else thought. But in this moment, he realized he had been putting up walls—around his food choices, his routine, and even his relationships. He wasn’t just trying to avoid calories; he was isolating himself from them, from them as people.

The next weekend, Ryan and Mark invited him to join them for a “healthy cooking day.” Elliot was hesitant at first, unsure of what that meant in their world, but he agreed. They spent the afternoon trying new recipes—grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a huge smoothie bar. For once, Elliot wasn’t the only one watching his food intake. He felt like he wasn’t *on display* for his choices anymore. He was just another guy, chopping vegetables, chatting about movies, and trying to make something together.

As the evening came around, they all sat down with bowls of their homemade stir-fry, laughing about silly things from work and sharing stories about past roommates and cooking disasters.

“That was a lot better than I thought it’d be,” Elliot admitted, pushing his empty bowl aside. “I think I’ve just been so stuck in my own head, you know? About food, about what I *should* eat, what I *shouldn’t* eat.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Yeah, man, I totally get it. It’s all about balance, right? We’ve both been there—stuck in cycles of eating out or trying to cut out everything. It’s about enjoying food and not obsessing over it.”

Mark added, “Exactly. And hey, if you want to keep things healthy, we’re all for it. We’re just trying to make it a little easier for everyone, right?”

Elliot smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. They weren’t just his roommates. They were his friends. They didn’t care about how he looked or what he ate. They just wanted to hang out and share good food, good company, and good times.

Over time, Elliot found that living with Ryan and Mark didn’t just teach him how to enjoy meals more freely, but also how to be more open. Their easy-going attitude about food, body image, and life in general started to rub off on him. He didn’t feel the need to be the skinny guy who had it all figured out. He could be himself—and sometimes, that meant indulging in a big meal, enjoying pizza without guilt, or laughing at a late-night snack with his roommates. 

They all grew in their own ways, together. And Elliot realized that, more than anything, this shared apartment was a space where they could be who they were, without judgment. It was a place to grow—not just in size, but in friendship.

At first, it was a struggle. Elliot had never really thought about how much he could eat. He had always maintained his slender frame with little effort, casually filling up on salads, protein shakes, and the occasional light meal. But living with Ryan and Mark was a different world. Their love for food wasn’t just about eating—it was about *enjoying* eating. And they had no problem eating a lot.

In the beginning, Elliot felt self-conscious when they invited him to join their meals. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the food—they made fantastic meals, hearty and flavorful—but his body had been trained to eat only a small amount at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a full plate of something. Most evenings, after just a few bites of lasagna or grilled chicken, he felt uncomfortably full and wanted to stop. But Ryan and Mark always finished their plates, sometimes going back for seconds, and then settling in for snacks, chips, or bowls of ice cream.

“Come on, man,” Ryan would say, giving him a playful nudge. “You gotta try this. Just one more bite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Mark would chuckle, adding, “You’re not gonna be hungry later. Might as well eat now while it’s here.”

The first few weeks were an odd dance for Elliot. He’d eat slowly, trying to keep up with them, feeling the discomfort of fullness hit earlier than usual. At first, he tried to maintain his usual restraint, convinced that he *had* to stop before he felt bloated. But Ryan and Mark, with their carefree attitudes, kept encouraging him to eat more, and each time, Elliot found himself taking just one more bite—then another, and another.

After a while, it became a pattern. There was always more food than anyone could eat in one sitting, so they’d end up watching TV with pizza boxes open on the coffee table, snacking mindlessly. Elliot’s stomach would be stretched to its limits, a dull ache growing in the pit of his stomach, but he found it hard to stop. It wasn’t just about the food anymore. It was the camaraderie, the way they bonded over meals, shared jokes, and never made him feel weird for not being able to keep up at first. 

At first, Elliot hated that feeling—being too full, sluggish, uncomfortable. He’d retire to his room, feeling like he was walking a fine line between fitting in and betraying his own body. But slowly, imperceptibly, something began to shift. His stomach seemed to adapt, expanding in small increments, slowly able to handle more. The next time they had pizza, he found himself reaching for a second slice without the usual hesitation. Then, on a random Tuesday night, he finished a whole plate of spaghetti—and didn’t feel as stuffed as he had before.

He noticed it during the weekends, when they would make their Sunday feast. Mark would fill the air fryer with fried foods, and Ryan would make pizza and a dessert. They’d eat together for hours, chatting, laughing, and passing around dishes, always encouraging each other to take more. It was normal for Mark to have three servings and Ryan to finish off the last of the food.

“You don’t have to keep up with us,” Ryan would say after seeing Elliot hesitate at the table. “But trust me, there’s no shame in enjoying a good meal.”

Elliot had been reluctant at first, but now he was starting to *enjoy* it, too. As much as he tried to fight it, his body began to crave the comfort of those big meals, the indulgent late-night snacks, and the feeling of sitting around with his roommates, chatting over bowls of chili or homemade pizza. He found himself going back for seconds more often. A third helping wasn’t out of the question anymore, and he no longer felt the need to rush to his room afterward to avoid being seen as weak for not finishing everything on his plate.

He also started noticing something he hadn’t expected: his body was changing. At first, it was subtle—an inch added to his waistline, his jeans feeling a bit tighter after a few weeks. But as the months went by, it became more apparent. His arms felt fuller, his stomach rounder, and he even noticed his face becoming a little softer. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but the extra food—and the ease with which he now consumed it—had started to reflect in his body.

It wasn’t just the weight that was changing. His attitude toward food was shifting, too. Whereas he used to feel guilty for indulging, now he felt more comfortable with the idea of eating for pleasure. His conversations with Ryan and Mark had slowly shifted from just joking about food to serious discussions about eating for both enjoyment and balance. Mark would often tell him, “Don’t think of it as overeating. Think of it as living.”

One afternoon, after they’d spent hours preparing a massive barbecue spread, Elliot was leaning back in his chair, feeling pleasantly full for the first time in weeks. Ryan, who was lounging across from him, caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Look at you, man,” Ryan said with a grin. “You’re finally eating like a normal person. Not bad.”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “Yeah, I guess I’ve gotten used to it. Still a bit of a stretch, but... not terrible.”

Mark, who was halfway through a third helping of ribs, laughed and wiped his mouth. “We told you. The more you eat, the more room you’ve got.”

It wasn’t just a physical change. Elliot began to feel more connected to Ryan and Mark. Food had become a bridge, a shared experience that didn’t have to be about calories or body image. It was about friendship, about enjoying the simple pleasure of a meal together and letting go of any anxiety about what or how much he ate. There were days when they all sat at the kitchen table long after dinner, talking and laughing until the food was gone, and he realized he was no longer counting the bites or trying to stop himself from eating too much.

One evening, as they were cleaning up after a particularly indulgent dinner of burgers and fries, Elliot noticed something that made him smile. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about how full he felt or whether he should have stopped earlier. He was just enjoying the moment, grateful for the friends he had made and the space they’d created where he didn’t have to worry about measuring himself—or his food.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," Ryan teased, as Elliot helped clear the table.

Elliot smiled and shrugged. "Nah. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it."

And for the first time, he wasn’t just talking about eating. He was talking about life—letting go, being present, and allowing himself to be a part of something bigger than his own self-consciousness.

Over time, the changes to his body became more pronounced, but Elliot didn’t mind. The tightness around his stomach was no longer uncomfortable. It felt natural, like something that had just happened over time. And maybe it wasn’t about his physical transformation as much as it was about his acceptance of himself and his life with Ryan and Mark. It had always been about more than just food. It was about sharing, growing, and finding comfort in something simple but meaningful.

**New Chapter will be posted each Thursday** 

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us ,, chap: 19 — let go ✎

// series index //

warnings: emotional rollercoaster? silly -> freaky -> cute -> sobbing (but in a good way!) i had to write this as quickly as possible, pls ignore the mistakes, i literally rushed it but i still think it's good !! 😣

nsfw warnings: lots of kissing (IT'S THEIR THING), tittie play, oral (f! recieving), dirty talk-ish??, protected sex.

wc: 5.2k+

note: probably my fave chapter haha

the cafe is quiet, the soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of cups creating a relaxed atmosphere. it’s not crowded, just a handful of students scattered across tables. you and jungkook decided to meet up here, both having an hour to kill before your next class.

jungkook is sitting beside you, one hand intertwined with yours while his other hand holds his phone as he casually scrolls through his schedule for the day. he’s dressed in his usual casual style; sweatpants and a simple shirt that somehow manages to make him look unfairly attractive. his dark hair falls messily over his forehead, making him look effortlessly sexy. he's literally making it hard for you not to stare and drool over him.

he hums softly, almost to himself. “i could skip the next class if i wanted to,” he says, placing his phone down on the table.

you tilt your head, curious. “oh really?”

he nods, leaning back in his chair, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “yeah, it’s just a lecture. i’ve already got the notes.”

before you can say anything else, a soft voice cuts in. “i am so glad i don’t have any classes after this,”

you glance at the silver haired man infront of you and smile slightly before another familiar voice speaks up. “yeah, guess what? i don’t even have classes anymore,”

jungkook chuckles beside you, his thumb brushing over your hand absentmindedly. “must be nice, hyung,” he teases, and you can’t help but laugh a little.

yoongi and jimin are at your table too. jimin, the silver-haired guy you’ve seen before in a very awkward situation, is here to meet yoongi today. and to your surprise, he talks like you’ve been part of their group for ages, his energy is warm and welcoming, which you really appreciate.

jimin leans back in his chair, turning to yoongi. “you know, i was just thinking about that night.. the one when jason got punched.”

your stomach drops at the mention, and you shift in your seat, suddenly very interested in your cup of coffee.

“i was like, over there in the middle of the dance floor,” jimin starts as he recalls the scene. “i don't even know who i was with, there was some chick grinding on me and then POW! i heard the punch, and everyone just stopped and turned towards the sound. taehyung was already sprinting towards jungkook and jason, and oh my god, i was so ready to cheer for the fight!!!” he pauses. “but then i saw the look on yoongi's face and thought, ‘oop, never mind. gotta make it stop.’”

jimin chuckles and glances at yoongi, who shakes his head, clearly unimpressed by the retelling.

a few days after that night, jason apologized to you. it was awkward but sincere, and you listened as he explained himself, it was clear that he regretted it.

“i messed up, i know that,” he said,“i shouldn’t have pushed things the way i did. and, uh… i totally deserved that punch.”

you raised an eyebrow, surprised that he was acknowledging it so openly. “yeah, well. i am glad you're aware,” you said.

he sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “i guess it's time for goodbyes? i don't know, i don't think we're gonna get along well, especially since your boyfriend hates me.”

you were surprised at the ‘boyfriend’ title but you chose to ignore it and nodded slowly, “i get that, and yeah.. i think it’s best if we’re not friends anymore. i don’t want to keep dragging things out too,”

you watched him walk away. you haven’t talked to jason since that day, and this time, you knew you made the right choice.

jimin turns his attention to jungkook, who’s now watching him with an amused grin. “besides that, i thought it was fucking awesome, jungkook,”

jungkook chuckles softly, “yeah, getting into a fight with one of your friends is awesome now.”

jimin waves him off. “oh please i don't even care about him, he just happens to know a girl i used to fuck,”

“you’re lucky no one called the cops,” yoongi mutters, taking a sip of his coffee.

“oh, come on,” jimin says, grinning. “it wouldve been legendary, right jungkook?"

“i don't know, legendary or not ,” jungkook glances at you with a soft smile, “i’d rather not have a repeat of that night.”

you nod in agreement, grateful that the topic seems to be winding down. but jimin’s energy is contagious, and even though you’re a little embarrassed, you can’t help but smile at how he's excited about the 'fight'.

“well i think that he deserved it,” jimin announces playfully.

jungkook’s got that cocky grin on his face, the one that always makes you... well, horny. his hand casually slips under the table and onto your thigh. your breath hitches when you feel his fingers inching higher, sliding under your skirt. you glance at him, trying your best to act unbothered, even as your body betrays you with a slight shiver.

“he deserved it, didn’t he?” jungkook asks, his voice low and teasing, his dark eyes locked onto yours. the way he looks at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, makes you so fucking wet.

“yeah,” you manage to say softly, even though you have no idea what he’s talking about. your mind is too preoccupied with the warmth of his hand gently stroking your inner thigh.

jimin interrupts with a playful grin. “i think ___'s awesome too, by the way. i saw that slap from miles away, and i was definitely cheering for you,” he pauses and gives yoongi a quick glance before continuing. “quietly, of course.”

you’re not embarrassed about the slap itself. honestly, to this day, you think she deserved far worse. but having it brought up so openly now, in front of everyone, makes you squirm a little.

“oh, um, yeah haha... thank you.” you mumble, feeling jungkook’s eyes on you. he’s smiling ear to ear, clearly entertained by your reaction.

yoongi clears his throat, his expression neutral but his tone laced with humor. “it’s good to see you two not being petty to each other anymore.”

both of your heads snap towards yoongi at the same time, and you chuckle nervously. jungkook smiles, slowly withdrawing his hand from under your skirt and intertwining it with yours on top of the table like nothing happened.

“we’re trying not to. at least i am,” jungkook says, half-joking, his tone so casual that you roll your eyes at him and without missing a beat, you kick him lightly under the table, shooting him a glare. jungkook shrugs a little and kisses your cheek and you can't help but smile.

yoongi and jimin watch the little exchange between you and jungkook, amusement evident on their faces. yoongi raises an eyebrow, shaking his head lightly, while jimin stifles a laugh behind his hand.

“you two are something else,” yoongi comments under his breath, earning a grin from both of you.

but neither of them presses any further, quickly falling back into their own conversation. jimin leans in closer to yoongi, gesturing something with his hands as he starts talking about something you can’t quite catch. yoongi listens intently, nodding along and occasionally throwing in a remark that makes jimin laugh.

their voices become background noise when you hear your phone ding, drawing your attention to the screen. you pick it up and unlock it, only to see a message from jungkook.

jungkook: you look so fucking hot rn, yk that?

you glance at him, raising an eyebrow as he sits there casually, his face unreadable except for the slight upward curve of his lips.

you type back quickly.

you: keep ur hands to yourself and be patient.

his phone buzzes and he checks the message, his grin widening as he types a reply.

jungkook: i am, baby. if i wasn't i would've ripped that skirt open and eat that pretty cunt of yours right now.

you feel your cheeks heat up, and he chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction. you shove your phone into your lap, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered again, but the wetness building between your legs is saying something else.

jungkook is patient.

very patient.

no one's ever been this patient with you (except your parents, of course). your brother used to make fun of you—and still does—for having what he called "ridiculous standards." he’d tease you, saying that anyone who wanted to be with you would need the patience of a saint to deal with your stubbornness. back then, you’d laugh it off. but as you grew older, those words began to settle in your mind, twisting into a belief that maybe he was right.

that maybe no one could keep up with you.

you convinced yourself that your standards were too high, your stubbornness too much to handle. and the more you thought about it, the more it solidified into a quiet truth; you weren’t cut out for relationships.

but then theres jungkook.

he proved you wrong in ways you didn’t even know were possible.

he waited for you, even when you didn’t ask him to. even when you didn’t think anyone would. even when you were being stubborn as fuck.

he had this stubbornness to him that mirrored your own. when you were avoiding him, trying to brush him off with short responses or ignoring him altogether, he didn’t back down. he didn’t let you push him away.

he was like you in some ways, and that’s what made everything so frustrating annd oddly comforting at the same time. both of you were being immature about your argument, refusing to give in or apologize at first. but somehow, through all the tension and standoffs, he didn’t back off, and neither did you. and in a way, that’s what made it work.

and in other ways, you could probably say that... he matched your freak?

it was like he saw through all the walls you put up, and instead of trying to break them down, he just... stood there, waiting for you to let him in.

and when you did, he didn’t disappoint. he met every piece of you with something of his own, and it was messy, and it was imperfect, but it was real.

he’s the most patient man you’ve ever met, and the more time you spend with him, the more you realize just how much that patience means to you.

it’s in the way he looks at you, with so much love and care, as if he already knows you’re worth waiting for.

and you can’t stop loving him more and more for it.

but right now, in this moment, he's anything but patient.

jungkook's kissing you, hot and sloppy. his tongue grazes your bottom lip every few seconds, the kiss is wet, messy, and so fucking good.

he waited until you were done with your classes, but as soon as you stepped out, his patience snapped.

the next thing you knew; he was pulling you to his car and you didn't stop him because oh my god were you horny for this man. now you're in the back seat, ur hands tangled around his neck. one of his hands gripping your waist, and the other sliding under your skirt to rest on your thigh, squeezing it gently.

“fuck—does this remind you of something?” he pulls back, panting. his lips are swollen, and you can barely catch your breath.

“when we first—?” you start, breathless.

“yes,” he says, cutting you off with another kiss. you hum against his lips, melting into the way he moves.

“i fucking love kissing you,” he murmurs against your lips, sending a rush of heat through you.

“kiss me more then,” you challenge, your lips brushing his as you speak.

he pecks your lips once, a smile spreading across his face. “let's go to your place first,” he says, his hand giving your thigh one last squeeze before he pulls back, leaving you wanting more.

. . .

“ow—s-stop!!”

you laugh as jungkook keeps kissing your neck, the way he's doing it is almost like he's tickling you. he smiles against your skin but doesn't stop, his hands firm around your waist as he guides you backward into your room.

“jungkook!” you squeal when you feel his hands slide down your waist to your thighs, and with ease, he lifts you up, carrying you through the doorway.

he finally stops his playful kisses when he reaches your bed, his lips parting from your skin as he looks at you. both of you are smiling, your foreheads gently pressed together as you both savor the moment.

“you're so pretty,” he whispers, his voice soft and he sounds so sincere.

you feel yourself melting at his words.

“are you trying to flirt with me?” you tease, raising an eyebrow,

he tilts his head slightly, mirroring your teasing grin. “yeah, i am,” he says, placing you gently on the bed. he climbs over you, taking off his shirt immediately and leaning down to you.

his lips brushing your jaw as he murmurs, “can’t i flirt with my girlfriend?”

a pause.

your hand cups his cheek, pulling him closer. his lips inch toward yours, but just as he's about to kiss you, you press your palm against his mouth, stopping him.

he frowns, confused, while you smirk teasingly.

“but you ain't my boyfriend,” you say softly, leaning up slightly to place a playful yet soft kiss on the back of your hand still covering his lips. “and i ain't your girlfriend.”

he smiles against your palm, his eyes twinkling with amusement. he gently grabs your wrist, lowering your hand as he leans closer.

“but you don’t want me to see nobody else?” he asks, his lips barely brushing yours, his voice low and matching your teasing tone.

you shake your head slightly, your words barely above a whisper. “and i don’t want you to touch nobody else.” you confess

“but i ain’t your boyfriend?” he counters softly, placing a delicate kiss at the corner of your mouth.

you hum as your eyes flutter shut when you feel the heat of his breath and the gentleness of his lips.

“baby, we don’t have to tell nobody,” he murmurs, his hands slipping under your cardigan to rest on your waist. his thumbs gently rub your skin, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

your smile mirrors his as his lips meet yours again, the softness of the kiss promising more than words ever could.

he kisses you softer this time, and you do too, both of you lost in the intimacy. your hands graze his face, then trail down to his neck, too preoccupied with the moment to think about anything else.

his hands gently lift your cardigan up. you help him remove it, and as the fabric falls away, his touch lingers on your skin. and next comes your bra. he leans back slightly, his lips never straying far from yours, his big hands undoing the clasp at your back. the straps slide down your shoulders, and soon, it's discarded.

his kisses shift lower, finding your neck, and you let out a soft gasp when his lips touch your collarbone. your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles. his hand catches your wrist gently, and he presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, making your heart flutter.

he moves lower, pressing soft kisses along your chest. his lips linger at the top of your breasts, and his large hand comes up to cup one of them gently.

“fuck…” he breathes out, his voice low and needy. his mouth finds your nipple, yyou can feel the warmth and wetness as he sucks it, his tongue swirling in slow, deliberate motions. his other hand kneads your other breast, his fingers brushing against your sensitive nipple.

your head falls back, a quiet moan escaping your lips, your back arching toward him. he hums against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. his mouth moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips and tongue working in harmony to drive you crazy.

you feel completely consumed by him, every touch and kiss leaving you breathless.

your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, your skirt bunched up high, revealing the soft fabric of your underwear. his lips trail lower, leaving tender kisses along your stomach and hips, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. with care, he slides your skirt off, tossing it aside, leaving you exposed in nothing but your underwear.

“can i?” he asks as his head settles between your thighs, his gaze meeting yours.

“please,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

he doesn’t hesitate. his fingers hook into the waistband, sliding your underwear down, baring you completely to him. his lips press soft kisses against your lower lips, and you shiver, your body already aching for him.

his fingers part your folds gently, and he pauses for a moment, his gaze fixated on your glistening arousal. his lips curl into a grin as he looks up at you, his eyes dark. “all for me?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur.

“all for you baby,” you manage to breathe out, your voice filled with desparation.

his grin widens, and he doesn’t waste another second. his tongue glides over your wetness in one slow, delicious stroke, and you gasp as pleasure courses through you. your thighs tighten around his head instinctively, pulling him closer as he devours you.

his tongue circles your clit, flicking and sucking gently before moving to lick broad, teasing strokes along your folds. his lips close around your sensitive bud, and he sucks softly, making you moan his name louder and louder.

“mmmph— so fucking— pussy so delicious,” he mutters, his words muffled against your heat. his voice vibrates against your core, adding to the overwhelming sensations building inside you as he continues his relentless rhythm, savoring every inch of your pussy.

his tongue slowly glides down to your aching hole, he licks up the wetness there and pushes his tongue inside you. he starts tongue fucking you and you swear you see the fucking stars.

he moves his head up and down and you can feel his nose rubbing against your clit whenever he moves. you're literally a moaning mess right now.

“mmmgh— j-jungkook so goodd!!”

he grabs your thighs, tight enough to leave marks. he continues tongue fucking you, occasionally pressing kisses and licks on your clit.

you cum.

it's all sloppy and messy, all over his mouth, and he fucking loves it.

he licks you up so good, moaning at the taste of you as you try to catch your breath.

“fuck me, jungkook, p-please,” you gasp, panting, as he rises from between your thighs, quickly removing the rest of his clothes to reveal his already hard dick, standing tall against his lower stomach.

“fuck me jungkook.. please” you moan

“yeah? you're gonna beg for it baby?” he strokes his cock, grunting a little. “gonna beg for my cock like a good girl?”

“y-yes, please fuck me,” you beg. “need you in me,”

he moans and leans down to kiss you. the kiss is hungry, desparate, sloppy and so fucking hot.

he puts on a condom as fast he can and he positions himself at your entrance, gently tapping his dick on your dripping pussy.

he groans. “you look so fucking sexy,” he says as he looks at you panting and moaning, your pussy clenching around nothing, and he loves the way you look so needy for him.

he pushes his thick length inside you, stretching you wide. you let out whimpers as you grip the bedsheets around you. your walls clenching tightly around his girth. he groans, his face contorting with pleasure as he starts to move slowly, his hips rolling back and forth.

“o-oh fuck, baby— good fucking— pussy—” his words come out muffled as his thrusts grow faster and more urgent, his pubic bone slamming against your clit with each thrust. you're crying out in pleasure, your hands grabbing at his back and arms as you try to hold on. he's fucking you hard and fast, his dick pounding into your pussy like there's no tomorrow.

he sinks deeper, filling you completely, “mmnh!!... so good,” you pant, voice strained with pleasure. with each thrust, he hits that sweet spot inside you, coaxing out whimpers and gasps.

“fuck, baby— love this tight little cunt,” he grunts

the room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans. sweat beads on his forehead as he thrusts into you with increasing urgency, chasing his climax.

“g-god, you feel amazing,” he gasps, his eyes locked onto yours. “love how fucking wet and hot you are for me.”

your own pleasure builds, coiling tighter with each thrust. you arch your back, meeting him halfway, desperate for more contact.

“y-yes! yes, oh my god, jungkook—” you cry when picks up the pace even further.

with a final, deep push, he buries himself to the hilt and stills, his body shuddering as he reaches his peak. you can feel his cock twitching inside you.

your legs tremble, fingers digging into his shoulders as you ride out the intense orgasm.

he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you both pant and quiver in the aftermath. he presses gentle kisses to your neck

“i fucking love you.”

the next morning, you and jungkook are on the couch, in the living room, wrapped up in each other's warmth. you're peacefully sleeping with your head resting on his lap, while his fingers gently play with your hair. he's shirtless, and you can't resist softly tracing your fingers along his toned stomach and chest.

"you know what i think when i look at you?" jungkook asks, his voice soft as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. you hum in response, not fully awake.

"how can someone be this pretty?" he smiles down at you, his eyes sparkling, and you return the smile.

"back at ya," you reply with a playful grin.

"oh, you think i'm pretty?" he teases, his grin widening.

"yeah, of course! you're the prettiest," you say, your smile growing as you scrunch your nose, which he finds utterly adorable.

"what about hot?" he asks, his voice turning a little more playful. you sit up, shifting to climb onto his lap, and he smiles, his hands finding your waist to help you settle comfortably.

"the hottest," you respond, and he chuckles, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

the two of you lean in to kiss... but!!!

just as your lips are about to meet, the doorbell rings.

you sigh.

"must be the delivery guy or something," you say, and jungkook nods, pulling away from you. as you get up, jungkook gives you a playful slap on your ass. you yelp in surprise, and you can hear him laughing behind you as you make your way to the door.

you open the door, expecting to see a delivery person, but instead, your eyes widen in shock.

"what the fuck?" you say it out loud, clearly surprised by the sight in front of you.

"is this how you treat your guests?" a male voice calls out, sounding amused.

jungkook notices your surprise and quickly gets up, walking towards you to see what’s going on. "what happened, baby? who is it—" he stops mid-sentence when he sees a tall man standing in front of you. the man is holding a suitcase, dressed in a sharp navy blue suit, his dark hair perfectly styled, and his face... perfect.

“who is this?” the man asks, his eyes never leaving jungkook, waiting for you to say something.

"who are you?" jungkook asks him, his protective instincts kicking in as he pulls you behind him.

the man frowns.

“geez guys, stop it!” you step forward, standing between them now. jungkook's eyes follow you, a little confused.

"jungkook, this is my.. older brother," you say, and jungkook's eyes widen in surprise. you turn to cal and continue. "and this is jungkook, my... well, you know—"

"oh, i know," cal interrupts, eyeing jungkook with a pointed look, his gaze scanning jungkook's shirtless body. jungkook fumbles awkwardly, trying to cover himself as he looks around for his shirt, only to realize you're wearing it.

oops, you think.

“nice to meet you, i am jeon jungkook,” jungkook introduces himself, his voice a little awkward as he bows slightly to your brother. he’s clearly trying to make a good impression, but the situation he's in right now is the worst.

your brother glances at you, and you subtly mouth, ‘be nice’ to him. cal rolls his eyes, clearly not amused, but he lets out a small sigh and turns back to jungkook, holding out his hand.

jungkook, not missing a beat, reaches out and shakes his hand firmly, though still trying to mask the awkwardness.

“i’m calvin.”

“is this how you live?” your brother muses, his eyes scanning the room as he settles onto the couch where you and jungkook had been cuddling just a moment ago, taking in the surroundings with a critical eye.

“mind your own business,” you reply as you set a glass of water on the table. cal grabs it, grinning at you as he takes a sip.

“i was gonna say it suits you,” cal remarks, casually taking a few gulps of the water before setting it down on the table.

“okay, mr. richie rich,” you say, raising an eyebrow, and cal smiles.

just then, jungkook comes out of your bedroom, now fully clothed, walking towards you and cal. cal’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression hard to read. you catch it, but before he can comment, you give your brother a little kick in the leg. cal scowls, not expecting it.

you move over to jungkook, and he instantly wraps an arm around you, and he feels a little more at ease. cal notices this shift in the air, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” you ask your brother, sitting down next to jungkook on the other couch, trying to act casual.

“i did tell you,” cal points out, his tone unbothered.

“no, you didn’t—” you pause, thinking for a moment. “that was weeks ago!”

cal just shrugs, his face unapologetic. “i told you, didn’t i?”

you roll your eyes, clearly not impressed.

cal leans back on the couch. "oh yeah, mom and dad sent you some stuff," he says nonchalantly, as if it’s no big deal.

you furrow your brows, a little confused. "what stuff?" you ask, glancing between him and the suitcase he brought in with him.

"in the suitcase," cal replies, pointing at the bag. "you know, your old stuff. i also saw that plushie you always used to play with."

at the mention of the plushie, you feel something in your chest. you don’t even think twice before getting up and walking over to the suitcase. jungkook watches your every movement, curious.

you open it carefully, your hands trembling slightly as you sift through your old belongings. when your fingers brush against the familiar fabric of the plushie, you pull it out, immediately hugging it tightly to your chest.

cal watches, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "yeah, that ugly fat guy," he comments, and you glare at him and he just laughs softly, immediately apologising.

you clutch the plushie closer, but as you look down at it, you notice a small tag attached to it, and you read the words on the tag aloud: “we realised that we can let go now.”

the realization hits you, and a wave of emotions rush over you.

mom and dad..

it makes your throat tighten and your eyes well up with tears. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay, but it’s hard. you hug your totoro plushie tighter, a pout forming on your lips.

both jungkook and cal notice it. jungkook smiles softly, his eyes warm, while cal looks at you, his eyes softening.

for a moment, cal doesn’t say anything. he watches as you hug the plushie tightly, your fingers clutching it as though you’re afraid to let it go. despite the teasing earlier, he can’t help but see you as the same little sister who used to carry that plushie around everywhere.

he remembers the way you’d refuse to sleep without it, how you’d drag it around by one arm. you were always so stubborn. you were always insisting that it wasn’t just a toy, it was your “friend.” and now, seeing you holding it again, it’s as if time has rewound.

he can only see you as the same little girl, clutching your plushie like it’s your whole world, and it makes his heart ache a little— but in a good way.

“we’re proud of you, you know,” cal says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

you and jungkook both look at him, a little surprised.

“yes, we,” he repeats, his smile growing as he starts to list, “me, mom, dad, totoro, noisy boy-” he chuckles as he recalls some memories. “we’re all proud of you, little star.”

his words hit you hard. it breaks you, completely.

you bury your face in totoro, clutching the plushie tightly as the tears begin to fall freely. soft, shaky sobs escape your lips, and cal doesn’t hesitate. he stands and moves to kneel beside you on the floor, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. his hand strokes your arm gently, up and down, a comforting rhythm as you cry into his side.

“i missed you,” you manage to say through the tears, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

cal’s smile softens even more. “me too,” he whispers, his voice quiet but filled with warmth.

jungkook kneels down in front of you, his gaze filled with nothing but tenderness. cal looks at him, their eyes meeting for a moment, and with a small, approving smile, cal nods at him.

jungkook seems to understand immediately. he reaches out, gently pulling you into his arms. you let yourself be held, your sobs gradually quieting as he rubs soothing circles on your back.

cal watches the two of you, his chest tightening in a bittersweet way. he sees how jungkook wipes away your tears with careful hands, murmuring something about totoro that makes you chuckle softly through the emotions.

jungkook presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment before he pulls back to look at you. his eyes full of love and reassurance, and it’s enough to make cal feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re in good hands.

and all cal can think as he watches the two of you is,

we can let go now.

note: one more chapter :(( i have so much to say about owiu i am gonna cry (already did writing the last part,, idk i am js really emo today)

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @minaateez @myjungkookthighs

📜 permanent taglist: @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

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[magnagaruzenmon]

Merry Axemas

Oh Dino! Oh Dino! or should I say Great Demon Emperor? you messed up because I Love when you do zombie stories, and you do you ridiculous high energy jokey narration I love you for (platonically like a brother) and Eunbi my my this is quite the christmas gift. Yeah you're making this a series. Go on now shoo. Start cooking. I look forward to the first chapter.

But it was only meant to be a wrap up... Sigh...Damn it… I guess it’s a series now.

A new perspective

Sakura grabbed her arm. “Chowon, we have to go!”

“I’m not leaving him!” she snarled, her voice raw with emotion.

The group hesitated, torn between their loyalty to Chowon and their survival instincts. Finally, Leo spoke, his voice heavy with regret. “We don’t have a choice. He wouldn’t want us to die here.”

The group began to retreat, dragging Chowon with them. She fought them every step of the way, but eventually, they relented leaving her, her eyes never leaving the direction Dinozen had been taken.

An hour later, Chowon sat alone by the charred remains of a tree, her knees pulled to her chest. Her mind raced, torn between worry for Dinozen and guilt for letting the group leave without her. She knew they would need a slayer but she expected Dinozen to come back any moment, and then they would go and tell off their group.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her tense, her hand instinctively going to her knife. A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall man with dark skin and a calm, almost disarming smile.

The person approaching her is me… yeah that's me your new and improved narrator. I approached the young woman who sat frozen, which was surprising to me to see someone so alone, but I guess I couldn't say much either because I was also very much alone. Her eyes were level with me though as she pulled her knife. I raised my hands above my head and replied, "Not a zombie. Just a traveler," the young lady looked at me suspiciously. She looked me over for any signs of infection or malice, but all she found was my goofball smile. But to her credit, she didn't let her guard down,

"Who are you?"

“Daihouzan,” I responded. The young lady eyed me suspiciously before asking what I was doing?

“Um, scavenging. If you can’t tell we are in the middle of the awesomepocalypse pocalypse pocalypse,” I responded while adding the echo for dramatic effect. The young woman scowled at me, and I replied “Woo tough crowd,”

“Do you think this is a game?” She growled angrily

“Uh, kinda,” I replied. “At least that’s how I’m treating it so I don’t get PTSD,” I added. The young lady eyed me confused I shrugged as I sat next to her, "So what seems to be the problem?"

"My friend is gone," she said, sadly, and I listened to her tell her story.

I felt bad because I had seen firsthand how people treated slayers and it wasn't the kindest always. Especially if they went into a rage, but I had been around enough slayers at this point to see them as people.

"Well, how about this we wait for your boyfriend (chowon growled at me saying that) oh okay mate, and if he's not here in the next 8 hours we go looking for him," I suggested. The young lady scowled and then said

"Okay, but you better not hold me down,"

I laughed and said, "Darling I am not just a monster hunter I am the monster hunter in these parts. I have seen more zombies than you have probably slain. I am a legend out here," the young lady finally laughed and said,

"If you are so much of a legend how come I don't know you," I clasped my hands together and said,

"you know what fair," before we began our wait.

At the fourth hour, hunger gnawed at me, and I decided to take a break from our quiet vigil. I headed into the safehouse and rummaged through what little remained. Among the scraps, I found instant ramen and a packet of vanilla tea. Not exactly gourmet, but in times like these, it was practically a feast. I prepared enough for both of us, though the young woman—still nameless to me—hadn’t said much the entire night.

When I returned, she sat by the same charred tree, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if willing something—or someone—to appear. I handed her the food, and though she accepted it, her movements were slow, her expression distant. She ate dourly, her eyes never meeting mine.

I settled beside her, eating in silence for a while. But something about her tugged at the edges of my memory, like a song you can’t quite place.

“Hey,” I started hesitantly, breaking the stillness. “What did you do before the outbreak?”

She paused mid-bite, her brow furrowing as though the question had stirred something painful. “I was a singer,” she said simply. “In a K-pop group.”

The pieces fell into place like a lightning strike. “Wait… are you Han Chowon? From Lightsum?” I blurted, the name tumbling out before I could stop myself.

Her head turned sharply toward me, and for a moment, her guarded demeanor cracked. Then, reluctantly, she nodded.

“No way,” I breathed, the realization hitting me like a truck. “Holy crap. I saw you guys when you did your show in LA! You were amazing. Seriously, I still remember how electric that performance was. And wow, you’re… you’re even prettier up close, even with this whole lioness vibe you’ve got going on.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, though her expression remained cautious. Still, there was a flicker of something—maybe amusement, maybe warmth.

Beside her, I could almost feel an invisible presence, a low purr of approval from that "lioness" persona she seemed to carry. Even though I couldn’t explain it, I knew she had accepted my presence, at least for now.

She shifted uncomfortably, her voice quieter as she asked, “So… what’s your pre-outbreak story?”

I leaned back against the tree, letting out a small chuckle. “Nothing nearly as glamorous as yours,” I said. “I worked in records and did stunt work for movies. You know, falling off buildings, crashing cars, setting myself on fire. The usual.”

Chowon raised an eyebrow, her skepticism briefly overtaking her guardedness. “Stuntman, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little sheepish. “I ran with my mentor, Jacob, who’s actually a Slayer now. In the early days of the outbreak, he took me under his wing and taught me everything I needed to survive. He’s the reason I’m still alive, really.”

There was a faint spark of interest in her eyes now, though it was still wrapped in layers of suspicion and exhaustion. “Where’s Jacob now?” she asked.

“Off doing Slayer things, I guess,” I said with a shrug. “Haven’t seen him in a while. But you know, he always said surviving wasn’t just about staying alive—it was about finding something worth protecting. Sounds cheesy, I know, but it stuck with me.”

Chowon’s gaze drifted again toward the horizon, her hands tightening slightly around the cup of vanilla tea. “Something worth protecting…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the silence between us felt less like a void and more like a shared understanding. Two people, broken in different ways, trying to find meaning in a world that had lost its own.

“Well,” I said, breaking the spell gently, “if your lioness persona approves, maybe we’ll survive this crazy apocalypse together.”

She didn’t laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched—just enough to count as a win.

At the sixth hour, I knew it was time to stop waiting and start acting. Dinozen wouldn’t just rescue himself, and the longer we stayed idle, the more likely something terrible had already happened. I went to work, methodically preparing for the search. Weapons, check. Supplies—water, rations, the usual—check. I double-checked the straps on my shield, making sure everything was secure.

As I was finishing up, a low, guttural noise broke through the stillness. My head snapped up, ears straining to pinpoint the source. It was coming from the yard. Grunting, shuffling, and a growl that sent a chill down my spine.

I grabbed my shield and sword, Wicked Edge, and bolted outside. What I saw froze me in place for a split second. Chowon was locked in a brutal struggle with a bruiser zombie—a hulking, grotesque beast easily twice her size, its mottled skin stretched tight over grotesque muscles. It swung its massive arm at her, and she barely dodged, her knife looking pitifully inadequate against its bulk.

Without hesitation, I charged in, shield first. The impact of my rush slammed into the bruiser with a bone-crunching thud, sending it staggering back. Its neck twisted toward me at an impossible angle, its soulless eyes locking onto mine as it let out a guttural roar.

The bruiser charged, its enormous frame bearing down like a runaway train. I raised my shield just in time, absorbing the impact with a deafening clang that reverberated up my arm.

Before it could recover, I moved with practiced precision. With a single, powerful swing, I sliced through the bruiser’s midsection, cutting it clean in half. Blackened, viscous ichor spilled onto the ground as the top half of its body collapsed in a grotesque heap.

Breathing heavily, I turned to Chowon, who stood frozen, her knife still clutched in her hand. Her eyes were wide, not in fear but in surprise, maybe even awe.

“Sword Saint of Invincibility,” I said, pointing a thumb at myself with a grin. Chowon’s expression shifted, her guarded demeanor melting just slightly as a flicker of something else—approval, maybe—crossed her face. I could almost feel her inner lioness purring at the display of force.

Her gaze drifted to Wicked Edge, taking in its jagged, unnatural design. “What is that?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Oh, this?” I said, lifting the weapon for her to see. “It’s something I put together. Made it out of zombie parts and bone. I call it Wicked Edge.”

Chowon’s eyes lingered on the blade, her interest unmistakable. “You made it yourself?”

“Yup,” I said, sheathing the weapon with a flourish. “Every Slayer needs a signature weapon, right? Figured I’d put all those horror movie props and stuntman skills to good use.”

Her lips quirked upward, just a little. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” I feigned offense, placing a hand over my heart. “I just saved your life with that ‘not bad’ weapon!”

She let out a soft, amused huff, though her lioness aura still clung to her like a second skin. “Thanks,” she said, her tone quieter but sincere.

“No problem,” I replied, giving her a grin. “Now, you ready to help me find Dinozen? We’ve got work to do.”

She nodded, determination hardening her features. And for the first time, I felt like we weren’t just two strangers thrown together by circumstance. We were a team. Or at least, we were getting there. Chowon nodded as she got up and she followed me. the two of us travel in the direction that she saw Dinozen taken in.

The road stretched long and empty ahead of us, the only sound was the crunch of gravel beneath our boots. Chowon was walking slightly behind me, her gaze lingering on the weapons strapped across my back and hanging from my belt. I could feel her eyes moving between them—curiosity and perhaps judgment in her steady gaze.

I smirked to myself. “You can just ask, you know.”

Chowon stiffened slightly, caught in the act. “Ask what?”

“About my weapons. I saw you eying them,” I said, slowing my pace to walk beside her.

She glanced at me, her expression guarded. “They’re… unusual. You make all these yourself?”

“Every single one,” I replied, pride evident in my voice. I reached over my shoulder and unslung the massive axe strapped to my back. The blade gleamed with an icy sheen, faint frost forming along its edge. “This here is Leviathan. Inspired by God of War, if you’ve played it.”

Her eyes narrowed, clearly unimpressed by the game reference, but her inner lioness stirred as she studied the weapon itself.

“It’s made from the bones and claws of a glacial bruiser,” I continued, twirling it effortlessly before planting it into the dirt. “The frost effect comes from glands I harvested from its throat. Hits like a truck and freezes anything it cuts.”

Chowon stepped closer, running a hand lightly along the blade’s edge. Her lips twitched in what might’ve been approval. “You made this from scratch?”

“Yup. Takes a while, but hey, it’s worth it when it can save your life.”

I put Leviathan back and pulled two short swords from my waist, their handles connected by chains that clinked softly as I moved. “These are the Blades of Chaos. Another shoutout to God of War—you’re sensing a theme here, right?”

The chains rattled as I spun the blades in a smooth, almost hypnotic motion, the tips glowing faintly with a fiery red hue.

“They’re made from a pair of burning runners I took down. I forged their ribcages into the blades and kept their internal heat sacs for the fire effects. They’re not as strong as some of my other weapons, but they’re fast, and the chains make them versatile. Good for keeping zombies at bay.”

Chowon tilted her head, watching me demonstrate a few moves with them. Her inner lioness practically purred in approval. “Resourceful,” she admitted.

I grinned, holstering the blades. “That’s one way to put it. Now, this beauty…” I unslung Wicked Edge, my personal favorite. A bone sword and shield combo, both jagged and intimidating. “This one’s my bread and butter. The sword is made from the femur of a bony behemoth, and the shield is its skull. Got ambushed by one a while back—it didn’t walk away.”

Chowon’s eyes flicked to the shield, noting the jagged edges of the skull and the faint traces of dried blood etched into the bone. “Looks… brutal.”

“It is,” I replied with a wink. “But also durable. The shield’s saved my life more times than I can count, and the sword’s sharp enough to slice through even armored zombies. Plus, there’s something poetic about using the undead’s own body against them.”

Chowon gave a small nod, clearly impressed despite herself. Her lioness let out a low growl of approval in the back of her mind, and I could sense her warming up to me—if only slightly.

“And last but not least…” I reached for the spear strapped to my back. “ Gae Bolg. Another mythology-based weapon. But this one’s got a modern twist.”

I held the spear out for her to see. Its sleek, polished shaft was lined with intricate carvings, and the tip gleamed with a metallic sheen. “Made from the spine of a bone mapper and the claws of a butcher. The real kicker? It can use rifle ammo and project shrapnel at lethal velocity .”

“Like a rifle?” she repeated, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

I tapped a small trigger mechanism hidden near the grip. “Yeah, this baby can fire off rifle rounds. The zombie bone acts as a natural accelerant, and I’ve got the mechanism rigged to launch projectiles with minimal recoil. Perfect for both long-distance video calls and the more intimate dinner dates I can find myself in.”

Chowon’s hand brushed the shaft, her lioness practically purring at the craftsmanship. “You made all these from nothing but zombie parts?”

“Zombie parts, scavenged scrap, and a little ingenuity,” I replied. “When the world’s gone to hell, you work with what you’ve got.”

Her gaze lingered on the spear before shifting to me. “Impressive. I can see why you’ve survived this long.”

“High praise coming from you,” I teased, slinging Gae bolg back onto my back.

She smirked slightly, the edges of her guarded expression softening. “Don’t let it go to your head, Sword Saint.”

“Oh, it’s already there, I saved a slayer there’s no greater achievement,” I said with a grin, resuming our walk.

As we continued down the road, I noticed her glancing at me more often. Her lioness seemed to hum with approval, as though silently acknowledging me as someone worth her attention. It made traveling with her much easier as she opened up a bit more to me.

We found the safe house just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into shadows. It was a squat, half-collapsed building, the windows boarded up and a flickering lantern glowing faintly inside. Chowon had been quiet for the past half-hour, her lioness seemingly tense, as if sensing something.

I tightened my grip on Gae Bolg as we approached. “Huh looks promising right?”

Chowon nodded, her expression unreadable. She pushed the door open without waiting for me, her usual cautious demeanor replaced by something raw and urgent. I followed close behind, the weight of the moment settling over us both.

Inside, the air was stale and musty, the faint scent of old wood and dried blood lingering. A figure sat slumped at the far end of the room, near the glow of the lantern. He was hunched over, staring at his hands as if they held some great mystery.

Chowon’s breath hitched as she stepped forward. “Dino…”

He looked up, his face partially obscured by shadow. For a moment, I thought he recognized her. But then, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Do I… know you?” he asked, his voice uncertain, like someone trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

“Oh goody,” I said sarcastically as my mind made the logic jump.

Chowon froze, her lioness recoiling in shock. “What do you mean? It’s me, Chowon. You—” She stopped herself, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “It’s me,” she repeated, softer this time.

Dinozen shook his head, wincing as he rubbed his temples. “I… I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything before waking up here.”

Chowon turned to me, desperation flickering in her eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Looks like short-term amnesia,” I said, kneeling beside him to get a closer look. His pupils were dilated, and he flinched when I touched his shoulder. “Probably trauma from whatever that fire-breathing bruiser did to him. Could’ve been physical or just the stress. Either way, memory loss isn’t uncommon in situations like this.”

Chowon dropped to her knees in front of Dinozen, her hands hovering as if she wanted to grab him but was afraid he might pull away. “Dino, it’s me. I’m your partner your equal. We’ve been through everything together. You have to remember.”

He stared at her, his face conflicted. “I… I’m sorry. I want to, but… I can’t. It’s like there’s this fog in my head, and I can’t see through it.” I could see something underneath the surface of his mind stirring but it was being blocked. Probably a concussion.

Her lioness growled softly, a sound Dinozen and I could sense, and I watched as Chowon swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. I’ll help you remember.”

Dinozen’s gaze softened slightly at her tone, but there was still no spark of recognition.

I stepped back, giving them space. “He might need time,” I said, leaning against the wall. “And rest. This safe house seems secure enough for the night.”

Chowon nodded, though her focus never left Dinozen. “We’re not leaving him.”

“… do I look like an idiot?” I said dumbfounded. Chowon didn’t appreciate my tone and I quantified with one muck lighter, “Wasn’t planning on it,” I replied.

As the minutes passed, I set up camp near the entrance, keeping an eye on the room. Chowon stayed close to Dinozen, speaking to him in hushed tones, trying to jog his memory with stories and little details about their time together.

I couldn’t hear all of it, but I caught bits and pieces: how they met, the fights they survived, the way he always stood between her and danger. Dinozen listened intently, though the frustration in his eyes grew with each story he couldn’t recall.

After a while, he looked at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could remember. You seem… important.”

Chowon’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she looked utterly defeated. But then her lioness stirred again, resolute. She reached out, finally taking his hand in hers.

“You’ll remember,” she said firmly. “And until you do, I’ll remind you every single day if I have to.”

Her determination was something to behold. Even at this moment, with the man she clearly cared about staring at her like a stranger, she refused to give up.

I leaned back, arms crossed, and muttered to myself, “Damn, you’re one hell of a woman, Chowon.”

Her lioness let out a low growl of agreement, and I couldn’t help but grin. We got ready for the night and all took corners to sleep. Chowon stayed with Dinozen. As we were getting ready to sleep the whole building fell quiet.

The room was silent except for the occasional creak of the safehouse settling. Dinozen sat across from Chowon, his brows furrowed as he tried to process the bits of his past she’d shared. Chowon stayed close, her hand still resting over his, refusing to let the distance between them widen further.

Then, a crackle broke the quiet.

I turned sharply toward the source of the noise—my comm radio. I grabbed it from my pack, adjusting the dial until a voice came through, muffled but audible.

“…Any survivors in Zone Twelve, this is CDC. We’ve secured a secondary evacuation route. Repeat: there is a secondary evacuation route heading southbound from Sector Echo-Five. Extraction is available at dawn. Ensure any Slayers are accounted for to assist with transport security.”

Chowon’s head snapped toward me, her eyes wide. “Evacuation route?”

Dinozen perked up too, though he still looked a little dazed. “They’re still running evacuations?”

“Looks like it,” I said, keeping my tone neutral but hopeful. “Echo-Five is only a day’s travel from here if we’re fast. We could make it before dawn.”

Chowon hesitated, glancing back at Dinozen. “You think we should go?”

I gave her a long look, weighing my words carefully. “This isn’t just about us. It’s about helping the people out there who still need it. The CDC is trusting Slayers to protect the convoy.” I gestured to Dinozen. “He’s a Slayer, even if his memories are fuzzy. And you’re no slouch yourself.”

Dinozen straightened slightly as if reminded of a part of himself he hadn’t lost. “If we can help people… we should go.”

Chowon frowned, her lioness growling softly in disagreement. “But you’re not at full strength. What if something happens?”

I stepped in, my tone light but firm. “That’s what I’m here for. Between the three of us, we’ve got a better chance than most. And hey, worst-case scenario, I’ll just make another weapon out of whatever tries to kill us.”

Chowon shot me a glare, but the tension in her shoulders eased a little.

“Fine,” she said, relenting. She turned back to Dinozen, her expression softening. “But if you start feeling worse, you tell me. No playing hero.”

Dinozen nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll try to remember that.”

I clapped my hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, then! We’ve got a plan. Get some rest now, because once we leave, it’s full speed ahead. Ready break” I said as we finished our makeshift huddle.

The three of us began packing up in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. For Dinozen, it was likely the struggle to piece together his fragmented memories. For Chowon, it was the battle between her protective instincts and her trust in him. And for me?

Well, I couldn’t help but feel like the universe had put me in the right place at the right time. These two were something special, and if anyone could make it through this mess, it was them.

I glanced at Wicked Edge, already secured on my back, and muttered under my breath, “Looks like I’m in for another adventure.”

As we packed up, Chowon broke the silence. “There’s something you should know,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with an edge of defiance.

Dinozen and I both turned to her, curious. She tightened the straps on her pack and squared her shoulders, her lioness flickering in her gaze.

“I’m a Slayer too,” she said simply.

Dinozen blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You… you’re a Slayer?”

I raised an eyebrow, more intrigued than shocked. “Huh. Explains the whole lioness aura thing. But why didn’t you say anything before?”

She shot me a look. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing you just tell people. Slayers don’t have the best reputation, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Dinozen rubbed the back of his neck, looking down. “I guess that makes sense. People… don’t trust us.”

Chowon softened at his tone, stepping closer. “That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything. But I’m done hiding. You’re not the only one who’s had to deal with the stigma. I’ve been fighting just as hard to prove I’m more than the monster people see.”

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a small grin tugging at my lips. “Well, well, the lioness reveals her claws. Makes sense, though—you’ve got the same fire in your eyes as he does.”

Chowon smirked faintly, though her gaze was still on Dinozen. “I became a Slayer later, after the outbreak. It wasn’t something I chose, but it happened. And it doesn’t make me any less human.”

Dinozen looked up at her, a flicker of admiration in his expression. “You’re… incredible,” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes but smiled, the tension in her posture easing. “Save the flattery. We’ve got a mission to focus on.”

I pushed off the wall, clapping my hands once. “Alright, now that we’ve got that out in the open, let’s move. Two Slayers and one Monster Hunter? I’d say we’ve got this covered.”

Chowon gave a small laugh and shook her head. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

With that, we finished packing and prepared to head out, the weight of the world still heavy on our shoulders but lightened slightly by the truth now shared among us. For the first time, it felt like we were stepping forward as equals, ready to face whatever came next—together. After a good night’s rest full of pleasant dreams we got up early and headed off. While the slayers were clearly outpacing me I did keep up to the best of my ability. It was just hard competition when you’re competing against superhumans.

As we moved closer to the evacuation point, I noticed Dinozen’s stride slow. His eyes, glowing faintly with that predatory intensity I’d come to recognize, darted toward me, lingering on my leg and foot. Chowon must’ve picked up on it too because she stopped walking, her gaze sharp and focused as she studied me.

“You’re limping,” Dinozen said, his voice quieter now but laced with something deeper.

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s nothing. Just another day in paradise.”

Chowon tilted her head, her lioness instincts practically visible in her gaze as she noticed the scars running across my arms and neck. The jagged bite marks, the claw slashes, even the more recent wounds I hadn’t had the chance to properly clean up.

“You’ve been bitten,” she said, her tone low and edged with suspicion.

Dinozen’s eyes narrowed as his predator side came closer to the surface, studying me with that same primal scrutiny. “And clawed,” he added, his voice carrying an undertone of disbelief. “Those aren’t old scars either.”

“And stabbed, and bled on, and puked on…the list goes on and on really,” I said, Chowon and Dinozen didn’t appreciate the humor and brought their weapons to me.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders as if to shake off the weight of their stares. “Alright, alright. Look, I know how it looks, but trust me—it’s not what you think.”

Dinozen stepped closer, his golden eyes narrowing further. His predator was fully awake now, assessing me like I was an enigma it couldn’t quite solve. “You’re not a Slayer, then what are you?”

I chuckled. “Nope. Not a Slayer. Not superhuman. Just your average, everyday guy.”

Chowon’s lioness flickered in her gaze as she folded her arms. “Explain. Now.”

I stopped walking and faced them both, raising my hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Truth is, I can’t turn into a zombie.”

Chowon’s lioness tensed, clearly unsettled. “What do you mean, you can’t turn?”

“It’s genetic,” I explained, letting the words come slowly so they’d sink in. “I was born without the gene that makes a person able to turn. Zombies can bite me, claw me, hell, even try to gnaw my arm off, but I won’t turn. Doesn’t matter how bad it gets…well as long as they don’t eat me. I haven’t found anyone who can come back from that,”

Dinozen’s predator flared again, his eyes locking onto me with newfound interest. I could feel it—the instinctual, primal part of him sizing me up, testing whether I was worth respecting or dismissing.

“You’re immune,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “That’s… rare.”

“Yup,” I replied, popping the ‘p’ for effect. “Not a Slayer, just a guy who lucked out in the genetic lottery. Lucky me, huh? Or maybe it’s bad luck as I’d probably be dead now and not have to worry about” I gestured to the world around us, “all of this,”

Chowon’s lioness narrowed its gaze, her body tense as she processed this. “If you’re immune, why are you still out here? You could’ve stayed somewhere safe.”

I let out a hollow laugh, the kind that barely hid the exhaustion beneath it. “Safe? Well to be honest I thought more of the world was gonna fall so I never saw a reason to leave the Dead States of America. Besides, if I can’t turn, that means I’m better off out here helping people who can’t say the same. Someone’s gotta do it. Not every group can have slayers you know,”

Dinozen’s predator seemed to settle then, its gaze shifting from suspicion to something closer to approval. It was subtle—the way his posture relaxed, the faint nod he gave—but I caught it.

“You put yourself in danger for other people,” Dinozen said, his voice steady but carrying that predatory respect.

“Yeah, well,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck. “Someone’s gotta be the monster hunter. Might as well be me.”

Chowon’s lioness seemed to relax too, though it wasn’t entirely at ease. She nodded slowly, her gaze softening as she spoke. “You’re braver than I thought.”

I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still gonna make fun of you every chance I get.”

Dinozen’s predator lingered for a moment longer, then seemed to settle back into him. When he spoke again, it was with a faint smile. “You’re not bad, Daihouzan. Not bad at all.”

We started walking again, the tension between us replaced by a quiet understanding. Dinozen’s predator had found something it could respect, and Chowon’s lioness seemed to begrudgingly agree. For the first time, I felt like we were on even footing—a team, not just people thrown together by circumstance.

As the evacuation point came into view, I glanced at the two Slayers beside me. An odd trio, sure, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Well, maybe for a warm bed and a hot meal, but that’s beside the point.

We arrived at the rendezvous point earlier than expected, which was just fine by me. Keeping up with Slayers was exhausting. They had boundless energy, endless chatter, and a knack for making everything a spectacle. Meanwhile, I preferred my energy reserved for battles, not theatrics. As we waited in the eerie quiet, the sound of a struggle floated in from the east.

I sighed heavily. “Here we go again.”

Chowon and Dinozen were already moving toward the noise, their senses honed to detect danger like predators ready to strike.

“Wait!” I called, rising reluctantly to my feet. They stopped, looking back at me impatiently.

“They’re coming this way. Don’t waste your energy running over there. You’ll just tire yourselves out.”

Dinozen grunted in acknowledgment, while Chowon hesitated before nodding. They both stayed put, their bodies tense and ready for the inevitable. The sound grew louder—a combination of growls, shouting, and the distinct rumble of something large and enraged.

When the first figure burst through the treeline, it was exactly what I expected: a grotesque mutator zombie, its body twisted and bulging with muscle, its movements erratic yet disturbingly fast. Behind it, a group of survivors—no, Slayers—struggled to keep it at bay.

The mutator’s beady eyes locked onto me, and it let out a deep, guttural growl, its claws tearing into the earth as it stomped forward.

I groaned, rolling my neck as I stepped forward to meet it. “You dare challenge the Immortal Righteous Sword Saint of Invincibility, Daihouzan?” I bellowed dramatically, slamming my fist to my chest.

Everyone—Slayers included—stared at me like I’d grown a second head. Dinozen raised an eyebrow, while Chowon pinched the bridge of her nose.

“What?” I said, glancing back at them. “Y’all can yap too. Let me have fun. This is one of my few joys in life.”

The mutator roared again, louder this time, mocking my theatrics. I smirked and roared back, throwing in a little snarl for good measure. The beast charged, and I stepped forward, pulling the Blades of Chaos from my waist. The fiery chains glinted in the fading sunlight as I spun them, the flames licking hungrily at the air.

The fight was brief but brutal. The mutator lunged, claws swiping wildly, but it was no match for the whirlwind of flames and steel. The chains wrapped around its limbs, cutting deep, while the fire consumed its rotting flesh. With a final swing, the beast collapsed in a smoldering heap.

“Another one bites the dust,” I muttered, sheathing the blades as I bent down to scavenge. Among the remains, I found a few components for the weapon I was working on—a katana inspired by Vergil’s Yamato from Devil May Cry. I just needed an Odachi blade to complete it.

As I straightened up, the rumble of the CDC Super Train reached my ears. The massive, fortified convoy pulled into view, its sleek, armored cars a stark contrast to the chaos of the world around us. The Slayers and their group quickly boarded, and I followed, collapsing onto the floor the moment we were safely inside.

Before anyone could react, I raised a hand weakly and said, “Not turning. Just tired.”

The group relaxed, though some shot me wary glances. As the train began to move, everyone settled into the car, finding their own spaces. I drifted off briefly, but the sound of raised voices pulled me back to consciousness.

“I can’t believe you forced us to leave you!” Jihyo’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with anger.

“You left Dinozen!” Chowon fired back, her tone equally heated.

“Yeah, and we all paid the price!” A young woman with auburn hair—Nagyoung, if I remember correctly—growled next to Jihyo. “We were overrun at the next safe house with no Slayer to help us out.”

“We all got bit! Lucky for us, we were already Slayers!” Nagyoung added, her frustration spilling over.

“Hey,” I cut in, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “Can y’all save the aggro for zombies? I was trying to sleep.”

One of the men—Donny, I assumed—turned to me with a glare. “You stay out of this!” he snapped.

I scratched my head lazily and gave him a bored look. “I don’t think you’ve got the combat acumen to back that threat, bruv, but hey, take your shot.”

The tension in the car grew thicker as another man—Leo—stepped forward, his expressionless aggressive but no less serious. “And who are you, exactly?”

I sighed, stretching dramatically as I stood. “Sword Saint of Invincibility. Combat Celebrant of Victory. Lord of Joy and Apex Hunter Extraordinaire—Daihouzan.” I gestured grandly. “And I’m not intimidated by your little show. I’ve fought way too many things to be scared of recently evolved Slayers.”

The room fell silent, save for Chowon and Dinozen, whose inner predators stirred. Their gazes showed a mix of respect and amusement. The others, however, looked at me like I was insane.

“Listen,” I continued, brushing off their reactions. “If no one has anything nice to say, let’s just keep it to ourselves. All this is gonna do is lead to conflict, and I don’t want to be the one mopping up body parts.”

Reluctantly, the group settled, muttering under their breaths as they returned to their seats. I found an open spot but realized it wasn’t empty. A woman sat there, dressed in a cowgirl outfit that reminded me a little of Tifa from Final Fantasy VII.

She looked up and smiled, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Eunbi.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wow, you’re, like, really pretty,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

She chuckled. “Thank you. Also, good job stopping them from fighting.”

I nodded, still trying to process her presence. “Thanks.”

“You’re Daihouzan, right?” she asked, tilting her head.

I frowned. “How’d you know?”

Her grin widened. “I heard your whole introduction over there. You’re very dramatic.”

I chuckled, relaxing. “Hey, I earned the nickname. I’m gonna flaunt it.”

“Fair point,” she said with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. For the first time in what felt like ages, I felt something other than exhaustion—a strange, flickering sense of connection.

As the train rumbled forward, the tension in the car began to dissipate. Chowon sat quietly, but her unease was palpable. I could tell she wasn’t used to seeing her friends so confrontational—or so changed. Dinozen, ever the quiet observer, sat beside her, a steady presence as her fingers tapped nervously on her knees.

The air in the car felt thick, almost electric. Slayers always had this sort of energy, and as someone who’d been around them for far too long, I could tell something was off. Not wrong exactly, but… different.

I was just starting to nod off again when a sharp gasp snapped me awake.

Chowon was on her feet, staring at Nagyoung, who was hunched over and clutching her chest. Her auburn hair clung to her forehead as beads of sweat formed along her temples. Jihyo was next to her, holding her shoulders.

“What’s happening to her?” Chowon asked, panic creeping into her voice.

“I don’t know!” Jihyo exclaimed. “She was fine a second ago!”

Nagyoung groaned, her body trembling as her muscles seemed to ripple beneath her skin. Her fingers dug into the armrest of her seat, leaving dents in the metal.

“She’s evolving,” I said calmly, leaning back against the wall.

“What?” Chowon turned to me, wide-eyed.

“Relax. It’s normal for newly bitten Slayers,” I explained, waving a hand dismissively. “Their bodies are still figuring out what kind of apex predator they’re going to become. It’s not pretty, but it’s part of the deal.”

Before Chowon could respond, another groan echoed through the car. This time, it was Donny, Nagyoung’s boyfriend. His head was tilted back, his eyes glowing faintly as veins pulsed along his neck. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and his nails had started to darken into sharp, claw-like tips.

“Okay, this is getting weird,” Dinozen muttered, his gaze flicking between the two.

The train car felt like it was vibrating on a different frequency now. Leo let out a grunt, doubling over as his arms flexed involuntarily. Beside him, Sakura steadied him, her expression calm despite the fact that her own transformation was starting—her pupils narrowing into slits and her movements becoming unnaturally graceful.

Jihyo winced as her girlfriend, Venus, clutched her arm, her skin shimmering faintly as if the light was refracting off it. Even Mikey and Chaehyun weren’t spared—Mikey’s hair seemed to darken unnaturally, and Chaehyun’s normally delicate features hardened, her nails digging into the fabric of her seat.

“Everyone… everyone’s changing,” Chowon whispered, her voice trembling.

I stood, dusting off my coat and walking to the center of the car. “Alright, listen up!” I said, clapping my hands loudly. “This is just evolution doing its thing. Y’all are Slayers now—fully fledged apex predators. It’s not a big deal. You’ll feel stronger, faster, and more dangerous. Maybe you’ll grow claws, fangs, or wings. Who knows? Point is, you’ll get through it.”

“You’re acting like this is normal!” Chowon snapped, glaring at me.

I shrugged. “Because it is normal—for Slayers. You’re just not used to it.”

“But… all of them?” she said, her voice breaking. “Jihyo, Nagyoung, Mikey… even Sakura?”

“They got bit,” I said plainly. “The Slayer gene kicked in, and now they’re apex predators. Simple as that. You’re looking at the new food chain, Chowon, and your friends are officially at the top.”

Chowon’s gaze darted between her friends, who were now writhing, grunting, or grimacing through their transformations. It wasn’t just physical—there was something primal in their eyes, something animalistic and raw.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” she muttered, sinking back into her seat.

Dinozen, who had been quiet all this time, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Neither did we,” he said softly. “But it’s who we are now. And so are they.”

Chowon looked up at him, her expression conflicted. Before she could respond, Nagyoung let out a sharp cry, and suddenly the air shifted. Her body went still, her breathing slowed, and when she looked up, her glowing eyes were sharp and focused. She flexed her hands, the claws retracting and extending as if testing them out.

“Whoa,” Nagyoung muttered, examining herself. “This… feels insane.”

The others began to stabilize as well, their transformations complete. Donny stretched, his muscles taut beneath his shirt, while Leo cracked his neck, looking oddly serene despite the faint glow in his irises. Venus’s skin shimmered faintly before fading, and Sakura moved with a fluidity that was almost unnerving.

“I feel… powerful,” Jihyo murmured, her voice laced with awe as she flexed her fingers.

“Well, congrats,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’re officially Slayers. Welcome to the club.”

Chowon’s hands trembled as she looked at them. These were her friends—her family—but now they were something else entirely. For a moment, she looked like she might cry, but then she took a deep breath and stood.

“Alright,” she said, her voice firm. “If this is who you are now, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Dinozen nodded approvingly, and the others looked at her with newfound respect. Even in the chaos of their transformation, Chowon’s determination cut through like a beacon.

As the train continued on its journey, the car settled into an uneasy quiet. But the air still buzzed with the latent energy of predators in their prime. This was a new beginning—for them and for Chowon. And something told me that things were only going to get more complicated from here.

As the train finally settled into a steady rhythm, the tension in the car eased. Chowon’s friends were still adjusting to their new reality as Slayers, but for now, the transformations seemed to have stabilized. I, on the other hand, was more interested in finding my way back to some peace and quiet.

Sliding back into my seat, I was met with Eunbi’s warm smile. She looked unfazed by the chaos that had just unfolded—a Slayer herself, her calmness in the face of danger was almost unnerving.

“Back so soon?” she asked, her tone light and teasing.

I shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “Figured I’d come back to the only sane person on this train.”

She chuckled at that, her hand resting lazily on the armrest. “How do you know so much about zombies and Slayers?” she asked, her head tilting curiously. “You didn’t even blink back there.”

I sighed, folding my arms over my chest. “Let’s just say I’ve been in the Dead States of America a long time. Seen a lot, fought even more.”

Her brow lifted in interest, her smile widening. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” I said with a wry grin. “Regular zombies, Apex mutators, Raider packs. Once fought a hive of those weird spitter things that can blind you with their goo. Nasty business. But Slayers?” I nodded toward the rest of the train car. “Slayers are a whole different animal. You learn quick when you’ve got to survive alongside them.”

Eunbi studied me for a moment, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And yet you’re still here, perfectly fine. Either you’re the luckiest man alive or you’re tougher than you look.”

I smirked. “Maybe both.”

“Maybe,” she echoed, leaning her chin on her hand. “So, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve fought?”

I considered that for a moment, my gaze drifting to the ceiling. “There was this one mutator… it had four arms, each one bigger than my torso. Looked like something out of a nightmare. Took me three days to track it and kill it, and even then, I was down to my last bullet and one good arm by the end of it.”

Eunbi let out a low whistle. “Three days? Sounds like it almost got the better of you.”

“Almost,” I admitted, a small smile tugging at my lips. “But it didn’t. That’s the thing about this place—you either adapt, or you die. Me? I adapt.”

She nodded thoughtfully, her smile never wavering. “I can see that. You’ve got this… unshakable thing about you. Like no matter what happens, you’ll find a way through.”

I raised a brow at her. “Is that your Slayer sense talking?”

“Maybe,” she said, grinning. “Or maybe I’m just good at reading people.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Well, whatever it is, you’re not wrong. I’ve been through too much to quit now.”

Eunbi leaned back in her seat, her gaze steady on me. “I think I like having you around, Daihouzan. You’re interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” I said, smirking. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she assured me, her grin softening into a genuine smile. “You’re not like most people I’ve met. You’ve got stories. I can tell.”

I didn’t respond right away, letting her words hang in the air. It wasn’t often that someone looked at me and saw past the bravado and the theatrics. But Eunbi… she seemed to get it.

“Stick around,” she said after a moment, her tone light again. “I want to hear more of them.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “We’ll see if you can keep up.”

Eunbi laughed, the sound soft and melodic, cutting through the lingering tension in the car. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to relax. Maybe, just maybe, this train ride wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

That feeling was quickly squashed as we arrived at the refueling station. The refueling station had an eerie stillness about it, despite the shuffling of the undead. Willamette, Colorado—of all places—was a name I hadn’t heard in years, but the sight before me quickly reminded me why I avoided it like the plague.

“An absolute piss show,” Jacob’s words echoed in my head as I took in the scene.

A massive horde of zombies stretched as far as the eye could see, and at the center of it all stood the Rage Cage—a sinister contraption of steel and wires, pulsating with an unsettling red glow. It was built to amplify the infection, driving any Slayer caught in its radius into a feral, uncontrollable fury.

As the train came to a stop, I groaned, already knowing what was about to go down. Chowon, Eunbi, and the others looked at me with confusion until I broke the silence.

“Alright, listen up,” I said, taking Leviathan, my trusty axe, off my back. “I’m going to need all of you to stay in the train car while I handle this.”

“Wait, what?” Chowon asked, her brows furrowing.

Eunbi crossed her arms. “Why are we staying behind?”

I pointed at the Rage Cage with my axe, the glowing monstrosity casting an ominous light over the scene. “That,” I said. “That’s a Rage Cage. It messes with Slayers and amps up your infection until you’re just as much of a danger as the zombies. And I, for one, prefer not to get mauled by any of you. So, you stay here, looking pretty, while I handle the horde.”

I could see the protests forming in Jihyo’s and Venus’s eyes, but before they could speak, Eunbi stepped forward.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice softer, less confrontational than the others.

I sighed, gripping Leviathan tighter. “No, not really. But I don’t have much of a choice.”

Without waiting for a response, I opened the door and stepped into the fray.

The first few walkers were easy enough—slow, stumbling dead, barely more than target practice. Leviathan sang as it cleaved through rotting flesh and bone, the frost-etched blade cutting cleanly. I moved through the crowd like a storm, carving a path and dropping bodies with every swing.

Then came the Butchers.

These hulking monstrosities were larger than the average Apex, their muscles grotesquely swollen and their mouths filled with jagged teeth. They moved with alarming speed, but Leviathan was faster. I sidestepped the first one, swinging the axe into its torso and freezing it solid before shattering it with a follow-up strike.

I was just catching my breath when I heard a voice—calm, familiar, and thoroughly unwelcome.

“Ah, I should have known you’d be here,” it said, cutting through the chaos.

I groaned, already knowing who it was. Turning, I saw her: Mrs. Konrad.

Standing on the observation platform of the Rage Cage, she looked as immaculate as ever, her pale green eyes glowing faintly in the overcast light. She was dressed in a tailored suit and heels, her appearance at odds with the apocalyptic nightmare surrounding us.

“Please don’t do this,” I said, exhaustion seeping into my voice. “I’m leaving. You win. You and your super Slayers can have the States. I’m done fighting you.”

Mrs. Konrad smiled, her expression equal parts amusement and condescension. “Oh, Daihouzan, you misunderstand. It’s not about winning. It’s about teaching.” She gestured toward the train. “You’ve gathered quite the collection of Slayers, haven’t you? They need guidance, my guidance.”

I rolled my eyes, gripping Leviathan tighter. “So, what? You built a Rage Cage to teach them a lesson?”

She smiled wider. “Of course. They need to feel the full fury of their powers, to understand what they truly are.”

“Jacob asked me not to harm you,” I said my voice hardening. “So I won’t start this fight. But if you keep pushing, Konrad, I will put you in the dirt.”

Her laugh was cold and sharp, echoing off the steel walls of the station. “Always so dramatic. I suppose that’s what makes you Jacob’s protégé.” She turned toward the generator powering the train. “Fine. I’ll leave your Slayers alone—if you can withstand the onslaught.”

With a wave of her hand, she activated the gate holding back the next wave of Apexes. I groaned, pulling out my phone.

“What are you doing?” she asked, curious.

“Getting the proper music,” I said, scrolling through my playlist until I found the track I was looking for. I hit play, and Ice Nine Kills’s only Christmas song blasted through the speakers.

Mrs. Konrad laughed again, the sound oddly genuine. “You would have made an excellent Slayer.”

I shrugged, my eyes fixed on the approaching Apexes. “Blame genetics. I was born without the necrophage gene.”

“Pity,” she said, leaping away with an impossible grace, her heels clicking as she disappeared into the shadows.

The Butchers and other Apexes charged toward me, their roars drowning out the music. With a sigh, I adjusted my grip on Leviathan and muttered, “Guess it’s time to earn my keep.”

The battle began anew, and the chaos surged around me.

A lasher whipped its impossibly long tongue at me before I grabbed it and cut it off with Leviathan. Before bashing its head in with the pommel of the axe. I then turned my focus to three spitters coming my way. I closed the distance as I jumped above one before embedding the axe blade in its head dragging it through the rest of its torso before throwing the axe into the other acidic bile body the blade instantly froze the organ causing the spotter to explode on a puff of ice. I grabbed Leviathan having mowed down through most of the hoard before booting up the refueling machine. As it happened I felt a weird sensation on my arm to see a Shambler head gnawing on it. It was only the head and it had no teeth so it was only gnawing on me with gums. I rolled my eyes and tore it off me. Then I walk back to the train while finishing off the rest of the zombies before entering.

Eunbi was the first to see me as I stumbled back toward the train car, sweat dripping down my brow and Leviathan dragging along the ground behind me. She smiled warmly, her expression one of admiration mixed with a hint of relief. “Well, that was impressive,” she said, her tone light but sincere.

I sighed, exhaustion weighing heavy on my shoulders. “Impressive huh? Must be high praise coming from a slayer as pretty as you,” I muttered, collapsing into a seat as the automated train roared to life and sped off, leaving Willamette and its horrors behind. Eunbi smiled and said,

"Considering all I have seen impressive is right." before leaning into my shoulder as I fell asleep. Her warmth was comforting.

The train ride continued, with more survivors boarding at each stop. Every refueling station brought new faces, new stories, and an overwhelming mix of emotions. Slayers made up a significant portion of the passengers, their newfound powers creating a strange, uneasy dynamic. Not for me since I had been in the dead states of America for a while, and saw how the dead evolved. Some were adjusting better than others, but there was an undeniable tension in the air. Old rivalries surfaced, egos clashed, and the train car felt like a powder keg waiting for a spark. Lucky for me nothing ever did

I mostly stayed on the sidelines, keeping out of the way as groups formed and reformed around me. It was easier that way. I wasn’t really part of their world anymore Especially as we moved closer to civilization. Oddly enough I felt this existential dread creep up as we got closer.

I glanced out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Jacob at one of the stops. He’d taught me so much about surviving this world, about fighting back when everything seemed lost. But stop after stop, there was no sign of him.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, the motion of the train a dull hum in the background. “Hope you’re doing alright, old man,” I murmured to myself.

As the train finally reached its destination, I stepped out into the sprawling new base in South Korea. It was a surreal sight: a blend of American military precision and Korean urban ingenuity. The juxtaposition of East and West was jarring but strangely harmonious, a testament to humanity’s ability to adapt even in the face of apocalypse.

Our little group stood together for a moment, taking in the scene. Chowon, Dinozen, Eunbi, Jihyo, and the others—all of us had shared something profound throughout our time in the dead states. We’d fought together, survived together, and in some ways, grown together.

Eunbi was the first to break the silence, pulling everyone into a group hug. I laughed, caught off guard but not resisting. For a brief moment, the weight of everything we’d been through lifted.

When we broke apart, I grinned and said, “Well, I guess that’s the end of the awesomepocalypse.”

Eunbi smiled, her eyes bright despite the weariness etched into her features. “Awesomepocalypse,” she echoed as if savoring the word. “I like that.”

With that, we parted ways, each heading toward a different screening process. We didn’t make promises to keep in touch, but there was an unspoken understanding that we would always carry a piece of each other with us. One Year Later

I hadn’t expected much contact from anyone after we went our separate ways. Life had a way of pulling people apart, especially after something as transformative as what we’d been through. But Chowon and Dinozen surprised me. Every week, without fail, we gathered at my home for dinner.

Those dinners became a cornerstone of my new routine. Chowon and Dinozen had adapted to civilian life with remarkable grace. Their experiences as Slayers had left them more confident, and more assertive. Chowon, in particular, had channeled her newfound drive into her career. Under her watchful eye, Lightsum had transformed into a powerhouse, rivaling even Cube’s other flagship group, (G)-IDLE, in popularity.

Dinozen, for his part, had found a surprising knack for storytelling. He’d started writing a graphic novel series about the apocalypse, blending his experiences with a healthy dose of fiction. It was raw, emotional, and oddly hopeful—a reflection of the man himself.

So when a Christmas party invitation from none other than Jihyo of TWICE fame arrived in my mailbox, I was more than a little taken aback. I hadn’t heard from Jihyo since the train ride, though I’d occasionally caught glimpses of her in the news. She’d thrown herself back into her work, leading TWICE with the same determination that had carried her through the apocalypse.

I wasn’t sure what to expect as I stepped into the party, but one thing was clear: life had moved on, and we were all finding our own ways to thrive.

As I stepped into the party, the familiar hum of chatter and laughter greeted me. The venue was beautifully decorated, bright lights twinkling like stars in a sky that felt too close for comfort. It was strange, how such a festive atmosphere felt so distant after everything we’d been through, but I couldn’t help but be drawn in by the warmth of it all.

I barely made it past the door when the room suddenly erupted into cheers. At first, I thought I’d walked into the wrong party, but then I saw the familiar faces: Eunbi, Jihyo, and a few others from the Slayer community, all waving and grinning. It was like the whole room had been waiting for me.

“Yo, Daihouzan! You made it!” Eunbi’s voice rang out over the noise, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Jihyo, standing next to her, was grinning too, her eyes sparkling. “Daihouzan! It’s been too long!” she called out, her voice warm and inviting, full of the same energy she’d always had.

The crowd around them clapped and cheered, and I felt an unexpected flush creep up my neck. For a moment, I stood there, feeling like I was the one who’d just won a battle. People were genuinely happy to see me.

I raised my hand in a half-hearted wave, not quite sure how to respond to the warm reception. “I, uh… didn’t know I was this popular,” I said, trying to hide the amusement in my voice.

“Are you kidding? We’ve all been hearing stories about you,” one of the slayers, a younger guy with short black hair, added with a grin. “We have been hearing tales about the sword saint of invincibility all night’ he has quite the reputation around here.”

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sword Saint of Invincibility, now there’s a throwback… I don’t know about all that. Just doing what needs to be done.”

From behind, I heard Nagyung’s familiar voice, laced with that playful edge she always carried. “Since when did you get so humble? When we met you, you had an ego the size of five spitters,” she teased as she walked up with Donny by her side.

I turned to face them and shrugged with a faint smirk. “Life changes people,” I replied simply, though the glint in Nagyung’s eyes told me she wasn’t buying it entirely.

Donny nudged her and added, “He’s just trying to be all Zen now. You know, a mysterious hero. The sword saint, wandering the Earth, helping where needed.”

“Or avoiding everyone because he’s terrible at keeping in touch,” Nagyung quipped.

Before I could defend myself, the crowd’s cheers began to quiet, but the energy in the room remained vibrant. The looks on people’s faces—the recognition, the shared understanding—made something in my chest feel lighter. These weren’t just random strangers; they were comrades, survivors, people who knew what it meant to endure and rebuild.

Eunbi, who had been standing nearby, slipped an arm around my shoulder and leaned in with a grin. “Come on, get a drink and enjoy yourself for once,” she said, her voice playful but warm. “You’ve earned it.”

I smiled at her and nodded. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

She guided me to a table where a couple of drinks were already waiting. As I sat down, she leaned back in her chair, her expression curious but filled with pride. “So, I hear you’re the lead villain rider on the new Kamen Rider series, and you’ve been writing for Ultraman too,” she said, excitement coloring her voice.

I nodded, picking up one of the drinks and taking a sip. “Yeah, actually, I got the job because Jacob saw me on a Rider show. He was so glad to see me alive and kicking, that he pulled some strings. He went back to stunt work after helping find the cure, and Tsuburaya picked him up like that,” I said, snapping my fingers. “He’s been killing it so far, and I’ve been helping out where I can.”

Eunbi’s smile widened. “That’s amazing. You’ve really built something for yourself.”

“Well, you’re not doing too bad yourself,” I said, gesturing to her. “I hear you’re killing it in your modeling career.”

She laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, the pay’s great, and I’ve gotten to travel a lot. But…” Her smile faltered just slightly, and she hesitated.

I raised an eyebrow. “But what?”

She glanced down at her drink, swirling it idly before looking back up at me. “Well, my favorite Sword Saint never came to visit me. Or even stayed in touch,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of something deeper.

I sighed, letting out a quiet laugh. “Well, it would’ve been hard to just show up and say, ‘Hey, I’m the model’s friend. I’m allowed to be here.’”

“It actually would have been that easy,” she countered, tilting her head at me. Then she added with a sly grin, “I put you on all of my plus-one lists, hoping you’d show up.”

I squinted at her, leaning forward slightly. “Why would you do that?”

Before she could answer, Dinozen and Chowon appeared, pulling up chairs and sitting down with exaggerated sighs. Chowon gave me a knowing look, her tone full of mock exasperation. “Because she likes you, dummy.”

“Obviously,” Dinozen added, grinning as he reached for one of the drinks on the table.

Eunbi’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and she shot them a look of mild annoyance. “I could’ve said that myself, you know.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of their statement. “Wait, what?”

“Wow!,” Chowon said, shaking her head with a laugh. “You really are clueless sometimes.”

Eunbi buried her face in her hands for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “Well, there it is,” she said, looking back at me, her expression both sheepish and amused. “They’re not wrong.”

I stared at her, my mind racing to process what I’d just heard. Then, slowly, a smile crept across my face. “You know,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “you could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah, well, where’s the fun in that? Besides it would have been tough finding you with all your jet setting, and being an action hero” she shot back, her grin returning.

The table erupted into laughter, a lively buzz of conversation and camaraderie filling the room. But as the noise swirled around us, I caught Eunbi’s gaze. There was something different in her expression—soft, almost wistful. She leaned closer, her voice barely audible over the chatter.

“Hey, can we go somewhere more quiet?” she asked.

I nodded without hesitation, rising from my chair as she grabbed her jacket. The party seemed to recede into the background as we stepped outside into the crisp night air. The quiet hum of the city was a welcome reprieve from the noise, and we began walking side by side. The glow of holiday lights danced off the frost-covered pavement, creating a serene, dreamlike atmosphere.

After a few minutes, Eunbi broke the silence. “You’ve grown quite quiet,” she said, her voice gentle.

I laughed, the sound carrying a tinge of self-awareness. “Well, so has life. I haven’t faced a zombie since Christmas last year, and now with the cure and those gene stabilizers for slayers, a lot more people are immune. So… I guess I’m back to being normal.”

Eunbi let out a soft sigh, her breath visible in the cold air. “You’ll always be special to me, even though you’re not a slayer,” she said, her voice sincere.

I glanced over at her, the warmth in her words catching me off guard. Before I could respond, she stopped walking and turned to face me. Her hand reached up to caress my face, her fingers cool against my skin. Her frown deepened slightly, concern etched in her features.

“Why didn’t you reach out?” she asked, her tone tinged with both hurt and curiosity. “Dinozen and Chowon were always talking about how hard you were working, but they also said you seemed… adrift. Like you were using work to fill a void.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I searched for the right way to explain. “Well, it’s just that I don’t really know who I am anymore. So much of my identity was tied to my reinvention as the sword saint, and now that’s kind of… gone.”

Eunbi listened intently, her eyes never leaving mine. A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Well then,” she said as we reached her apartment, “how about we rebuild your identity with a new title?”

I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

She opened the door and stepped inside, shedding her jacket as she turned back to me. Her expression softened, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. “As my boyfriend,” she said teasingly.

Before I could respond, she closed the gap between us, pushing me gently onto her couch. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater and the beating of my own heart. She leaned in, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was both confident and tender.

For a moment, the weight of the past year—the doubts, the uncertainties, the endless questions about who I was—faded away. In that kiss, there was clarity, a promise of something new. As she pulled back slightly, her eyes met mine, and I saw nothing but warmth and certainty in her gaze.

“Eunbi…” I started, but she silenced me with a smile.

“Shh,” she whispered. “We’ll figure it out together. Just… stay here with me tonight.” I nodded wordlessly as she began kissing me again. As her boldness and passion increased I could feel her hands dipping under my shirt.

"Bold are we?" I proposed and Eunbi smiled,

"I have been waiting for you this last year and now I got you," she said mischievously before nibbling on my ear. Her warm mouth set my veins on fire, and that was all before she lifted up her shirt.

"fuck!" I exclaimed staring at her chest that was exposed. Her nipples were hard and taut as she stared at me with hungry eyes. Without a word, she undid my pants and wrapped her tits around my rock-hard manhood. I moaned as her soft flesh enveloped me. Eunbi smiled as she continued her fucking me with her tits.

"Oh do you like that?" she said teasingly. I moaned again nodding wordlessly as she kept going hypnotically up and down. The experience was so intense I was unsurprised with how fast I was nearing climax. Eunbi smiled as she kept going as if encouraged by my unraveling, but just as I was about to hit the peak Eunbi stopped and I groaned.

“Holy fuck,” I cry out. Eunbi gets up her chest lathered with precum.

“I’m not gonna let you off that easy,” she coos devilishly.

I groan and she says, "Now I am gonna ride you until all you can say is my name. Do I make myself clear?" I nod and Eunbi sighed

"Words Darling," she cooed and I barely mustered a "Yes Mam," Eunbi frowned at that. As she got up and took off her bottoms. she then straddled me before saying,

"that makes me sound like an Old Lady. Do I like an old lady?"

"No," I said haggardly. Eunbi smiled as she continued grinding on my crotch at an evil pace.

"Good Now figure something else to call me," she said

I ran the list through my head and decided on Madam as it felt the least "Oedipus Coded". Eunbi's eyes stared into mine. Her red Sclera made her brown eyes really pop.

"I am waiting Daihouzan," Eunbi said,

"I am sorry madam," I quickly corrected and Eunbi smiled.

"Ooh I like that," Eunbi said as she slowly sank on my cock. I groaned as she bottomed out. She smiled before saying, "Fuck you so…fuck" she said as her body spasmed. Her walls tightened reflexively as she tried milking me for all I was worth.

"Did you just cum?" I asked confused. Eunbi's breath was labored but before she could even recover she was riding the hell out of me as she took me deeper and deeper inside of her.

"Fuck you just fit right," she moaned as she bounced up and down. Now not gonna lie the way her breasts bounced hypnotized me a bit. Unable to control myself I took one into my mouth. Eunbi lost in the pleasure groaned relentlessly as she continued riding me. Her tempo was frenetic as she chased yet another high. Her moans? Apoplectic with hungered lust (trust me I should know all about apocalypses, and anger)

"fuck where have you been all this time," Eunbi groaned as she kept riding. Her walls tightened again as she moaned. "Fuck what are you doing to me." She moaned as she came again. Unable to take any more of her vicious pace and Exploded inside her tight cavern. Eunbi moaned as we both rode out our peaks with each other.

"Fuck." I said.

"Fuck taking things slow. fuck that! You're moving in with me," Eunbi growled possesively before bringing me in for another kiss.

Shortly after we passed out, and I was woken up by Eunbi's dog Geumbi licking me.

"Oh well, she likes you. that's a plus." I sighed as I got up, and was reminded of my dog that I had before the awesomepocalypse. You know what the more I look back on it the more it sucked. I was always tired and fighting and lost so much." despite that I put it beside me as I got up. Eunbi was in the kitchen drinking a Sprite cranberry which made me laugh as she put on Christmas music. I walked to her and she smiled.

"you know we are gonna need a new name for you since you can't be the Sword Saint of Invinvibilty anymore."

I thought for a moment then said, "Since I mostly play villains… How about Great Demon Emperor Diabolos?"

Eunbi rolled her eyes and then, said"You're lucky I like you being over the top," she groaned before kissing me, and said, "I'll take it for now."

Before we could do anything else there was a knock on the door. Eunbi and I looked at each other confused as we scrambled to look decent. When she opened the door I said the following words,

"Oh fuck oh no oh fuck,"

[punching-today-in-the-dick]

So, I’ve just had an interview that has kind of blown me away. And not, in any respect, a good way. More in the way that, even though I’ve been unemployed for a year now and am rather desperate to find a position that will let me relocate cities (which this one would do), had me thinking no one in their right mind would accept this job.

I was already concerned when the job description was long enough to be three people’s jobs, but that’s just what EA jobs tend to be. And then this guy started talking and…. Yeah. This interview went for an hour and a half, by the way. He just kept going.

“We work predominantly with the mining industry”

Okay. Alright. That’s a bit squicky for me, ethically, right out the gate but I can probably grit my teeth and bear it if the rest of the job is respectable.

“Because we work with a lot of international clients, we’re really not a 9-5 company”

Okay, so I imagine you’ve got some sort of flexi-time or hours tracking thing going on.

“No.”

Alright, but there would at least be overtime, right?

“No. You’d get a yearly bonus that I get to decide arbitrarily and, because of that, we feel like we have the right to have you on-call 24 hours a day.”

Okaaaayyyy…..

“We’re an American-based company”

That doesn’t make you exempt from Australian labour laws, mate, and what you’ve proposed is very much illegal. I know you know this; you have a Law degree.

There’s literally no other compensation for forfeiting my entire life to this job?

“Nope! Just the bare minimum required by law and, actually not even that.”

“Let’s talk about your mental health…”

Buddy, respectfully, fuck you.

“Yeah, the woman currently in the role is leaving because she’s exhausted. So I laughed at her and said she should have taken a holiday four months ago when I told her to.”

Wow, you sound great. Please never contact me again.

[shalpilot]

temporary buddies

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

“You did not live in a house of horrors. I was raised to believe in hellfire; now that was bad!” Okay and impending global genocide of any culture that disagrees with your beliefs isn’t? Being raised mentally preparing to withstand torture at the hands of police in a “do it to Julia” situation isn’t? Being socially isolated from your peers on the grounds that they’re evil uneducated dumb worldly heathens controlled by Satan isn’t a bad thing? No. Those are all good things which every child should be taught in order to experience “the real life.”

The legitimate truth is that we are all in “the real life” right now and in “the real life,” the Governing Body is doing the very best they can to cover up the fact that they’re a cult by relaxing the cult’s rules in a futile attempt to prevent the prosecution in the numerous ONGOING child sexual abuse cases from handing their non-tight-pants-wearing asses to them. And the other legitimate truth is discovering this fact to be the legitimate truth while having to navigate a sea of lies and high school is extremely traumatizing, especially when you feel the need to take a hard stance against the cult to prevent others’ children — children like you — from befalling the same fate by dressing up as some miserable wretch who cooked and ate children, hoping the way you look and carry yourself and stare into the parents’ eyes will scare them away. And even more traumatizing is that your tactics worked; proving that you are just as bad and scary as your preexisting OCD made you out to be. Yes I did it to myself; but consider the reason why I felt so compelled to sacrifice the entirety of my mental health to sabotage you with what little tools I had. I wouldn’t have done it had I not had a very good reason, and my very good reason was that I was a child who loved children. You were trying to protect me and it was a sacrifice; but I was also trying to protect children. My endeavor is not — and was never — a selfish one. It is not that I don’t care about you; I only prioritize the class which is most oppressed, and you are not a part of it because you are adults. Your feelings, unfortunately, are expendable in my mission to end religious child labor. I will not support your corrupt religion to make you happy when I know what it’s done to others and to myself; it is wrong, and you are wrong for supporting it. I, as a paraprofessional, refuse to support a religion which hides the sexual abuse of children for its own gain. By law I am now a mandatory reporter; I must report child abuse when I see it under penalty of law. Therefore it stands to reason that I must report your cult from the top of every mountain for the entire inhabited earth to hear so they may not even take so much as one step in your direction. I am sorry if I seem like I hate you; if the fact that I reject your ideals of theological expectational fascism disturbs you so much, then maybe you need to re-evaluate your choices.

“Your actions affect others.” I know my actions affect others; I know how they affect others as well. You’re crushed and demoralized and suffering physically from all the emotional stress; I’ve likely dug you both early graves. I know what I’ve done and I can live with it — Not easily — but I am not defeated because I know I’m in the right, and have always been in the right. No. The real question is: Do you know how your actions are affecting others? In exquisite detail? Have you listened to the victims? Have you allowed yourself to hear both sides of the story with your human ears, not ones made of tin and thought-blocking strategies and “I had it worse than you” excuses? No? Then you’d better start because the key to healing yourself is to aid in the healing of others. We are all connected as one body; and I refuse to be a cancer cell. Sorry I’m aiding in your downfall but it’s got to happen at some point.

[is-your-name-anronpa-cause-dang]

HEADCANNON

Tsumugi refers to herself as a perfect Junko copy but I don’t think that’s correct. Tsumugi isn’t a perfect copy of Junko, because she uses her(Junkos) plan, her idea and ‘mind’ as a failsafe but I don’t think junko would use failsafes, shed like the excitement of her plan falling to bits without a net underneath her, cause if there was one it wouldn’t be fun.

Original Enoshima didn’t try to escape nor stop her execution once the decision to vote hope and kill her, -trial wise- had been put in motion, and in the anime, in her purgatory/ little cinema hell that she watches with miss chisa after she dies, the following conversation goes as:

Junko: aww! The story’s already over?

Yukizome: No.

Enoshima: Hm?

Chisa: Bizarre as it sounds, our Hope is just getting warmed up.

Enoshima: Lame.

Enoshima: Huh. As if I even care.

Enoshima: Get over yourself, slut. We're dead!

 (English dub) (future arc episode 12)

I don’t think she cared for continuing her story after she died either. She said something about it being new and not expected,(in a good way) in the future arc season when the next mastermind was revealed.(this is also cinema) She didn’t appear to want to keep her title as a sort of weekly mastermind.

‘but her alter ego carries on her wrath in sdr2!’ I hear you cry. Well even if she claimed she made that by herself, she wasn’t chihiro fujisaki, a programmer, and had to get some sort of help to do so. So there can definitely be some very small differences when she built another her. She could have changed her ideology after her death, but not be able to update her alter ego. also, she’s completely unpredictable and does things by random, (let me remind you that she killed her sister on the bases of boredom) so she could probably have separate ideas to her AI. This means she can plausibly disagree with her alter ego self and this can still sort of make sense

Back to my first point- Tsumugi kept fighting in trial 6/ chapter 6 because it would end danganronpa, and in turn, popularity. (i don’t believe junko would care to make a legacy so long and dragged out all for 53+ seasons, she wanted to die asap and it would be ‘boring’ if there was season after season after season. Please remember she got bored with herself easily)(<-) Also, Junko DID want to bring despair onto its viewers/ survivors of The Tragedy which is the whole reason trigger happy havoc’s game aired. And, in its most roundabout and basic form, that was what kiibo was for, so kudos to tsumugi I guess but it did kind of backfire into hope because she decided to give the walking Twitch-Chat-Plays-Danganronpa sentience so her plan backfired horrifically so no dice. (so ^this WAS my original statement but on further thought I actually think junko does/ would be ok with this, but she would be incredibly bored with her playing mastermind every time. She also wouldn’t like Tsumugis narrative with her playing Junko or the ‘enoshima pops up from the dead afton style in a despairing fashion’ with zero context.[I add this at the bottom instead of the top instead of where it originally was because it got too long.)

ALSO!!! Tsumugi copied the secret entrance idea. Also also she uses timers/deadlines (ha) to fall back on if things fail. Yes, while Junko raised her hand over Sakura to kill someone if things didn’t pan out, she would not directly murder like Tsumugi did. this does raise a concern: does Tsumugi and Junko the 53rd count as the same person? Does Tsumugis actions mean Junko did it too? Or are they separate if they aren’t in cosplay? I’d assume no because it’s just her cosplay and all, but if it is in costume? What happens??

Think about it this way: Tsumugi could only kill and slip up as a junko copycat because she knew about the hidden door, therefore she’s the mastermind, and junko is the mastermind, so she’s junko, but OG Junko cannot kill in the circumstances that were posed, So they aren’t the same person? So there’s two masterminds? That doesn’t make sense, their the same person. And now we’re back at square one. However she’s the same person because as far as I know, tsumugi doesn’t canonly have D.I.D so technically, every cosplay personality is already in her mind from her will. But theres still very clear differences between them. Even so, I still think I have something here

To simplify it, I’ve made four routes I can go down to explain this fuckery:

Tsumugi and Junko are different and it’s a multiple personality situation (if we assume this based off of the little evidence, there would be a whole other seperate kerfuffle but also junko remembers everything tsumugi does so memories are linked, and the outfit changes, and that’s not a very common thing to make people change a character. Oh yeah alSO EVERY OTHER CHARACTER THAT IS CHANGED INTO , YEP THAT WOULD ALSO MAYBE BE A CHARACTER So let’s not go here. There are easier ways to lose your mind)

It’s entirely Junko. Tsumugi is Junkos fake identity. (Does not match up with what has been previously stated.)

It’s entirely Shirogane. Tsumugi and Junko53 are the same people. There isn’t a seperate Junko entity, it’s just Tsumugis will. (The most sense, maybe this was what ‘copycat criminal’ meant?)

Tsumugi and Junko are different people. But not in D.I.D . They’re just two separate entities. (No.)

Conclusion? I lost my damn mind going down this rabbit hole.

The conclusion you are actually interested in: I think Tsumugi is infact not a perfect junko copy, but she’s a danganronpa employee and a fairly convincing copycat with unlimited funding and a spaceship

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe loves to put his fingers in sensitive!reader’s mouth & her favorite place in the world is his lap...

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being mean & making her choke on his fingers, heavily suggestive, size kink, use of daddy & dad

wc: 1.6k

in love w this man so more of him on the way xx

this is an additional part to this & u can read more here

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has had a bad day.   

She notices it immediately by the way he greets her with only a brief peck on her cheek; carelessly throwing his jacket on the couch before slumping down against the cushions and letting out a washed-out exhale.   

For the entirety of the week, gloomy clouds have painted over the dusty, colorless horizon and wet water puddles have saturated the socks of passing pedestrians and dog walkers alike. However, Rafe is not someone who particularly minds rainy days, which is why she assumes that the reason for his disgruntled mood has something to do with business, as it more often than not does.    

He scratches at the buzzed hair still slightly damp from the rain while she simply stands there and blinks; unsure whether he wishes to be alone or not.    

“What are you doin’? C’mere,” he suddenly orders in a somewhat of a stern tone and she has no choice but to pad over to his sprawled-out legs, lowering to sit on top of him and letting him paw at her waist as his beefy arms pull her closer. And she can't really complain when the heat of his body seeps into her flesh in such a comforting way; makes her insides feel all fluffy and featherlight.   

In the same way that Rafe seems to enjoy her needing him to take care of her when everything feels like too much, she loves being there for him; likes to feel useful, needed. 

“Do you wanna...talk about it?” the muted melody of her vocal cords reaches his ears as vivid raindrops pitter patter against the glass of the windows and he groans in exhaustion at how perfect she is for him.    

“Not really,” he dismisses her with a shake of his head. “How was your day, hm?”   

“It was uh, okay. I don’t know, the usual. Had some boring lectures, almost fell asleep…questioned every decision I’ve ever made,” she huffs out and settles her palms on his strong biceps.  

“Mm,” he’s only half listening; beginning to mindlessly twirl a strand of her hair around his index finger.    

And she takes that as her cue to continue blabbering out complete nonsense as she begins to grow slightly restless being this close to him. Truth be told, she’s pathetically been missing him the whole day; the only thing granting her the motivation to go about her routines being the thought of seeing him at the end of it all. And now that he’s here, he seems frustrated; mind entirely elsewhere and she doesn’t know what to do except ramble on and on about her dull day.    

Then, completely out of the blue, he’s grabbing her jaw into his massive hand and hushing her.   

“Shut up for one second, yeah?” he mutters out before he’s tucking a thumb past her lips; a surprised squeak leaving the back of her throat at the sudden intrusion because he was the one who asked for her to talk in the first place.    

However, she can’t exactly say that it’s unexpected. He often gets a tad bit meaner whenever he’s had a dreary workday and takes it out on her in some form or another. And regardless of how unhealthy all of it might seem, there’s a crooked part of her brain that yearns for it; wants him to come to her whenever he’s upset. If she’s utterly honest, the thought of him searching for solace in anyone else makes nausea creep up her bones.   

For some reason, the firm pad of his thumb making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth placates her; turns her brain into a needy, dingy muddle in a way that only Rafe is capable of.   

“Shit, just needed somethin’ to suck on, huh?” he pushes down on her tongue, making her swallow around the digit with a whimper.    

“So fuckin’ pathetic sometimes, you know? Just take anythin’ daddy gives you,” a low-pitched chuckle thunders from his chest, seemingly amused by the ease in which she gives into him.    

However, there’s also something gooey, syrupy beginning to whirl in the pit of her tummy. It reminds her of the countless times she was perched on the park swing as a little girl during the balmy summers of her childhood; thinking she could reach the fluffy clouds with the tips of her sneakers if only she could fly a little higher.    

“Feels nice to have somethin’ in your mouth, doesn’t it?” he ogles her, mesmerized with intrigue twinkling in the Carolina blue that has always made her think of the sky.    

She lets out a faint moan when he drags the digit out and then back in, making her gag around it; her hips involuntarily rutting against the growing bulge straining against the zipper of his pants, desperate for some sort of friction if even through the soft material of her sweatpants.    

“Didn’t give you permission to move, did I?” he feigns confusion with a furrow of his brows that gets her to reluctantly halt her shifting.    

“Daddy, need your...” her words are cushioned against the obstacle he’s planted between her teeth.  

“Can’t really hear you, baby,” he mocks before he’s pulling the thumb out of her mouth altogether.    

However, the next thing she knows, he’s stuffing in his index and middle finger both at the same time. They reach far deeper; a muffled sound of gagging following his actions as he seems to discover a perverted sense of satisfaction from her struggle.   

"What did you say?" his lips twist into a cruel smirk when she whimpers pitifully and tries to draw away from him in order to catch her breath but his other hand only grips her jaw tighter, keeping her exactly where he wants as she’s forced to breathe through her nose.    

“I think you can take it for a bit longer, yeah?” his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he simply stares, seemingly absorbed into the obscene scene before him.    

And she should feel embarrassed, demeaned even. And she does! However, the humiliation of letting him do whatever he wants as if she’s nothing but a cheap toy for his entertainment blurs over the lines when her cunt throbs in response to his degrading attention. She flutters uselessly around nothing; powerlessly begging for some sort of alleviation with a whine that merely earns her a tut of his tongue.    

Therefore, the only thing she can do is sit there like an obedient animal because he’s already scolded her once. She hasn’t turned entirely dumb just yet; knows firsthand how ‘daddy doesn’t like to repeat himself’ and that the next time she misbehaves will result in a punishment her poor cunt probably wouldn’t be able to handle in this helpless state of hers.   

“Don't think you could take dad’s cock even halfway in this pretty mouth,” he mindlessly croons, thumb smoothing over the skin of her throat as she swallows the spit beginning to dribble down her chin.    

The thought manages to pique her curiosity because his cock has been at the forefront of her mind for a couple of weeks now, due to him constantly teasing her with the notion of letting her suck him off properly. He keeps murmuring about training her throat and fucking it raw but never actually doing it; merely allowing for her to drool and mouth over the tip because apparently, she's 'not ready yet'.    

She’s beginning to turn into something desperate because whenever she tries to take more of him into her mouth, he stops her with a click of his tongue and big hands lifting her head off him. “Don’t be greedy now, sweetheart,” he’d scold her but she's certain she’s going to die if she doesn’t get to feel his cock nudge at the back of her throat soon.    

“Ray…” she tries to fruitlessly speak but he’s not exactly making it easy as he keeps stroking against her tongue. However, she doesn’t need to say anything. He knows what she wants.  

“I mean, can barely fit into this tight cunt, don’t know why you keep whinin’ about wantin’ me in this mouth so bad. Don’t think you’d even enjoy it that much. It’s a lot, you know?” there’s something almost patronizing in the way he’s speaking to her as if he’s not the one who brought the idea up in the first place.   

It’s like he’s trying to talk her out of it yet his fingertips keep prodding past her gag reflex every few minutes, almost as if testing the waters before plunging in and it’s making her head spin.    

She whines and tries to defend herself but the digits fussing with the inside of her slobbery mouth don’t allow for her to form anything audible as she begins to grow troubled.   

“What was that?” the line of his mouth curls when he pokes deeper once more, causing her to moan with watery eyes pleading him for anything at this point.    

“Such a dirty girl. Bet you’d like choking on my cock, huh?” he grunts and she hums in response; nodding fervently before he’s finally withdrawing his hand and smearing the spit-stained fingers against her pouty lips.   

They’re both panting heavily as he gently swipes at her under-eyes in order to catch the teardrops ready to trickle down before petting at the apples of her cheeks with a tenderness reserved only for her.  

“Shit, always know how to make me feel better, don’t ya?” he rumbles fondly against her mouth; following his saccharine words with a messy kiss soon after. Maybe he’ll finally allow her to have what she so badly craves. 

[solxamber]

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is a part of film studies sorry :(

[kurooh]

WORLD CLASS SINNER ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso fucking you nasty.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, car sex, creampies, overstimulation, crying, spanking, slight public sex, mirror sex, spit, hair pulling, freaky shit, motorcycle sex, riding (multiple things), filming, squirting, cunnilingus. | 4.7K words

xoxo, juno. happy belated birthday to satoru <3

GOJO SATORU.

“for the record, i love you,” satoru pecks a kiss to your cheek and his lips smack, “it is december 7th and ‘m getting my gift early.”

“it is not early!” you protest, snatching the phone from him and wiggling over to the side so you can mount it on the tall dresser. the camera app is open, overlooking the bed and ready to record satoru’s birthday celebration this year. bits of dry frosting color the corners of his lips, serving as the evidence of the cake you made him yourself.

“uh, no need to move so much,” satoru exhales coolly, hands finding purchase on your hips, “you said we’d take it slow, didn’t ya?”

“that was then,” you purr, voice low and sultry, “and this is now. unless . . you actually want me to?”

he shakes his head immediately, cheeks flushing a rosy pink while he pouts his lips. satoru sneaks a glance downwards, diamond eyes feeling a little wet at the sight — you’re sitting on his cock, with your cunt squeezing just above the creamy ring at his base.

“i thought so, ‘toru,” you giggle, blowing a kiss in the direction of the camera. it’ll surely add to the excitement when he’s watching this by himself some time along — after all, nothing else can get him off. your hands splay out on his chest, nails grazing his skin lightly.

“anyway, i’ve just been thinking . . and you’ve been such a good boy this year. i ought to spoil you for your birthday, hm?”

“what did you just call me?” satoru sputters, biting back a laugh although his voice trembles. “did you just say—”

the words die on his tongue immediately. your expression twists into one of pure bliss as you start to rock your hips into him, setting up a decent pace that has you crying out in delight. of course, he has no choice but to join you, his head tipping back while his eyes trace your features. god, you feel good — so tight, so hot, and oh so perfect. but sex feels even better because he’s pleasing you; seeing you falling apart on his cock all because of him will always get him going.

“shit, baby,” satoru gasps, groaning loudly when your fingers tangle in his snowy hair, “faster, please.”

you nod frantically, lifting yourself up and slamming back down on his cock so hard it’s like you’re being split open in the best way possible. out of habit, your fingers wander to your clit, and he pushes them away the moment he sees.

“no, don’t,” he replaces your fingers with his own and lets his free hand settle at the small of your back for support, “let me do it, babe.”

“toru,” you whimper as he flicks the sensitive bud around, “y-you always make me feel so good.”

“‘course i do, sweetheart,” he grunts, starting to jerk his hips upward. each deep thrust pushes his cock into places only he can touch, and your mouth falls open, face crumbling. “here, jus’ arch your back a little—yeah, you got it.”

satoru’s voice wavers as he tells you what to do, setting up a new position and angle for him to fuck into you at. beads of sweat roll down his temples while his chest heaves in exertion, the best kind — he’s never truly gotten tired when he’s fucking you. not only does he have the stamina of a wild stallion, but really, how could he get tired when you’re looking like an angel above him, crying out his name in a voice that’s a harmony if he’s ever heard one.

“so fuckin’ beautiful,” satoru grits out, eyes regretfully squeezing shut for a moment, “god, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep squeezin’ like that.”

curses and sobs of euphoria fall from your lips. as the seconds pass, you’re only getting more intoxicated by the heat between you. misty tears make your eyes shine, and arousal pools deep in your stomach, growing more pronounced with each shove of his cock into your sweet spot. your legs are trembling on either side of him, and your tummy’s slightly more rounded than usual—satoru’s cock is in your guts.

he feels you start to tense up, notices a few stray tears falling down your cheeks. this is it. “l-look at me, baby,” satoru pleads, as if he’ll die without it, “look at me when you cum.”

it’s perfect — you look directly into his eyes, and the camera captures your orgasm perfectly. your cunt flutters and spasms around his cock, and you’re shaking so hard you fall on top of him, flinching away from his insistent fingers. it takes everything he has to hold the urge to cum back, but he manages to pull it off, not even spilling a drop.

“toru,” you mumble into his chest, shivering as he strokes away the sweat on your back, “why didnt you—?”

“savin’ it,” he breathes, teeth sinking into his lower lip in an attempt to try and ignore the way your walls are flexing around him. “hmph. as the birthday boy, i expect you to blow another candle for me.”

your head lifts immediately and you shoot him a glare, eyes narrowed in faux annoyance. “you did not just say that.”

“careful, careful,” he hisses, hands flying to your hips, “don’t wanna accidentally cum right now.”

“right, but you’ll never push me off,” you challenge him, playfully wiggling against his pelvis.

“that is not fair!” satoru whines, looking ridiculous with the dried blue frosting at the corners of his lips. “don’t torture me, pleaseee.”

GETO SUGURU.

“keep your eyes open, sweetheart.”

“‘m sorry, sugu, i just—”

his hand comes down hard against your ass, and the crack of the slap reverberates through the room. you shudder, blearily opening your eyes and looking into the mirror.

behind you, suguru’s flipping a bit of his dark hair over his shoulder and out of the way while holding onto your waist to keep you steady. you can see how pathetic you look in your reflection — drool freely slips from your mouth and you look completely dazed, all sweaty and tired while hearts spin in your eyes.

“hm, that’s more like it. want you to watch yourself, honey.”

you nod, eyes tracing the edges of your thighs and ridges of his abs in the reflection. suguru’s got you on your hands and knees, making you look fucked out and fucked up.

“s-sugu, i wanna touch my clit—it’s not enough.”

he raises a dark brow, eyes narrowing as you slip a hand between your thighs and find your clit with your fingers. now, he settles his hands at your hips, lifting you up slightly to pound into you at a new angle.

“alright. only if you don’t fall over, sweetheart.”

what a bastard. of course he has to set you up with an impossible condition like that — the new placement of his hands is the first sign of your literal downfall. suguru closely observes your reflection in the mirror before his own: you’re covered in bite marks and hickeys, with a sheen of sweat all over your body, which makes your skin look sticky. your tits swing, building momentum each time he slams into you.

beneath the sound of ass clapping, suguru can hear your pathetic, fucked out cries—this is the result of too many orgasms and being an annoying brat to him all day. his blood boils with both frustration and arousal when he recalls a particular memory, so he reaches forward, gathering your hair into one hand before pulling you backwards. messing around with your hair is something that holds a special place in his heart; he loves it whenever you touch his hair in any way, and the same goes for yours.

“takin’ it like such a slut,” suguru croons, his dark tresses falling into his face, “but i really can’t hear you that well. thought i made myself clear when i said i want the whole apartment building to hear how well i fuck you.”

“y-yeah, you did,” you gasp, back arching beautifully, “sugu, need you to touch my clit.”

he smiles wickedly. instead of allowing yourself to fall forward, you’ve decided to give up and steady yourself at the expense of rubbing your clit. suguru almost wants to give you a reward for that.

“not right now, honey,” he revels in the frustrated sob you let out, watching in the mirror as your face crumbles in some kind of distress. so dramatic, he thinks after mentally laughing. as if he’d leave you unsatisfied — how many times have you cum so far? “someone’s fucking greedy, hm? tell you what, sweetheart. cum without your clit ‘n i’ll eat your pussy up right after.”

it’s a good enough deal, and it only seems more enticing when he sticks his tongue out in the mirror, showing off the silver ball in the middle of it. his tongue piercing, and your favorite part of him eating you out.

“o-okay,” you agree tearfully, and he tugs you back by the hair so you’re facing him.

“tell me, tell the neighbors, who’s fucking you this good? answer me, honey.”

“you, suguru!” you moan loudly, feeling a surprising pressure building in your lower stomach, “i-it’s you, ‘s always you!”

suguru nods, letting go of your hair and slipping his hand beneath your chin rather gently. then he lifts your head and tips it back. “open that pretty mouth for me.”

you oblige immediately, going so far as to stick your tongue out for him. he spits right onto your tongue, and it tastes a little minty because of his chapstick and tea when you swallow. the gesture is an erotic expression of dominance and possession, and it’s one that has your cunt quivering around his cock. he lets you go, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“oh, i feel you squeezing me,” he grunts, smacking your ass and groaning when your cunt automatically bears down harder. “looks like i’ll be devouring that sweet pussy of yours, honey.”

“hah, i need it,” mascara tracks darken your cheeks as fresh tears roll down, “t-think ‘m gonna cum, jus’ like you asked.”

“such a good girl for me,” he praises, egging you on by pressing his palm into your lower stomach, “my girl listens so well, doesn’t she? cum for me.”

the creaking of the bed grows louder as he pounds his cock into you harder, forcing a mixture of slick and cum to pour out from your used hole in glossy strings that stick to your thighs. he’s breathing heavily behind you, pressing into your tummy just right, and oh.

oh, you’re about to make a fucking mess.

a pitched sob tears from your throat when you cum on his cock, pussy gushing all over him and onto the bedsheets. sparkling droplets of cum race down your thighs and your entire body shakes on his cock, gripping him so tightly that neither of you can move.

“s-sugu, ‘m tired,” you gasp, stars flashing across your vision. “feeling kinda . . lightheaded.”

“you’ve gotta rest, sweetheart,” suguru laughs, and it rumbles out from the depths of his chest. he leans so far backwards his back cracks, and then he hands you an open bottle of water.

“what—what’s the record now?”

“ten in an hour,” he strokes your back with loving fingers, curling up beside you even though you’re upside down on the bed together. “let’s try to break it again in a couple hours.”

“how about tomorrow?” you suggest with a yawn.

“okay, okay. tomorrow night, my balls are shriveling up right now.”

“ew, sugu.” your nose crinkles and you scoot an inch away, too exhausted to move further.

“oh, stop it. it’s your fault anyways.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“kento—kennn,” you whine breathlessly, glossy lips parting to release a useless warning. “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, shit!”

“let me feel it, sweetheart,” kento croons, pressing his thumb particularly hard into your clit. the additional pressure has your head spinning too fast for you to even come up with a coherent thought as you orgasm with a drawn out whine on his cock for the nth time tonight. “that—that’s my good girl.”

beneath your bodies, the polished oak desk creaks dangerously, sounding far too tired for something that’s worth thousands. but kento doesn’t give one damn — he’d been stuck working overtime because of his shitty boss, who’d left him cooped up in his office, expecting his orders to be followed. the ultimatum was simple: do a ton of work or get fired.

kento had been so caught up he didn’t get the chance to call you, and the stress he’d been feeling began to ebb away once you stepped through his door with a bag of food from his favorite restaurant. one thing led to another, and soon enough the food had been abandoned somewhere and you ended up on the desk.

papers lazily drift off the desk’s surface while others are inevitably dampened by a mixture of wetness and spit, which leaks from your puffy cunt in thick trails down your skin. again and again, kento’s cock pushes even deeper, the blunt tip of it kissing your cervix rather roughly. meanwhile, his fingers toy with your swollen clit, drawing unrestrained cries from your lips while tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“ken, ‘s too much, i don’t think i can—”

“of course you can take more, angel,” kento huffs, firmly planting his hand beside your head for extra stability. the platinum of his watch glints in the light and his heavy breaths grow more ragged by the second, his chest heaving. sweaty strands of blond hair escape the gel’s hold, sticking to his slick forehead and making him look all the more ethereal above you. “i-i’m nowhere near finished with you.”

“oh god,” you whimper in realization, feeling that hot wave cresting in your tummy; it’s amplified by the rough rhythm of his cock and the attention he’s so generously lavishing your clit with. “g-god, ‘s coming . . ken, i think i’m gonna—”

a deep groan rushes out from him, all the way from the pits of his chest. hazel eyes squint as he watches your pussy push his cock out; it quivers momentarily before spraying cum all over his pelvis, and the sparkling droplets drip through his pubes, toward the shaft of his cock.

“did you just squirt, sweetheart?” kento asks curiously, heat rising to his cheeks and elsewhere.

“i think so,” you swallow nervously, too weak to sit up and look at the mess you’ve made all over him. “ken, i want you to cum inside me. stop holding it back.”

to be fair, this is probably the last time he’ll get the pleasure of fucking you on such an expensive desk. this despicable office he’s spent countless hours in is finally growing on him now that he’s got you in here like this — stripped naked and begging for his cum while making a mess of the shit all over his desk. and oh, he wishes he could see his boss’ face when he comes in demanding all of the finished work, only to be met with a sticky desk. the vision ignites an inferno in him and he guides his cock inside you, biting down on his lower lip when your greedy cunt swallows him.

“beg a little more for it, angel,” he chokes out, spreading your legs impossibly wider while drawing his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. “need to know just how you want it.”

you gasp sharply, back arching off the desk and causing your tits to press into his clothed, sweaty chest. “i want you to fuck me like you mean it. t-then, fill me up. please.”

you can’t even say another word before kento’s holding your hips down and plowing into you with a sudden ferocity. if he’s lucky, he can get you to squirt again and maybe this time he can get a taste—yes, this is the thought he wants to cum to.

he shudders, “i love it—ugh, fuck—when you tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“give it to me,” you cry out, eyes fluttering shut while your legs wrap tightly around his waist, drawing him closer. “h-haven’t i earned it, ken?”

kento comes undone at your words, teeth clenching with a loud grunt as he finally spills inside you. your squeezing walls milk him for everything he has, absorbing each throb of his cock into their sticky softness. his mouth hangs open breathlessly, and he weakly pushes his hips forward before carefully landing on top of you.

wood splinters and snaps beneath you, and you both tumble to the floor atop a heap of the desk’s remains. “kento, what just happened—”

“it’s fine, honey. let’s rest for a moment before we leave.”

“you aren’t gonna clean it up? what about when you have to come in tomorrow?”

kento nuzzles his nose into your cheek with a blissful sigh. “thank you for making my last day at this job special. i’ll be quitting and moving to the other firm closer to the house.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“this is what ya wanted?” with a coy chuckle, toji flattens his tongue against your slit and licks a long, languid stripe upwards. he easily finds your clit, and swirls the sensitive bud around with the tip of his tongue.

“yeah, but not the teasing—” a breathy gasp pushes past your lips when he pushes two slick fingers inside you.

“heh heh. you’ll survive a little teasin’, dollface.”

he’s so flippant with his words, so nonchalant. but his fingers are anything but lazy or uncaring as he bullies them deeper into your cunt, curling them right against that sweet spongy spot inside you. with one leg over his shoulder and the other hanging off the edge of the backseat, you’re fully spread and at his mercy.

“come onnn, toji,” he rolls his eyes when he hears you whine, tonguing at the glossy slick that covers his fingers and the skin around your hole.

“you come on, princess. just wait a second, ‘kay?”

“but i’ve been waiting,” you huff, lower lip trembling in frustration as your fingers push through the dark tufts of his hair. you can’t help but breathe a little heavier, the building anticipation becoming suffocating in the small space of the car. “all night. since we left to go hang out with shiu.”

“don’t tell me that’s why you’ve been so handsy, doll. hmph, i had to pull over so ya wouldn’t make me crash the car.”

“i wasn’t even doing—”

“that much?” toji finishes your sentence for you, the corners of his lips quirking upwards when you look at him desperately. “weren’t ya trying to get in my pants while i was going sixty?”

before you can respond, toji interrupts your train of thought by spitting right onto your clit. the glossy glob trails down his fingers and becomes extra lube for him — he wraps his lips around your clit and starts to sporadically curl his fingers. heat sears its way across your face and your back arches off the backseat, eyes briefly scanning around to make sure the road’s still empty.

it’s dark out and difficult to tell, but what does it matter? there’s no need to focus on spotting other cars, you reason.

“ah, fuck!” the expletive leaves your lips in the form of a startled mewl, a delicious reaction to toji lightly nibbling at your clit with his teeth. the gesture is playful but it drives you wild and makes your head spin, thoughts turning into mush. “toji, that—that feels really good . . ”

impatient as ever, you push his head down, forcing his face into your pussy in a greedy attempt to get more.

“ah ah,” he snaps upwards, pulling free from your grip and moving on top of you easily. you’re nose to nose and he’s speaking directly over your lips, sharing your breath. “i get to eat this pussy my way. she’s all mine, don’t forget that.”

“f-fine,” you cede with a pout, which he kisses away, feeling proud of himself.

“be a good girl ‘n maybe you can ride my face. how’s that sound, doll?”

“it sounds good,” you squeeze your eyes shut when he finally returns to his old position between your thighs, two fingers stuffing your cunt while his tongue laps at your clit as though it’s the best ice cream ever. the temperature in the car seems to spike; your body’s growing hotter and hotter with each lick or curl of his fingers.

“greedy pussy wants some more, hm?”

“h-huh?” you ask dumbly, a little zoned out.

but toji doesn’t repeat himself. instead he shows you what he said by pushing a third finger into your already crowded hole, smirking in satisfaction when you suck him in despite your verbal protests of it being ‘too much’. toji’s big, every part of him, and you always take him even though you complain — what can he say?

“a-ah, so fuckin’ full,” you slur your words, rocking your hips into his fingers to make the stretch burn a little less. “tojiii, go slow.”

“again, girl,” he huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically, “don’t tell me what to do. ‘n you’ll be just fine, this pussy was made for me.”

there’s no point in arguing, so you just let your head lazily lean back against the door. you were supposed to look around for cars, especially police cars, and you’ve given up entirely, deciding to blame your inability to search on the foggy windows.

toji scissors his fingers in and out of you mercilessly, sucking your clit roughly and groaning to express his enjoyment. the wet squelches of your cunt make your cheeks burn hot; it’s just so filthy that you don’t even know how to react. on either side of his head, your thighs tremble, squeezing around him every now and then.

“mmm, you’re so fuckin’ sweet,” he smacks his lips loudly and devours your pussy in between each word, “shouldn’t have made you wait so goddamn long, dollface.”

“i told you,” is all you can utter, hips twisting wildly into his face, “jus’ like that, keep sucking my clit—fuck, yes. ‘m so close, gonna make me cum.”

“aw, i’m gonna make you cum?” he teases you, mocking your tone in a way that has shockwaves of excitement and anger shooting straight through your body. you can’t even find it in yourself to answer, and a sudden flash of red and blue has your eyes squeezing tightly shut.

“‘m cumming, ‘m c-cumming, toji!”

instead of using his tongue on your clit, toji decides to sit back and watch your cunt spasm. to prolong your orgasm and overstimulate you, he slaps your clit a few times, chuckling each time you jerk or nearly scream happily.

“hmph, ya ougtta taste yourself,” toji pulls his fingers out of you and shoves them into your mouth, feeling his cock swell in his pants as your tongue cleans his skin. it’s even better when you moan as you do so, thoroughly enjoying the taste of your cum. “how’s that, baby? if ya can sit up without any help, i’ll let you ride my face.”

a sharp knock on the window startles you, and the bright light of an officer’s flashlight shines in through the foggy glass. without wiping his face, toji reaches into the front seat and turns on the car, then rolls down the window. the light illuminates the glossy cum all over the lower half of his face, and yet he smiles widely.

“good evenin’, officer. what can i do for ya?”

KAMO CHOSO.

“keep it s-steady, baby,” despite his words, choso’s voice shakes, slightly muffled by his helmet. “gentle on the throttle—nghhh, fuck.”

one of his gloved hands is firmly holding onto your hip, gripping hard each time your cunt squeezes around his cock. the sky is now a dark curtain of nighttime, darkness speckled with stars above. in front of you, car lights flash occasionally out on the road. street signs are caught in the bright columns of the motorcycle’s headlights, greens and yellows glinting in the white glow.

you bounce your ass back on choso’s lap, nibbling at your lower lip and allowing a whimper to slip past your teeth. his cock is buried inside you, nestled deep in your hot, sticky walls and extremely sensitive. he lightly strokes his free fingers against your clit, but not too often that it’ll be a distraction—after all, you’re driving a motorcycle.

“there’s a light up ahead,” choso points out, heatwaves crashing over him despite the cool breeze.

“i see it, cho.”

the motorcycle slows as you apply the brake, and you smoothly stop at the light. instead of remaining bent forward, you sit back onto his lap, taking in the last few inches of his cock. choso startles beneath you with a gasping moan and rolls your clit between his fingers.

“cho,” you whimper breathlessly, leaning your head into his shoulder, “gimme a kiss.”

“okay,” he whispers, leaning in slowly. the helmets clash together, but he manages to peck his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. you whine when the light turns green, sitting forward to take off again. this time, your face burns as you steady your feet, and the position allows you to bounce back on his cock with newer efficiency.

“shit,” choso gasps, bucking his hips upwards to match your rhythm, “i—hah, you’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

it’s dangerous in so many ways, but you look over your shoulder at him and he sees the heat in your eyes. it’s almost like you’re daring him to bust a nut inside you while you drive his motorcycle—god, that’s exactly what you’re doing. normally, choso doesn’t enjoy playing truth or dare, but he’ll make an exception for his girl.

with one hand on your hip, he tugs you down onto his cock and jerks himself upwards to make it a little easier for you. tears prick at the corners of your eyes like they always do whenever you take his cock — he’s stretching you out and filling you up so perfectly that it’s impossible not to become overwhelmed.

“faster, baby—t-there’s nobody on the road, you can put s’more gas into it.”

so you do, watching the needle in the speedometer increase as the motorcycle gains speed. choso moans loudly, his face flushing dark red beneath his helmet while his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “g-gonna cum, baby, tell me i can, tell me i can—”

each word grows more urgent, and his voice begins to splinter and break as he begs you for permission. his fingers carelessly toy with your clit, thumb rubbing quick circles around the bud and enticing you to cum with him. you feel dizzy, seeing stars flash across your vision each time you bounce down on his cock, not to mention the additional stimulation on your clit. something hot burns in your stomach and seems to rush throughout every limb in a way that has your body and mind going numb momentarily.

“cum in me, choso,” you sob desperately, gripping the handlebars frantically, “cum with me, cum with—oh, fuck.”

your mouth falls open in shock as you have the most explosive orgasm you’ve ever had with him; your cunt flutters around his cock, drawing him deeper as if it’s the last time you’ll be together.

choso starts to babble thoughtlessly, praises and gasps falling from his lips like the words of a prayer. “yeah, ‘m cumming—ngh, i l-love you, god you’re jus’ so perfect.”

he finally spills inside you, spraying white hot cum so deep it’ll take hours to drip out. the motorcycle wavers, lurching forward toward the next set of lights. beneath the helmets, you’re both panting, coming down from your highs and trying to focus even though you’re feeling a euphoric numbness spread through your body. when his thumb nudges your clit, you jerk as though you’ve been electrocuted, whining from the sensitivity.

“are you okay?” he asks lowly, voice ragged while his hand massages at your side.

“y-yeah, i’m okay. i just—i need to do that again.”

choso laughs, causing you to do so as well. “maybe in a few more minutes. how ‘bout we change up the position so you’re on your back? if we do, i’ll be able to see that pretty face.”

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[bbyseok]

thinking about your boyfriend gojo satoru who starts floating every time you kiss him on the lips, and you finally have your first make out session with him.

gojo satoru x gn!reader, suggestive

“baby, puh-leaseeeee!”

being gojo’s classmate-turned-friend-turned-partner, you’re pretty used to the sorcerer’s occasional pouting ‘n whining, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so desperate before.

you’re in the confines of his dorm room, seated on his bed, facing each other with your legs crossed and knees brushing against his.

it had been like any other lazy afternoon with each other, munching on snacks after the completion of another easy mission when your boyfriend had suddenly grabbed ahold of your hands with a single proposal,

“wanna make out?”

he swears up and down that nothing wonky will happen to his cursed technique once his lips are on yours, but you’re not too sure about that.

you toy with his slender fingers absentmindedly, “i don’t know, ‘toru..”

“sweetheart, you’re telling me you haven’t thought about us making out before?” he huffs and puffs like a kid who isn’t able to stick his hand in the cookie jar, but then again, that sounds just like satoru.

“what? no. i mean- i guess i have…” you try to brush off the fact that you’re getting kinda.. flustered. he’s just so damn insistent about this.

of course you’ve thought about kissing him more.. passionately. it’s just that you also have placed thought in how it might go—with you two up in the air.

a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s not one of those smug, arrogant ones he usually offers his opponents. it’s something more along the lines of mirth and affection.

“sooooooo….”

you roll your eyes. “fine.” his eyes light up and before he can cheer, you add, “but the second something goes wrong we’re stopping.”

“yeah, yeah,” he says, but it’s rushed and hurried—excited. admittedly, you are too, as he shuffles closer with a giddy grin.

his eyes are unwavering in their stare even as the corners crinkle up along with his grin, and it only serves to make you smile fondly in return.

unlike your very first kiss, gojo moves in before you—he leans forward and captures your lips with his. the two of you have never kissed for longer than a few seconds, but then he’s suddenly angling his head to deepen it and your breath is stolen.

where the hell did he learn to kiss like this?

you have no time to gather your thoughts, rather going on instinct as you feel satoru’s hand come up to cradle the side of your face, swiping his thumb over your cheek with a tenderness that makes you melt further into his touch.

gojo makes out with you like he’s been waiting for forever to do this, which might not be so far from the truth. you return his enthusiam, fingers tangling with the snowy locks at his nape.

he’s a bit sloppy with it, but you hazily think that’s a given since he’s never made out with anyone before and holy shit—you’re actually making out with him.

it’s the loud sounds of wet lips smacking against each other, all hot ‘n heavy, that make you blush and feel warm all over.

gojo hasn’t started floating yet, and you only know that because he’s leaning forward even more, crawling and invading your space until its no longer yours, and you have no choice to fall back onto the sheets.

his arms cage you in as he hovers over you now, and his lips leave yours for only a few fleeting moments before he’s kissing you fervently again.

everything is going okay (more than okay), satoru is still in control of his powers, you’re getting a lil’ breathless and—

uh oh.

gojo pulls away only by a few centimeters, lips still brushing against yours, but you can feel his panic as his eyes widen and he’s pulling even further away.

you know you said you’d stop if his powers started getting out of control but you’d be damned if this stopped now, so you grab him by the collar of his shirt and shove him back, a yelp leaving his throat when you straddle his lap.

“there,” you huff out, the edges of a smirk on your lips now that you’ve found a little solution to gojo’s floating problem. you laugh a bit breathlessly, “now you can’t float away from me.”

with his cheeks flushed a pretty pink and his sky blue eyes wide, for once satoru looks like he’s at a loss for words as he blinks up at you. he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, “well damn, babe, if i had known you’d be this forward i would’ve done this a lot soo-”

you roll your eyes again with a slight grin. “shut up, ‘toru.”

satoru grins too, but you make good on your words by pulling him by his shirt again to effectively shut him up with your lips.

(and, well.. let’s just say something else goes up whenever you make out with him.)

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 10: Treat Me Gently

Summary: You and Price take your relationship to the next level. It might be the best decision you've ever made.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral, first time sex, unprotected(ish) sex, reader has an implant, creampie, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, the author is a bit rusty writing smut.

A/N: It's finally here. It's finally arrived, the moment we've all been waiting for! Uh, yeah, it's mostly badly written smut with just a little plot thrown in there. So...I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Your attention is pulled from your book as the couch sinks on either side of you, two bodies joining you. You glance up from your book as an arm drapes itself across the back of the couch behind you. Your eyes flicker between Gaz and Johnny, mischievous grins on their faces. 

“We heard you have a date this weekend.” Gaz says, leaning in closer. 

Your face warms at his words. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it a date...” 

“What are you wearing?” Gaz asks. 

“Do ye have anythin’ to wear?” Johnny asks. 

Their questions give you pause. The most formal thing you have are jeans and, though you doubt Price would care if you showed up in sweatpants, you would like to have something nice to wear. 

“Come on.” Gaz says, slapping your thigh before standing. “We’re going shopping.” 

“What?” You glance between him and Johnny as they stand over you. 

“Already got permission from Price.” Johnny says. “So come on.” He grabs your hands, lifting you to your feet easily. “Let’s get goin’, kitten.” 

Your cheeks warm at the pet name, Johnny’s hand settling on your lower back to steer you from the rec room. You don’t have much of a choice but to follow, grabbing a couple things from your room before you leave the barracks with them to a car parked outside. It’s different from the car you and Price had taken to town last weekend. Of course, they probably all have their own vehicles, or at least a few at their disposal. 

“I’m driving.” Gaz says, plucking the keys from Johnny’s hand. 

“Aww, ye never let me drive!” Johnny pouts. 

“Yeah, because with our luck you’ll traumatize her so badly, she’ll never want to leave again.” Gaz says, opening the driver’s side door. 

You can’t help but giggle at the dejected look on Johnny’s face as you get into the back, Johnny muttering the entire way to the passenger side. 

“I’m no’ that bad of a driver.” Johnny says, buckling his seatbelt. 

“Yeah, but both you and Simon seem to be in agreement that the speed limit is a suggestion, not a law.” Gaz says as he turns on the car. “I’d like to make it there and back in one piece, thank you. Besides, Price would have both our heads if anything happened to our girl on our watch.”

Your cheeks warm as you meet Gaz's gaze through the rear view mirror. Your heart flutters at the look in his eyes, the dedication and protectiveness shining in them. 

“I wouldnae let anything happen to ye.” Johnny says, reaching back to squeeze your knee for a moment. 

You stare out the window of the car as Gaz drives towards town, half listening to the conversation in the front seat. You're beginning to recognize landmarks, buildings, areas between the base and town despite it only being your second trip. They'd be proud of you, you think. At least if something happened, you'd be able to give a landmark. 

The farmlands fade into the city and soon Gaz is parking on the street in front of a shop. You take Gaz's hand as he helps you out of the car, lacing your fingers together. Soap holds the door to the shop open, letting you and Gaz walk through first. 

It's a nice boutique filled with all sorts of formal wear. You wonder how they even knew about this place, or if they had done some research beforehand. Both make you feel honored that they would even go to those lengths just for you. 

They are going to be your pack soon. 

Packs do this sort of thing for each other. They take care of each other, spoil each other, make each other happy. It’s hard to be a good pack if one member is unhappy. 

“Good afternoon.” One of the workers approaches you. “My name is Emily. Is there something I can help you find today?” 

“Our omega has a date with our alpha this weekend.” Gaz says, smiling down at you. “She needs something to wear.” 

The worker, Emily, smiles at you. “How exciting! Did you have anything in mind? Style, color, anything like that?”

“Probably nothing too fancy,” You say, eyeing the racks. “And, probably a dress.”

“Alright, we've got lots of options for that. Let's take a look and you can try some on.” Emily says. 

Gaz keeps hold of your hand as you follow Emily through the racks, looking at some of the options. Johnny goes off on his own, perusing the racks himself. 

“Is there a certain color you have in mind?” Emily asks you.

You hum in contemplation, looking at the many racks. You're not sure what color Price would like, or if he even has a favorite. 

“His favorite color is blue, like a dark navy blue.” Johnny answers for you. “Though, I think he'd like you in any color.” 

You can't help the way your cheeks warm a bit at Johnny's words. You realize you don't even know their favorite colors. There's still so much about them that's a mystery to you. 

“What's your favorite color?” You ask, looking up at Gaz. 

“I don't think I have just one.” He says, running his hand over a sequin covered dress on the rack in front of you “I like warm colors. Reds, oranges, purples.”

“Like a sunset.” You say, looking at a tag on one of the dresses, nearly choking at the price. 

Gaz gently removes the tag from your hand, giving you a look as you meet his gaze. “Don't even worry about it, love.” He says quietly, leaning down to kiss your cheek. 

“My favorite color is green.” Johnny says, appearing next to you suddenly. 

“Let me guess, Ghost’s is black.” You say. 

Johnny's mouth twitches. “Now how'd you come to guess that?” 

You shrug, unable to hide your grin. “Call it intuition.” 

Emily takes you to the changing rooms, the boys taking seats outside to wait for you to try on the dresses you've chosen so far. You pick a sleeveless, blue, knee-length dress first with a ruched skirt. You already don't like it, but you know the guys will want to see it regardless. 

You feel nervous, strangely exposed as you step out of the dressing room and make your way to where the guys are sitting. They both straighten up as you approach, Johnny’s eyes immediately on your legs. Gaz let's out a low whistle as his eyes scan your figure, ending on your legs as well. 

“What?” You ask concerned as you stare down at your own legs thinking the worst, like how you might have missed a spot shaving or something. 

“Nothin’ love,” Gaz says, unable to lift his gaze from your legs. “Just never seen you in anything but long pants before.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. It's true, the climate had yet to allow for anything but long pants. Even to sleep, you found yourself too cold without long sleep pants. 

“Christ, you've got gorgeous legs, kitten.” Soap says, letting his eyes trail your form. “Keepin’ those hidden from us?” 

Your face feels like it's on fire as they stare at you, and quickly turn to face the large mirror across from them in an attempt to steady the butterflies in your stomach. 

“What do you think?” Emily asks, stepping up next to you. 

“It's a little too...churchy for a date.” You say smoothing your hands over the skirt. “Definitely need something fancier than this.”

You try on a few of the others, but none of them are right. Too short, too long, too formal, not formal enough. Johnny brings you more to try, a couple sticking out, but you're not sold on any of them. 

The last dress you have yet to try on catches your eye as you pull it off the hook. It's a deep blue color, almost black. It's long sleeved and covers your front entirely, but the back is open. It's short, the skirt hem long enough to cover your ass, but you wouldn't dare bend over. It hugs your figure, accentuating the curves and lines of your body. 

Your cheeks are warm as you step out of the changing room, both Gaz and Johnny going slack-jawed as they stare at you. Even Emily looks in awe as you stand in front of them. 

“I think you've found the one, love.” Gaz says, his eyes trailing your form. “Give us a spin.”

You do a slow turn, not missing the way their eyes widen in the mirror when they see the back, Johnny still frozen as you turn back to face them. 

“How do you feel?” Emily asks, stepping up to you. 

“Good.” You say, your face still warm. “Really good.”

“Yeah,” She says, looking you over. “I think you've hit the mark with this one. Let me grab shoes and we'll put the whole look together.”

You turn to face the mirror as she steps away, your eyes meeting Gaz's as he steps up to you. 

“You look fantastic, love.” He says, leaning in close over your shoulder, his breath fanning your ear. Goosebumps form on your skin as his fingers slowly trail up the line of your spine. “Price is going to want to devour you instantly as soon as he sees you in this one.”

You shiver at his words, biting your lip as his fingers splay out across your upper back. “You think so?”

There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “He won't be able to keep his hands off you. Gonna drive him insane, making him sit through dinner looking like a delicious dessert.” 

You fear you might start smoking from how warm you feel, glad for Emily's reappearance. You try on the shoes she brings, opting for the shorter heels for the sake of your own dignity. 

Johnny distracts you as Gaz pays for the items, spending far too much on you but neither will let you complain. It's what they're supposed to do. 

They are your pack after all. 

“What about lingerie?” Johnny asks, turning to look at you as you sit in the car. 

Your face burns at his question. You hadn't thought about that bit. 

“Gotta dress up the whole fit.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Lay off her, perv.” Gaz says, smacking Johnny's chest. “He's right though, gotta make sure the whole outfit matches.”

You feel like you might implode in the backseat. You might not make it to Saturday at this rate. 

You wake early on Saturday. You don't have to be up early. There's nothing going on until tonight, no need for you to rise earlier than the sun. Yet, you can't help the anticipation burning in your stomach, the nervous fluttering in your chest. Tonight you're going to sleep with Price for the first time. Tonight you'll allow him closer than you've ever allowed anyone. 

You have an outfit, you have fancy underwear, even new shoes. You're not sure how you want to wear your hair. You're not sure on makeup either, though Price has seen you plenty without it and has yet to offer any complaints. 

You grab your phone, laying in bed and scrolling hair tutorials until the sun comes up and you start hearing movement in the hallway. You don’t bother changing, pulling on shoes before stepping out. You are hungry, even after spending half the day in town and eating dinner out with Gaz and Johnny yesterday. You slip out the door, coming face to face with Ghost. You tilt your head back, staring up at him. 

“Didn’t expect to see you.” He grumbles. “Figured you’d be busy getting ready.” 

“I’ve got like ten hours until I have to be ready.” You say, blinking up at him. “It doesn’t take that long.” 

He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes. “Come on.” 

You follow him out of the barracks, but you find yourself not having to speed walk quite as fast to keep up with him today. 

“Are you upset?” You ask, kicking up your pace a bit so you can walk side by side with him. 

“About what?” He asks. 

“Price and I.” You say. 

“Why would I be?” He sounds genuinely baffled that you’re asking him. 

You shrug. “You’re an alpha in the pack too, and I didn’t really ask anyone but Price.” 

“Price is your alpha.” He says, as if it’s the most straightforward thing in the world. He’s not wrong, Price is the only one that really matters when it comes to you, since he’s the pack alpha, and he’ll be the one claiming you. 

“Would you ever want to be?” You ask, looking up at him. 

He meets your gaze as he opens the door to the mess, not answering as you slip into the hall. He stands closer to you than he normally does as you get in line for food, tailing you like a shadow as you find Johnny among the drowsy and hungover soldiers in the mess. 

You take a seat across from him, Ghost taking his spot next to Johnny. You can feel the nerves beginning to take hold as you eat, thinking about your date tonight. It’s not like you really have to impress Price much, though you suppose you could make him dislike you rather easily. You’d rather avoid that situation, as there’s no getting out of mating and being claimed by him. You’re going to be part of his pack whether he likes you or not. 

What if he finds you boring? You’re not even sure what you could talk about. It’s not like you do much, and he already knows most everything he can about you. The only thing you have to talk about are things you’d rather not discuss during your first date. You’d prefer not to discuss them at all. 

“You’ll be fine.” Johnny says as you walk back to the barracks. “Just get ‘im talking, and ye won’t need tae worry about gettin’ a word in yourself.” 

Johnny’s words do make you giggle. You’re sure Price has so much more to talk about than you do. You barely know anything about him in general. 

It’s ironic that you’re more nervous about dinner than you are about the fact Price is going to take your virginity tonight. 

You did ask for this. It’ll be good, getting to know him before your heat starts. The idea of going through your heat with a virtual stranger is terrifying to you, and Price had so willingly offered to do this so that doesn’t happen, so you feel more comfortable with being mated and claimed by someone you at least somewhat know. This is your chance to get to know your pack alpha, your alpha before you’re forced to. This is your chance to make your own decision, to have some control over a life that’s been dictated for you this far. 

You spend the morning in a nervous panic, looking up tips online, tutorials, possible questions he might ask and thinking up answers that will make you sound interesting at least. Answers that won’t just be parroting things that he already knows. Gaz brings you lunch, letting you continue to prepare for your date, knowing the chances of you having a breakdown if you’re forced around people are high right now. 

You give yourself ample time to get ready, showering and moisturizing, making sure you smell clean and look nice. You do your hair, taking your time to make yourself look decent. You opt for minimal make up, wanting to make yourself seem like you at least put a little effort into your looks. 

You're strapping on your shoes when the knock comes at the door. Six o'clock sharp, just as you expected. You take a deep breath, adjusting your dress before you open the door.

John is standing on the other side, dressed in a button up shirt and slacks. You look him over, the fresh scent of cologne reaching your nose. His eyes rake your form, his scent slipping through the cologne as his gaze darkens a bit. Gaz was right. He does look like he wants to devour you. 

“You clean up nicely.” You say, looking him over again. His shirt hugs his muscles nicely, his pants obviously tailored to fit him. You haven't seen him in anything but fatigues and civilian clothes so far. 

“Was going to say the same to you.” He says, lips pulling up into a smile. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“Hungry?” He asks, offering you an arm. 

“Always.” You say, taking his arm, letting him lead you towards the rec room. 

The lights inside are dimmed, the table usually reserved for games set up with a tablecloth and candles, along with two plates covered with cloches, and a bottle of wine. You're not sure when he managed to procure the wine, or maybe he had it saved and decided this was as good a time as any. 

“Wow.” You say, impressed by the effort he obviously put into everything. 

“I bribed the boys out of here for a few hours.” He says, leading you to the table. “Wasn't easy.”

“I bet.” You say, sitting down in one of the chairs, letting him push it in for you. 

He pours you both glasses of wine before taking the cloches off the plates. You blink in surprise at the meal on the plate. Spaghetti, a salad, and bread. It's so simple, yet it takes you right back to weeknight dinners at home. 

“You made this?” You ask as he takes the seat across from you. 

He nods. “I've amassed many skills over the years. I'm no five star chef, but I can throw things together in a pinch.”

“Well it looks good.” You say, picking up your fork. 

It tastes good too. It's so simple, yet it's one of the best things you've eaten in the last month. You miss a lot of things about America, and the food is starting to be one of those. 

You and John make small talk as you eat, the wine warming your body and easing your nerves. 

“How long has it been,” You ask him as you clear your plate. “Since you were with an omega last?”

“Two years.” He says, taking a sip of wine. 

Your eyes widen in surprise. You know they've been with omegas in the past, taking advantage of barrack bunnies and the swaths of willing omegas you know populate near military bases. You just hadn't thought it would be that far back in the past.

“Right around the time the task force was created.” He continues. “We were too busy bonding and working on the task force, by the time we had a moment long enough for anything like that, we didn't need them anymore.”

“That must have been torture.” You say, staring at him wide eyed. 

“We're trained for that sort of thing.” He says with a smile. “How to fight off those urges, those needs. When you're in the field, something like that could get you killed. You don't pass selection into the SAS until you can show mastery over those skills.”

“Damn.” You say, taking a sip of your wine. “Still, it couldn't have been easy.”

“It can be hard, once you've been with an omega, to go without. But that's just part of the job.” 

“Well, I suppose that's partly why I'm here.” You say, huffing out a laugh. 

“Perhaps.” He says. “I'm certain we're not getting the full story.”

The double meaning isn't lost on you. There's a lot they don't know about you, things that are safer buried deep where they can't hurt anyone. Things you'd like to keep buried for the rest of time. 

“It’s nothing...bad is it?” You ask, searching his gaze. 

“I’d like to think not,” He says. 

But... 

You don’t need to hear him say it. You know it’s there, lingering at the end of that statement. You wonder how many times he’s been in these situations, forced to place blind trust in someone and hope they have the best intentions in mind. You’re all too familiar with those sorts of situations. Putting blind trust in strangers was your life purpose as soon as you presented as an omega. 

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” He says, staring at you with such conviction you can’t help but believe him. “You’re part of our pack, which makes you part of this team, even if bureaucracy says otherwise. We take care of each other, and that includes you. You’re our omega, regardless of whatever the endgame is for this initiative.” 

You feel almost breathless at his words, at his declaration of loyalty to you. You know how much loyalty means to someone like him, the kind of promise words like that uphold. They’d give their lives to defend you. You’d fight to defend them too, if it came down to it. Not that you could do much, but you’d try. 

“You’re my omega.” John says, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “I take care of what's mine.”

You nod, trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes. “I know. You've...you've been a better alpha than I could have ever hoped for. Despite everything you've been kind and caring and understanding. I know some things we learned at the institute weren’t right, but...I was expecting a lot worse.”

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, his fingers gently squeezing yours. “I'm glad I could prove that wrong. I know this situation is weird and less than ideal, but I fear I'll have to tell Kate she was right. She did pick a good omega.”

You smile, preening a bit under his praise. “That’s all I can try to be.” 

“You can be so much more than that.” He says, lifting your hand to his lips. His beard tickles your skin as he presses a line of kisses across the back of your hand before turning it, kissing across your palm to your wrist. He presses his nose against the skin there, inhaling deeply. “You’re sure, about tonight?” 

Your fingers brush his cheek as he holds your hand against his face. Your heart is thudding your throat at the proximity, those nervous flutters starting in your stomach again. He’s giving you an out, a chance to take back what you had asked for. You know he wouldn’t blame you. He was more than willing to wait for your heat to start, for when you had no choice, when it would mean less because you would be desperate and needy for him. 

You don’t want that, though. You want him to want you before his instincts tell him he does. You want to know he’s not just fulfilling a duty, scratching an itch that’s been tickling him for two years now. You want him to want you as you are now. You want him to choose you. 

“Yes.” You say, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. “Just...be gentle with me?” 

“Of course.” He says, kissing your palm again. “You change your mind at any time, you tell me, yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” He takes your hand in his again, standing from his seat. 

Nerves mix with excitement as he pulls you to your feet with him, stepping up close to you. His hand lifts, tilting your chin up. Your stomach flutters as you meet his gaze, his eyes warm and soft as he stares at you. Affection shines in them as his thumb brushes your lip before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is short and sweet, like the ones you’ve shared with him before. Yet, at the same time it feels different. There’s warmth beginning to blossom under your skin, the kiss not just a simple sign of affection this time. It’s the overture, the appetizer, just a teasing taste of what’s to come. 

You hold his hand as he leads you down the hallway, heels clacking on the tile floor. It makes your face warm, the thought that they all know what it means, they can hear it and they know what’s about to happen. They know where you’re going, what you’re about to do. 

John opens his door, motioning for you to enter. You haven’t been in any of their rooms yet, you haven’t invaded their own sacred spaces. Your steps are slow and cautious as you breach that barrier, John’s scent washing over you as you step into his room. 

It’s neat and tidy, just as you expected it would be. It’s not laid out all that differently from your own, though perhaps a bit more organized and clinical than yours. There’s a shelf next to his nightstand, stuffed with books and what you can assume are souvenirs from places he’s been. There’s stacks of papers on the desk, his clothes and shoes tucked away neatly in their places. His bed is slightly bigger than yours, and you wonder if that’s a perk of his status, or if he pulled some strings once he learned he was getting an omega. 

The door clicking shut draws your attention back to John, the click of the handle a finality. You’re doing this. There’s no going back now. 

Not that you want to. 

John steps up to you, staring down at you. You stare up into his eyes as his hand comes to rest on your waist, his touch hot through the thin fabric of your dress. “You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks, voice rumbling in his chest. 

You nod, your hands slowly sliding up his arms, feeling the muscle hidden beneath his dress shirt. “Yes.” 

His lips meet yours, beard tickling your skin as he kisses you. You let him lead, leaning into him as he pulls you closer against his chest. He’s so warm, so firm under your hands as you grip his shoulders. His hand slides from your hip to your back, a gasp parting your lips as his calloused fingers touch the bare skin of your back. Goosebumps raise on your skin, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. He tilts his head, taking advantage of your parted lips to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He tastes like wine, a quiet sound leaving your throat as he pulls you tighter against him, pressing your body into his. You can feel all of him, the hard ridges, the strength in his body as he cages you in his arms. Your head is spinning, intoxicated purely by the smell and taste of him. 

Something rumbles deep in his chest, your entire body shivering in response. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your hips pressed flush against his. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. You’ve been able to smell the musky tinge of arousal in his scent all evening, and you wonder how long he’s been hard. Has it been since he saw you? Or has he been thinking about this all day? 

The thought thrills you, makes your omega preen in the back of your mind. You did this. Your alpha is all worked up because of you. 

A whimper leaves your lips as his hand slips lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass. He mumbles a curse against your lips before they blaze a path down the line of your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head, bearing your throat for him. A low rumble of approval vibrates through his chest, his hand squeezing your ass. The sound has your omega practically belly up, the dampness between your thighs intensifying as your scent gets heavier in the air. 

John groans against your throat, teeth nipping at your neck just over your scent gland. “Such a good girl for me.” He groans, his hand on your ass guiding your hips to grind against his. “Such a good omega.” 

You whine at the praise, hands blindly sliding down his chest to pull at the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers are trembling slightly from excitement, fumbling as you attempt to get his shirt off. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the warmth of him pressed against you. 

“Easy pup.” His voice rumbles against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin before he pulls back, hands taking over to strip him of his button up and undershirt. 

You lick your lips as his skin is revealed to you, your hand automatically lifting to touch him. You hesitate for a half a second but he makes no move to stop you. Your eyes trail over his form, over the many, many scars that decorate his skin like some kind of macabre painting. Lines and jagged slices, the telltale star shaped marks of bullet wounds. Cuts and nicks from knives or bullets, you can’t tell the difference. 

Your fingers settle on a rather large scar on his side, starting at the base of his ribs and curling around his side. It’s an old scar, but the skin is still rough and uneven. Whatever had caused it, it took a chunk out of him. You don’t want to think about it, about how every scar could have been a close call. How many times he’s been on the brink of death. 

“I’ll tell you about them later.” He says, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He kisses your fingertips, his beard tickling your skin. “Tonight is about you.” 

He pulls you close again, leaning down to press his lips to yours. His hands are warm against your back as he wraps himself around you again, trapping your hands against his bare chest. Your nails dig into his skin as his hands sink lower, grabbing handfuls of your ass. He groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip. He presses you backwards, and you trust him to guide you until your legs hit the side of his bed. 

“Gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?” He growls, his voice rough around the edges as his alpha slips through. 

“Yes, alpha!” You gasp against his lips, your head tilting back in submission. 

“Always such a good omega for me.” He praises you, teeth nipping at your throat. “Good omegas kneel for their alphas.” He says, pushing you backwards so you plop down on his bed. “But a good alpha,” He slowly lowers himself before you, dropping to one knee, then the other as his hands wrap around your ankles. “Kneels for his omega.”

Your face warms as you stare down at him, unable to do anything but watch as his hands make quick work of your shoes, setting them neatly beside the bed. His skin is rough against yours as his hands drag up your legs, slowly parting them. He moves himself closer, kneeling between your parted thighs. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he reaches up, pushing on your stomach until you're laying flat on his bed. He can see up your skirt now, and you're silently glad for the lacy panties Johnny had insisted on. 

“Do you trust me?” His lips brush your inner thigh as his hands pause just at the hem of your skirt where it's ridden up almost to your hips. 

“Yes, alpha.” You say, lifting your head to stare down at him. 

He meets your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his hands continuing to press upwards until your dress is hiked around your waist. Your heart is fluttering rapidly in your chest as you stare down at him, his gaze leaving your eyes to stare at the soaked lace barely covering your most private parts. 

His hands leave your hips to curl around the lace, giving it a sharp tug. The fabric snaps easily, the shreds falling to the floor. Your lip part as you stare at him in shock.  

“I'll buy you a new pair.” He says, his hands gripping your thighs to pull them further apart. 

The cool air in the room hits your slicked folds, making you shudder. He's barely touched you and already you can feel how slick you are. His lips press against your inner thigh again, blazing a path upwards. His gaze meets yours again as his hands shift to grip your hips, adjusting your position on the bed before he leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds. 

You gasp at the foreign sensation, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders. His mouth is warm as it closes over your pussy, his tongue licking another slow stripe up your folds until he reaches the spot that has your inhale turning into a gasp. 

He focuses his attention there, dragging slow lines across your clit with his tongue. You let your arms give out, laying flat on the bed again. Little whimpers leave your lips as he teases your clit, your thighs already trembling. It’s been so long since you’ve touched yourself. Not since before you left the institute four months ago. 

You don’t last very long. 

Your thighs squeeze around his shoulders as your orgasm is ripped from you suddenly. You let out a cry that’s probably too loud, but you don’t care who could have heard you as your back arches off the bed, pressing your hips closer to John’s face. His hands hold your thighs, keeping you still as his tongue continues to tease your clit, working you through your orgasm. 

It’s not until you’re writhing in his grasp, letting out little whimpers that he relents, lifting his face from between your thighs. His beard is shiny with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. It’s obscene and yet, it has heat pulsing straight between your legs again. He lets out a chuckle, the scent of your arousal washing over him. 

“Fuckin sweet as sugar, love.” He says as he pushes himself up from between your legs, his body folding over yours on the bed. 

His face presses into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him claiming you now, sinking his teeth into your skin to mark you as his forever. He could. It would be so easy for him to do it. His tongue laves over the skin covering your scent gland, a shiver running through you. Your arms wrap around him, holding him against you as your scents mingle, musky with arousal. 

“Alpha...” You whine, your hips pressing up against the bulge in his pants. He’s fully hard now, the fabric of his pants providing delicious friction against your folds. 

He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your throat before he pushes himself up over you. “Soon, love.” He says, moving until he’s standing in front of you. “Think you’re a bit overdressed still.” 

Your eyes dart down to his pants. “So are you.” 

He smirks, his hands dropping to your waist, slowly pushing your dress up higher. You let him slip it over your head, lifting your arms to help him. You’re bare before him, warmth spreading through your veins as he stares down at you. Your hands lift, coming to rest on his thighs. You can feel the muscle through the fabric, the strength of him beneath your hands. How easily he could take control, pin you down and take what he wants with little regard for you or your pleasure. How easily he could hurt you, snap your bones like they’re toothpicks, bruise and batter your body without even straining a muscle. 

Yet he stands here, patiently watching as your hands move closer and closer to the prominent bulge in his fitted pants. He doesn’t even twitch as your hand cups his hard length, your breath stuttering at the sheer size of him. He’s big like most alphas are, or so you’ve heard. 

His eyes stare into you as you undo his belt, popping the button on his pants open. He finally moves as you pull down the zipper, helping you tug his pants and briefs down. His cock stands at attention, almost as stiff as he is. You stare at his veiny cock with wide eyes, the tip flushed almost red with how hard he is. 

“Christ.” You breathe, staring at him in awe. 

You did that. 

“Easy, love.” He says, leaning down to wrap an arm around your waist. “I said tonight was about you.” 

He moves you so you’re laid out on the bed, your head hitting his pillow. The scent of him floods your nose as he joins you on the bed, the frame creaking as he kneels between your legs. Nerves twist in your stomach as you continue to stare at his cock bobbing between his thighs as he runs his hands along your legs. It’s going to hurt, you know that. It suddenly seems daunting, this request. At least during your heat you’d be so out of it with need you wouldn’t really feel anything. And you’d have plenty of slick to help. 

“None of that.” He says, squeezing your thighs gently. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

You nod, swallowing thickly. 

“We’ve got more work to do before we reach that point. I’m not just going to stuff my cock into you like some needy pup.” He stares at you. “You tell me and I’ll stop, alright?” 

You nod again. “Yes, alpha.” 

Your breath hitches as his hands reach the junction of your thighs, one moving to your stomach, the other dragging through your folds, gathering your wetness on his fingers. They’re so much thicker than your own, your pussy clenching as he presses against the entrance. 

“Relax for me, love.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your stomach with his thumb. 

His finger presses into you and your lips part at the intrusion. You clamp tight around his finger, making him groan. 

“Easy.” He says, his thumb moving to circle your clit. 

A breathy whine leaves your lips as his finger presses deeper into you, reaching further than you ever could. Your hand reaches up to thread through his hair, letting the short cropped strands slide through your fingers. It’s softer than you imagined, though you expect he too had spent the afternoon preparing for tonight as well. The mental image of him lathering himself in moisturizer would have made you laugh if his finger hadn’t brushed against a spot inside you that has your hips lifting off the bed. 

He leans down, lips blazing a path up your stomach, between your breasts to your throat. He swallows your moans as he works you open with his fingers, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into your wet pussy only adding to the pleasure coursing through you. You can feel it building within you, heat burning through your veins. Price groans against your lips as your nails scratch his scalp, his cock leaking against your thigh. You want him, need him inside of you. You need to feel him, you need to be close to him. 

“Alpha, please.” You whimper, tugging at his hair. 

He stares down at you, eyes blown with lust. “Please, what?” 

“Need you.” You whimper, grinding against his hand. “Please, sir.” 

Price closes his eyes, letting out a groan. His cock twitches against your thigh, his fingers slipping from you. He breathes out a curse, shifting to open his nightstand. He pulls out a bottle of lube, sitting back on his knees to squirt some into his hand. You’re plenty slick, but you watch as he rubs the lube on his cock, tossing the bottle back into the open drawer. 

He kneels between your thighs again, staring down at you as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. You feel intoxicated, your head spinning from the intensity of his scent around you and the knowledge of what’s about to happen. 

Price folds his body over yours again, the head of his cock brushing your folds. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you, parting your thighs further for him as his tip catches on your opening. Your hands grip his shoulders as he presses into you, the stretch stinging a bit as he works you open. This is it. There’s no going back now. 

You don’t want to. 

You whimper quietly as he pushes into you, nails biting into his skin. It’s too much, yet you can’t get enough of it as he sinks further in. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls away from your lips staring down at your face. 

“Alright?” He asks, stilling where he is. 

You nod. “Just need a moment. You’re really big.” 

His lips twitch up into a smile, a pleased growl rumbling through his chest. “Don’t start talking like that, love.” He says, leaning down to press kisses to your face. 

“Or what?” You ask, your nails digging harder into his skin. 

“I might not be able to control myself.” He growls, his alpha slipping out around the edges of his voice. 

Your pussy clenches at his words, walls clamping down around him. He lets out another growl, hiking your leg up over his hip. It forces him deeper into you, your breath catching at the feeling of him spreading you open. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, rocking your hips to take him even deeper into you. 

John’s arms frame your head as he presses his body against yours. Your arms slip around his back, legs locking around his waist as he begins to move slowly, working himself deeper and deeper into you until he’s pressed flush against you. He stills for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as you both breathe. You’re trembling just slightly, overwhelmed with being so close to him, to your alpha. The pain and discomfort is gone, replaced by burning heat as desire pulses through your veins. 

“Please, alpha.” You whimper. 

He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you, omega.” 

Your skin is slick with sweat already as he begins to rock his hips into you. Your hands press into his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex as he moves. It feels good, the friction of your bodies, the way he stretches you open with every thrust. Your head is spinning with pleasure at the thought of being so close to another person, being so connected with someone else. 

Not just someone else, with your alpha. 

The wet squelch of your pussy as he thrusts into you is loud, the mattress creaking as he picks up speed. You’re trembling, your thighs squeezing around his hips as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You’re not sure how he’s lasted this long, especially without any sort of release for himself yet tonight. 

Perhaps it was the training he spoke about earlier.

You’re not sure how he manages it. You couldn’t have that kind of control. Not after this. Not after knowing how good it can feel, how good he can make you feel. 

“Fucking feel so good.” He grunts, his breath fanning her ear. His own skin is slicked with sweat, muscles twitching under her hands. “So fucking tight and warm.” 

“John!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as he picks up the pace even more, his hips snapping against yours. 

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum like a good omega? Need you to cum for me.” He grunts, staring down at you. 

You let out a whine, arching against him as you seek your second high of the night. His cock brushes that spot inside of you, stars nearly erupting behind your eyes. 

“Right there.” You gasp, thighs shaking around his hips. “Fuck, right there!” 

You’re being loud but you don’t care, nails dragging down his back as he focuses his thrusts right at that spot inside you. You cum with a cry, pussy squeezing around him. He lets out a loud groan, his hips stilling as he twitches inside you. His muscles go lax, his body falling on top of yours. He manages to keep himself from squishing you beneath him, his face pressing against your neck. 

The smell of sex, arousal, sweat, and your own combined scents are heavy in the air. You’re shaking, still wrapped tightly around John as he lays on top of you. He’s breathing heavily, warm breaths fanning against your neck. You don’t want to move, your mind buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm still. 

“Alright?” He murmurs, lips pressing a gentle kiss against your throat. 

You nod, slowly unwinding yourself from around him. “Yeah. ‘M good.” 

“Fucking Christ, a man could get addicted to that.” He says, lifting his face from your neck. “Sweet little omega.” 

Your face warms more than it already feels, and you lean into his touch as his fingers brush your cheek. 

“Let me go get something to clean this mess up with.” He says, pushing himself up so he’s kneeling. 

You can’t help but giggle as his joints pop and he lets out a groan at the effort. “Need a break, old man.” 

His eyes flash playfully, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Going with the old man insults again, huh?” 

You give him a look. “You’re the one grunting while getting up.” 

You let out a surprised yelp as he brings his hand down on your thigh, the skin tingling as he gets up. “I’ll show you old man.” He murmurs as he heads for his en suite. 

You bite your lip as you begin to feel his release slipping out of you, the feeling causing desire to stir in your stomach once more. 

John tsks as he comes back, wiping the mess between your thighs. “Needy little thing.” He practically purrs, stepping away to toss the rag into the bathroom sink before he returns, climbing back onto the bed.

You press as close to him as you can, nuzzling into his neck. Your limbs are still twitching a bit, your mind buzzing from the aftermath of what had just transpired. John wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. You press a gentle kiss to his neck, earning a rumble in response. Your own rumble starts up as you purr contently, tossing a leg over his hip to allow you to get as close to him as possible. 

He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?” 

You purr louder in response, sleep beginning to fog the corners of your mind. 

“Good girl.” He says, pressing another kiss to your head. “Sleep. Alpha’s got you.”

NEXT ->

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[bywons]

MORE THAN PRETEND 愛｡ fake relationship

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───tired of playing pretend, they want to make it official with you

𝑜𝑓 ܃ fake bf!enhypen x f!r 2739 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 headcannons fluff fake dating au ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 skinship kissing jealousy suggestive? ｡｡｡ ／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 )

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა wow this could've been better, i rushed a lil TT but hope you guys enjoy ^^ !

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung’s always been the cool, nonchalant type—someone who can laugh off pretty much anything with that easygoing smirk of his. so, when one of your guy friends throws a casual arm around your shoulders during a group hangout, you expect heeseung to ignore it or joke in to the gossip, at least that's what he should do since you're not his real girlfriend. instead, he goes silent, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watches the interaction with a clenched jaw.

the shift is subtle, but you know him too well. he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, but the way his gaze follows your every move is unnerving.

“you good?” you ask, stepping closer after the gathering got over, and tugging lightly on his sleeve. his eyes snap to yours, and for a second, something almost dangerous flickers behind them before he masks it with a tight-lipped smile.

“yeah, i'm good.” his voice is flat, the usual playful tone gone. “didn't know you two were that close.”

you arch an eyebrow, tilting your head. “what, jealous?” you tease, hoping to break the tension, cracking him a smile.

heeseung lets out a humourless chuckle, his gaze sliding back to where your friend was standing. “of him? please.” the words are dismissive, but there’s a sharp edge underneath. heeseung finally pushes off the wall and closes the distance between you, his tall frame towering over yours as he dips his head down, his hand slowly caressing your upper hand. “but just so you know,” he murmurs lowly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that only you can hear, “i’m your boyfriend, even if it’s fake. he doesn’t get to touch you like that.”

before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. the way he holds you is different—no teasing, no joking, just a raw, simmering intensity that makes your heart race.

PARK JONGSEONG

calm and collected are two adjectives that can define jay the best, a total gentleman— a perfect choice to play your fake boyfriend, the best fake plus one for your uncle's wedding. but tonight, at the party, you see his mask slip. it’s subtle at first—the way his eyes harden when he spots you talking to some random guy by the drinks table, swiftly turning his head away. he doesn't think much of it until the guy leans in closer, saying something that makes you laugh.

that’s when jay moves. he’s at your side in an instant, so swift you down even realise his imposing presence as he slides an arm around your shoulders. “hey,” he says, his voice light but his grip firm. “who’s your new friend?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanour. “oh, uh—a family friend,” you answer, a tight lipped smile, but jay’s gaze doesn’t leave the guy’s face.

“right.” his smile is strained, more of a baring of teeth than an expression of friendliness. the guy glances between you and jay, looking a bit uncomfortable before mumbling an excuse and walking away.

as soon as he’s gone, jay pulls you closer, his hand slipping down to your waist, fingers digging in ever so slightly, your back hitting his chest. “next time,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, hot breath travelling softly down to your neck, “just tell him you have a boyfriend—me.” his voice is low and intense, vibrating through you.

your heart skips a beat. “jay, it’s not—”

“real? yeah, i know,” he cuts you off, turning you to face him. his dark eyes bore into yours, darting across your face real quick, resring on your lips. “but i don’t care. i don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance with you,” he leans in even closer, his lips almost touching yours, “even if this is just pretend… you’re mine.”

SIM JAEYUN

the party is loud, laughter and music filling the air as you stand awkwardly by the punch table, watching jake from a distance. he’s talking to someone, a girl with long hair and a smile that lights up her face. his ex. you bite your lips, feeling a dull ache in your chest. it's silly—you’re not even really dating, but seeing him so at ease with her, leaning in to listen, his familiar grin in place, makes your heart clench, makes you feel it was you making his heart flutter instead.

they look like a perfect couple. a real couple, with real feelings for each other.

you turn away, trying to shake off the pang of insecurity by getting out of this place. but before you can slip out of sight, a familiar voice stops you.

“hey, what’s with the long face?”

you glance up, startled to find jake standing right in front of you, concern etched in his features. “n-nothing,” you mumble, forcing a smile. “just —felt out of place, i guess.”

jake’s gaze softens as if he can see right through your flimsy excuse. he steps closer, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a worry line that you hadn’t realised had formed. he leans in ever so close, “is it because of her?” he asks softly, nodding back toward his ex. when you don’t respond, he leans in, his eyes locking with yours. “you know she’s just the past, right?”

“but you looked so happy, jake! and we're not even—” “i’m only yours, you hear me?” he whispers fiercely, his fingers tightening around your waist, pulling you into him. “fake or not, you’re the one i want to be with.” his voice is low, almost pleading. “i’m not going anywhere.”

warmth blooms in your chest, melting away the doubts. and when he kisses your forehead gently, it’s like the final seal on his promise.

PARK SUNGHOON

the elevator doors slide shut, leaving just you and sunghoon in the small, enclosed space. his shoulders brush against yours, a stark reminder of how close you’re standing. you glance up at him nervously, noting the sharp line of his jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. why does he look so annoyed? he hasn’t said a word since you two left the event.

you press the button for your floor, stealing another look at him. he’s staring straight ahead, expression unreadable, but you can tell something’s different today. his jaw is clenched, his hands stuffed into his pockets, tension radiating from him.

it hits you then—he saw you talking to that guy earlier. your colleague from work, who’s been too friendly lately.

the elevator jolts slightly as it begins its ascent, and the silence stretches. you clear your throat, shifting nervously, taking a quick glance at his side profile, “sunghoon, about earlier—”

“does he always touch you like that?” his voice is low, cold even, cutting through the still air like a blade, face away from yours, looking straight ahead.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “what?”

he turns to you, stepping closer until the space between you is almost nonexistent. “your ‘friend’ at the office,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing, leaning his head down as he loosens his tie. “he seemed too comfortable.”

you feel a flicker of heat rising in your chest—he’s jealous. But why? “sunghoon, it’s not—”

“i don’t care what you think it is.” his hand reaches out, gripping the side of the elevator wall beside your head, caging you in. his breath hitches as he leans in, his face just inches from yours. “we might be pretending, but i don’t like it when anyone else looks at you that way. you’re mine.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends shivers down your spine. your heart pounds as you try to process the sudden shift in his demeanour, the unspoken intensity in his eyes, the impossibly fast heartbeat of yours.

“we’re not real, remember?” you manage to whisper, though your body betrays you, leaning into the space between you two.

“then tell me,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. his fingers brush lightly against your waist, the touch sending shivers down your spine. “why does it hurt so much seeing another guy looking at you?”

you stare at him, mouth dry, as his eyes drop to your lips.

“i don’t want to pretend anymore,” he whispers, “please..” a desperate plea from his lips as his hands control itself to not pull you in, but you don't wait, and close the gap between your lips. and he pulls you closer, bodies clashing against each other as the kiss escalates. he smirks into the kiss, you're his for real now.

KIM SUNOO

it’s pouring rain, and you’re soaked to the bone, standing under a bus stop shelter that does little to keep you dry. you mentally curse yourself for forgetting your umbrella, shivering as the cold wind cuts through your drenched clothes. just when you think your day can’t get any worse, a familiar car pulls up beside the curb, headlights cutting through the downpour.

the passenger window rolls down, and there he is—kim sunoo, your ‘fake’ boyfriend, his brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and concern. “get in before you freeze,” he calls out, voice muffled by the sound of the rain.

you don’t need to be told twice. you scramble into the car, teeth chattering as you tug the door shut behind you. the warmth of the heater engulfs you instantly, and sunoo’s jacket is shoved into your hands before you can even register what’s happening. “you’re going to catch a cold,” he scolds, his voice laced with worry as he glances at your shivering form, “why didn't you call me?”

you blink up at him, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “i … i didn’t want to bother you.”

sunoo sighs, leaning closer until you can see every droplet of rain clinging to his hair, every crease in his usually cheerful face. “idiot,” he murmurs, voice low and filled with something you can’t quite name. “you’re never a bother to me.”

your heart skips as he reaches out, brushing damp strands of hair away from your forehead with gentle fingers. his hand lingers, thumb tracing your chilled cheek softly.

for a moment, he’s quiet. then, he reaches over, wiping a raindrop from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, the gesture so gentle it makes your heart skip. “do you know how worried i was? pretend or not, i don’t want to see you like this,” he murmurs, his hand lingering near your face.

before you can respond, he leans over and tucks the jacket around your shoulders, pulling you close until you’re huddled against his chest and neck. “you’re mine to worry about,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then one on the bridge of your nose.

in that moment, under the sound of rain and the warmth of his embrace, it doesn’t feel like an act anymore.

YANG JUNGWON

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. the plan was rather simple—show up together at the dinner, play the perfect couple in front of his friends, and go home as usual. but then the storm hit, trapping you at his apartment afterward, the rain pouring down outside in heavy sheets, drenching the city.

jungwon sits beside you on the couch, the dim glow of the lamp casting shadows across his sharp features, and you force yourself to look away. his jacket is discarded on the floor, sleeves rolled up as he runs a hand through his damp hair, frustrated by the turn of events. he looks too handsome right now.

it’s quiet, too quiet, with only the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

“looks like you’re stuck here,” he says, leaning back casually, but there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore. you tug the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to stay calm, but the warmth of the apartment and the intimacy of the moment is starting to make you nervous.

“i'll crash on the couch,” you mutter awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, but jungwon’s eyes are on you, piercing, like he’s studying every inch of your face. he doesn’t say anything at first, but then he moves closer, his knee brushing against yours, you shiver.

“you don’t have to,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver through you. his hand rests lightly on your knee, but it’s enough to make your heart race. “you can take the bed.”

before you can respond, jungwon cups your chin gently, turning your face toward his. his touch is soft but firm, like he’s been holding back for too long. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch, as his as well.

“we don’t have to pretend all the time, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darkening with something deeper, something real, “it's getting so hard for me…”

your heart skips a beat, and suddenly the fake relationship feels far too real. “jungwon, what are you saying?” you ask, your voice trembling as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, hands falling down to your waist to pull you closer.

“i'm saying,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours, “that i want to kiss you, but in a real boyfriend way, and love you too while at that.”

the rain continues to fall outside, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart as his lips brush softly against yours, the kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotions, before it quickly melts to an intense one. he pulls away slightly, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers, “stay with me tonight… for real.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

you never expected to find yourself in a fake relationship with riki, of all people—the energetic, mischievous older brother of your best friend. when he overheard you venting about your annoying ex constantly showing up at your favourite hangouts, he had put up a sly smirk and volunteered to be your fake boyfriend.

“think of it as a win-win. i get to mess with people’s heads, and you get a human shield. plus,” he had said, winking playfully, “it’ll be fun.”

you should’ve known that riki’s idea of ‘fun’ involved way more than you’d bargained for.

tonight, at your favourite late-night caf��, you spot your ex walking in, scanning the crowd. you freeze, heart thudding. before you can react, riki slides his arm around your shoulders, tugging you close. his scent—a mix of citrus and something else uniquely him—makes your pulse spike. it’s only for show, you remind yourself. except … he’s suddenly so convincing.

“hey, baby, you okay?” riki’s voice is loud enough to catch your ex’s attention, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath tickling your ear. “you’re all tense.”

you fight the shiver that runs down your spine. “stop playing around,” you mutter, but he just smirks.

“i’m not playing,” he murmurs back, eyes twinkling. his gaze flicks toward your ex, who’s now glaring at you both, and riki’s grip tightens around you possessively. “i told you i’m the best at this.”

the next thing you know, riki’s turning you slightly in his arms, cupping your cheek in a way that looks so natural it makes your heart skip. the café lights catch on the gleam in his eyes—intense, focused. your ex is staring daggers at him now, but riki pays him no mind. instead, his thumb brushes your jaw softly, his face hovering inches from yours.

“relax, would you?” he murmurs, but his voice has lost its teasing edge. there’s something almost… protective in the way he’s watching you.

“riki —” you start, but he cuts you off by leaning even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me handle this.”

before you can process his words, he pulls you flush against him, his eyes never leaving your ex’s face. then, with a cocky grin, he dips his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

you freeze, heart pounding. when he finally pulls back, his gaze meets yours, unreadable. “there,” he says softly, still holding you close. “you’re mine now. got it?” and from the look on his face, you’re not entirely sure he’s pretending anymore.

© BYWONS, 2024 / do not copy or repost without permission / div cr plutism

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[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

------------------------------

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure.