#is equally shitty from both of them

[horsegirlhob]

I'm not an Angel hater by any means however I do think Spike should get to be as big of a dick to him as he wants to be and people shouldn't get to say shit about it.

[cachexiacomplication]

"if anything it was the opposite" "Eric wanted to be like Dylan more than Dylan wanted to be like Eric" followed by "it was a crime done by two guys, not a fucking supervillain and his little sidekick". Okay.

Reminder for Columbine Day

If you still believe the "Eric was a psychopath, Dylan was a depressed follow" rhetoric then you are retarded and should be sent to a reeducation camp. If anything it is the opposite. Dylan wanted to do NBK with a fucking chick before Eric was even in the picture. Eric wanted to be like Dylan more than Dylan wanted to be like Eric. Eric didn't have as many friends or a family to fall back on like Dylan did. Dylan, by bystander reports, enjoyed the shooting more than Eric did. Dylan was the one taunting more and was more visibly excited by it. Sure Eric killed more but Dylan had a shitty gun. It was a crime done by two guys, not a fucking supervillain and his little sidekick. Just a reminder.

[vasito-de-leche]

I love, LOVE your characterization of the Saja Boys, and while I know you’ve only written complete dating hcs for Baby and Abs, I was hoping if it was okay if I could request something with the Saja Boys (separately) where it follows the prompt “you're about to argue but you're so pretty that his brain short circuits”? If you don’t want to write for all of them, then maybe you could do Baby and Abs (separately)?

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS SAJA BOYS - "Too Pretty"

Saja Boys (separate) x Reader 2.5k words silly, fluff Being a demon's soft spot has its benefits. Who would've thought?

i'm so glad you like the way I write them!! this prompt sounded so fun, I just had to try my hand at it, thank you!

this also served as a way for me to slowly figure out how I'd like to characterize the other members o7 I tried to keep the relationship vague enough to be read as whatever people want, so hope that comes across well enough. also also, dont let these dramatic edgy idols fool you, all drabbles end up being silly and cute

JINU

"Are you even listening, Jinu?"

He is, of course. But he'd rather not, especially when you're getting worked up over nothing; so much for escaping an endless cycle of torture in the underworld, he now has to deal with a brand new mess, pacing behind him like a madman. By now, you've probably noticed the monotonous and non-committal answers he's been giving on loop.

"Uh-huh," Jinu's eyes never stray from the notebook in front of him, attempting to come up with a better verse for an upcoming song. And he knows he's fucked up when he hears you groan, stomping towards him.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I stopped listening abooout ... five or ten minutes ago, who's counting, but--"

Your hand comes into view, fast as lighting, and he can only look as you snatch the notebook away from him. Great, awesome.

There goes the perfect verse in his head. He remains frozen for a moment, the hand holding a pen still hovering over the now empty spot on his desk until your voice reaches him once more.

"If you're not going to listen, at least tell me so I don't waste my time talking to you."

Jinu slouches in his seat, raising both hands to cover his face, before sliding them upwards to slick back his hair in a feeble attempt at regaining his composure. You can't even see him from this angle, his back turned to you, but he still rolls his eyes.

You want to argue? Get it out of your system? Fine, he can give you the fight you want.

In one swift motion, his position changes; now he's straddling the chair, a powerplay he's come to master after bickering with his own band for so long, eyes closed as he prepares to deliver a devastating comeback to rile you up. But when he looks up, the golden glow in his eyes wavers--you're standing so close in front of him, looking down at his seated form with your arms crossed, as if daring him to speak.

He doesn't, and you tilt forwards, hair cascading over him so that the only thing he can focus is your face in this one-sided glaring contest.

Jinu has seen you at your best and your worst, but this is the first time he's found himself at the other end of your undivided attention and anger. It is as intimidating as it is alluring. What are you doing to him? Is this allowed? His neck feels hot, his face feels hot. The room feels like it's on fire, but not the same type of hellfire he's grown used to; it's a different sort of warmth, equal parts shame and pleasure as he takes in the sight. His lips part without him noticing, whispering ever so gently.

"Pretty ..."

"What was that?" Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Shitty. I said you look. Shitty. As in, you look like shit. Being angry isn't doing you any favors, you know? You should get some rest, okay. Byeee."

Without giving you any time to react, Jinu fumbles over his words, trips over your furniture and he stumbles out of your apartment in a rush, almost breaking into a sprint for the elevator. It's only when the doors close that he allows himself to breathe in and out, finally noticing the extra passenger inside with him. His bird companion chirps smugly, and Jinu groans into his palms.

"I don't want to talk about it."

ROMANCE

"I didn't mean it like that!"

Romance scoffs at your words, still refusing to leave his room. All the heart shaped decorations seem to mock him as he leans his full weight against the door, easily preventing you from entering no matter how hard you try to rattle the doorknob.

Both of you find yourself at the edge of an argument, and the decision to escalate things lies solely on his hands. He knows this because he can practically hear the affection in your words, even as you whine and tell him to get over himself to talk to you, face to face. That alone is enough to make Romance's chest tighten--no matter how many times he does this, this game of push and pull, you still make sure to chase after him time and time again.

Surely you must be reaching your breaking point; nobody is strong enough to withstand this much heartbreak. Maybe if he tries a little harder, you'll realize that there's nothing good in a future with him.

All he has to do is stay silent and wait for you to leave.

"Then what did you mean?" His voice is whiny, it always is. But you always insist that you love that about him, the way he feels so deeply about everything.

"You really want to argue about something like this?" You're right, you usually are--he's making things difficult when he's not even officially yours. "Well, I don't. So you can call me once you've cooled off."

And just like that, it's quiet; there's no more pressure pushing against him from the other side of the door, no more cutesy nicknames and attempts at coercing him out. Romance's heart drops, and he practically claws his way out, torn between cursing you out for proving him right and leaving, or begging you to take him back and sort everything out as if he hadn't been the one to start this. He's taken only a single step out of the threshold of his sanctuary when your smile greets him--you're leaning casually against the door frame, pretending to inspect your nails.

"So, are you done brooding all by yourself, handsome?"

That playful grin renders Romance speechless; the contrast of your casual attitude against his frenzied panic is impossible to ignore, he's gone through all five stages of grief in under a minute while your trust in him never wavered. Absence truly makes the heart grow fonder because there's a glint in your eyes that tugs at his heartstrings, wild strands of hair that he'd love to twirl in his fingers and kiss ever so gently. Romance knows that you'll let him if he asks for permission, and a knot forms in his throat, face flushed bright pink.

"No." It's all he manages to squeak out before closing the door once more.

"Rommie! Are you mad at me or not?!"

"I don't??? Know??? I need a moment! Just stay there!"

ABBY

"That's the last time I take you anywhere. You can't just pick a fight like that, Abby!" Abby sinks even deeper into the plush cushions of the couch as you continue to scold him, as if his sulking and his silence could single-handedly help him win this argument.

He's already found himself a comfortable spot, but you're still fussing about the living room, throwing your shoes to the side, sending your jacket flying onto the backrest of the sofa, pausing to drink and slamming the glass on the counter a little harder than necessary. Abby knows better than to try and stop you, so he stays put, waiting for his opening.

"What if anyone saw? Did you even think about that? The amount of trouble you'd be in?"

Those are all very good questions that he never bothered to consider; in fact, he still refuses to think about the consequences. There's no point in doing so when you managed to pull him away before he could do any damage to anyone, or to his own reputation as an idol.

"Like they'd even care," Abby huffs, trying to blow a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Just catching a glimpse of us outside is enough to make everyone turn a blind eye, it's almost too easy to work the crowd. One flex of these guns and any broken noses will be totally forgotten."

He makes an attempt to flex said guns, but he finds you looming over him from behind the couch, your grasp on his wrists as steady as death. There is a wild look in your expression, one he can't quite understand, but he finds it impossible to tear his eyes away from you. Getting to play the part of guard dog for you comes as easy as breathing, Abby can't get enough of the little tells that give you away, letting him know that you enjoy his antics--but it never crossed his mind that the tables could be reversed like this.

"Fine, let me put it this way! What if you got in trouble or worse, what if you got hurt? Ever thought of that one? Just because you're an all mighty demon doesn't mean you're--"

"You're hot when you're mad." He blurts out.

"I--What?"

A chance to rectify his mistake is presented to him, and he immediately pivots away from it when you blink your pretty eyes at him in confusion. "I said that you're hot when you're--"

"I heard you the first time, Abby. It's just--were you listening to what I was saying?" Okay, this is his chance to steer the conversation back on track. It's very easy, he just has to--

"If I say no, will you scold me some more?"

"Oh my God. Abby. Nevermind."

MYSTERY

Arguing with you is a rare occurrence.

But so is speaking to you, or engaging in any sort of conversation at all with anyone. This is one of the many perks that came with his role as the cool, mysterious and aloof member of the Saja Boys; anything he didn't feel like addressing could be easily swept under the rug and left ignored for centuries. This had been Mystery's modus operandi for years, and he wasn't planning on changing it any time soon.

You, on the other hand, were the opposite, filling the silence he often sought so desperately, until your voice became background noise in his life, a constant, confusing and somewhat comforting presence that simply followed him around.

Mystery still remembers the first time he deigned himself to reply, something off-handed that didn't matter at all, and yet you clung to his every word and went the extra mile to include him in your one-sided talks. It took a long time for the demon to get used to this, and an even longer time to acknowledge the fact that he enjoys the sound of your laughter, way better than the miserable voices crawling in the back of his mind.

Which is why the claustrophobic and oppressive silence lingering in the room irks him to no end. You're supposed to be talking, not playing hard to get or ignoring him over a stupid argument; the way you brush past him, barely acknowledging his existence as you go about your day is getting under his skin in ways he never knew were possible.

And then, for a fleeting second, you meet his gaze--this moment lasts for an eternity in his eyes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to seize the opportunity and break the ice, but before he can get a single word out, you turn around and begin to scroll through your phone. That's the last straw.

Mystery stands up and forces himself into your peripheral, hands firmly planted on the wall, trapping you in.

For the first time in forever, he wants to scream, to bark, to growl and give you a piece of his mind. But when he sees the way you awkwardly avoid his gaze, fiddling with your hands and standing at your tiptoes, Mystery relents and his frustration is replaced with something else; endearment. You're still wearing his merch, one of the very first shirts the Saja Boys released long ago with his name written on it, you're still attempting to hide from him despite knowing there's nowhere in the world you could go without him finding you.

Slowly, Mystery raises a hand towards you, enjoying your half-hearted attempt at shaking him off, pretending to bite the air near him.

And then he pinches your nose. "Cute."

After that, he leaves. You'll come around when you feel like it.

BABY

"You went too far this time, there was no need to get so personal back there."

"That's the entire point of dissing someone, duh. So, was it good? Did you like it?" Baby kicks his feet, hands cupping his cheeks to make himself look as innocent as possible. "I didn't know I could rhyme that many words with 'cunt' but it was soooo fun! Right, right?"

"Baby!"

Tsk. Guess it's the hard way today. That cute expression quickly turns into a scowl and he makes a bee-line for the fridge, if only to find something to drink and distract himself with.

He blows bubbles into the silly straw, sulking in the kitchen. "What? They got what they deserved. What kind of idiot would challenge me to a rap battle if they can't take the heat? Hellooooo, it's Baby Saja we're talking about."

"But it was a friendly thing, you turned it into a massacre for no reason."

"Heh," he knows he shouldn't, but he snickers to himself anyway. "Guess I did, huh? What, do you wanna have a go in their place?"

This is how Baby likes to play, to earn a reaction and entertain himself if only for a little--but you always know better than to play into his shenanigans. And you also know how to get a message through his thick skull, something that continues to astonish him to this day.

Baby continues to sip away on his drink as you busy yourself, fully believing himself to be the victor of this round. But dread starts to make its presence known deep in his chest as he sees you slowly gathering your things--this isn't how things usually go, you always stay the night at his place to keep him company, watching horrible romcoms, eating snacks and falling asleep at 5 a.m.

So why were you leaving?

"Hey, hey. Woaaah! Are you really going to ditch me because I got a little mean to some rando? That's so unfair." The look you give him is enough for his act to crumble, and Baby groans dramatically before hurrying to your side, tugging onto the hem of your sleeves. "Stay here! Pleeeeeeaase? I'll behave next time!"

It doesn't work; you pinch his cheeks and pull, stretching them like mochi. Your voice is stern, even after you let go. "You're old enough to know that what you have to say is 'sorry,' Baby. But if you want to beg for forgiveness, you'll have to try a little harder than that."

Shit. So much for being unfair, the tone of your voice and that look in your eye are more than enough to get all the thoughts in his mind twisted up--Baby hates when you don't indulge him, but even he has to admit that he loves that stubborn streak in you.

"What? Cat got your tongue? I know you well enough by now, there's no way you have nothing to say."

You never waver, meeting his eyes with the same intensity, running a hand through your hair. Baby's mouth turns into a fine line, followed by a pout. If he says anything right now, he'll most likely end up digging his own grave. You look SUPER hot right now, is that good enough to make up and get you to stay? Something like that would most likely earn him the silent treatment for a week.

"Sssssssorry ..."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it--"

"...for being soooo damn good at my job. Like it's my fault?"

"I'll see you tomorrow Baby."

"Aw, c'mon!"

[rawjutsu]

chapter one.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

you’re settling into the apartment, realizing just how hard this is going to be. everything smells like him—warm, musky, deep—and it takes a couple rounds of chlorine, vinegar, and scent-neutralizing sprays to finally scrub out the worst of it from your bedroom at least.

satoru—whose name you learned when he gripped your hand like he was shaking hands with a bunny plushie and not an actual person—watched from the doorway with a smirk.

"it’s a small place. bet it’ll reek of me again by the end of the week."

you glare at him weakly. there’s not much you can say. without this apartment, you'd be homeless. plus… he doesn’t seem that bad. most predator hybrids would’ve made fifty sleazy comments by now. satoru hasn’t.

whether that means he’s respectful or just hiding the sleazy, you're not sure yet.

that doesn’t mean your guard’s down. far from it. every time he’s near, he’s just a little too loud, a little too fangy with his smiles, a little too comfortable standing too close.

he frightens you. but maybe that’s just your body doing what prey bodies are built to do: recognize danger.

he offers you dinner when he cooks. granted, it’s always aggressively meaty—the kind of protein-heavy meals that make your molars hurt just smelling them. you remember the look he gave you when you passed on eggs and bacon in favor of a celery stick and hummus.

"that’s why you’re so tiny, lil bun. you don’t eat any protein," he says, smirking as he crosses his arms. "good thing i’m strong enough for the both of us. i’ll fend off any bad guys."

ironic, coming from him.

it’s been a week now. your family bet you’d come crawling back to the farm in two days. joke’s on them. you’ve got a job—minimum wage hostess gig at a sushi place with sticky floors —and a basic understanding of the city’s train lines. so far, you're winning.

you’re curled up on the couch now, still in your work clothes, a scent-blocker gum tucked into your cheek. the shitty tv is playing a rerun of some equally shitty dating show, and you're letting your brain rot happily.

the door slams open.

"maaaan, it’s hot!" gojo groans, already kicking off his sneakers.

you nod at him, slow. "it is a little warm."

standard tokyo summer heatwave. your hair stuck to your forehead on the walk home, even with a chilled melon soda can pressed against your neck.

gojo messes with the wall unit, setting it to barely-above-freezing. he plants himself in front of the vent, sighing as the cold air blasts his face. his snowy hair flutters. his spotted tail sways lazily.

you sigh too, thankful when the cool air hits you.

"by the way," he says, pulling something out of a plastic bag. "got us a calendar. for, y’know. tracking stuff."

it’s a digimon-themed calendar. hideous. bright. kind of cute.

"tracking what?" you ask, tilting your head. your ears twitch slightly.

he gives you a look. the kind that says c’mon now. then he grins, sharp and wicked.

"heats and ruts, obviously."

your body locks up like a rabbit under a hawk’s shadow. the remote in your hand slips between your fingers and clatters on the couch.

oh. shit. you completely forgot about that.

in all the chaos of city life and moving in with a stranger—a goddamn leopard—you forgot to plan for your heat cycle.

back when you thought shoko (neutral hybrid, unbothered) was gonna be your roommate, you’d done research, figured it was safe, thought maybe you could ride it out alone. but now? now you were going to be in a confined space, with him.

gojo’s still grinning. "don’t tell me you forgot about that, bunnygirl. unless…" his voice drops. his pupils dilate. "you wanted to go through them together."

you hurl a pillow at his face. he catches it with one hand, laughing.

"no, i did not!"

"relax, relax," he says, tossing it back beside you. "i’m joking. sort of. anyway, just give me a heads up when it’s coming and i’ll crash at nanamin’s."

you roll your eyes, you doubt your neighbor would be pleased with that idea.

"you don’t have to. this is your place."

he shrugs. "you pay rent, this place is yours too. and no offense, but i doubt you want me anywhere near you when you’re all soft and squirmy and smelling like—"

you shoot a glare his way that makes him shut up.

then you nod slowly. that… makes sense. you chew your lip and glance toward the calendar.

"okay. thanks. i’ll look at it in a bit."

there’s a pause. the sound of the tv fills the room.

then, slowly, you realize he’s still staring at you.

"what?"

he raises a brow, smirking. "well, we figured out what you’re doing for your heat, but what about me, huh? you think nanami wants to babysit a snow leopard that’s trying to fuck his couch?"

you bristle. "i’ve been around ruts before."

"yeahhh," he drawls, eyes half-lidded. "pretty sure rodent ruts don’t hit the same as mine. i get a little… intense."

you scoff. your fingers tremble around the tv remote.

"okay. then i’ll leave."

“yeah? where?”

you pause. crap. where?

he smirks. "exactly."

"pff, nah. we’ll figure it out. mine just passed, anyway. right before you moved in."

"is that why it stank so bad in here?" you say, not thinking.

he doesn’t answer.

you turn to look at him—and find his eyes locked on your chest. your nipples are hard, pressing against your thin tee from the cold.

your face burns.

you cross your arms. "you made it too cold in here, creep."

he hums a laugh and stands, stretching his arms behind his head. his muscles ripple, and it’s so annoying how effortlessly good-looking he is.

"get used to it, bunny. i love the cold."

he wanders into the kitchen.

you try to focus on the tv, but the image creeps in anyway—his face, twisted by his rut, eyes wild, claws flexing. the thought of what his version of a rut would look like crawls down your spine like ice.

you press the gum deeper into your cheek.

this is not going to be easy.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

taglist: @satorupied, @mashtura, @auucz, @littlemissfix-itfic, @luv3nti, @sukunawhores, @nx-0w, @rh-tg1, @sugacor3, @victoria1676, @arabellasolstice, @qardasngan

[lingeriae]

"because you're my wife."

the voice is aggressive and harsh, which isn't unexpected because of the person it comes from, but the words have you feeling warm even with the possessiveness and aggression that comes off of it, it still has you face heating up and your eyes averting from his ruby red ones that seem to see right through you.

sukuna's fist is clenched and his body is tense as he stands in front of you, unknown and unwanted emotions flowing throughout his body, his heart beating rapidly and loudly in his ears—he wonders if he's having a heart attack at the moment. his swallows as he takes in your beautiful side-profile, light hitting your sun kissed skin just right, his fingers itch with the need to grip unto you. to take you.

his throat feels tight.

you’re stubborn, reckless—smart but reckless. it gets on his nerves, the way you don't seem to care about anything, not even yourself. your defiant, especially against him. don't follow rules, and go by what you think is right, and no one, not even him, can get in the way of what you think is right. and it's funny, you're just a mere human, a bothersome woman. sukuna could take your life easily, he has no doubt you would put up a fight, but he could kill you.

that was the plan all along, marry a member of the zenin clan, get the information needed, then kill them.

but things had changed, a lot of things changed since he met you. you made sukuna...feel things. you were different from all the members of that shitty clan, with your hair that rose towards the sun, always looking neat with the little curly coils and always feeling soft to the touch, you didn't cease to amaze sukuna with the little way you styled it and with the way you cared it so delicately.

your fierce glare that rarely left sukuna's gaze, never backing down even when he gave you the most deadliest of looks that had anyone else cowering, those same eyes that allow him to see how vunerable you are when you let him have his way with you and show him how you truly felt at times. those plumpy soft lips, full and round, they felt like heaven against his own when they overlapped. your sweet fucking voice, always finding something to cuss him out about, always saying his name in more ways than once. shit don't let him start on your fucking body.

you made sukuna feel things, give him this warm and nice feeling inside and it makes him sick. everything would go according to plan if you didn't make sukuna fall for you—if you weren’t so you. that's why he can't kill you,

and that's why he's so fucking upset.

with your arms crossed over your chest, you unintentionally make the male infront of you glance down at your supple breast that sits temptingly against your bra, you suck your teeth in annoyance still refusing to look at him. "i was your wife before, and it wasn't a problem." before, before he fell for you. before he got infactuated with you.

his jaw tightens and he grabs your chin, forcing you to stare into his eyes. "i said what i said, you’re not doing that shit. you're gonna get fucking killed."

you drag your hand from his grip as if you were burned, returning his equally intense gaze and ignoring the way your panties seem to cling unto you. drenched annoyingly with arousal. "don't talk to me like im a fucking child, ryomen."

sukuna’s head tilted in brief wonder and amusement, astonished that you would spit his last name out with such venom, knowing he could kill you in a second. knowing that not only was it his name but yours.

he lets out a bitter chuckle, "stop fucking acting like it."

it's a silent battle between you and him after that. both of you silently daring the other to look away as you continued to glare at each other—a silent battle between husband and wife. a war between two faith-fucked lovers.

sukuna huffs out a breath, shaking his head wildly before cradling your delicate and god-like face in his palm—akin to some form of desperation.

“what is it going to take? to prevent you from doing this to-to stop you from going on this fucking suicide mission?!” his voice almost cracks.

sukuna ryomen’s voice almost cracks.

your hand is so little in contrast to his. it has committed less cruelty and faced less harsh treatment compared to his, yet you place your hands over his and caress them with such gentleness. such tenderness and love.

and sukuna’s heart cracks at the words that left your lips, inhaling sharply as if he had been stabbed in the chest.

“there’s nothing you can do, you can’t stop me from doing this. nothing you do or say will change my mind and that’s final.”

the king of curses forgets how to breathe.

[fvsm4x]

𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 - „I don‘t deserve someone like you“

—In an arranged marriage to the powerful sorcerer Gojo Satoru, you, a blind young woman from a noble family, quickly realize the harsh realities of your new life.

.contains blind fem. reader x gojo satoru, gojo is shitty, angsty, hurt no comfort, curse au, cheating, mistress, toxity, wc. 6.1k

The scent of jasmine filled the grand hall, its soft, almost cloying sweetness failing to mask the tension that lingered in the air. The wedding was beautiful, by all accounts—ornate chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting soft, golden light across the room. Tall vases overflowed with white lilies and roses, draped with vines that twined delicately around their stems. Everything was pristine, perfect, a vision of elegance and status befitting the union of two powerful families.

But beneath the surface, it all felt wrong.

The whispers of the guests were hushed, though not out of reverence or respect for the sacredness of the ceremony. They whispered because of you. They stared, eyes flickering between curiosity and pity, hidden behind false smiles and hollow words of congratulations. They pretended to celebrate, but you could hear it—the murmurs beneath their breath, the way their voices dipped just low enough that they thought you wouldn’t notice.

But you always noticed.

You stood still, hands folded in front of you, your posture impeccable as you’d been trained, listening as they spoke about the bride. The blind girl. The one without cursed techniques. The one Gojo Satoru—the Gojo Satoru—was marrying.

The ceremony had been just as silent, just as stifling, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing into you like needles. You had felt their gazes on your back as you walked down the aisle, guided by your father’s hand. Each step had felt heavier than the last, each footfall an echo in the vast room, but you held your head high, your expression calm and serene, as you had practiced countless times. The world around you was dark, as it always had been, but your senses were sharp, attuned to every shift in the atmosphere, every murmur, every movement.

No one questioned the marriage aloud, but everyone doubted it in private. The Gojo clan needed an heir, and you—born into a noble sorcerer family, though cursed with blindness and lacking any ability to fight—were chosen for the role. Not because of your power, not because of love, but because your bloodline was old and respected. Your family’s name still held weight in the jujutsu world, even if you did not. And Gojo… well, he was too important, too powerful, for anyone to refuse his family’s demands.

You could feel the tension in the room from the moment you entered. It rippled through the air like a current, crackling just beneath the surface of polite conversation. Your family had assured you this was the best course for both you and them. It was your duty, they’d said, to carry on the family’s legacy, even if you couldn’t do it the way your ancestors had. You would be a wife, a vessel for a future heir. That was your purpose now. You weren’t here to fight curses or stand beside him as an equal. You were here to bear the weight of an alliance and ensure the bloodlines remained pure and strong.

And he?

Gojo Satoru, the man you were now married to, had been as distant as the stars. Even during the brief ceremony, his presence felt like a cold wind brushing past your skin. He hadn’t said much—his voice, when he spoke the vows, had been flat and indifferent, devoid of the charm and magnetism that he was known for. His hand had touched yours only for the briefest moment, cool and detached, as though the act of taking your hand was more of an inconvenience than a gesture of unity.

There had been no tenderness, no sense of connection. It was as though he were performing an obligation, fulfilling a requirement, nothing more.

And now, as the ceremony gave way to the reception, he was nowhere to be found.

You stood alone in the grand hall, surrounded by the murmuring crowd, your fingers grazing the soft fabric of your wedding gown as you shifted your weight. The gown was heavy, draped in layers of delicate silk and lace that clung to your skin, a reminder of the weight of the expectations placed upon you. You could hear the soft rustle of the fabric as you moved, the sound barely audible over the hum of conversation and the gentle notes of the ceremonial band playing in the background.

The guests were mingling, their voices a blur of idle chatter and veiled judgment, and you were left to endure it all in silence.

"Such a shame," someone whispered, though you couldn’t tell who. Their voice was soft, yet the pity in it was sharp enough to cut. "A blind girl, no cursed energy…"

"Can she even fulfill her duties?" another voice added, the words tinged with disbelief. "Gojo must be furious."

Your heart tightened, but you kept your face composed, as you had been taught. You didn’t react. You didn’t turn toward the voices or acknowledge them in any way. You had long since learned that reacting only gave them power. So you stood still, hands clasped in front of you, listening as they judged you without hesitation.

“She must be so nervous,” a woman murmured to her companion, her tone laced with false sympathy. "I can’t imagine being so helpless."

Helpless.

You had heard that word so many times in your life. It clung to you like a second skin, a label that you could never quite shed, no matter how hard you tried. They saw your blindness and your lack of cursed energy, and they assumed that was all there was to you. A burden. An empty vessel.

It wasn’t just the guests who thought that. You could feel it in the way Gojo had treated you during the ceremony. His absence now was only confirmation of what you already knew—he didn’t care. To him, this marriage was just another arrangement, another responsibility to check off his list. You had been chosen for your lineage, not for yourself.

He wasn’t going to try, and neither were you.

It was only after what felt like an eternity of standing alone, the weight of the room pressing down on you, that you felt a shift. The atmosphere changed, a ripple of movement through the crowd, followed by the distinct sensation of someone approaching.

You knew who it was before he even spoke.

"Looking for me?"

His voice was smooth, casual, tinged with amusement that felt out of place in the solemnity of the occasion. It was the same voice he had used during the ceremony—bored, distant, with just a hint of arrogance. You had heard Gojo Satoru speak before, though never to you, and his voice was always laced with that same careless charm, as though everything and everyone around him were beneath him.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t turn toward him immediately, taking a moment to compose yourself, to control the surge of frustration that rose within you. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, calm.

"Where have you been?"

The question was simple, but it carried more weight than the words alone. Where had he been? On this day of all days, the day that was meant to unite you, however meaningless that union might be. You hadn’t expected warmth from him, but a part of you—buried deep—had hoped for something more than indifference.

"Busy," he replied, as though the question itself were a joke. He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t press him for details. He wouldn’t have given them, anyway. His voice was closer than expected, and you felt a subtle shift in the air as he moved closer. "This whole thing is exhausting. Don’t you agree?"

His words dripped with nonchalance, as though the day had been an inconvenience to him. Perhaps it had been. Perhaps the thought of being tied to someone like you—someone who couldn’t see, someone who couldn’t fight—was more than just a burden to him.

You remained still, though your fingers tightened slightly around the delicate fabric of your gown. "I suppose it is," you replied softly, your voice carefully neutral. "But it’s necessary."

Gojo laughed, the sound low and mocking, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, as though he were studying you, amused by your response.

"Necessary?" he echoed, his tone mocking. "I guess that’s one way to put it."

There was a pause, and you could feel the tension between you thickening, the space between you filled with unspoken words. You wanted to say something—something sharp, something that would cut through his arrogance—but you held your tongue. You had learned long ago that sharp words would do nothing here. Not with him.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice lowering as he leaned in slightly, “did you think this would be anything more than an arrangement?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t let your expression falter. “I didn’t expect anything more than what was promised,” you answered carefully.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because that’s all it is. An arrangement. Nothing more.”

You could feel the cruel smirk tugging at his lips, even if you couldn’t see it. You didn’t need to see it. You could hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he stood too close, invading your space as if to remind you just how small, how insignificant, you were in comparison to him.

The room around you felt colder, even though the temperature had not changed.

“Don’t worry,” he said, stepping back as though to release you from his presence, “this’ll go much easier if you remember that.”

As Gojo disappeared back into the crowd, the warmth of his presence faded just as quickly as it had come, leaving behind an emptiness that settled deep in your chest. You kept your face composed, your expression serene, as you had been taught. The noise of the reception swirled around you, a cacophony of clinking glasses and laughter, but none of it reached you. It felt distant, muted—like you were standing in a world that wasn’t meant for you, a world that you could never fully inhabit.

You didn’t need to see to know what was happening around you. The guests would be watching him now, the great Gojo Satoru, as he moved effortlessly through the crowd, exchanging smiles and pleasantries with his admirers. They’d hang on his every word, laugh at his every joke, their attention glued to him like moths drawn to a flame. He was the star of this union, after all—the one everyone came to see. Not you.

You were nothing more than the shadow in his light.

A part of you wanted to slip away, to retreat into the safety of solitude where the weight of the expectations and the judgment wouldn’t suffocate you. But you knew better. Your place was here, standing still, enduring. You had learned long ago that this was your role in the world of sorcerers—a silent participant, always on the periphery, always observing but never truly part of the action.

“Are you all right, my dear?”

The voice was soft, tentative—your mother’s. You hadn’t heard her approach, but the gentle touch of her hand on your arm was familiar, grounding. She was the one who had guided you through this life of duty, the one who had taught you how to survive in a world that had never been kind to those like you.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice steady. The lie slipped easily from your lips. It was a lie you had told so many times before that it felt almost like the truth now.

Your mother’s grip tightened slightly, her thumb brushing your arm in a subtle gesture of comfort. “He… he will come around,” she murmured, though even she didn’t sound convinced.

You resisted the urge to laugh at her words. Come around? Gojo Satoru? You had known, even before the wedding, that he wasn’t the type of man who could be swayed by something as simple as a bond of marriage. He was above all of that—above you. He was the strongest sorcerer alive, the most powerful, untouchable. And you? You were nothing more than the bride chosen for him because of your family’s name. A bride he could ignore without consequence.

“There’s no need for him to come around,” you replied softly. “This marriage is what it is.”

Your mother hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You will find your place,” she said finally, though her voice wavered with uncertainty. “It may take time, but—”

“I know my place,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than you intended. You could feel her flinch, her hand withdrawing slightly, and a pang of guilt shot through you. She didn’t deserve your frustration. She had done what she thought was best for you, even if this life felt like a cage. “I’m sorry,” you added quietly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I understand,” your mother said gently, though you could hear the strain in her voice. “I know this isn’t easy. But… you must remember your duty. This is about more than just you or Satoru. It’s about the future of our family.”

Her words, though well-meaning, did little to comfort you. You had heard them countless times before—spoken by your father, by your uncles, by the elders who had decided your fate long before you had any say in it. Your family needed this marriage. It was a strategic alliance, a way to secure your family’s position in the jujutsu world, to ensure that their legacy would continue through the next generation. You were simply the vessel through which that legacy would be carried.

But what about you? What did you want?

Not that it mattered. In this world, your wants were irrelevant.

“I know,” you whispered, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. “I understand my duty.”

Your mother didn’t reply, but you could sense her reluctance, her uncertainty. Perhaps a part of her regretted the role she had played in this arrangement. Or perhaps she simply didn’t know how to help you, how to guide you through something she had never experienced herself.

After a moment, she squeezed your arm again, then quietly slipped away, leaving you alone once more in the sea of murmuring voices and clinking glasses.

-

The journey back to the Gojo estate was quiet and uncomfortable, much like the rest of the day had been. You had ridden alone, save for the driver and a house staff member assigned to assist you, a man whose presence was unobtrusive and respectful, though it did little to ease the weight in your chest. The noise of the reception was a distant memory now, replaced by the soft hum of the car engine and the occasional rattle of the road beneath the wheels.

When the car finally came to a halt, you felt the subtle shift in the air, the familiar scent of the estate reaching you through the open window. The door beside you opened with a soft creak, and you turned your head slightly, listening as the staff member stepped out and came to your side.

"Lady Gojo," he said quietly, his voice steady, "we’ve arrived. May I assist you?"

You nodded, grateful for his presence even if the formality of it felt strange. His hand found yours with a practiced gentleness, and you allowed him to guide you from the car, your feet sinking slightly into the gravel as you stepped onto the driveway. The estate was large, its grounds sprawling and ornate, though you had never seen it with your own eyes. You had been given descriptions, of course—told about the lush gardens, the grand architecture, the beautiful traditional touches that made the Gojo residence a place of prestige. But to you, it was simply a place. Another cage, perhaps larger and more opulent than the last, but a cage nonetheless.

The man guided you carefully, his pace slow and deliberate as you walked toward the main entrance. The stone path beneath your feet was smooth, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you moved. You focused on the sounds around you—the distant chirp of crickets, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft shuffle of your guide’s footsteps. It was a comfort in a way, grounding you in the present, keeping you from drifting too far into the overwhelming thoughts that threatened to consume you.

As you reached the doors to the estate, another figure emerged from inside—a woman, her footsteps lighter and quicker than the man’s. You could tell by the soft rustling of fabric and the light scent of jasmine that she was one of the house staff, perhaps the one assigned to assist you personally. She approached with the same quiet respect, her presence calm and unobtrusive.

"Lady Gojo," she greeted softly, her voice smooth and measured. "I am here to assist you with getting settled. Shall I help you to your chambers?"

"Yes," you replied quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Thank you."

The man who had guided you this far bowed his head slightly, murmured a polite farewell, and took his leave. The woman stepped forward then, her hand resting lightly on your arm as she gently guided you through the grand entrance of the estate. The cool air inside the building was a sharp contrast to the warmth of the evening outside, the scent of incense and wood filling your senses as you walked.

You could hear the faint echo of your footsteps in the vast, empty halls, the sound a reminder of the sheer size of this place. It felt too big, too impersonal. The kind of space where someone could get lost—physically and emotionally.

As the woman led you through the winding corridors, she remained quiet, her touch firm but never forceful. She was practiced, you could tell, in the way she moved with you, guiding without pushing, always attentive to your pace. There was a quiet understanding in her actions, as though she knew that this day had been overwhelming, that words weren’t necessary right now.

When you finally reached the doors to your chambers, she opened them quietly and stepped inside with you. The room was cold, untouched, the air still and heavy. The silence hung between you both as she guided you toward the center of the room, stopping near the bed.

"Shall I help you with your gown, Lady Gojo?" the woman asked gently, her voice soft but professional.

"Yes, please," you answered, though a part of you hesitated. It felt strange, being undressed by another, but the gown was heavy, its intricate layers difficult to manage on your own, especially after such a long day. The weight of it felt unbearable now, pressing down on your shoulders, a physical reminder of everything this day had been.

The woman moved with care, her fingers deft as she began to undo the delicate clasps and ties of your wedding dress. You stood still, letting her work, the fabric of the gown slowly loosening and falling away from your body as she removed it piece by piece. The cool air brushed against your skin as each layer was peeled back, the heaviness gradually lifting, though the emotional weight remained.

Once the gown was fully removed, she folded it with precision, setting it aside on a nearby chair. You felt lighter, freer in a way, though the emptiness of the room and the absence of the man who was supposed to share it with you left a coldness in your chest.

"Would you like me to prepare anything else for you tonight, my lady?" the woman asked, her voice still calm and measured.

"No," you replied softly, shaking your head. "That will be all. Thank you."

With a quiet bow, she left the room, the soft click of the door closing behind her the only sound that remained. And then, you were alone.

Alone.

The word echoed in your mind, filling the empty space around you. You stood there for a long moment, the coldness of the room seeping into your skin, the emptiness of the house pressing down on you. This was your life now—a life of silence, of isolation. A life in which you were nothing more than a vessel for a future heir.

You hadn’t expected Gojo to be here, but even so, his absence stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated. He hadn’t cared enough to even pretend. This marriage, this life—it meant nothing to him. And to everyone else, you were just the blind girl. The one without cursed techniques. The one chosen not for her strength or power, but for her bloodline. A tool.

With a heavy sigh, you walked slowly to the bed, the soft rustle of the sheets the only sound in the quiet room. You crawled into bed, the cold fabric wrapping around you like a suffocating embrace. You stared into the darkness, your mind racing with thoughts you couldn’t quiet. Would it always be like this? Would this be your life—empty, cold, and filled with the constant reminder of your insignificance?

The cold sheets didn’t provide any comfort, nor did the quiet. The weight of the day pressed down on you, and despite your exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. Instead, you lay there, your thoughts swirling around in your mind, the reality of your new life sinking in.

-

The morning light filtered through the room’s large windows, though its warmth did nothing to chase away the cold that lingered in the air. You had hardly slept, the weight of the previous night pressing heavily on your chest. The events played over and over in your mind—the whispers, the ceremony, the emptiness. And now, waking up in this unfamiliar place, it was hard to shake the sense of displacement, of being trapped in a life that was not your own.

You sat up slowly, your body stiff from the restless night. The thin fabric of your nightgown offered little comfort against the morning chill, and for a moment, you remained still, unsure of what to do next. There was no routine here, no familiar rhythm to fall into. You had always known what your life would be—quiet, measured, controlled by duty—but now it felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under you, leaving you floating in a strange, empty space.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts, soft but insistent.

"Lady Gojo," came the familiar voice of the woman who had helped you the night before. "I’ve brought you tea. May I enter?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice quiet.

The door opened, and you heard her footsteps as she approached, the soft clinking of a tray as she set it down on the small table beside your bed.

"I’ve also brought a change of clothes," she continued, her tone respectful. "If you’d like, I can help you dress for the day."

You nodded, though the thought of dressing for the day felt strange. What was there to do? What purpose did this day hold for you? You didn’t belong in this world of sorcerers and cursed techniques, of power and prestige. You were just the blind girl, chosen to be Gojo’s wife for reasons that had nothing to do with who you were and everything to do with what your family name represented.

The woman helped you out of bed, her hands gentle as she guided you toward the wardrobe, where she had laid out a simple, elegant kimono. You could feel the delicate silk between your fingers as she draped it over your shoulders, her hands moving with practiced ease as she tied the obi around your waist.

"Do you know what your plans are for today, my lady?" she asked quietly, though there was no judgment in her voice, only politeness.

"I don’t," you admitted, the words feeling heavy. "I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do."

The woman paused for a moment, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders as she adjusted the fabric. "You may not have cursed techniques like the others, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing for you here. The Gojo estate is large, and there are many things to explore if you’d like. The gardens are beautiful, and the library is filled with books from all over the world. You don’t have to…"

Her voice trailed off as though she had realized she was speaking out of turn, but the kindness in her tone remained.

"I don’t have to what?" you asked softly, curious about what she had left unsaid.

"You don’t have to wait around," she finished, her voice gentler now. "You don’t have to wait for someone to tell you what to do. You’re Lady Gojo now, and this is your home too."

The words settled into you, though they felt foreign, like a suit of armor that didn’t quite fit. Could this place ever really be your home? Could you find your own way here, among people who saw you as nothing more than a blind girl married to a man who didn’t care about you?

When the woman finished dressing you, she stepped back, her hands folding neatly in front of her. "Is there anything else I can do for you this morning?"

"No," you replied, your voice soft. "Thank you."

She bowed slightly and left the room, leaving you standing there, dressed but feeling no more ready for the day than you had before.

The silence that filled the room after her departure was thick and suffocating. You could feel the weight of the emptiness pressing down on you, the quietness of the house a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that had filled your mind since the wedding. A part of you wanted to crawl back into bed, to hide under the covers and pretend that none of this was real. But the woman’s words lingered.

You don’t have to wait around.

You had spent your entire life waiting. Waiting for your cursed techniques to appear. Waiting for your family to tell you what your role would be. Waiting for this marriage to happen, knowing it was never really a choice. But now, as much as you felt out of place, there was a flicker of something inside you that wondered if she was right. Maybe there was more to this life than just waiting.

With slow, deliberate movements, you made your way to the door. Your hand found the handle, and you stepped out into the hallway, the quiet of the estate enveloping you. The corridors were long, and though you couldn’t see them, you could feel the vastness of the space around you—the echo of your footsteps against the smooth floors, the subtle shift in the air as you walked.

You didn’t know where you were going, but for the first time since you arrived, it didn’t matter. You just needed to move, to take a step forward, no matter how uncertain.

As you neared a door, the sounds from within grew unmistakable—soft murmurs, the rustle of fabric, and then a quiet, intimate sigh. The knot in your stomach tightened. You already knew what you would find if you dared to push the door open, and yet your feet carried you closer, your heart thundering in your chest as your hand instinctively brushed against the doorframe.

Inside, Gojo’s voice was low, playful, teasing in a way you had never heard from him before. It sent a shiver down your spine—not from the words themselves, but from the realization that this was a side of him he had reserved for someone else.

Through the small gap in the door, you heard her—a soft giggle, followed by a breathy gasp as Gojo’s voice dropped lower, too quiet for you to make out the words. The tone was unmistakable though, thick with seduction, as if he was savoring every moment of this forbidden encounter.

You stepped closer, the barely-there creak of the floor beneath you drowned out by the sounds inside the room. There was no mistaking what was happening now. Her quiet moan was unmistakable, and the soft, wet sound that followed made your breath catch in your throat. Your mind painted a picture you didn’t want to see—Gojo leaning in, his lips pressing against hers with a hunger that had never been directed toward you.

The dull thud of your heart in your ears drowned out almost everything else, but you couldn’t tear yourself away. You shouldn’t have been standing there, listening to your husband making out with another woman, but the pull of the moment kept you frozen in place.

A light gasp escaped her, followed by Gojo’s chuckle, and then you heard him kiss her again—longer this time, deeper. The sound of their lips parting, the soft exhale of pleasure from the woman, filled the room. It was like a physical blow, striking you with a force you hadn’t expected.

It was the kind of kiss you would never have. The kind of affection you would never receive from him.

You had always known it, deep down. Gojo had never promised you anything beyond the formalities of marriage, and you had accepted that, hadn’t you? But standing here, listening to him give someone else the affection you would never know, the truth of it stung in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

You pressed your palm against the cool wood of the doorframe, forcing yourself to breathe through the growing lump in your throat. The walls seemed to close in around you, the air too thick, too heavy. Your body screamed at you to turn away, to walk back to the safety of your solitude, but your feet felt anchored to the spot.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply this hurt, how thoroughly he had already broken the fragile illusion you had tried to build around this marriage. But as you stood there, every tender sound that came from inside the room seemed to chip away at whatever resolve you had left.

Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, you pulled yourself away from the door. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as if each step was a battle against the weight of your own heart. You wouldn’t stay to hear the rest. You wouldn’t allow yourself to witness any more of Gojo’s betrayal.

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A betrayal.

It didn’t matter that this marriage had never been built on love, that it had been nothing more than a transaction between two powerful families. You had still given yourself to him, even if only in the way you had been told to, and now, he was giving parts of himself—parts you would never have—to someone else.

As you made your way back down the hall, you forced yourself to hold your head high, your face impassive, though inside, the ache that had started when you overheard their conversation had turned into a deep, gnawing hurt.

You wouldn’t confront him.

But even here, in the peacefulness of the garden, you couldn’t escape the nagging thought in the back of your mind—the knowledge that no matter how far you ran, you would always be trapped in a life that wasn’t yours.

And you weren’t sure if you could ever find a way out.

As you wandered through the garden, the air heavy with the scent of flowers, you couldn’t shake the hollow ache in your chest. The calmness of the space did little to ease the knot that had formed in your stomach, the knowledge of Gojo’s casual betrayal lingering in your mind like a bitter aftertaste. You tried to ignore it, to focus on the sensation of the soft breeze against your skin, but the conversation you had overheard replayed in your head.

And then, as if summoned by your thoughts, you heard his voice.

“Ah, there you are.”

The sound of Gojo’s voice cut through the stillness of the garden, light and casual, as if he hadn’t just been somewhere else, entertaining another woman. You stiffened, your back straightening instinctively, but you didn’t turn toward him. You didn’t need to see him to know that the easy smile was probably plastered across his face, his usual carefree attitude masking whatever true thoughts lay behind those bright blue eyes.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel path, growing closer until you could feel his presence beside you. He stopped, his hands probably in his pockets, his head likely tilted with that insufferable smirk still playing on his lips. The scent of his cologne, sharp and faintly sweet, filled the air around you, overwhelming the natural smell of the flowers.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of casual curiosity. “I figured you’d still be sleeping off yesterday.”

You said nothing for a moment, your hands tightening slightly at your sides as you tried to maintain your composure. The silence stretched between you, and you could feel his gaze on you, even if you couldn’t see it. Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet but steady.

“Just walking,” you replied, your tone cool. “Isn’t that what people do in their own home?”

There was a beat of silence, and you could almost hear the grin spreading wider across his face.

“Right, right,” he said, amusement dancing in his voice. “Our home.”

The way he said the word “our” felt like a mockery, as if the very idea of this being your shared space was some kind of joke. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the wave of frustration that threatened to rise. This was your life now, tied to a man who didn’t care, bound by a duty you hadn’t asked for.

“You’re up early,” you continued, your voice steady but cold. “I thought you’d be… occupied.”

Gojo let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and almost teasing. “Ah, you heard that, huh?”

There was no apology in his tone, no trace of guilt. If anything, he sounded amused, as if the idea of you hearing him with another woman was nothing more than an inconvenience, a slight miscalculation on his part. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you struggled to keep your composure.

“What does it matter?” he continued, his voice light and airy, as if this were all some kind of game. “You know what this is. You knew what this would be.”

His words hit you like a slap to the face, and for a moment, the air seemed to still around you. Of course, you had known. This marriage wasn’t built on love or trust; it was an arrangement, a union forged out of necessity and obligation. But hearing him say it so bluntly, with such casual disregard for your feelings, made the reality of it all the more painful.

You turned your head slightly in his direction, though your eyes remained unfocused, your gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.

“I know what this is,” you said softly, your voice carrying a quiet strength. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be so cruel.”

Gojo’s laughter rang out, sharp and biting, and you could feel the shift in his demeanor, his charm slipping just slightly to reveal the edge beneath.

“Cruel?” he echoed, the word rolling off his tongue like a taunt. “This is reality. You’re the one who agreed to this. You knew exactly what you were getting into. You can’t act surprised now.”

Your chest tightened, the frustration and hurt bubbling just beneath the surface. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, of knowing just how deeply his words had cut. Instead, you drew in a steady breath, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you said quietly, the truth hanging between you like a heavy weight. “Neither of us did.”

For a moment, there was silence. You could feel his eyes on you, studying you, perhaps weighing the truth in your words. And then, with a soft exhale, Gojo’s tone shifted again, the sharpness receding as his usual nonchalant air returned.

“Yeah, well,” he said, his voice softer now but still distant, “that’s the way the world works, isn’t it?”

You didn’t respond, the quiet settling between you like a heavy fog. This was the man you had married—Gojo Satoru, the most powerful sorcerer alive, a man who wielded immense strength and influence but saw the world through a lens of detachment and indifference. He lived in a reality where emotions were weaknesses and connections were expendable. And now, you were a part of that world, tethered to him by duty and expectation.

But even as you stood there, feeling the weight of his presence beside you, a small flicker of resolve burned within you. You couldn’t change him, and you couldn’t change the circumstances that had brought you here. But maybe, just maybe, you could carve out something for yourself within this life. Something that wasn’t defined by him or by the expectations of others.

“I’ll leave you to your walk,” Gojo said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve got things to do.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the distance as he left you standing alone in the garden. The emptiness he left behind was palpable, but you stood there for a long moment, the cool breeze brushing against your skin.

This was your life now—a life filled with silence and distance, with a husband who saw you as nothing more than a convenience, a vessel for an heir.

© fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 2 forever teen Danny adopts post-JJ Tim. Tim accepts he has a new dad.

[Pt 1: here][pt3: here]

Tim has known Danny a month, and he can say it has had a positive effect on his life. He's super understanding and accepting of all Tim's weird quirks. And when he ran away back to the Bats (which was a train wreck. B and Dick seemed relieved for 2 seconds, then tried to throw him in Arkham. Between him not selling out "Phantom" and still having JJ traits, they found him unacceptable.), Danny let him go, understanding, before accepting Tim back as easy as breathing when he came crawling back. He helps Tim break into Drake Manor directly after, revealing the invisibility and intangibility Tim thought he hallucinated to get clothes, toiletries, his phone (there's 20 missed calls, 5 are Dick, 2 are Bruce, 2 are Barbara, 1 is his parents, and the rest are his school.), his photographs, camera, and the card linked to the allowance his parents send every 2 weeks. Tim took the last thing because he doesn't want Danny to suffer for taking him in and help with expenses, Danny frowns before giving him a lecture about that not being Tim's responsibility when he finds out. Tim still buys groceries and gets them both new laptops when Danny isn't looking.

Danny modifies any electronics to be untraceable, showing Tim the whole process, so that Tim can contact his school with a fake doctor's note, a fake kidnapping story (some thugs heard what Joker tried to do with Robin and tried their own hand at it. Harley squawked about the JJ thing and how a new meta called Phantom killed Mista J, so it's all over the news. (A fake police report magically appears in the GCPD)), and how Tim won't be able to physically be at school for a while and if they could please send his schoolwork over. Tim holds off on contacting his parents, curious to see if they notice anything, and can't find it in himself to be disappointed that they don't (not even when they stopped by the manor a few days ago, they texted him exactly 1 time to scold him about the lack of food in Drake Manor).

When Tim's physical injuries are mostly healed, Danny moves them from the shitty 1 bedroom apartment to an equally shitty 2 bedroom apartment, still in Crime Alley. Tim feels slightly guilty about Danny refusing to let him sleep anywhere other than the bed, taking the floor or couch before he moves a second bed into the new apartment. Tim isn't sure what to do with the level of care Danny showers him with, but he loves it.

Danny, while disapproving and disliking Tim wanting to continue being a vigilante, doesn't actually stop him (something about being a hypocrite if he says no?). Tim designs a new costume since he can't be Robin, and Danny helps create it! Tim isn't sure how Danny got the nearly indestructible materials that need specialized cutting and sewing materials, but it's awesome!

The costume's base is black. Black cargo pants, an armored turtleneck, black domino mask. But he decides that since he unfortunately can't get rid of all his JJ traits (the laughing fits, the scars, his hair is growing green??, the (bipolar depressive/) manic episodes, etc.) and the Bats won't accept him anyways, so why not lean in. Over the black base, he adds a gothic tailcoat vest. It's very dark purple with bright Kelly green lapels and buttons. The lenses on his mask and his combat boots are the same shade of green. He feels like the green ties his new vigilante look to Danny's ghost form. He also finds the whole fit awesome and a giant fuck you to both Papa J and the Bats.

This does lead to his current dilemma. He needs a new name before he debuts his new vigilante identity.

"I refuse to be Joker Junior!" Tim huffs at Danny, who's calmly making dinner.

"Like I've said before, then don't be."

"But what should I call myself? I can't use a bird or bat name either. I've never had to think of a name for if I was an independent before!" Tim flops on the floor. The kitchen and frontroom is basically one room, so Danny can still see him being dramatic without Tim getting underfoot.

"Name yourself a ghostly name."

"Huh?" Tim sits up to look at the slightly blushing man trapped in a child's body.

"I mean, you're already connected to my ghost form, since everyone is going to connect you to your old vigilante identity, so why not pick something ghostly or supernatural." Danny turns to do something Tim can't see, but Tim knows he's just trying to hide how embarrassed he is about sharing the suggestion. "You don't have to. You could pick something more personal, like Shutterbug or Mania or something."

"Huh... That would work. It'd really rub in the Bats' faces that they basically killed 2 Robins." Tim mutters before twisting himself into a pretzel. "Any suggestions?"

"Depends. What do you want people to get from your name? And what annoyed do you want people who know both your IDs to be? Phantom was a literal pun off my lastname."

"How is Phantom a pun off of Kronokori?"

"Kronokori is Jazz's last name, mine's Kronoyios."

"Huh??"

"And those are our lastnames because Clockwork, or I guess Kronos, adopted us. Our original lastname was Fenton."

"You got adopted by a god?"

"Basically, yeah. Don't worry about it. It's probably one of the least weird things to happen during that time, but that's for a different time. What do you want from your name?"

"Uhhh..." Tim takes a moment to really think about it. "It should be something loud and chaotic, but not necessarily good or evil? I don't really care if it would make people eye roll or groan if I share my ID. Maybe something that is angry? I definitely feel angry."

"As you should." Danny affirms and thinks a second. "Wraith? It's a vengeful spirit seen shortly before or after death."

"Mmm... No."

"Sprite? It's a-"

"No way!" Tim pauses and thinks on his violent reaction. "... Sorry.. It just feels childish and like I'm a 2 dimensional game sprite. Not something that can grow with me or demand respect."

"It's fine, Tim." Danny flashes a reassuring smile. "How about Bashee? They scream to warn someone death is near."

"Aren't they all women?"

"Not necessarily. Kinda like selkies, there's more myth about the women, but there's men too." Danny starts plating the food he made. "Apparition? They're closer to an after imagine of the dead."

"But are they loud?"

"Not usually...hmmmm" Danny hands Tim his plate while scrunching his face in thought. "Let's see, Dullahan, Kelpie, Sphinx, Shade- Oh! Oh! I know! Poltergeist! They're loud, chaotic, usually malicious, they bite and scratch and slam things! It also doesn't sound childish, so you can keep it for as long as you need."

Tim munches on his dinner while thinking it over. "I think that would work. Hehe! A Poltergeist under the care of a Phantom."

Danny smiles, "Glad to help, kiddo."

Tim sets his mostly empty plate down and launches himself at Danny. Danny used to the behavior, quickly gets his own plate out of the way and catches him in a hug.

"Thank you, Danny." His tone indicates he's thanking him for more than just the name.

"No problem." Danny kisses the top of Tim's head. They stay like that for a moment before Tim pushes himself up.

"I think I should talk to your sister." He grabs his plate and sits near Danny on the couch. "I don't want someone to trigger me with a dumb comment or something."

"I'll tell her tonight." Danny says, "She's been wanting to meet you. Mostly because she wants to know her new nephew, but also because she likes to psychoanalize hero types. She finds us fascinating, but is still usually chill about it. Unlike when we were teens."

"What happened when you were teens?" Tim asks curiously.

"So Jazz has always wanted to be a therapist, and unfortunately, that means she knew a lot on the topic, but had none of the tact in implementing the knowledge." Danny looks absolutely fond. "She'd corner me to try and force me to talk about my feelings. "You can't keep it all bottled up, Danny." "You're hurting yourself and others by not talking." It was very annoying for an angsty teen to hear. She was right, but her methods needed work. And she's definitely put in the work since then."

"Any chance she's going to be anything like Harley?"

"Not a chance. She hates clowns and isn't one for jokes that aren't well thought out. You have to be really clever to even get a chuckle at a pun." Danny explains, taking their empty plates to wash them. "She isn't opposed to dark humor, but only if she knows the reason for it and knows it's not your only coping skill."

"So you got in trouble with her a lot, didn't you?" Tim teases, knowing Danny still uses dark humor as his main coping mechanism.

"All the time, but I started listening to her advice when I was.. 30? 32? Somewhere in my early 30s." Danny admits. "I got really tired of wanting to die all the time. And her advice has definitely helped minimize the want, unfortunately, mental illness doesn't truly go away."

Tim thinks about that. He knows you can't cure the types of mental illness he has, and Danny has been very open about his own issues, but he can't help his disappointment.

"Hey, on the plus side," Danny speaks up as if sensing Tim's thoughts, sometimes Tim is positive the man can. The man isn't facing him currently, so it's definitely not because Tim was making a face or something. "You're legally a person, so Jazz can get you meds. At least for your bipolar. I know you've been struggling with the whiplash between your extreme emotions."

"That's good..." Tim stares at the back of Danny's head. "You're not legally a person?"

"Nah. In the eyes of the government, I'm dead. It's why I've been hiding out in Gotham. The government has no place here, and as much as I hate the guy, Bats keeps the people hunting me down away." Danny pauses. "You know, I wonder if they think I faded? I haven't made an appearance in nearly 20 years. Then again, Harley snitched to everyone in existence, so I might have to start dodging ghost hunters again. At least the Anti-Ecto Control Acts got repealed, so I won't be taken to a secret government lab to be experimented on again. Shout out to Amity Parkers for clawing their way into office."

"The dad lore of your life is extensive." Tim jokes.

Danny chuckles. "Being a lab accident made ghost child vigilante with a portal to the infinite realms in his basement and ghost hunter parents and the government after you and the other ghosts visiting your town will do that. You'll have your own out of pocket stories to tell your kids one day, well, if you want kids. Otherwise, shocking friends is just as fun. Just imagine telling someone about the last 2 months. "Yeah, hi! My name's Tim! I was the 3rd Robin because a furry couldn't get his act together and then the Joker kidnapped me and I got adopted by the dead guy who showed up and killed him!""

Tim giggles. "I don't sound like that!"

"Maybe, maybe not, but it's still something you could say." Danny grins at him, drying his hands. "Do you need any help with your homework?"

"Yeah, there's a chemistry problem I don't understand-"

Tim loves living with Danny. It's everything a Tim pre-Batman would daydream about. Just a dad taking interest in his life and interests and taking care of him.

[jenosbigtoe]

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: best friend!fwb!lee jeno x reader x best friend!jaemin

warnings: 3some, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, cumeating, masturbation (m), lowkey mxm if you think about it, porn no plot (shitty “plot”)

@jenomov sorry for disappearing.. hope this helps 🤗

—

it was his idea first—you’re both single and horny and you know him the best out of anyone, besides your other best friend, jaemin. it was only natural he asked you, out of everyone, to relieve his needs while he relieved yours. like scratching each other’s backs, as he put it.

you couldn’t even pretend to hesitate about it. who cares if you’ve been best friends for years? it’s not like some fucking would throw that all down the drain—not when you’ve secretly been wanting to sleep with him and jaemin for years. it was bound to happen at some point. your best friends are hot as fuck—why wouldn’t you jump at the opportunity to fuck at least one of them? a greedy part of you wishes you could have both, but one is enough for now.

it seems that insatiable thirst you have for jeno is equally reciprocated by him—after sleeping together once, you’ve been seeing him at least every other day.

it was convenient enough. you already spent most of your time hanging out with him, jaemin, or both. except instead of playing mario kart or watching shitty sitcoms with him, more often than not he has you folded into acrobatic ways to drill his fat cock into your needy pussy.

and jeno fucks like a pornstar.

smushing your face into the mattress while he pounds you feverishly from behind. placing your legs on his shoulders so he can reach that sweet spot deep inside your pussy with his hot length. spitting on your used cunt and using his tongue to lick and fuck your hole like you’re his last meal on death row. it’s like he finds new ways to fuck you every time you hook up—and every time leaves you hungry for more.

it’s an absolute miracle jaemin hasn’t caught on by now. like really, did you both have to go to the bathroom at the exact same time for 30 minutes? did you both have to contract food poisoning and couldn’t make it to your weekly friday movie night?

it’s not like you even tried to hide it that well. fucking in your room right next to the guest room that both jeno and jaemin were supposed to sleeping in, until jeno snuck out to go see you. the sounds of sex—headboard banging against the wall, skin slapping on skin, breathy moans and low grunts—definitely should’ve alerted jaemin to exactly what you two were doing.

but jaemin still, at the very least, appeared to be none the wiser. it’s like he hasn’t even noticed the way you’ve been rubbing your ass on jeno’s boner all night underneath the thin blankets, when you should’ve been watching whatever corny horror movie that was on the tv. the way jeno is gripping your hips in a way that is more than friendly. jaemin’s back is pressed against the front of your body while jeno cuddles you from behind.

“i’m gotta go take a shower.” you fake a yawn, “i’m getting tired and i’m ready for bed.”

jaemin briefly glances over at you but you couldn’t read his facial expression in the dark. “okay. good night.” he scoots away from your body.

“good night.” you get up from jeno’s grasp and walk away, only to hear him tell jaemin, “i gotta go take a shit, i’ll be right back.” you smirk.

—

“mmph—fuck!” you curse against jeno’s hand pressed to your mouth.

with one arm gripping your waist and the other hand pressed against your mouth to get you to shut the fuck up, jeno snaps his hips into yours from behind, every movement jolting your entire body forward and sending shock waves down your spine.

“shit, baby, i can never get tired of fucking you,” he chuckles lowly.

his hips drill his cock deep into your dripping cunt, his fat girth stretching you out just like the first time. with every thrust, the tip of his cock drives deeper inside you, leaving you with an insatiable thirst for more, more.

“mmph, ah—“ you struggle to speak against the tight grip he has on your mouth.

he moves his hand from your mouth back to your waist, using all of his strength to press your body against him in a tight bear hug while he fucks you into the mattress. you suck in a huge breath of relief, gasping for air.

“jen, please! i need—“ you can’t finish your sentence as he delivers a particularly rough thrust right against your cervix. “fuck!” you squeal a little too loud.

he smacks your ass in warning. “watch it, princess. don’t want our jaemin to hear you being a cock slut for me, now do we?” his hips never falter their pace, his cock drilling into you with a mind numbing rhythm. “tell me what you want, baby.”

you drop your head. “jen, need— need more.”

he smiles and leans his head to put his lips close to your ear. “that’s my girl.”

if at all possible, his hips seem to be going faster, harder, deeper than before. you almost scream in delight, if it wasn’t for the fact that you knew he would be so mad at you. your pussy clenches around every ridge and every vein on his cock as he drags his length against your walls in an erratic rhythm.

“fuck,” he groans to himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

you don’t notice the bedroom door wide open, as jaemin watches the two of you with his arms folded across his chest.

“well fuck, why wasn’t i invited in on the fun in here?” jaemin’s voice ringing through the room has your heart dropping out of your ass as you jump in fright. jeno freezes on the spot, slowly swiveling his head to see his best friend watching menacingly.

jaemin’s eyebrows are furrowed and the veins on his neck bulging.

“no, don’t let me stop what you were doing. obviously you can’t even take your cock out of her even when you have an audience.” jaemin stalks towards the two of you with a predatory look in his eyes. you both can’t even begin to move yourself from the shock of it all. fuck.

you notice the thick bulge in jaemin’s sweatpants, the look of hunger on his face as he licks his lips. you recover from the shock first—when jeno begins to say, “holy sh-“ you begin to move your ass against his cock once more, using your juices to clench and fuck jeno’s cock right in front of your other best friend.

“that’s right, baby. fuck his cock for me,” jaemin’s smirk reminds you of a hungry beast, ready to devour a delicious meal right in front of him.

noises slip from your mouth with abandon, no longer caring who heard because you’ve already been caught. jeno catches on quick—his hips moving to meet yours, slowly speeding up to the animalistic pace he had been fucking you before. you barely even notice jaemin stripping himself bare as he walks to the side of your bed, standing to the side with his red hot cock in his hand standing hard and proud. jaemin spits on his hand and rubs his cock furiously, his face scrunched in concentration as he watches you fuck his best friend like an animal.

with the added audience, jeno seems to lose himself in your pussy faster. he likes it, likes having his and your best friend watch you get fucked. your cunt drips endlessly around his hot length, allowing his cock to slip in and out of your heat with ease. the pace of his hips quickly grow sloppy and you can feel his cock twitch deep inside your cunt with every thrust now—a sign you’ve grown to know all too well.

“shit—baby i’m going to cum,” he groans. you clench harder at his words, nearing your release.

with stuttering hips, he slams his cock balls deep in your hot cunt. his cock twitches violently as he shoots his white hot ropes inside you, talking his head back and moaning loudly. “fuck.”

you moan at the hot feeling of your best friend’s cum painting your walls. slowly, you turn your head back to face your other best friend, who still has his cock in his hands and a satisfied look on his face.

“get off her,” jaemin commands.

jeno can’t even think from the mind blowing orgasm he just had. he rolls off your body and lays flat on the bed beside you, panting to catch his breath.

before you can even move, jaemin climbs on the bed and flips you on your back. he climbs over your body and traps you underneath his, his hand gripping your face and leaving you unable to move.

“look at this little slut right here. fucking our best friend like i wouldn’t ever find out.” he crashes his lips against yours, sucking and biting at your lips like you were made of candy.

“mmph—,” you moan.

jaemin pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. “shut up, slut. you wanna act like a slut? you’re gonna get treated like one now.” jaemin crawls down your body and wraps his arms around your legs, forcing them apart. he uses his strength to keep an iron grip on your thighs as he inspects your cunt from below.

“i wonder how many times jeno has used this slutty pussy,” jaemin chuckles dangerously.

you squirm, with futile attempts to move out of jaemin’s crushing grip. you can feel jeno’s hot cum start to drip out of your cunt, despite your attempts to clench it inside.

you don’t notice jeno sitting up again, this time watching the two of you with renewed interest. his cock is hard again, standing erect as he starts stroking it.

jaemin uses his fingers to scoop the cum back into your cunt, causing you to gasp sharply and jerk your body around.

“holy fu-“ before you can finish your statement, you feel jaemin’s hot mouth press against your core, his tongue shoving into your used hole and licking up to flick your clit.

you scream at the sudden feeling, hands tangling and pulling onto jaemin’s dark locks. your legs shake from the attack of pleasure on your sore pussy. jaemin pays no mind—continuing to eat you like you’re his last meal.

before you can even realize it, your orgasm crashes down on your senses like a tsunami, waves of pleasure coursing through your veins as your brain goes blank.

your body tightens up and you toss your head back to moan loudly. jaemin’s tongue continues to attack your clit furiously, licking and sucking your through your intense orgasm. jeno rubs his cock furiously, his second orgasm approaching.

jaemin removes his mouth from your pussy with a loud pop—before he crawls back up to meet your fucked out face. he smashes his lips back against yours, making you taste yourself as he continues his attack on your lips this time. he pushes his tongue against yours to make you open your mouth—before he forces jeno’s cum right into your mouth.

you swallow it all—the taste of yourself mixed with jeno’s cum and jaemin’s mouth lingering in your own.

[cheralith]

— read the fine print.

characters ; karasu tabito, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu || wc ; 1.7k contains/cw ; gn!reader (though fem implied), no pronouns used, slight crack, roommates!au, modern!au, aged-up characters (mid-20s ish) apartment 345 series masterlist ☚ previous next ☛

thinking about tabieitaken roommates!au new girl style, where you've finally had enough of your shitty landlord and your overpriced shoebox apartment after he pushes back his examination of your pipes that you think have been contaminated with rust for the nth time. not wanting to accidentally poison yourself any longer with the built-up rust inside them, you start finding new places to live and stumble upon a request for a roommate for a rather spacious loft. and the fact that you'll be paying only half of what you owe for the loft in comparison to your current apartment is an absolute steal!

when you send a request in for an interview, the person, karasu tabito asks when's the soonest you can come and is clearly more than elated in his email sent back to you when you say you can come after work tomorrow. something is telling you that there's a catch to this loft because you still can't believe you're only paying a fraction of a price for what seems to be a three bedroom apartment compared to the shoebox, but you shake it off, thinking that this opportunity only comes once in a lifetime and that if it comes to you, you should take it with full glory.

karasu comes to greet you at the door, a cordial smile on his face and tells you to make yourself comfortable, an accent evident in his tone. the loft is bigger in person, clearly, and it has a bunch of windows that let in a bunch of natural light. evidence of a man is scattered throughout the apartment, with some spare sweaters and a couple of beer cans sprinkled about, but it's still rather tidy.

after he asks you if you'd like some tea, he tells you to sit down at the couch, and the other roommates should be coming home soon after their grocery trip.

your head spins back to him. you blink.

"u-uh... other roommates?" you hastily say, taken aback.

karasu turns back to you, a cup of peach tea and honey in one hand for you. he raises a brow. "er, yeah...?"

"i-i thought," you begin and pull out your phone to double check the application. "i thought it was just you living here?"

karasu snorts and shakes his head, gently settling down the cup of tea in front of you.

"i wish," his kansai accent drawls with a laugh. "but no, i couldn't afford this all by myself. pretty sure i put down that we were lookin' for a fourth roomie?"

and to your disdain, you missed the fine print that was at the very bottom of the application, one that was hidden by the "read more" feature you didn't bother to check after your excitement seeing the cheap rent and spacious area took over. "fourth roommate needed, rent will be split across four ways equally" says the last bullet point.

your lips warble a bit. of course you overlooked such an important detail. you were so overconfident that you had found such an amazing place for cheap that you failed to try and find a justification for, only for reality to hit you hard on the head. and you had just signed off your lease, as well!

karasu notices your hesitation. "i know it doesn't come off as much comin' from a guy like me, but i swear my roomies are real nice and proper folks," he pauses, thinking over his words for a minute. "well, for sure one of them at least..."

three roommates... oh god. you ponder about. you've had roommates in the past—both good and bad—and you're sure you've dealt your fair share of rather horrible roommates back in your early adult years, so you think that four fully-fledged adults would have reached some point of maturity. the apartment did look spick and span after all.

the lock clicks suddenly at the front door.

"ah, they're here," karasu says with a grin. "don't worry, i promise they don't bite."

but his attempt at comfort doesn't do that much to ease your nerves, especially as you witness two other men walk into the loft with grocery bags in hand. your eye twitches.

one of them sports a rather fashionable manner—dressed in a light trench coat, hemmed jeans, and noir turtleneck, his hazelnut hair parted neatly with stylish glasses to top off his face.

the other... not so much. a beanie tops off a mess of white hair with a striking green lock falling over his face, a baggy white t-shirt reading "I ♡ MILFS" with grey sweatpants to match to clearly contrast the other man's outfit.

"they didn't have those cookies and cream protein bars you wanted tabi," beanie says nonchalantly as he takes off his slides. "so i got you some ice cream instead."

karasu grits his teeth. "ya fuckin' idiot. what makes you think ice cream is a good substitute for protein bars?"

glasses sighs and shrugs as he hangs up his coat, your presence to them still going unnoticed. "that's what i told him, but he insisted on it."

beanie shoves his hand into one of the plastic bags and holds up a cookies and cream ben & jerry's.

"they're the same flavor, aren't they?" he asks as he presents it to karasu. that's when he notices you sitting rigidly on the couch. his brows perk up. "oh hiya. you must be the roommate we're interviewing today."

you wave a stiff hand and give an even stiffer smile. "yes, hello. my name's—"

"—(y/n), right?" glasses asks you, a polite smile settled on his lips. when you really take a good look at him, you notice he's quite handsome, a certain charm radiating about him. "nice to meet you. i'm yukimiya kenyu."

his eyes exhibit a warmth that ever so slightly melts your frigid nerves, and you hypothesize that he's the one that's been keeping the apartment as tidy as it looks now.

"otoya eita," the other greets loosely, throwing a peace sign your way. you notice the way his eyes shift over your figure for a second before he nods quietly to himself, humming.

you squirm. karasu rolls his eyes and tells you not to pay him too much mind. "don't worry. he's a good guy at heart. a flirt, but you can just put him in his place if he needs it."

the other two settle themselves down next to karasu on the couch in front of you, yukimiya folding his hands courteously across his lap while otoya lays down lazily, manspreading a little. you don't think the personalities of three strangers you've just met have been so visible without the use of words.

yukimiya and karasu do most of the talking, asking if you have any pets or what do you usually do in the house. your answers fly by fluidly, many of them receiving nods of approval from the men. karasu asks you what you do for work, seeing if your salary would be able to cover your part of the rent.

"oh, um, i'm a manager for the marketing team for a talent agency," you say, feeling your nerves finally beginning to relax.

that piques yukimiya's interest. "oh really?" he asks, his eyes a little bright behind those glasses. "which one?"

"oh um, i doubt you've ever heard of it—" you sway off, a little shy about the fact you work for a rather prestigious company. "ego creatives group? does that ring a bell, at all?"

yukimiya gives you a charming laugh, a little astounded. "no way, that's the parent company of my agency! i work for flow talent management."

you give a little bit of a gasp that earns a chuckle out of karasu. "yukki here is a model himself part-time," he juts a thumb over to his brunette roommate. "a small world after all, huh?"

it's otoya's turn to speak up, his own ears perking up at the sound of your work and your connections. "so... does that mean you work for models... and stuff?"

yukimiya throws a warning glare. karasu pinches him on his arm, earning a whine from him. "what! can't a guy be curious?"

karasu points to a lone jar settled on the coffee table that has a post-it taped onto the front of it reading douchebag jar in sharpie. "that's worth at least a dollar."

otoya grimaces and pulls out a dollar bill, plopping it into the half-filled jar to your amusement.

the interview eventually ends and the men give you a tour of the loft and where you'll be staying. your bedroom is the second-largest one, one that has a large array of windows that look out into the city skyline ever so beautifully with exposed brick on one end. you think it's just ever so slightly smaller than the entirety of your own apartment, the spaciousness making you giddy and forgetting about the fact that you'd be sharing a space with three men.

"is it to yer likin'?" karasu asks as you walk about the room, though he thinks he already knows the answer based on your astonishment.

yukimiya grins as you examine the large closet space. "i admit, i'm jealous that you'd be getting all that closet space, but i figure you might have more clothes than i do."

otoya pouts when you feel the comfort of the queen bed, sighing pleasurably as you bounce about it. "you wouldn't happen to want to trade beds, would you?"

regardless, it's clear that the three men have come a unanimous agreement without exchanging words. given your answers, you'd be a pretty good person to room with, as you had no pets, you were financially stable, tidy, and would probably spend most of the time in your room given you often came home late.

as you prepare yourself to leave, you thank the men for welcoming you into their abode. you think you may still need some time to make a proper decision, since you don't seem to brush off the fact you'd be living with three men so easily, but "believe me... the offer seems tempting."

"actually, about that," otoya mutters, scratching the back of his neck. he flickers his eyes toward the other men, who avert their gaze away from you in the same guilty manner. you furrow your brows. otoya turns back to you and swallows a little thickly.

karasu takes on the liberty of breaking the ice. "so our rent is actually due in a few days and we sort of... lied to our landlord that we found another roommate already. we don't mean to rush you but—"

"—we'd need an answer by tomorrow at the latest," otoya finishes and juts a pen in your hand, him pulling out a wrinkled document of the lease's agreement from behind his pocket. "or today. like, right now, if you're able."

☚ previous next ☛

[devils-little-sistaaa]

In the last Olympian Percy’s says there were 40 demigods that went fighting into battle of manhattan and later on the ares cabin joined so they weren’t even counted in that 40.

And in the end of the book Percy’s says there were only about “20 odd” demigods that survived and made it back to camp.

Roughly half of the whole entire camp perished in battle of manhattan.

And I’ve done the math and figured out who all the veteran characters are. Most of these are all characters mentioned both before and after the battle of manhattan and some of them were introduced in HoO but said to have been at camp since the titan war. These are the only known true survivors of BoM and it adds up to about 20. This is all of them. None of them are unknown. Do with this what you will

All of the battle of manhattan veterans in order of their cabin numbers :

Percy Jackson

Katie Gardiner

Miranda Gardener

Clarrise La Rue

Sherman Yang

Ellis Wakefield

Annabeth Chase

Malcolm Pace

Will Solace

Austin Lake

Kayla Knowles

Jake Mason

Nyssa Barrera

Harley

Drew Tanaka

Lacy

Mitchel

Chris Rodriguez

Travis Stoll

Connor Stoll

Pollux

Nico di Angelo

Butch Walker

Holly Victor

Laurel Victor

Can you imagine them all going back to camp together in only of those Delphi strawberry busses when they came in four busses. All of them together in a tiny bus grieving their lost siblings together.

Percy Annabeth And Nico went on a wild goose chase after Rachel who had just highjacked Black Jack and that’s how they got back to camp they weren’t on the bus.

Malcolm was all alone and might have believed Annabeth died out there in the streets somewhere or in the Empire State Building. (He’s elated to find her alive at camp later. But god that was a scary couple of hours on the bus thinking he’s all alone now)

Malcolm sits with Butch and Pollux because they’re the only other campers on the bus without siblings. Butch just because he happens to be the only known iris kid at camp and Pollux because he lost Castor in battle of the labyrinth.

All the others sit with their siblings. Or what’s left of them. Entire large cabins that used to have 10-20 kids on average now reduced down to 1-3 kids. Some died. Some joined Luke and probably died soon after.

Edit : And since I’ve seen some Titan army hate in these comments for no reason here’s something else I should have said.

If they joined Luke but somehow survived they were probably wrongfully murdered by the gods for rebelling or brutally punished somehow like Alabaster Torrington. So many titan army kids perished too. Don’t forget them. They fought for a noble cause. They didn’t die for nothing. They were just kids with dreams of making things less shitty for everyone. They suffered just as much if not more than the camp halfblood kids all at the hands of the gods and the titans and even other demigods that were higher up on the Olympus hierarchy. Nico, Ethan, any kid who’s not a child of the big 12 were not treated as equals at camp back then just because of their parentage or lack of powers or unique or scary powers. A lot of titan army kids were from minor gods who suffered because of the big 12 and their children. Camp halfblood wasn’t so nice to them in fact pretty cruel and rude and mean just because of that stupid hierarchy. Of course they felt hurt and fell into Kronos’s trap of trying to make things better. Of course Luke being their counselor at camp cause Hermes takes in all the minor god kids saw all them suffering and tried his best to help. Of course Luke fell into Krnos’s trap as well. and I refuse to tolerate any hate or misunderstanding of them.

[parkerslatte]

Future Promises

Dae-ho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: violence. blood and injury. murder. character death (not reader).

Summary: When a fight breaks out in the bathroom, Y/N gets caught in the middle of it. When the eliminated players are announced, Dae-ho panics.

Requested: Yes

Squid Game Masterlist

The divide in the room was clear. Each side equal in terms of numbers yet Y/N could feel the murderous gazes from the ‘O’ side of the room. While others around her talked to one another, trying to ease some of the tension, Y/N sat on her own. She wasn’t too far away from the rest of the group but she was far enough away to be able to breathe. 

For the entire duration of her time in the games, she didn’t have a single change to calm her body down. Even when she slept she was always on high alert. Taking a step away from everyone was what was best for her right now– especially when she needed to prepare to defend herself if it came to that. Y/N didn’t miss the way each player had received a glass bottle and a metal fork with their meal when they hadn’t before. Her fork was securely concealed in her jacket. 

Y/N rested her head on the cool tile wall and sighed. The room seemed much larger now compared to when she had woken up only days ago– though to her it seemed like weeks. There were only one hundred players left out of four hundred and fifty six and somehow Y/N was one of them. Though she might not have been if it wasn’t for one particular person. 

Kang Dae-ho was someone Y/N never thought she would see in these games. They weren’t exactly friends before the games, only worked at the same part-time job. But seeing him was like a breath of fresh air. If it wasn’t for him, Y/N was sure that she would have been killed during the mingle game. The whole time, he had kept her hand firmly clasped in his. When the final round called for two players, he didn’t hesitate to pull her along to a room, pushing her in first before himself. The fear Y/N had felt during that game– if Dae-ho hadn’t been by her side she would have froze up and never left that rotating platform. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called to her before she felt the warm and comforting presence sitting beside her. “What are you doing over here on your own?”

Y/N opened her eyes, not realising she had closed them. “I needed to step away for a bit.”

Dae-ho’s thigh pressed against hers. “Tell me next time. I didn’t know where you went.”

Y/N turned to him and offered him a small tight lipped smile. “I’m okay.”

Dae-ho didn’t return her smile, already knowing that it wasn’t genuine. From where his hands were resting in his lap, Y/N watched as they twitched– hesitantly decided if they should reach out to her. Taking the initiative, Y/N held her hand out. A small flash of surprise appeared on Dae-ho’s face before he gently held her hand in his, linking their fingers together. 

The corner of Y/N’s lips tugged up in a smile as she rested her head against the cool tile wall. “I don’t think I’ve told you but I’m glad you’re here. Well, not here exactly– but here with me. Seeing someone I recognised made me feel…safer. So thank you.”

Dae-ho’s gaze was fixated on their clasped hands. “Don’t thank me. Honestly seeing you here made me feel safer even though I hate that you are trapped here too.”

“We both made a stupid choice by phoning that number,” Y/N said. “When we get out of here, let’s not phone any strange numbers in the future.”

A quiet laugh emitted from Dae-ho and caused Y/N to smile. “Agreed.”

A silence washed over them but it was comfortable and if Y/N closed her eyes, she could pretend that they were in the break room at their shitty job. Instead of bidding goodbye at the end of the day like she usually did, she would take the risk and ask him for dinner. Finally doing what her friend had demanded of her when she first started the job and asking her attractive coworker out.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Y/N said, standing to her feet, her hand slipping out of Dae-ho’s. 

“I’ll go with you,” Dae-ho offered, quickly standing with her. 

“To the women’s bathroom?” Y/N asked, a soft chuckle leaving her lips. 

For a short moment, Dae-ho seemed embarrassed but it quickly seemed to fade. “I’ll keep watch outside.”

A small genuine smile tugged at her lips as she rested her hands on his biceps. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to protect me, you’ve done that enough already.”

“I’m sorry,” a woman a little older than Y/N said. Y/N glanced at the woman’s number. Player 91. “I overheard you going to the bathroom. We could go together, safety in numbers. I noticed some other women go there not too long ago.”

Y/N turned her attention back to Dae-ho. “See, I’ll be fine.”

There seemed to be nothing that could convince Dae-ho but the moment she leant up and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek all rational thoughts swimming through his mind seemed to evaporate. Y/N laughed and gently trailed her hands down his arms to his hands, offering him a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be fine.”

Slowly, Dae-ho nodded. “Be safe.”

As she took a step back from Dae-ho, he held onto her hands until she was too far to comfortably hold onto them. Y/N allowed her hands to slip from his but the moment his warmth fell away, she craved it once more. Y/N pushed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and offered Dae-ho one final parting smile before following the woman to the bathroom. 

***

Y/N watched as the water dripped from her chin back into the sink as she sighed. She could only hope that not everyone was bright enough to realise they could freely harm anyone that opposes their vote and in the morning they would be able to vote and return home. 

“So you voted to return home?” a woman said, approaching Y/N. 

Y/N didn’t bother to look at the woman as she answered. “Clearly, and anyone with a few brain cells would realise that is the best option for everyone here.”

The woman hummed. “Didn’t you vote to continue the games during the first vote?”

“I did,” Y/N answered. “It was a selfish decision and I regret it.”

“What changed your mind?” the woman questioned. 

“After nearly dying during the second game, I realised that risking my life for money isn’t worth it,” Y/N said, her grip tightening on the skin as Dae-ho’s face flushed in her mind. 

During the six-legged pentathlon, their small group of five was already decided until Jun-hee came along asking to join their team. The moment she found out the younger girl was pregnant, Y/N didn’t hesitate to join another team. 

Dae-ho insisted that he should be the one who left but Y/N refused and found another team, she was one of the first to complete it with one second to spare. For hours she had sat on her bed watching the door waiting for Dae-ho to enter, her anxiety rising when he never entered. When he finally did, Y/N’s heart rate still refused to drop. From then she realised that no matter how much money she would get if she continued to play, it wasn’t worth nearly losing Dae-ho and the other friends she had made. But just the thought of losing Dae-ho sent Y/N into a panic she didn’t see coming. 

“So those who died during those games didn’t matter to you? Only your life matters?” the woman said, continuing to pester Y/N. 

Finally Y/N turned and faced the woman. “Realistically those people would have died anyway. If I wasn’t in these games then nothing would change, someone else would be here in my place and everything would turn out exactly the same.” Y/N glanced at the blue patch on the woman’s jacket. “Seems like you don’t seem to care if people die or not considering you are too fucking selfish and you want more money.”

“Careful how you speak to me,” the woman said. “Once all of you who voted to leave are gone, us who voted to stay will each have over 800 million won each.” Slowly, the woman raised her hand, a silver fork shining in the dim lighting. The fork was pressed  against Y/N’s neck as she looked at the woman standing before her. Despite the situation, Y/N didn’t feel intimidated by the women at all, she was shorter and  was physically weaker than Y/N. 

“I’m only going to say this once,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “Change your vote, continue the games. If you do, I will make sure you get through to the end and get your share of the money.”

No matter how hard she tried, Y/N failed to contain the laughter that slipped past her lips. “I’d believe it if you weren’t threatening me right now. How am I meant to believe you won’t backstab me in the next game?”

The fork was pressed deeper against her neck and Y/N winced. “You need to trust me,” the woman said. 

“Trust a woman who is one movement away from plunging a damn fork into my neck? I think I’ll naively believe that someone will come to their senses and change their vote by morning,” Y/N replied. “Now take that fork away from my neck.”

“Or what?” the woman asked, an unhinged smile spreading across her face. 

“The group that voted to stay are currently outnumbered in this bathroom, five to nine. If you fight, you’ll be overpowered,” Y/N answered as the two other women who voted to stay slowly walked up to join the quiet altercation. 

“You’ll never win,” the woman said, the fork leaving Y/N’s neck. “We may be outnumbered but you have more elders on yours, one punch to the head and they’ll be out cold.”

As Y/N glanced around at the other women in the bathroom, she noticed that most of them were older and looked as if they could not handle themselves in a fight. Y/N sighed. “Do you really care about getting a bit of extra money? If we vote to leave now we still each get a large amount of money. What if you die in the next game? Your last thoughts will be ‘why didn’t I leave when I had the chance?’”

“You don’t know a thing about me!” the woman exclaimed. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back to the sink. “I know that you’re an idiot if you chose to stay in this hellhole.”

The woman didn’t respond verbally. Instead she gripped the back of Y/N’s jacket, yanking her away from the sink. As Y/N stumbled on her feet, the woman sent a punch to her jaw, knocking off her balance completely. 

The moment Y/N’s back hit the floor, hell broke loose as people began fighting one another. It was just as the woman said, there were a lot more women who were physically weaker on Y/N’s side. Almost immediately Y/N watched as a few of them had already hit the floor, a pool of blood forming below them. Y/N didn’t take long to get back to her feet. Y/N wasn’t a particular skilled fighter, she had learnt basic self defense and had never had a reason to use it. Just as Y/N thought, the woman was physically weaker than Y/N as she easily overpowered the woman, gripping tightly onto her hair. 

“Just vote to leave!” Y/N yelled. “How stupid can fifty people be?”

The woman struggled to get out of Y/N’s grip. “I’ll vote to leave when all of you are dead!” she snapped. 

Y/N held tightly onto the woman’s hair as she threw her down on the floor. Before Y/N could think, she grabbed the fork concealed in her pocket and jammed it into the woman’s shoulder. The woman’s eyes widened as she cried out in pain. Y/N yanked the fork out and stood to her feet. There were still others fighting around her yet all she could do was stare down at the woman on the floor. Y/N hadn’t killed her, only injured her, yet she still felt the guilt of that weigh heavily on her shoulders. 

Before Y/N could even think about moving there was a force that sent her to the ground and she scrambled to get away before a force was pressed upon her body and she was harshly turned on her back. A more muscular woman sent a punch to her face before Y/N even had the chance to block it. With her vision blurry, Y/N failed to see the fork slamming down at full force towards her. 

***

Dae-ho sat looking in the direction where Y/N had left with the other woman to go to the bathroom anxiously shaking his leg. There was something clawing inside of him that told him that something bad was going to happen. Of course he had noticed the forks everyone had been given and Gi-hun had only solidified Dae-ho’s beliefs that it wasn’t unintentional. 

Y/N had been gone for a while and it took Jung-bae forcing Dae-ho to remain seated instead of storming after her. 

“I never asked,” Jung-bae spoke, noticing that Dae-ho became considerably more anxious, “how do you know Y/N?”

“We work together,” Dae-ho answered, not tearing his eyes from where she had disappeared. “It’s a shitty part time job but that's all that would hire me. I don’t know why she is still there– she has so much potential.”

Jung-bae hummed. “It seems as if you admire Y/N a lot.”

“I do,” Dae-ho said with no hesitation. “Before now, we only ever spoke at work, but she was always so nice and friendly to me. I watched her interact with customers too and she always greets them with a smile and tries to make them smile. Afterwards I would always find her in the break room exhausted but she would always sit and talk to me if I was on my break. Once she shared that she wished to become an artist but her parents told her that it wasn’t a sustainable career so she gave up.”

“It sounds like a lot more than admiration you have for her,” Jung-bae teased. 

Dae-ho quickly shook his head. “No, it's not anything like what you’re thinking of.”

“How about I ask Y/N when she comes back?” Jung-bae suggested. 

“No!” Dae-ho exclaimed, causing Jung-bae to laugh. Dae-ho sighed. “Okay, maybe it is like that.”

“The following players have been eliminated,” the cheerful voice sounded throughout the room. 

Dae-ho’s heart instantly dropped to the floor as he looked at Jung-bae, fear coursing through his veins. 

“Player 201. Player 449. Player 091–”

“That’s the player who went with Y/N,” Dae-ho said, fear evident in his tone. 

The players entered the room one by one and Dae-ho’s heart rate increased. From the looks of things, it wasn’t only the women who had gotten into a fight in the bathroom as the men walked out too, blood covering each and every one of them. The cheerful voice continued to list the numbers of the players who had been eliminated and Dae-ho’s fear rose after each and every one. He should have somehow gone with her to make sure that she was okay. 

The voice stopped listing off the eliminated players just as Y/N stepped into the room, the guard closing the door behind her. Blood covered her neck and stained her jacket. Smeared blood covered her hands too as she slowly stepped further into the room shaken up. 

“Count your players!” 

The room immediately broke into chaos as each side counted their players and how many each side lost. Dae-ho didn’t care as he ran over to Y/N. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, looking at the injury on her neck. 

“They attacked us,” Y/N muttered. “I didn’t want to hurt them but I did.”

Slowly, Dae-ho reached forward until he held his hands in front of hers. Without thought, she held onto them tightly as if grounding herself. 

“They attacked you first, you were only defending yourself,” Dae-ho reassured. 

Y/N slowly looked up at him. “I know but–”

“But nothing,” Dae-ho said, slowly pulling Y/N closer to where the rest of the group were standing.

Y/N nodded, squeezing his hands once more. “Can we sit down somewhere?”

Dae-ho gently guided her over to where Gi-hun and the others were sitting as someone counted how many of the whole group there was. Dae-ho gestured for Y/N to sit down first before he sat down next to her, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist, her body leaning closer to him. 

“What happened to your neck?” Dae-ho questioned looking at the long scratches down the back of her neck that ventured under her collar. 

“It happened just before the guards came in to break up the fight,” Y/N muttered, her hand seeking out Dae-ho’s. “If they didn’t come in that second, I’m sure that woman would have finished me off.”

Dae-ho noticed the distant look in her eyes and squeezed her hand to snap her out of it. “Hey, I know it’s hard but try not to think about that right now.”

“What else is there to think about?” Y/N replied, her voice sounding exhausted. 

Dae-ho shrugged, his thumb gliding across her knuckles. “Our job?”

“I nearly died and your response is to talk about our shitty job?” Y/N said. 

“You’re talking about it though,” Dae-ho muttered. “And I was going to ask you, what will you do when you get out of here? You can’t stay in that job for the rest of your life.”

“Pay off my debts,” Y/N answered. “After that, I honestly don’t know.”

“You wanted to become an artist, why don’t you start there?” Dae-ho suggested. 

Y/N looked at him, disbelief clear in her eyes. “You remember that conversation?”

“Of course,” Dae-ho replied. Y/N looked at him– really looked at him. The look immediately made Dae-ho heat up under his collar. 

“I didn’t think anyone really listened when I talked about what I am passionate about,” Y/N admitted. 

“I listened,” Dae-ho replied. 

“Why have we never spoken outside of work?” Y/N asked.

“Probably because we both hate our job and pretend that it doesn’t exist once our shift is over,” Dae-ho replied. 

A soft huff of laughter left Y/N and Dae-ho couldn’t stop the way his heart lifted at the sound. 

“That is true,” she said. “How about when we get out of here, we change that? This definitely isn’t the place or time to say this, but I have liked spending time with you and you have honestly saved me so many times and made this whole thing even the slightest bit bearable. So when we get out of here, why don’t we go for dinner? I’ll pay, it’s the least I can do.”

A wide grin formed on Dae-ho’s face as he nodded. “That would be nice.”

Y/N gave him a smile in return before she rested her head on his shoulder, relaxing her body into his side. The gentle grip he had on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer to his body. While Gi-hun spoke to the group in a hushed tone, Dae-ho only remained half listening as he held onto Y/N. A new sense of survival overcame him– he would get him and Y/N out no matter what. 

[hangesfavles]

Cowboy Hange headcanons

6.5K WORDS HOLY SCHMOLY!!!!! NB Hange x afab reader ^_^ <3 i tried keeping it genny nooch but i think hange refers to reader as cowgirl once sorry :(

Summary: i sorta stole the beginning of stardew valley as the intro to this fic helpp ... i also leaned into the idea of sheriff hange bc they’re the 14th commander and allat so i think its cute to imagine them as a sheriff in this au. i love this idea tho i think its so fun save a horse ride hange zoe 

Warnings: brief mention of guns bc Hange is a sheriff, shmuuuuttttt under the border, hair pulling, strap riding B) aka MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! #hangebackshots

a/n: HIIIIIII THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST OH EM GEE SO EXCITED TO WRITE FOR IT FDSADFGHJHGFD I HOPE U LIKE IT ANON!! Also i'm sorry i feel like this is more like a baby between a full length fic and hcs but it sorta came out like a story, I hope that's ok tho ;( If you guys want more cowboy hange content... i'm gonna shamelessly promote my friend, you can read both southern skies and runaway horses on ao3! I had been actually helping that friend revise southern skies bc i loved the story sm when i first read it. <3 <3 <3 @meetmeinmontauuk

❥Cowboy! Hange was definitely on the fence about you when you first moved into town. The only reason for their suspicion is their previous experience with who they call “city folk.” Their previous encounters with them had been a bit rocky, since life in town was very traditional. Not in a discriminatory way, they just preferred having a hospitable, close-knit community. 

They’re used to city folk coming with an unfriendly attitude towards strangers. They dislike how they tend to prioritize individualism and a faster pace of life. For a while, their wariness seemed deeply ingrained, as if every newcomer carried the same weight of expectation. They sort of felt obligated to be concerned about you as the town’s sheriff. 

❥When the opportunity arose for you to move out of the overwhelming city, out of the shitty studio you pay way too much money for, you practically ran for the hills. 

Despite the things you hated about city life, it’s what you were used to and you know that moving directly into a town this small was going to be a culture shock for you. You found a quaint job as a librarian in a town named Shiganshina, where the headcount barely exceeds triple digits. 

You felt that suited you now that you’re getting older. You’re not as excitable and extroverted as you used to be, now you’re at an age where you’d like to settle down and find a place to spend the rest of your life- which you’ve long decided is not in the bustling city that never sleeps. 

You were happy to find a quiet job where you won’t have to talk to people very often, where the bulk of your day is spent with headphones on as you place books back on their rightful spot on the shelves.  

Now that you have all of your belongings tucked away, all that's left to do is actually commute to your brand new city. It took a draining few hours, but now you’re finally headed into Shiganshina. However, your GPS’ directions are starting to confuse you, leaving you circling the same area about 3 times. 

From what you’ve seen so far, the town seems very cozy. As you drive past the same village you’ve found yourself trapped in, you're only now noticing the comforting scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the local bakery. This town in general smells far better than the smells of the big city you had been previously living in. 

This small southern town holds a charm that's as warm and cozy as the sun-soaked streets that remind you of your childhood days spent playing in the park with whoever you met there that day. 

As you’re making your 4th loop around this same block, you spot a figure in the distance. As you grow closer, you squint your eyes, and- Holy fuck is that person riding a horse in the middle of the street????

This person seems equally confused by your car as you do by their horse. However, you notice their horse trotting towards your car from a distance, causing you to slow down next to them and roll down your window. 

“Hiya. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone use a car ‘round these parts.” They start with an airy chuckle, their ever so slight southern accent rolling off their tongue with grace. It's the kind of accent that leaves a warm feeling inside you, effortlessly expressing their friendliness and filling you with a sense of belonging, even if you were only passing through. 

This stranger’s face doesn’t really match their tone. Their physical appearance reminds you of the bitter taste of medicine, but their voice is similar to the spoonful of honey used as a chaser to sweeten the former. 

You give them a quick glance up and down, your eyes scanning their outfit consisting of blue jeans and an open flannel, a tank top underneath that defines their lean build. More interestingly, you catch a buckled belt with a holstered pistol attached. “So, you're a fresh face ain’tcha?” 

Despite their weathered features and the weariness etched into every line on their face, their upbeat tone flows with a kind tenderness that catches you off guard. You aren’t going to lie and say you weren’t slightly skeptical after noticing that this person is fully armed. 

“Are you tryna pass through, or are you lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?” They look down at you from their elevated position on their horse. You look up at them with obvious hesitation. 

“Aha... Yeah, I’m supposed to be moving in today, but I’ve been up and down this same block for the past 15 minutes...” You avert your eyes back to your GPS. “Um... Do you happen to know where 93 Willow Lane is?” 

They chuckle at your question, though you’re not sure why. “Yeah, I know my way ‘round town. You’re not gonna find Willow Lane in your car.” They tilt their cowboy hat, having their horse take a step back. They point in front of them, and you stick your head out of the window to see. They’re pointing toward a dirt path in the grass that’s littered with a few stepping stones. 

“You’ll find 93 down that way. Not many people drive in town, we usually prefer walkin’ or biking. Or horse ridin’, in my case. You can’t park right outside, but on the bright side, you should’ve passed the parkin’ garage when you were lost. It’s right around the corner, real close by.” They explain to you with a shining smile. “Go on and park your car. I can help you carry your things inside.”  

❥Cowboy! Hange does exactly that. They carry about 3-4 of your boxes at one time, which helps get the job done a lot faster than you can, since you can only hold the weight of 2 at a time. 

The last trip the two of you make to your car, all you have left to carry in is a small backpack filled with your laptop and some chargers. Hange hops back onto their horse with ease, looking down at you. “You ever ride a horse before? I’ll give you a ride over to your place on ol’ Sawney.” They say, stroking their horses mane affectionately. 

They notice how nervous you seem as you shift on the balls of your feet. “Not really, no... The only non-domestic animals I’ve ever seen are rats... and pigeons.” You say, shifting your eyes from glancing up at Hange to down at Sawney. Your previous life in the city had conditioned you to be wary of animals. One thing you learn quickly is that you should never get too close to an animal, no less touch one. 

They can read the emotions on your face like a book. Not that it was particularly hard to tell that you were nervous. “Aw, c’mon! Sawney won’t hurt’cha. He’s sweet as a peach.” They sing playfully leaning down closer to your height. “I’m not sure I can-” You attempt to create an excuse so that you don’t have to get on the back of this creature, but Hange cuts you off quickly, hopping back down from the animal. “Trust me, of course you can! I’ll even help ya get on. Plus, I’ll be the one steering him behind ya.” 

❥Cowboy! Hange demonstrates to you how to properly get on the horse, stepping into the stirrup and swinging their body over with relative ease. They can tell you’re still nervous, so they get off and hold your waist for support, hoisting you up. Sawney doesn’t seem to be affected at all by your inexperience. “Now look at that! You did just fine. I told you there was nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” They say, patting your shoulder roughly. Despite the way their praise makes your stomach fill with butterflies, you can’t fully appreciate their words due to the anxiety that takes priority over your emotions. You’re shaking like a leaf on top of Sawney, and you have to hold back an embarrassing yelp as they rest their hand on your shoulder.

❥Cowboy! Hange hops on Sawney behind you, as promised. You nervously lean back against their chest as their arms hold the reins in front of you, unintentionally surrounding you. Their chest is pressed up against your back, their thighs on either side of your body. 

For the first few minutes of riding, your hands nervously clutch at their jeans for stability. But the longer you sit atop Sawney- practically cuddled up in this attractive stranger's arms- the anxiety that clouded over your other emotions starts to clear, allowing you to feel embarrassed and meek.

❥Cowboy! Hange notices your discomfort and chuckles softly. "You’re doin’ just fine. Sawney’s a smooth rider. You’ll get used to ridin’ real quick." Their voice is calm and reassuring, and you find yourself gradually relaxing in their presence. The gentle sway of the horse’s movements, combined with the warmth of Hange's body against yours starts to feel oddly soothing for someone you’ve only just met. 

As you travel down the dirt path, the scenery changes from the small town center to more rustic surroundings. The field of vibrant green grass littered with mixed wildflowers stretches far beyond where the small settling of houses reside, making the space seem almost uncanny, but also dreamlike. 

Hange rides right up to the front of your new house with ease, getting themself off the horse first in order to help you get down. After successfully making sure you don’t fall off of Sawney, you thank them. They grab the rim of their hat and give you a slight nod. “Anytime.” They say with an award winning smile. 

You play with your fingers, picking at your fingernails as you work up the courage to ask them a question. “Um... The house is pretty empty, but would you like to come in for a while?” You ask them, looking up from your fingers to give them a smile in return. “Sure, why the hell not?” They shrug their shoulders, their lighthearted demeanor contradicting everything you originally assumed about them.

❥Cowboy! Hange inquires about your life before moving here. You tell them all about how you grew up in the city, what life there is like, and how you felt like you had to get out. In turn, Hange tells you about what life was like growing up on a farm in the same town you’ve just moved into. How they used to play in the dirt, throwing worms at other kids and going out at night to try and grab frogs. 

The two of you made yourselves comfortable on the small couch in your living room; regardless of the fact that the house came with little furniture, you already feel yourself falling in love with the place.

❥Cowboy! Hange truly enjoys the conversation you share, despite their reservations about people from out of town. They find you to be much kinder and soft spoken in comparison to the others they’ve met. They aren’t sure why, but they feel drawn to you in a unique way. However, they’ll chalk it up to the fact the two of you are getting along quickly and they make a note to stop by again to have another chat.

"Welcome to Shiganshina," Hange says, their smile as warm as the sunlight streaming through the windows. "If you need help movin’ in or anything, don’t hesitate to holler. We’re a tight-knit community here, so if you can’t find me, I’m sure someone else’ll come runnin’. I have a feelin’ you’ll fit right in." 

❥Cowboy! Hange tends to stroll around in town on their horse when the days are warm. They don’t technically need to, the station would simply call them if they were needed, but it’s something they enjoy regardless of their position as sheriff. 

On a particularly warm day with the sun hanging bright in the sky, you decided to use your day off to spend some time outside and hopefully get your vitamin d levels up. So, you decided to take a stroll through the local park. You’ve seen it in passing, and it’s full of life and shrubbery and flowers you hadn’t gotten the chance to see or appreciate in the city. 

A short while after you enter the park, you see a few groups of people already there. It starts to make you feel self conscious that everyone here showed up with a friend, family member or partner, but you had no one alongside you. Lucky for you, Hange also seized the opportunity to stroll around outdoors.

Hange sees you from afar as their other horse Bean trots along the sidewalk. They had an inner debate with themself over if they should approach you, but their insecurities were tossed aside when they noticed that your form is rigid and you’re picking at your fingers nervously. 

They smile to themself because they understand why you would feel uncomfortable in a situation like your own, moving into a small town out of the blue where everyone already knows each other. They’re familiar with the feeling of awkwardness, even if they’ve lived here their whole life. 

Despite having been raised in Shiganshina, they also sometimes feel out of place compared to other residents. For a while now, they’ve been feeling out of place with all of the budding romance in town. It feels to them that everyone they know is in a serious relationship or married, but they haven’t even been interested in anyone for what feels like forever.

It’s not that they never wanted or expected to fall in love, it was just something that hadn’t happened for them yet. After being alone for so long, they had kind of gotten used to it. Hange had resigned themself to the idea that maybe they were meant to be alone. But now, seeing you standing there with a nervous demeanor, butterflies stirred within their stomach, only confirming the feelings of affection already forming for you. 

Once they get closer to you, they tap your shoulder. “Howdy, sugar. You’re stickin’ out like a sore thumb.” They say, giving you a smile and reaching for your wrist. They lead you and Bean towards a free bench, closeby to a lake. You can’t help but chuckle at how quickly they saved you from your own embarrassment. In a moment of confidence, you slip your wrist out of their grip, instead opting to hold their hand. 

The sound of the keys jangling from their carabiner as their legs move catches your attention. You’d never thought the clanging of metal would sound so much like home. Maybe you’re just romanticizing the situation, but it sounds musical, like wind chimes in a storm. As they sit next to you, you’re hit with the smell of freshly cut grass with hints of amber that you can enjoy even over the earthy smell of the lake in front of you. 

They lean forward on the bench, their knees spread apart and their arms resting against their thighs. They tilt their head your way. “So, how’s the town been treatin’ you so far? Ya like it?” Their kindness and concern makes your heart warm. You smile, the corners of your mouth curving upward. “It's been a big adjustment, obviously. But everyone’s been kind so far. It's... peaceful, quiet. Different from what I'm used to, but in a good way.”

You can see the smile reflecting in their eyes without even looking at their lips. Their crows feet are prominent whenever their lips upturn. "I can only ‘magine. But you seem to be holdin’ up just fine."

You glance at the murky lake in front of you, the water about as clear as the cup of coffee you had this morning. Despite this, the surface glimmers faintly under the sun all the same, giving the scene the feel of a landscape painting. 

“I think everyone already has grown on me. The few I’ve met at least. My neighbor even brought by some fresh cookies and bread.” You say, recalling the surprise you felt. The lady that dropped by can hardly even be considered your neighbor, as there’s at least a 3 minute walk between your houses. “This place is charming. It's starting to feel homey, though I still get lost sometimes.” You chuckle lightly, raising your hand to cover your smile. 

“Yeah, Shiganshina's got that effect on folks. It ain't fast-paced like the city, but there's plenty’a heart here. I'm glad you're feelin' welcomed.”

You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the buzzing of your nerves as you attempt to hold this conversation. “And you? You seem to know everyone around here. Must be nice.”

Hange chuckles softly, a hint of thoughtfulness in their eyes. They lightly shake their head in disagreement. “Ain't always easy, bein' the sheriff. Knowin' everyone means knowin' their business, the good, bad, and ugly. But it's home, ya know? Can't imagine bein' anywhere else.”

You chuckle lightly at their response, “I can’t imagine you being anywhere else either.” You tease, giving them a coy smile, to which they give you a playfully disapproving look in response. “I understand that, though. I felt like that for a while too before I actually moved. Since I grew up in the city, I was used to the lifestyle and never wanted to deal with a big change.” 

Hange's expression softens from their previous one. "Yeah, I ain’t a big fan of it either," they admit, their tone contemplative and thoughtful. “I’m not an adventurous type. But sometimes a big change can end up being the best for us.”

You look at them with a certain tenderness while you process their wise words. You feel like you have to agree. Moving to Shiganshina had seemed daunting at first, but it brought you a fresh perspective on life. 

Their tight-knit community was beginning to offer you a sense of belonging and you never knew how much you would enjoy it. The slower pace of Shiganshina allowed for more meaningful connections between everyone you knew. At this point, you’ve known Hange for less than a month, and you feel like you’ve had significantly more meaningful conversations with them in comparison to most of your old friends.

Hange interrupts your train of thought as they continue with their sentence. “I hope this move was the best for you. I don't usually warm up quickly to people I've just met.” As you look up to meet their eyes, you swear that they have a certain sparkle. “So, what I’m sayin’ is that there’s somethin’ I like about you. It's not every day that I meet someone like you. It's... nice.” 

At the moment, you’re not exactly sure how to respond to their abrupt vulnerability. Not because you’re uncomfortable- it’s exactly the opposite. You understand what they mean because you feel the same. 

They clear their throat awkwardly, realizing that they might’ve left you feeling at a loss for words. “I just hope we get to know each other better ‘nd all.” They add in a rushed tone. “Oh, would you look at that,” You start to smile due to how fast they try to change the topic, but refrain from laughing. 

“Bean’s gettin’ antsy for some exercise!” They chuckle nervously, getting up from the bench and patting Bean’s backside. They expertly avoid eye contact with you as you follow their actions, getting up from your seat as well. You part your lips to say something to fill the air, but you hear the clearing of Hange’s throat before any sounds come out. “How about you try ridin’ again? By yourself this time.” Their eyes find your own when they ask, making it your turn to dodge eye contact. “Ahhh... Um, I dunno.” You scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly. “I don’t think I’m ready to do it by myself...” 

“Psssh. Nonsense.” That was the last thing you heard before you felt Hange’s strong hands take hold of your waist, lifting you up on Bean with ease. 

You start defensively stuttering “H-Hold on, wait, I-” you scramble. Before you know it, you’re on top of another horse against your wishes. Hange laughs at your skittishness, patting your back similarly to the first time you hopped on Sawney. “You’ll be fine, Bean is a good boy. His rides are a bit more shakey than Sawney, though. But don’t worry, if anything goes wrong I’ll be there to catch’ya. Promise.” They say, looking up at you with such a sweet smile… Fuck, you just can’t deny them when they’re so charming. 

❥You and Cowboy! Hange spent a few hours together at the park. You rode on their horse for what felt like forever but was actually only 45 minutes. Hange insists that you’re a natural but you’re positive that you’re performing lower than the average person, they’re just too nice to say anything about it. 

You two also spent time walking around the perimeter of the lake, watching the owners that let their dogs run free, and best of all, just talking to each other. Being so close to them and watching their facial expressions shift was comforting. You try your best to commit this day to memory by combing all of their features with your eyes over and over.

❥Cowboy! Hange walks you back to your house, Bean strolling at their side. When you both finally reach your front door, you suddenly don’t know what to say. Neither of you truly wants to leave, you can both feel the strings of fate pulling you together, but the night is slipping away, and the reality weighs on both of you. 

Hange shifts on their feet, glancing at you with that familiar sparkle in their eyes, as if they too are searching for the right words. You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. “Guess this is goodnight, huh?” Hange grins, but there’s an unspoken promise to be found within it. “For now,” they say, lingering just a moment longer before turning to hop on Bean. 

You watch them, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. Just when you’re about to retreat into your home, their voice causes you to turn your head back to them. “Um… Would it be alright if I stopped by tomorrow? ‘Round this time?” They ask hopefully, bashfully averting their eyes from their reigns to your face. You smile broadly, trying to hide it but inevitably failing. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be here.” You say, trying not to sound too giddy. 

You can’t tell how well you mask your emotions, because you feel like a dog that’s just been told it’s going for a walk. Thank god you don’t have a tail, or it would be wagging wildly. 

Parting ways with them didn’t feel nearly as bad when the promise of reconvening was stuck in your mind like a song that you can’t stop listening to.

❥Cowboy! Hange has a plan. They had an inkling from your first interaction- sitting on your couch and chattering away- that they had a fondness for you. Your run-in at the park only reinforced the feelings that were already present. They knew they wanted to do something special for the next time they’d come by your house.

❥Cowboy! Hange woke up bright and early before their shift at the station to buy a small bundle of flowers from a small shop downtown. The shop was run by a girl with brown hair, tied up into a ponytail with a heavy accent, even more so than them. They think her name was Sasha, if they’re remembering correctly. Hange had a good chuckle from the girl nearly jumping out of her seat as they walked in, a loaf of bread between her jaws whilst ringing them up.

You can’t help but anticipate and daydream of Hange’s arrival from the moment your eyes open until you’re released from your shift at the library. You feel embarrassed by how eagerly you listen to any noise that might be slightly akin to a knock upon the door. You feel like the embodiment of a schoolgirl doodling hearts and initials over their notes. 

When you finally hear the soft rapping of their knuckles against the door, you nearly open the door within the same 5 seconds. You stare at the doorknob for a bit, to avoid seeming like you were waiting for them… Even though you were.

You’re not disappointed when you finally turn the lock and twist the knob. 

❥Cowboy! Hange becomes hyper aware of the dampness settling in their palms as they hear the distinct click of the lock and subtle creak from the door. Their face is partially obscured by the flowers they’re holding up as an attempt to hide their blush. They clear their throat, still peeking from above the bundle of flowers. “So, um… I did some thinking. I figured, why beat around the bush?” They say, practically thrusting the flowers into your hands. “Whaddya say we head out for dinner tonight?” Their lopsided grin charming you more than you thought possible. 

❥Dating Cowboy! Hange is nothing short of a dream. For someone with such little experience with romance and lovey-dovey affections, they are oddly suave. 

Like the town you both live in, they tend to be traditional in the ways in which they treat you. They always have to be the one to pay. They always walk you to your door, all the way. They’re always trying to be chivalrous. They bring you flowers and gifts routinely. They kill bugs for you. 

But of course that’s nothing to look down upon, how could you not be absolutely swooning over them? 

❥Cowboy! Hange decided to fully commit to the idea of teaching you how to ride a horse on your own.

It took plenty of getting used to. At least by the time you two actually started dating you already had some experience.

Warm days were spent atop Sawney or Bean, the horses moving at a relaxed pace, smooth and unhurried around the large open field surrounding your house.

After riding on your own more than a few times, you finally decided you were ready to venture away from your yard and onto actual roads. They were proud of you, you had gone from being absolutely horrified even standing next to their horses, and now you’re riding them on the open road.

You two decided to head to Hange’s house, since you had realized that you hadn’t been there yet by pure coincidence. It had always been easy for Hange to ride over to your house quickly for surprise visits, dinner dates, movie nights, and any other times you two just wanted to see each other.

Once you two arrived, Hange got off their horse first, stepping down to help you dismount as well. Even though your skills were rapidly growing, the one thing you had trouble with was properly getting off. You think too hard about startling the horse that you always trip and inelegantly wobble on your feet to find balance.

Hange strides over to you, hands beginning to lift in order to dismount you, but before they can you decide to try your luck at impressing them by dismounting on your own. You remind yourself that confidence is what you need, hopping off quickly is easier than trying to slowly climb down.

You hop down with ease, landing flat on your feet without stumbling. Their eyes light up with surprise, their open mouth turning up into a smile. Still, before they say anything, you snatch the hat from on top of their head, gracefully placing it atop your hair. “Looks like I’m a real cowboy now. Or do I need to lasso a bull first for the full cowboy certification?” You say with a cheeky smirk gracing your face. 

They weren’t prepared for the sight in front of them, their cheeks warming up at your display of ego. “Well look at that,” Hange drawls, eyes twinkling. They can’t help the swarm of less than pure thoughts that fly through their mind. “You know what they say, cowgirl. If you wear a cowboy's hat, you have to ride the cowboy.” 

Of course, everything Hange does has to have an air of tenderness, and of adoration.

They take your hand as they lead you inside, kissing it before letting go. With the swiftness and ease of ink flowing from a pen, they lift you up as if you weigh nothing. And naturally, they navigate your body as if they had written it themself. 

However, once they have you in their arms they toss you onto their bed unceremoniously, as if you’re nothing more than something to conquer. The hat flies off of your head and in a random direction that you don’t currently care to take note of.

In an instant, their lips are trailing along your neck, a soft sigh of joy passing through your lips. Having them on top of you makes you feel all-consumed by them and their affections.

Their hands are placed on your hips, slowly sliding up beneath your shirt, bunching it up as their hands continue moving. They glance up at you, making sure it’s alright to continue.

You give them a soft smile, grabbing one of their hands and continuing to pull them upwards. This causes them to chuckle at your eagerness and proceed to remove your shirt, leaving you in just your bra.

They decide not to remove your bra, enjoying the idea of being half dressed. With your blanket permission, they also strip your bottom half of your pants. You can’t help but feel a bit shy since you’re the only one undressed.

Hange starts to back up on the bed, starting to kiss you again, this time on your stomach and hips. You softly lock your fingers in their hair, carefully pulling away their ponytail.

Their hair tickles your stomach as it drops to frame their face. They are undeterred by this, even as you bring your dominant hand back towards their head to hold on to a patch of hair.

Once they get their fill of kissing you, they move their attention to your clothed pussy. They lightly brush their tongue up your slit, not bothering to move your underwear. 

They’re nothing if not slow and teasing. Their tongue is going at a painfully slow pace and pressure. They keep teasing your slit up and down, purposely leaving your clit ignored. It’s fucking torture and they know it. 

Once you start to get teary eyed and squirmy, they finally drag their tongue over your clothed clit ever so slowly. After finally having the stimulation you need, your leg muscles twitch beside their head, barely restraining yourself from pushing your hips against them as much as possible. 

You thought you were now free from their torturous teasing. You thought. It couldn’t have been any longer than 2 minutes before they pulled back, getting up from the bed entirely. You almost allow the tears building in your eyes to fall, until you see them start to remove their own clothes. 

Your eyes are fully glued to their form as they undress. Their chest is relatively small and perky, so they didn’t feel a need to wear a bra or binder today. This means you’re quickly met with their bare skin. 

They look towards you, feeling your eyes practically burning a hole through them. They chuckle at your focus on them. “Impatient?” They say with a grin playing on their face. In response to their question, you roll your eyes before giving them an unamused look. “…A’right.” They say, getting the message that if they keep teasing you that you would probably burst into flames…

With a quicker pace, they pull on their harness over their boxers, securing their strap into it.

Their strap is pretty standard definition. It’s average sized for a dildo, about 7 inches. A solid black color. Veiny and phallic shaped. 

When they head back over to you, they press their lips into your own. Lovingly at first, but quickly it turns heated and fervent. 

Their hands travel to your lower back, lifting you up by it and flipping you backwards.

Once their strap begins to settle inside you, you realize why they had been so kind before. Because they won’t be so forgiving now.

They grab a handful of your hair as they start to thrust into you more, having been prepped by their tongue prior. 

They aren’t too cruel, they start slow as to not hurt you, but within the blink of an eye your neck is craning backwards from their hold on your hair, their hips roughly bumping against your ass.

Fuck. It hurts, but it’s better than any pain you can imagine. The feeling of them inside of you, reaching deeper than you’re used to… you’re surprised you’re not seeing stars. 

Hange cranes your neck just a bit more so that they can lean in to whisper into your ear. You’re sure that they said something, but you’re not coherent enough to truly process it. The slight feeling of pain from your hair tugging at your head paired with the pace of their hips is making you delirious.

Their free hand slides across your hip, slinking around your stomach to circle your clit. Because of this you’re panting hard and crying out their name weakly and it doesn’t take much longer for you to cum. 

They slow their pace as you ride out your orgasm, changing from rough and fast to slow and more deep. They release their hold on your hair and you realize your arms feel weak, causing you to nose dive into the pillow below you.

They giggle softly at you and carefully pull their strap out and turn you over. You look up at them with a smile, wrapping your arms around their shoulders and pulling them closer. 

They smile as well as they hover over you. “I didn’t hurt’cha, right?” They ask with slight nervousness. With a teasing look you say “Not too badly, at least.”

“Ahh, you’ve got jokes.” They tease, dipping their head to kiss your neck. That shuts you up quickly. 

It’s your turn to run your fingers in their hair, which you do, tilting your head up so they have more skin to take advantage of.

And they don’t let the opportunity pass them by. Their lips travel to your collarbone, sucking a mark in a modest area. They may have the libido of a teen boy, but they don’t want to bring that type of embarrassment to either of you.

They continue to wind you up as slowly and teasingly as possible. Your patience is running thinner than paper, so you wrap your leg around their side, pushing them under you. 

Their expression of slight shock and pure wonder is priceless. “This was technically the deal, wasn’t it? Riding the cowboy.” You chuckle. 

They stare up at you owlishly, their hands grazing your thighs and sliding to your hips. They guide you back on their strap slowly. 

You didn’t expect to feel so full in this position. Your fingers dig into their shoulders as you use your legs to move up and down. You also didn’t realize how strenuous this would be. Shit, maybe it’s time to hit the gym.

You don’t let the burn in your legs deter you, especially not when Hange is below you, looking at you as if you crafted the earth and heavens just for them. 

Thankfully it becomes easier to ignore when the burning in your stomach outweighs the sensation in your legs. 

You feel like a ghost of yourself, watching distantly as a ragdoll shaped like you tries to chase release. The only thing keeping you grounded at the moment is the visibility of Hange’s enjoyment. It’s surprisingly motivating.

Their hands are everywhere. On your hips, thighs, back, chest, shoulders… They can’t get enough of your soft skin paired with your undivided attention. “Fuck…” They mumble with a chuckle under their breath. 

You’re so close, and hearing their soft curse only brings you closer. The heat in your center is almost unbearable as you sigh and moan tiredly. 

They notice your lethargy and decide to help you out. They get a strong hold on your waist and start thrusting upwards to give your legs a bit of a break.

“You look so good like this, sugar. Keep going.” They say as they pull you closer in their hold, their chin resting on your chest as they gaze straight up at you.

With their encouragement and aid of their hips, you cum hard. Your head lolls back as you continue to ride out your orgasm on their lap. They keep their hands on your hips as they fuck their strap into you, their grip tight and slightly bruising. “That’s it… just like that.” They mumble to you. You lift yourself off of their lap, slumping down beside them tiredly. 

They pull off their harness, flopping beside you in bed. Their arms pull you into their warm, comforting embrace, their head resting against your own. They whisper praises in your ear until you drift off to sleep.

You’re a bit disoriented when you wake up. You sit up and realize you aren’t in your own bed, the memory of events invading your mind seconds after. Only problem is that you don’t see Hange. You’re sure they’re still here, it is their house after all, but you still feel a bit sad that their presence wasn’t beside you. 

You step out of bed and feel the weakness in your legs immediately. You grab your discarded clothes before carefully wobbling out of their room at a slow pace, as if you’re learning how to walk for the first time again. You definitely need to hit the StairMaster after this. 

When you step out of their bedroom, you see them attempting to cook you dinner. It’s nothing particularly special, just a panini and some french fries, but you can see how concentrated they are as they try their best to ensure the panini won’t burn. 

They hear the pattering of your bare feet against the floor, which causes them to look over their shoulder. “Hi darlin’. I’m making dinner, you should head back to bed to rest. I’m sorry if I went a little too rough.” 

(Almost) always the gentleman. You walk over and wrap your arms around their waist, leaning against their broad chest. “It’s alright. It was worth the soreness.” You assure them quietly. Their arms drape over your shoulders, one hand stroking your hair while the other rubs your back lightly.

“If you say so.” They say, kissing your forehead. You stay like this for a while, listening to the thumping of their heart as you rest against them. Everything about their presence is soothing, whether they’re touching you or not. And when they add touch to the equation? Forget about it. You could probably fall asleep standing up. 

You only lift your head from their chest as you feel a tingle in your nose. You sniff a few times before looking up at them. “Do you smell that?” You ask.

Hange stiffens in your hold, turning around to see smoke coming from the sandwich they were making you. The sight of the grey puffs trailing up to the ceiling causes them to spring into action, to remove the sandwich before a fire starts. “Shit!-”

<3 i’m sorry this took literally like 10 months to come out i’ve been busy with work and college since i’m nearing the end of my undergrad degree…. what da hail. i hope it was worth the wait cus im pretty happy with how this turned out!!!!

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 07

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

If someone told you a few weeks ago that you would spend hours in the library, studying in comfortable silence with the resident hockey star, you would have laughed at them and told them they were crazy. But here you are, on a Wednesday afternoon, sitting across from Sukuna at a small table in the library, surrounded by your classic literature books and Sukuna's history books, studying together as if it is the most natural thing ever.

Sukuna bumped into you this morning, Grinning at you and telling you to meet him after class so you could have lunch together. And considering your little fuckbuddies arrangement and how close the two of you got through it, you found yourself raising a teasing eyebrow at him and asking in a flirty voice,

"And how do you know our classes end at the same time? Be honest, Sukuna. Are you following me around?"

And he smirked that equally teasing smirk at you,

"There's no need for that, princess. I don't need to stalk you like some fucking creep. I know we both have classes in this wing on Wednesdays, and I know both our classes end at 11:30. It's not following around. It's called having a brain. Also, I wouldn't be where I am in life if I didn't plan ahead. Remember this: I am always in control. I always plan things."

"So, what is your plan with me?"

A smug smirk spread over Sukuna's face, and he leaned down, cupping your chin,

"Take you to lunch and then to the library since I know we both have no classes after lunch, and I have to study history, and you have to study literature. So we are going to spend the afternoon sharing a table at the library."

With that, he had left for his class, making you stand there grinning and looking after him, gaze trailing down Sukuna's deliciously v-shaped body, from his broad shoulders down to his narrow hips and that firm ass in his tight black jeans.

And now you sit in the library across from him, and you have to admit that Sukuna is a surprisingly nice study partner. He is very focused on his work. You watch him from time to time, watch how completely immersed he is in the things he is researching. The way his tattooed face scrunches up at times and the way his lips twitch when he finds something that amuses him. You realize one thing: The popular star player is a little nerd when it comes to the things he's interested in. Be it hockey, working out, or history.

You feel low-key bad for assuming Sukuna was the typical dumb jock who only cares about his sports. The truth is, he is actually at the top of all his classes. And it's not just because Sukuna got lucky and has the brains to get top grades without having to study. While Sukuna is naturally smart, he isn't someone who relies only on his talents. The resident star player isn't lazy. He works hard for his success. On the ice and in his classes.

You know how often Sukuna goes to the gym to work out and that he gets up at ungodly hours each morning to go for a morning run, no matter how shitty the weather is. He also analyzes the games of his opponents and works out tactics to win against them. Always planning everything, always making sure he is a step ahead.

And apparently, Sukuna shows the same ambition and dedication when it comes to studying. He is sitting here in the library, surrounded by old books, making color-coded notes and even occasionally putting on a pair of reading glasses so he can decipher the small fonts in his books. Sukuna is organized, disciplined, and hardworking. He is intelligent and ambitious but also very passionate about the things he enjoys. Driven by the desire to be the best, but also truly devoted. It is something you respect. And it is also sexy as hell.

You smile to yourself as you look up from your book and watch Sukuna tapping a tattooed finger on a passage in his history book as if he fully agrees with what is being said there. You think that most people who see him on campus or on the ice don't know that Sukuna is an intelligent nerd hiding in the body of a dumb jock and behind the appearance of a bad boy who likes to pretend he doesn't give a fuck.

Maybe Sukuna is good at hiding his true nature from everyone else but not from you. Your smile grows bigger, realizing that you can read Sukuna like a book. Analyzing him is like analyzing the characters in the novels you read. And Sukuna is such a lovely, complex character. Maybe you should use him as your muse for the next short story you write?

Suddenly, maroon eyes look up from the book they were studying and instead look deeply into yours.

"What happened to studying, Miss? I know I'm more interesting than your books, but if you want to get a good grade for your assignment, you better look into one of those books before you instead of just staring at me."

Sukuna's smirk is downright rude with how smug it is, and you huff loudly, rolling your eyes, about to complain, but you get distracted by Sukuna placing a large lunch box in the middle of the table and opening it to reveal a delicious-looking homemade banana bread. Wordlessly, he pushes the box toward you, and you sigh softly and take a slice of the banana bread that tastes just as good as it looks.

Sukuna's eyes are on you as you chew, and when you tell him it tastes delicious, a small smile plays around his lips that looks so genuinely happy and proud that it makes your chest feel strangely warm.

It's Saturday, and you are where you always are now when the Tigers have a home game: In the hockey arena, watching Sukuna being the King of the Ice who is turning the whole arena into his personal throne room.

You can't help but bite your lip when you watch Sukuna skating/running over the ice with the puck securely under his control, eyes focused on the goal ahead, not letting anyone stop him, making the rival players who try to get in his way, drop to the floor after several brutal body checks from The King of Curses. He looks so cool when he slams his opponents into the boards, a smirk flashing behind his face cage, maroon eyes alight with that mad, happy glint he always gets when he is on a victory streak.

And those eyes find you in the stands again, locking the two of you in an intense gaze while you grin matching grins at each other. The whole arena is chanting Sukuna's name, but his eyes are only on you. The star player and his lucky charm.

It leaves you feeling light-headed, adrenaline sizzling through your veins not just because of the high-speed game and the loud, euphoric mood in the arena but also because of your little interaction with Sukuna.

You see images flash in your mind of you and him lying naked in his bed last night. The way Sukuna was on top of you, looking so gorgeous with his biceps flexed from bracing himself on the bed while fucking you in missionary, almost as if he was using it as a workout, doing pushups on top of you.

And you were admiring the sight and moaning softly while letting Sukuna fuck you with those lazy, slow strokes while he told you about the tactics he worked out for today's game. Until his thrusts became erratic, and instead of ice hockey tactics, all that came out of his mouth were those sexy low groans and raspy breaths.

After the game, you walk down the stairs that lead to the plexiglass surrounding the rink, already seeing Sukuna skate over with his helmet under his arm, running a large hand through his sweaty pink hair, a big proud grin on his face. You grin, too, as you stop in front of the plexiglass to congratulate him, and Sukuna winks at you,

"Thanks for the good luck, princess. See, I told you my new pre-game routine is great."

You feel your face become hot, knowing full well that you are the pre-game routine he's talking about. Or, more precisely: Sukuna fucking you as stress relief while rehearsing his tactics. But you cover up how flustered you are by laughing and winking at Sukuna, too,

"It's always a pleasure to help."

You spend more time over at Sukuna's dorm, and it's not all that awkward anymore when you walk out of his room and run into Yuuji.

Maybe it's because Yuuji is naturally someone who is really nice and makes you feel very at ease around him, or it is because spending so much time with Sukuna has made you become more shameless and more confident. Either way, you just smile and greet Yuuji when you see him sitting on the couch in the living area, controller in hand, playing Mario Kart. And he smiles his big sunshine smile and waves you over,

"Hey, do you wanna play a few rounds with me?"

You smile and nod, joining him on the couch and taking the second controller he hands you.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed because Yuuji's twin brother just fucked you doggy style on his bed a few minutes ago, making you sob into his pillow with how good the dick was, and you are pretty sure you still smell like sex, and Sukuna's cologne, but you cannot bring yourself to care. It's too comfortable here on the couch, and Yuuji is so welcoming and uncomplicated. Somehow, you like that Sukuna's brother treats you like this, as if you belong in this dorm, too. As if you are Sukuna's girl.

Your breath hitches at the thought, but you get over it a second later when a red turtle shell hits your kart and makes you scream loudly while Yuuji laughs.

Sukuna strolls past the couch, ruffling first his brother's and then your hair, making both of you complain and swat at his hand, but he just laughs that low laugh and casually strolls into the kitchen area.

Your gaze strays to Sukuna's tall, buff body for a few seconds. He is only wearing grey sweatpants, sitting so low that you can see the elastic band of his black boxer briefs. You are so distracted that you crash your kart into a fence, quickly scrambling to get back into the race.

"Hey, princess, you staying for dinner?"

You blink and gaze once again at the pink-haired boy in the open kitchen. Sukuna is grinning lazily at you, holding a pan and a spatula in his hands. You raise an eyebrow,

"Do you mean you are going to cook something?"

"Yeah, is that so surprising?"

"Well, yeah... I assumed you only eat your protein stuff and cooked chicken. I am not staying for that. I can eat a real meal at home."

"Oh, shut up. You will sit your pretty ass on my kitchen chair and eat the fucking food I cooked, and you will love it."

To your surprise, Sukuna can actually cook. Really well, too. You nod when he asks you if the princess would like a second helping. And you see the genuine, proud smile on his tattooed face when you praise his cooking skills. It's actually cute how happy Sukuna seems when he sees you enjoying the food he cooked.

And you have to admit to yourself that having dinner together with Sukuna and his brother makes you feel even more at ease spending time in their dorm outside of having sex with Sukuna.

The first time you tell Sukuna to come over to your dorm is on a Tuesday evening when you know Nobara has plans with Maki, which will keep her out of the apartment for several hours.

Sukuna 🏒👑: What are you doing tonight, princess?

You: Nothing, really. Wanna come over?

Sukuna 🏒👑: Bet. See you after my workout.

You aren't even nervous anymore at the prospect of the hockey star coming over. You just feel this very nice and excited buzz at the thought that in an hour, you will have sex with Sukuna.

It feels so natural. So uncomplicated. You just hop quickly into the shower and afterward don't even bother picking a nice outfit, but just slip into a random pair of fresh panties and socks and grab the comfiest clothing item you own, Sukuna's white hoodie.

When Sukuna knocks on your door twenty minutes later, you open the door, wearing only your panties and his hoodie, and smile up at him with a breathless chuckle.

"Hey, Kuna. How was your workout?"

But Sukuna doesn't reply but stops in the open doorway, staring at you with wide maroon eyes. You wonder if it was the nickname you unintentionally used that caused this reaction. It makes your lips lift in an even broader smile, your pulse sizzling with a strange kind of power. For the first time since you started to interact with Sukuna, you feel like you have the upper hand.

Sukuna's maroon eyes trail hungrily over your body. Over your naked legs and his white Tigers hoodie. A moment later, he is on you, banging the door shut behind him as he drops his sports bag and grabs your waist, picking you up and slamming you against the wall, silencing your surprised squeal with his lips in a hungry, demanding kiss, that makes your head spin.

You giggle into the kiss as your hand caresses Sukuna's neck, fingertips running over the short stubble of his undercut, and Sukuna makes that sexy noise in the back of his throat again, that little growl that makes your fingers grab his soft pink hair and pull him even closer, opening your mouth further to let him lick your tongue with those deep, sexy caresses.

Sukuna carries you to your bedroom, throwing you on your bed, where you land with a breathless chuckle that turns into a soft moan when Sukuna joins you on the bed, his large hands pulling your panties down impatiently while his soft lips trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down your legs.

Sukuna yanks off his shirt, followed by his sweatpants and boxer briefs, making you lick your lips when you see his gorgeous hard cock slap heavily against his firm abs. So hard for you, so ready to fuck you into bliss.

Your hands wander to the hem of the hoodie, but Sukuna shakes his head, maroon eyes boring deeply into yours,

"Leave it on."

And so your little fantasy that you had when you first got Sukuna's hoodie becomes real. You are on your bed, straddling Sukuna's lap, only wearing his hoodie and nothing else, your wet pussy rubbing over his hot hard cock, gasping anytime his thick mushroom head catches on your clit. And Sukuna is beneath you, cursing and groaning, his large hands slipping under the hoodie to hold your waist, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you.

"Yeah, princess, like that. Slick my cock up. Make it all wet and messy so I can fuck you real nice."

He flips you over after a while, pushing your thighs apart, revealing your pussy to his hungry gaze, moaning while he fists his cock and pumps it a few times while his thumb brushes over your clit, circling it slowly, making you whine loudly, babbling about how much you want his cock.

And Sukuna grabs your hips and pulls you towards him, pushing into you with a hard, deep thrust that makes both of you gasp loudly. He doesn't waste a second but humps against you, fucking you at a hard deep pace. You feel delirious when Sukuna's calloused hands trail over your legs, putting them on his shoulders, and you suddenly can feel him even deeper in you.

It draws a loud, shaky sob from your lips as you cling to Sukuna's arms, digging your nails into his bulging biceps as he fucks you with those deep strokes that make your legs dangle from his broad shoulders in rhythm with his hard thrusts.

The hoodie rides up during the hard fuck, and you see Sukuna looking down, watching his slicked-up cock push in and out of your creamy pussy, and it makes you clench around him, so turned on by his gaze.

Sukuna is so sexy, all buff muscles which flex with every roll of his hips, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin, low grunts falling from his lips as he fucks you so deep and so good, making you think you might be addicted to his dick.

You breathe out his name, "Kuna...", your hands squeezing his biceps as you get pushed into the mattress rhythmically, gasping anytime Sukuna's thick mushroom head caresses your g-spot, sending you closer and closer to the edge, each deep stroke making a fluttery sensation fill your belly.

You mewl loudly when you cum around Sukuna's cock, your heels digging into his broad, muscular back, your pussy tightening so much around him that he hisses loudly.

And Sukuna fucks you even harder, chasing his own orgasm. He yanks on the hoodie, pushing it up to reveal your tits to him, watching as they bounce wildly with how hard he is fucking you.

He pulls out just in time for his orgasm, letting his hot cum rain down on your tits and your belly, and your pulsing clit while a series of sexy low groans falls from his lips.

You look at Sukuna in awe. How he kneels between your legs, so sexy and big, his twitching cock still in his hand, his eyes wandering hungrily over your body with the hoodie pushed up to reveal your skin covered in Sukuna's thick milky seed. And you can't help but moan, feeling so sexy like this, so desired, tits covered in Sukuna's cum, pussy still pulsing hotly from the mind-boggling orgasm Sukuna fucked out of you.

You smile dazedly up at Sukuna, barely holding yourself back from telling him that you think his dick is your favorite thing in the world, and he grins down at you with that charming smirk,

"You look so fucking good in my hoodie. I should get you more team merch, princess."

Sukuna seems to feel at home at your dorm, too, much to Nobara's dismay. You watch with growing amusement how she and Sukuna interact with each other. Always just waiting to say something rude to the other while their eyes glow with devilish fun.

Sukuna shamelessly struts out of your room, only wearing his low-sitting grey sweatpants and no shirt, his neck adorned with your lipstick marks, and his broad back full of the scratches your fingernails left there. He strolls casually into your kitchen, yanking open the fridge and getting some milk as if he lives here.

You lean in your open door, wearing his hoodie, watching him with a dazed smile on your face while Nobara casts a scandalized look at Sukuna's bare chest and the milk carton he brings provocatively to his lips, drinking straight out of the carton before he smirks his typical rude smirk at your dormmate,

"Hey, Ginger. Got a problem?"

"Hey, Kirby. Yeah, I think you should wear a shirt, and I hope you know that you have to pay for that milk!"

Sukuna laughs and walks past her, the milk container firmly in his tattooed hand, tilting his head back to gulp down even more of the milk. And Nobara's eyes widen comically as she sees Sukuna's broad back with all the scratch marks your fingernails left on it.

"Are the two of you animals or what?"

But you see the grin tugging at her lips. This is exactly the type of stuff your dormmate enjoys, and you burst out laughing at her comment, which turns into a giddy squeal when Sukuna picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you back into your room while he smirks at Nobara holding up the milk container in his hand to wave mockingly with it, while his other hand sprawls over your ass.

"Thanks for the milk. Now I have the strength for another round. You better wear some headphones if the noise bothers you. I know we will be loud."

You whine his name, begging him to stop embarrassing you, but you can't stop the laughter from creeping into your voice. And Sukuna just gives your ass a squeeze and grins and cocks his head,

"You trying to shut me up, princess? There's a better way to do that. Give my mouth something other to do."

And his mouth is really busy doing something other a few minutes later when he has you on your bed with your thighs pushed apart by those strong tattooed hands while Sukuna kneels on the floor between your legs, his face buried between your thighs, his lips and tongue pampering your pussy while his nose pushes against your clit.

He's making out loudly with your pussy, leaving loud smacking kisses on your puffy clit, and writing his name on it with his tongue. And you gasp and whimper and tug on Sukuna's pink hair as your hips buck in helpless pleasure, every thought of your dormmate erased from your pleasure-clouded mind.

"I can't ice skate. I never tried it."

You didn't think it was possible, but Sukuna seems to be rendered speechless upon your little confession during lunch. His hand, which was about to bring his usual cooked chicken to his mouth, stops in midair, and he stares at you with wide eyes as if you told him you don't know how to read.

"How can you never have been ice skating? What the fuck, princess?"

You laugh and shrug,

"I don't know. My town didn't have an ice skating arena, and none of my friends ever went ice skating, so...."

"That's absolutely ridiculous and unacceptable."

"Why? I think a lot of people never..."

You can't even finish the sentence before Sukuna interjects,

"I will teach you."

"What? Um, no, I... I am really unathletic and everything. I will probably be terrible at it."

"That's why you get me as your personal coach. You can learn from the best. Come to the arena at 7:00 tonight. I can teach you after training. Feel special. You'll get a private lesson from the Ice King."

Sukuna winks playfully at you, and even though you already feel your face get hot at the thought of how much you will probably embarrass yourself, you can't help but smile.

You enter the arena half an hour before your private lesson, sitting on the row directly behind the player's bench to watch the ice hockey team's practice while your pulse flutters more nervously with each passing minute. The ice looks intimidating. Hard and cold and unforgiving if you slip and fall.

When you look at Sukuna, who is currently speeding from one side of the rink to the next, it looks easy, of course. But you don't even want to think about how you will fare.

The coach claps his hands and announces the training is over, and the Tigers pile out of the rink, grabbing their stuff from the bench and leaving for the locker room without paying much notice to you. Yuuji and Todo pass you with big grins and reach out to high-five you, not even questioning why you are here during their practice.

And then Sukuna stops before you. Your heart jumps to your throat as you lift your head to look up at him.

He is so tall and broad in his hockey attire, with that smug smirk on his tattooed face. He extends a large hand to you, and you sigh and take it, letting him pull you to your feet, where you wobble immediately on the ice skates you are wearing. You gasp and tighten your hold on Sukuna's hand, clinging to him and exclaiming,

"Oh shit! Maybe we should call it a day. I will just make a fool of myself or break a leg or something!"

But Sukuna just laughs that amused, low laugh and his strong arm reaches around your waist, steadying you. He cocks his head and smirks at you,

"Come on, princess, do you really think I would let you fall? Haven't I already proved on our very first encounter that I am very good at catching you?"

His smirk grows even bigger, even more charming, and he winks at you, making your stomach feel a bit too fluttery, and you can't tell anymore if it is really just from the anxiety of standing on ice skates for the first time in your life, or if it has something to do with that boyish smirk on the star player's face.

But you feel safer now that Sukuna is holding you. Sukuna's grip on you is reassuringly strong as he slowly leads you toward the ice. He lets you hold on tightly to him without complaining, even as your nails dig painfully into his skin. His strong arm steadies you, keeping you safely on your feet.

You reach the ice, and your pulse flutters. Sukuna lets go of you after he makes sure you are holding onto the boards. He steps on the ice casually as if he is just walking on regular ground. It looks so natural when he does it.

And then Sukuna turns around to grin at you, extending his large hand again, letting you take it into your smaller hand,

"Come here, princess. I'll catch you."

Without further warning, Sukuna tugs on your hand, pulling you onto the ice. You register what is about to happen, and you start complaining nervously, but your feet are already taking a step forward. And then you are on the ice, screeching embarrassingly loud when you feel your feet slip away from under you.

But you never land on the cold ice. Instead, you get pulled forward and slam into Sukuna's tall, broad body. Your face presses lightly against his chest, feeling his firm muscles and the soft material of his hockey jersey, inhaling his fresh and sexy scent laced with a tiny hint of sweat from his earlier training session. It smells enticing and reassuring somehow.

Your hand that's holding Sukuna's is clinging to him in a death grip while the other is grabbing his jersey tightly. You tilt your head back to look up at Sukuna's face, seeing his broad, amused smirk that immediately makes you roll your eyes and huff,

"Stop being so smug! I told you this is my first time!"

But Sukuna just laughs softly, and his other hand lands on your hip, gently pushing you a little bit to the back so you have to stand without leaning on him.

"Don't worry. I'll teach you how to ice skate if it is the last thing I do. Look at you, already being able to stand on the ice all by yourself!"

"But I am not.."

You start to say when Sukuna lets go of you for a moment, and you stare at him with wide eyes as you realize you are standing on the ice. A strangled laugh escapes your lips, but then you become too aware of the slippery ice beneath your feet, and you feel yourself slipping,

But Sukuna is there before anything can happen. He laughs and scoops you up into his strong arms, holding you princess-style.

"Come on, princess. I'll let you get a taste of how it feels to be on the ice."

He begins to skate across the rink with you in his arms, carrying you easily as if you weigh nothing. You laugh and wrap your hands around Sukuna's neck, your stomach tingling from the way he is skating across the ice with those fast, confident moves.

Sukuna does one lap around the rink with you in his arms before he carefully sets you down again. But his large hands hold yours securely, making sure you won't fall. He looks deeply into your eyes with his maroon eyes, which are so warm in this cold ice palace. And his lips lift in a little smile,

"Wanna give it a try now, too, princess? I will show you how. I promise I won't let go of you."

Sukuna is smiling so charmingly at you, and his low voice is so calm and serious, his hold on you reassuring and secure, and you realize that you trust Sukuna fully. You trust this scary-looking bad boy not to let you fall. You smile at him and nod softly,

"Ok. Show me, please."

You know that Sukuna is usually infamous for being a menace who scares the shit out of his opponents. A real devil on the ice.

But not tonight. Not when he is ice skating with you.

Sukuna is an amazing teacher. He is patient with you, never getting annoyed at your clumsiness. Instead, his large hand is holding yours safely, and his strong arm is wrapped around your waist, steadying you. His low voice in your ear encourages you. Praising you for every little thing you do. And you can't stop a stupid little smile from spreading over your face as you slowly glide over the ice at Sukuna's side.

"Don't be so tense, princess. Just lean on me. I got you, don't be scared. I won't let you fall. Trust me."

And you do trust him. You let out a breath and relax in Sukuna's strong arms, letting him take control. Letting him pick up speed while guiding you safely across the cold ice.

Sukuna skates with you all the way through the arena. Just the two of you on the ice while the arena sits in darkness and only the rink is illuminated. It could almost be romantic. You feel safe on his arm, weightless as you glide over the ice. It's an incredible feeling as if you are soaring through the air. The ice glitters prettily like a million diamonds. And Sukuna's hand on the small of your back radiates warmth even through your jacket.

You feel so safe in Sukuna's arms. And it's actually fun to skate across the ice, to feel the chilly air on your heated cheeks, to hear your own delighted laughter mingle with Sukuna's.

You are a bit out of breath when Sukuna digs the blades of his ice skates into the ice, bringing the two of you to a stop in front of the benches, grinning at you with such a genuinely happy expression on his tattooed face that it makes your heart clench and reach up to cup his cheek.

"Thank you, Kuna. That was really fun."

You gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment. Time seems to stand still. And then you are suddenly kissing.

You can't tell who initiated it, whether you were the first who let herself fall against Sukuna to get on your tiptoes to reach his lips or whether it was him who tightened his hold around your smaller body and pulled you against him. But suddenly, your lips are moving against each other in a slow, gentle kiss.

A kiss that doesn't lead to sex. A kiss that isn't born out of the heated desire to rip each other's clothes off. A slow, tender kiss that makes your head turn to mush and makes butterflies dance in your stomach when Sukuna pulls you even closer against his firm, tall body.

When you pull away, you open your eyes and look up at Sukuna, right when he opens his eyes too. And for a moment, you are astounded because you have never seen those beautiful maroon eyes look so soft.

Sukuna laughs, a large hand cupping your cheek, and he asks if you want to do one last round across the rink. You nod dazedly, letting him gently pull you along, gliding once again over the glittering ice. Almost as if the two of you are the prince and princess in some fairytale, kissing on the ice, skating together into your happily ever after.

It's not like that, of course. You have to remind yourself this isn't a fairytale. You aren't a couple. But on this evening, for an hour in this dimly lit hockey arena, what the two of you have feels magical.

Is there LOVE in the air? The private ice skating lesson was one of the first scenes I wrote for this AU, and it still gives me so many butterflies aaaahhhhh 💗💗 I want this so bad with him!! I hope you enjoyed it, too!

Writing this story is truly such a comfort to me, and I am so happy to hear that it brings y'all joy, too. Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback and for getting on this journey with me 💗

I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

In Chapter 8 Reader will struggle with her feelings ;)

[enjakey]

One Night

Pairing: Jake x Fem!Reader

uhmmm sooo, how did I write this fic (7k) in a day?? To be fair, it's kind of shitty. And it's my first time using second person in a long time so my writing style changed to accommodate. My brain is like fried.

Oh, if I met Jake like this, I think I'd just faint. It's the dream of every Jake stan, isn't it? And bruh I seriously cannot write smut for the life of me so I just like... blabbered. But damn bro, sex with Jake seems so... Anyways, thank you for reading guys!

Writing this fic kinda made me hurt. Miss Jake so much rn- did not think that was something I could physically feel. There's not much plot. It's all soft and gooey and what I think meeting Jake irl in these circumstances would go like. Lot's of confusion and wtf is happening from the reader's side.

Summary: in which ENHYPEN argues with their shitty excuse for a management and Jake storms out, convinced that his night is ruined. Until he meets you in the elevator and makes it his mission to be beside you the whole time because you are an ENGENE and he loves his fans. But will the night's decisions get you in trouble? Will the night's decisions leave you in shambles when you wake up the next day? Only one way to find out...

They didn’t really know how it happened but they found themselves tangled in a screaming match with their management and staff. It was ill-timed, really, but inevitable- this argument, this confrontation of sorts. Sunghoon’s hotel room had converged into a crossroads- first, he was talking to his manager, then the staff came in to defend themselves and then some of the producers and finally, his members, slipped through the crack of his door as they heard the hallway echoing with ruckus.

One of the staff members, standing at the corner of the room, almost disappearing behind the door, whispered to Jungwon about what was happening. Sunghoon had been followed- it was an old man, seemingly hired by a crazed fan who wanted to know the group’s whereabouts. Sunghoon, unbeknownst, assuming that being in a different country would allow him more freedom around commoners, was helping the man’s feigned sense of loss in direction. Until he was followed into the hotel’s elevator and he had to scheme himself into safety. He was alone, he was afraid and finally, he simply didn’t want to leave his room after that.

“Sunghoon, this is the most we can do,” one of the staff members said, stone-faced and adamant as they always were.

ENHYPEN’s manager stood against the window, hand in his face as he hid from the members’ glares. They loved their manager, they truly did- the charismatic, handsome, long-haired man who was almost like a parent to them. But children had a tendency of growing both hatred and love towards their parents and this was one of those times.

“He was literally followed,” Heeseung’s loud voice ricocheted between the four barren walls of the hotel room. Everyone was looking at him now, watching the way his brows contorted into anger, teeth gritting from disappointment, arm stretched out to disrespectfully point at everyone- it was threatening, scary to look at.

Jungwon, attempting to calm his Hyung, stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t shout,” he said to him, but the anger on his face was equal and evident, voice low and unwavering. Then he looked at his manager who was still avoiding their gaze. Then he looked at the staff and producers. “Are you realising how bad this looks?”

Sunghoon, who was curled up on the couch, legs pulled to his chest as a pillow slotted behind his back, was looking at the ruckus, eyes moving back and forth between the people that were defending him and the people who were supposed to protect him- supposed to. Sunoo and Jay found their way to him, sitting on either side of him, head tilted as their hands caressed his shoulder.

“I could have been hurt,” Sunghoon said, a flat voice stating a very obvious possibility.

“But you’re not,” the staff member said. “You were smart enough to get yourself out of the situation.”

Finally, their manager opened his mouth. He stretched a finger out to start speaking, lips parting as he exhaled- but the words were caught in his throat. “He shouldn’t have to-” he was silenced by the snapping stare of a producer.

Niki, the youngest in the room, wasn’t sure if he had a say at all in this conversation. By looks, he was the strongest- sure. Tall, muscular, glaring gazes that could instill fear in those that didn’t know him. But in situations like this, when they were discussing safety and technicalities, he wasn’t sure what to say. In his head, it was a simple- if the members needed protection, the company should be able to provide it. They had the money, they had the resources and they had the means- so what was stopping them? His brain scrambled and ultimately, he found himself crouching in front of Sunghoon, back resting on his legs, watching the argument continue- he was disgusted.

“Are you realising there are worse people out there?” Heeseung was still yelling. He wasn’t sure how to lower his voice- he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, heart thumping angrily against his chest. “One day, one of us will go missing because of your poor security-”

“The security we give you isn’t poor,” one of the producers insisted.

Jake was never passive during such arguments. He had anger issues- quite mild, the kind his members and people on the internet could securely point out and tease him for. But behind closed doors, when it was needed, he was the one pointing fingers, raising his voice, yelling and demanding respect. Then there were times that he was quiet when he was simply- refusing to speak, just sitting there with hard eyes, a clenched jaw and fidgeting fingers, deep in thought. But that night? He didn’t know what kind of angry he was- it all almost felt comical, unbelievable what their management was saying.

“You’re being serious?” Jake’s eyes widened at the producer. “So, all the mobs in the airports, all the times people have literally engulfed and pulled us apart- that’s great security, right?”

Dumbfounded, Jungwon reached for Jake’s arm. “Hyung-”

“No, he’s right,” Heeseung nodded. “You throw in a few bodyguards and call it a day- but are you realising that it's borderline traumatic?”

Their bodyguards were huge, burly men. They could push people away with a flick of their fingers- and they were grateful for that. They wouldn’t know how to survive in the public without them. But then there were the times when the management would simply allow them to be touched, being mauled over as some sort of stunt. And then they weren’t grateful anymore, suddenly aware of the fact that they were no longer human- they were pawns in a sick web of Korea’s biggest entertainment industry.

“We know you do it on purpose sometimes,” Jake’s voice continued to raise. “The extra journalists, the extra crowd that records us-”

“It’s dehumanizing,” Jay said, his gaze still on Sunghoon. “It’s not right.”

“It’s all for a reason,” the staff answered. “You’ll thank us for it, one day.”

The room, in fact, became louder than it did before- Sunghoon didn’t realise that could happen. And he almost felt guilty for even bringing it up. Maybe he should have forgotten the incident, forgotten the way his blood went cold when he realised his safety was compromised. But now, in the process of defending him, his members could get in trouble. And their management was not shy about punishment or probation.

People were talking over each other now, pointing fingers and throwing curse words like they were tennis balls- well, it was mostly the members cursing. The management was only feeding them threats of overworking them, not giving them enough breaks, adding onto their already packed schedules.

“We’re going to wake you up early for an extra hour of practice tomorrow,” the staff stated, blankly, as though after all that had happened, the members were about to obey.

“Do you think we’re kids?” Heeseung scoffed. “To threaten us with early bedtime?”

Jungwon almost laughed. “This is a joke, right? We’re talking about our safety here. Our lives could possibly be in danger-”

Jake didn’t really know what Jungwon said after that- he was already out the door. It slammed behind him, locking, and it took a hot second for Sunoo to open it and call for Jake who was already halfway down the hallway. He felt bad for ignoring Sunoo’s calls, guilty. But in that moment, as he realised the insignificance in the hierarchy he and his members were placed in, he couldn’t care less.

He first went back to his room, changing out of his sweaty and grim pyjamas and into something presentable. Then he put on a jacket, a mask over his face and a cap on his head and he was out of his room again and made his way towards the lift, hands stuffed in his pockets as fists, the anger refusing to leave his brows.

Having had a room on the top floor, when he entered the lift, it was empty. The white lights flickered and they strained Jake’s eyes. As it descended, more people spilled in and out, oblivious to Jake’s identity and fame. It felt good to not be recognised when he didn’t want to be. But the elevator ride felt long, stopping between every third floor because someone was either getting on or getting off. Until finally, it was only him and another girl in the elevator, waiting to reach the ground floor.

She stood sideways, leaning against the metal wall so her side profile was visible to Jake but he didn’t pay much attention to her. He simply stared straight ahead, awaiting the ping of the elevator (that felt like it would never come) and for the doors to open (which felt like it would never happen). He was sure she didn’t pay much attention to him either, her eyes trained on her glaring phone screen, the external world deafened by earphones that were feeding music into her ears.

She probably didn’t realise how loud her humming truly was but Jake could hear it, the undeniable melody of a Kendrick Lamar song that he and his members loved to listen to during extended car rides. He cracked a smile that was hidden behind his mask, letting his eyes glance towards her for a brief second. She, too, was wearing a cap similar to his, her hair pushed back so it wouldn’t fall on her face. She wore a short denim skirt, pantyhose and one of those shoes that had thick soles that added a few inches to height. Her shirt was long and loose, a thick brown flannel.

It was like looking at the female version of himself.

Well, that was all it was. Jake didn’t pay much heed to it- he simply stared at the elevator doors again, wondering how much longer they’d have to stand in its godforsaken awkwardness. But then he heard it, unmistakably, the tune of a vaguely familiar song- his song, their song, slipping past her lips-

He shook his head. There was no way.

It could have been any song, or maybe his ears were deceiving him. But then the words “like a fever” slipped out of her throat and there was no more denying it.

For a moment, only because of the events of the night, Jake got defensive. His muscles tensed and his eyes froze on the elevator buttons- a few more floors and he would be out of there. He wanted to trust that he wasn’t being followed, that this random girl didn’t in fact know of his identity. And he wanted to trust that his features were hidden by his mask and his cap. Surely, people weren't crazy enough to actually harm him, right?

He thought back to all the horror stories he’s heard other idols talk about before. How once, when a few members of TXT were on a v-live and a fan knocked on their hotel room door- she had followed them, tracked them down and wanted to speak to them as if it was the most normal thing to do. And another time, a few members of BLACKPINK had been given presents by their fans but it was found that there were cameras in them. There were stories about some fans stalking and finding the addresses of idols’ houses, sneaking in and taking pictures. And then there was the old tale of how the entirety of EXO was almost kidnapped by their bus driver.

Why was he thinking of all of that? Something similar happened to him, too. Someone took pictures of him sleeping on a plane and uploaded them on the internet. He woke up to the news in utter disbelief and horror and suddenly, he felt unsafe- icky, weird.

It was insane.

But surely, Jake wasn’t being stalked, right? The chances of something like this happening to two people on the same night was lower than seeing a double rainbow… right?

But then, he thought back to all the good memories he’s had with fans- the ones who asked him interesting questions during fanmeets, the ones who were respectful of his personal space and didn’t touch him while taking pictures, the one who made him spotify playlists and bought him his favourite albums, the ones who made funny and supportive posters for him to laugh at during concerts and the ones who approached him cautiously if seen in person. He once bumped into a pair of ENGENEs at a Prada shop and bought them perfume- like he promised.

Unintentionally, without meaning to, his eyes softly trained on the girl in front of him, his lips started to move. And the words spilled out of his mouth before his brain could even stop him.

“Are you an ENGENE?”

The air that circulated around the elevator stilled and Jake almost regretted it. His hands balled up beside him, chewing his lips in anticipation as the girl looked up in confusion. Brows furrowed, lips crinkling into something of a purse, eyes narrowed.

He was barely audible but you heard him and had to take one of your earphones out. The other one continued playing FEVER by ENHYPEN and your brain couldn’t process what was happening anymore. It was funny, really, for your brain to still be comprehending the song’s lyrics while reading the expression of the man beside you through only his eyes. First, they were wide with anticipation, then they softened, crinkling- perhaps because he was smiling behind that mask.

There was no question about it- it wasn’t something you needed to mull or think over. Your brain didn’t buffer trying to figure out who this man was. You just knew- beneath that mask and his cap and his baggy clothes and his eyes that shone under the nasty elevator light- you just knew.

“Jake?”

He continued smiling as your voice lowered in disbelief, squeaking into almost a whisper. You could imagine it- his smile- wide and toothy, filling half his face. From all the videos you had watched of him and his members, all the edits and reels, his face was etched into your imagination. A fragment of your imagination, a corner of the internet you never thought you’d ever meet because you either weren’t that lucky and could never afford their concert tickets, was now standing in front of you, an unwavering softness in the way he looked at you.

Then you actually looked at him, took him in. Taller than you, burlier than you had expected, skin a bit glowy under the elevator lights. He was dressed a bit suspiciously, not that you noticed him, with the mask and the cap- like it was obvious that he was trying to hide himself and gave himself away too easily. He wore a gray sweater, a black pair of jeans that were layered with more fabric (your friends would definitely call them questionable), a puffer jacket and chunky shoes,

Your eyes that were trailing down his frame snapped back up again to meet his eyes.

“Is it really that cold?”

The second you asked the question, the elevator doors opened (finally) and a burst of cold air entered the space they stood in. Your hair blew to the side and Jake’s expression changed into something of a grin, a meek regret of sorts. The music in your earphones started playing the instrumentals of XO (ONLY IF YOU SAY YES) and suddenly, the weight in the atmosphere shifted and the two of you were left… just staring at each other.

Jake took steps forward and you walked backwards, exiting the confines of the elevator and onto the streets, phone still gripped in your hand, music drowned out by his gaze on you. The streets were dark, a lone cherry blossom tree letting its petals wilt onto the road. Street Lights glow dimly and the pedestrians walking past you were so oblivious, so clueless to what had just happened.

You… were standing in front of Jake… a literal idol, a celebrity. And the most embarrassing part? You failed to recognise him- he recognised you.

You knew about a million people that would be jealous of you in that moment. You knew about a billion people that would kill to want to be you.

What did that mean?

You felt yourself shiver, suddenly aware of how thin your flannel was and the lack of coverage on your legs with a sheer pair of pantyhose. “Oh, God,” you breathed, crossing your arms and holding your flannel closer to yourself. By that point, the music playing from your phone was forgotten. Your earphones were tucked into your pockets, eyes looking past Jake’s shoulders trying to avoid eye contact.

You felt so… awkward. You had no clue what was appropriate to do in such a situation. Say hello? Introduce yourself? Bow? Walk the fuck away?

“Are you cold?” Jake, despite his question, was already ridding himself of his puffer jacket, carefully slipping his arms out of the slots of the sleeves.

“Oh… No- I couldn’t-”

“Here,” he stretched his arm out, holding the jacket out to you. He seemed genuine, almost persistent with the way he blinked at you.

“Jake…”

“It’s alright,” he stepped closer to you and draped the jacket on your shoulders. His fingers grazed your collarbones, bodies so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. And then he was gone as fast as he had come- a respectable distance between you once again. “Better?”

Your words choked in your throat, not sure of what to say. How would you give it back?

You nodded.

“It’s always good to meet a fan,” he said, seemingly out of the blue. “What are you doing out so late?”

You simply stared, lips parted, uncomfortable by the fact that he could read your expression so openly- every twitch of your eyes, every shift of your lips, every bat of your eyes. He, on the other hand, stayed hidden, like some sort of enigma- but he wasn’t. He was Jake. you knew that.

“Walk,” you managed to say. “Going for a walk.”

Jake knew that this entire exchange between him and a fan would get him into trouble- especially considering the events of the night. He was already on thin ice- storming out of the hotel without permission and all. He was sure his phone was being blown up by calls and messages, trying to get a hold of him. He hoped they’d give up. He was feeling rebellious that night, in the mood to deliberately get on the nerves of his management.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Jake didn’t exactly wait for you to respond. He simply started walking as if it was the most natural thing he could do. You watched him walk past you, making his way towards the footpath, an adorable skip in his step which you couldn’t admire because of the weight manifesting in your head- you were stressed, anxious.

You caught up to him.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?”

The question reached his ears with distaste- he didn’t like that a third party, a fan, knew he could potentially get in trouble for this. For whatever he was trying to do- run away? Make someone angry? Ruin things for himself? He wasn’t sure anymore. It felt like he had just discovered free will.

“Well, no,” he admitted with a sigh. He walked with a steadiness to him, allowing you to catch up with his stride. “Do you have a name I could call you by?”

You hesitated. “Y/N.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not.”

Wasn’t it the job of these idols to flatter their fans? To make them blush, giggle and fall off their face with the premade scripts and dialogues to use while meeting fans? You didn’t know whether it would be appropriate to assume that Jake was on the job- he looked like he wanted to escape. And he needed someone to cooperate with him.

“You’re gonna-” you licked your lips and sucked in a breath. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

Jake smiled at her. “I’m not,” he lied straight through his teeth and past his smile- was it fake? Was it genuine?

You were confused. For the first time, finally, you allowed yourself to be confused. You were confused by the fact that you were following him, confused by the fact that he wanted to follow you, confused by the predicament you found yourself in. You could never even imagine yourself in such a situation- in all your daydreams, during all those times you let your thoughts wander when you were bored.

This was real. This was happening. Jake, in all his glory, with his smooth accent and happy-go-lucky attitude, was walking beside you- with you.

A few minutes ago, you were a normal girl with a boring life who was flown into town by your company for a business meeting.

Were you supposed to call yourself lucky?

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask-”

“That’s alright,” Jake cut you off. “You can ask me anything.”

You pursed your lips. “Right,” you said. “Why?”

“Why, what?” Jake gave you his signature titled-head of confusion. You found it adorable. But you couldn’t react to it.

“I really do think you’ll get in trouble.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“You really are a terrible liar.”

Jake stopped to laugh. He was actually laughing, squinting his eyes and clutching his chest as he threw his head back in laughter. But it wasn’t one of those loud laughs- it was soft, his giggles making you feel giddy too. But you just watched him as he adjusted his cap, a broken grin on your face.

“Fine, I’ll be honest,” Jake said and you hummed. But he didn’t continue immediately. He stood there in thought, wondering how to phrase his words. Jake really didn’t know how to put it lightly. “Promise you won’t tell anyone, though?”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. And you scoffed as well, giving him a look of disbelief. “Yeah, I got you.”

“We got into a huge fight with the management,” he admitted, continuing to walk again. The streets were empty. Obviously no one would be walking around at an ungodly hour- no one but you and Jake, apparently. “And I walked out. Angry. And I just… I guess, I couldn’t care less at the moment.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and, well,” he continued, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t think I’d meet a fan in the lift. It’s always fun to meet an ENGENE, you know? My mood just instantly got better when I realised you were listening to FEVER.”

You- not someone. You.

“I don’t know how much you actually keep up with us-”

“Oh, well,” you cleared your throat, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks. “Not that much-”

“That’s alright-”

“I love your music,” you continued to say, almost defensive from the embarrassment. “And I watch all the youtube videos and stuff- but I’m not really… uhm, well. I’m not the type to keep up with your schedules. I didn’t know you guys were here.”

“No, I get it,” he chuckled. “You’ve got a life and all. As it should be.”

“Yeah, I’m here on a business trip, actually.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Jake nodded. “But I don’t know if you know. I once said that if I meet ENGENEs in public, I’d buy them Prada. I’m just sad I can’t do that for you now. Considering the night.”

“Prada?” Jake could see the way you smiled, wide and with teeth, perplexed by what he was saying. “A bit much, no?”

“Never,” he shook his head. It was like his smile was permanent- because of you or because he was just Jake, you didn't know. “Is there anything I could get you right now, though?”

Your heart thumped. “No, that’s really not necessary.”

“No, I insist-”

“Jake, seriously, no-”

“You know I’m not gonna stop pestering you until you let me get you something.”

You exhaled. “Fine. But you pick.”

You didn’t know how you managed to even talk to him for so long without embarrassing yourself. You wanted to scream and giggle- but was any of it appropriate? Did any of this make sense- you walking and talking with Jake?

Five minutes later, Jake stopped at the first store he saw that was open- a convenience store. He led you in, hand hovering over you but never touching you. The cashier didn’t pay attention to you and played on his phone because who on Earth was wandering the streets at 2am? Jake followed you to the freezers at the back of the store- ice cream.

“This is kind of depressing,” Jake let out a breath, a chuckle along with it as you bent down to look through the vast amount of variety.

“Why?”

“Do you see the difference between Prada and convenience store ice store?”

You didn’t respond to him, instead pulling out a chocolate cone. It was cheap, it was familiar and it would hit the spot. Nothing could compare to chocolate ice cream.

“I’m getting this,” you announced, holding it in front of him. “You?”

Jake shook his head and placed a hand over his stomach. “I’m not really hungry.”

You looked at him with your lips tugging downwards- almost disappointed.

“What?”

“I’m not eating unless you’re eating.”

Jake, defeated, exhaled as he bent to look through which ice cream he wanted for the night.

He felt a warmth spread through his chest. Firstly, because you seemed to have loosened around him- not antsy, not flustered and not fidgety and stiff anymore. You finally looked comfortable wearing his jacket and speaking to him when he didn’t speak to you first. You had accepted the situation- accepted him- with no more paranoia. And secondly, because he hadn’t interacted like this outside his members in a while- domestic, plain, ordinary. In that moment, as you waited for him to find an ice cream and while you stood holding your chocolate cone, giddy and excited, you were just two people- a boy and a girl keeping each other company. An unspoken promise, a quiet understanding. Friends.

Jake settled for a grape lolly and you walked towards the cashier. He paid for it like he wanted to, a wad of crumpled dollar bills pulled out from his pocket and placed on the counter. Then you were out the automatic doors, engulfed by the cold of the night and warmth of the city lights again. It didn’t feel lonely anymore.

“Happy?” You asked while peeling off the wrapper.

“Sure,” Jake rolled his eyes.

Before unwrapping his lolly, Jake took his mask off. And it almost knocked the breath out of you. Because for the first time that night, Jake was no longer a half-covered figure. You could see him now- his lips, his nose, his cheeks that welled up when he smiled. He glowed differently, bright and alive.

“Like what you see?” His voice wasn’t muffled anymore.

He caught you staring, wide eyes as he innocently looked at you, as though his words and his attitude didn’t bring a burst of butterflies into your stomach.

You didn’t answer him. You simply kept walking, lifting your chocolate cone to lick a strip.

“Are we headed towards a particular destination?” You asked, watching him from the corner of your eyes as he bit into his lolly.

“Oh, no,” he shook his head, hissing from the cold on his tongue. “Unless you want to go somewhere.”

“No,” you shook your head.

And the conversation led nowhere. And the pair of you continued to eat your ice cream, pacing each other's footsteps, shoulders almost touching- almost not.

“What do you think of me, Y/N?” His voice was smooth, accent rolling off his tongue, eyes trained on the footpath in front of him. He asked confidently, not batting an eye, not regretting.

When you stuttered, he turned to look at you, lips wrapped around his lolly. You felt like collapsing.

“I… I don’t know you,” your voice muted to a whisper again, shying away from his gaze.

Jake chuckled. “Of course. But of whatever you do know of me…” he trailed off, indicating his question again.

“I think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve met.”

“Oh?”

You weren’t lying, you really weren’t. Because all your life, you’d met a lot of people and no one was ever as nice to you as Jake was being right now. He saw you without you needing to grab his attention- he chose to walk with you, he chose to have you as company and he chose to buy you ice cream when he didn’t have to. Not many people would be willing to do that for strangers.

It was nice to not be sidelined- for once in your life. You were tired of being seen through like you were some ghost. Tired of being ignored and tired of becoming invisible the moment someone more charming or attractive showed up.

God, how you were dreading the meeting tomorrow morning. You already knew how it would go- your voice would get lost in the room, your presence drowned out by louder, shinier people. The only time you were ever shown respect was when you raised your voice, when you got angry or sharp. You hated that version of yourself.

But not with Jake. Around him, you could be quiet- and still be seen.

“And from the few videos and interview clips I’ve seen,” you continued. “You seem like a great friend- a great person, honestly. Funny, caring, considerate. People see the way you look out for your members. And how you care about… just, everything. Kids. Animals. I think you’re great, Jake.”

Jake didn't really say anything to you. He just nodded, knowingly, a shy smile on his face, a hand to his heart. Then he giggled delicately, bringing his arm up to cover his mouth.

“But you can be a try hard sometimes.”

“Stop being a tease.”

You laughed.

Then he looked at you again, licking his lips before pulling his bottom lips between his teeth. Your stomach collapsed with butterflies again. “Tell me about yourself.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“Oh, come on,” Jake coaxed. He nudged his shoulder with yours and that was the first time he properly reached out to touch you. It felt different. It almost didn’t feel real. “I wanna know. Tell me.”

“What do you want to know?” You asked, suddenly self conscious. Your mind blanked because- what was so interesting about yourself that you could talk about?”

“Anything,” Jake nodded, confidently. He finished the last of his lolly and flicked it in a garbage pan you walked past. You threw your trash too. “Hobbies? Childhood? Family? Anything.”

“Okay.”

And so you told him. You told him about your childhood and the cozy neighbourhood you grew up in. You told him about your family- your average, not perfect but not broken family. You told him about your obsession with sharks growing up. And you told him about your obsession with languages which led you to perfecting random languages by the time you were a teen. You told him about your habit of reading- how, if you tried, you could finish an average sized book in a day. You told him about your obsession with horror and true crime.

“Of course.”

“Shut up.”

Then you told him about highschool. You told him about your closest friends. You told him about your past relationships- how you hadn’t really been with anyone since eighteen. Not because you didn’t want to but because things just never seemed to work out. You told him about college and how you somehow loved writing college essays because things were just more interesting, more widely accepting.

“God, I hated the citation part of essays.”

“Me too. But technology makes it easier.”

Then, you told him about how you discovered ENHYPEN in the first place. It was through an old high school friend, a girl you no longer spoke to but thought of every time you listened to GIVEN-TAKEN because it was the song she played to introduce you to them.

“Do you have a bias?”

“Would you be surprised if I said it was you?”

Somehow (your legs hurt and you wanted to sit), the pair of you sat on the ledge of a bridge, feet crossed and arms leaning back. The river flowed calmly beneath you, hair tossing your hair. Your conversation shifted to you explaining a behavioural psychology theory that had never made sense to you and Jake listened, intently, his eyes trained on yours, lips pursed.

Jake thought you were pretty. Now that he actually got to see you, talking comfortably, using animated hand gestures- he thought you were cute. He liked the way your eyes crinkle when you got excited about something you were talking about. He liked the way you kept shrugging to adjust his jacket that was on your shoulders. He liked the way your feet swayed while you spoke about something passionate. He liked your voice, clear and steady and touching all the perfect notes. He liked the way you looked up in thought when you tried recollecting a word that was on the tip of your tongue.

Suddenly, as he observed you, taking in the frame of your body and the expressions of your face, Jake realised what he was trying to do. And he understood the softness that came with his actions, why his heart kept skipping a beat when you said his name and why his breath hitched every time you made eye contact.

With a shaky breath, while you were still ranting, Jake removed his cap to card his fingers through his hair.

You weren’t talking anymore.

You were looking at him, finally taking in his bare face. No obstructions, just him and his beautifully sharp features and silky hair. His hair was long, almost bordering a mullet. It grew past his eyes and brushed against his lashes. The wind kept bothering him and you could see how he struggled with it- he kept running his fingers across his hair to adjust it. Then he looked at you, hair still blowing past his face, at your sudden silence.

“I like your hair?”

“What?”

“Your hair,” you said. “It’s nice long.”

Jake, absolutely stunned, could only blink at you. Then, with some sort of confidence, he leaned closer to you, pointing a finger to his hair. “Do you want to touch it?”

You almost flinched and leaned back but Jake stayed in position, looking at you with a cheeky smile and glistening eyes. Slowly, you reached your fingers towards him, the tips of your fingers making contact with his hair. Then, you slowly let your fingers be buried in them, racking your hand through his hair once, then twice, exhaling when you realised Jake enjoyed the act- you touching his hair. He looked like a puppy.

You retracted your hand.

“It’s soft,” you said and Jake sat back, holding his cap in his lap. His features twitched as his hair slapped his cheeks. You giggled. “Do you want a hair tie?”

“What?”

“A hair tie,” you said, slipping the band off your wrist and showing it to him. Jake mumbled something grateful to you and took it, reaching up to tie his hair in a very short pony- a half updo of sorts. A few strands of his bangs hung loose when he looked at you, finding approval of his hairstyle. You chewed on your bottom lip watching him. “You look nice like this.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded and looked away, afraid of the proximity of his face, of his body, of his touch. Were you allowed to feel this way? To yearn for something you knew you couldn’t have? It only made sense to be cautious… right?

“Your turn, Jake.”

“What?”

“To yap,” you grinned, staring at the endless expanse of water in front of you, a blanket of stars above you. “I did, now it’s your turn.”

After some thought, Jake talked about the only thing he knew to talk about- physics. Well, he was lying, he could be talking about so many other things- his family, his fans, his members, his time in I-Land, the management, their big fight before he stormed off- but he didn’t want to bother you with those things. He wanted to be stuck in a space of comfort and ease. Where he could lean into you to get that shy expression out of your face again because he liked it. He didn’t want to see you pity him- not you, not tonight.

So, he talked about Schrodinger’s cat and why black holes could kill you and how stars eventually burst due to nothing but its weight collapsing within itself.

Through it all, you listened with a nodding head and attentive eyes, occasionally asking him a question when to get him to elaborate. he didn’t know it and you wouldn’t tell him (because it was unusual enough, this whole predicament) but you savoured his accent. The Internet talked about it all the time- how they wanted more of Jake in English, how they wanted more of his accent. And you experienced it all, right beside you, indulging you in his life.

Jake ended up talking about Australia. He told you about the occasional barbeques with his brother and dad, the way he used to stroll the streets with his skateboard and how his dad took him fishing all the time. He told you about his mom and his older brother and how their age gap was often surprising. He told you about Layla and the pottery bowl he made for her (which you knew because of their EN-LOG video but you wouldn’t mention it). He told you about his favourite food and his favourite brand of wine.

And the pair of you were walking again because someone mentioned that it was 4:30 am and that it was probably best to head back. Neither of you wanted to. Neither of you moved for a minute, just staring, sometimes at each other and sometimes at your hands.

“You have a performance in the morning.”

“And you have a meeting.”

On your walk back, your hands kept brushing and your shoulders kept bumping. Eventually, his pinky had hooked onto yours and you didn’t push him away. You let his warmth creep onto you as he bit his lip and looked at you with a storm brewing in his eyes. You wanted to believe it was innocent, just something cute between a fan and an idol but then he intertwined his fingers with yours and you weren’t sure anymore.

You weren’t sure how to react anymore. You weren’t sure how you weren’t already combusting from the inside out.

It was like you were two people newly in love, unsure of how to act, unsure of how to show appropriate affection.

But was anything about this appropriate?

Jake wished he wasn’t an idol- for the first time since he debuted, he wished he weren’t an idol. He’d gone through so many scandals, so many marring allegations and so many laugh worthy rumours but through it all, he was proud to be an idol. Even while arguing with his management earlier, he was proud to be an idol. But somehow, to have his hand in yours and still know how the night would end, had him wishing he wasn’t an idol anymore- that he was never one in the first place.

Because he knew- everyone that was an idol knew- that happy endings weren’t written in their books.

If he were a normal person with a normal job, if he weren’t famous- he would have asked for your number by then. He probably would have asked you out on a date. He probably would have kissed you right in the middle of the street. But he couldn’t.

And suddenly, he was the unfortunate idol that caught feelings for a fan- a fan who made him feel safe, feel heard, feel seen. And suddenly, he was the unfortunate idol who stopped living in oblivion.

He brought this life upon himself- unusual, controlled, wired.

To both of your dismay, you reached the elevator of your hotel faster than expected. And you shuffled in, hands still tangled, his chest pressed to your back- the proximity between you was inappropriate, frowned upon. But did he care? No. Were you going to stop him? No. Not when his hair was tied back like that, not when his breath was fanning against your neck.

“Which floor?”

“Seventh.”

Jake insisted on walking you to your room. You didn’t stop him. He followed you, cautiously behind your step.

And when you reached your door, you didn’t reach for our key card. You just stared straight ahead, hands dangling beside you. Jake leaned on the wall, his arms crossed, waiting- teasing.

The night was either going to end or drag into eternity.

You didn’t want it to end.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“If I open the door, are you going to follow me in?”

Yes, he wanted to say. But that would be too forward. So instead, he asked, “do you want me to?”

You looked at him through your lashes, lips pulled between your teeth.

“Would it be wrong?”

He almost whined, eyes rolling in annoyance, tongue peeking past his teeth to lick his lips.

“Please, Y/N.”

So you opened the door and Jake held it wide enough so both of you could slip past it.

The pair of you were now engulfed in the darkness of your hostel room. The air conditioning slowly turned on. The curtains ruffled.

Jake turned to you, his hand wrapping around your wrist. He tugged you closer and you went limp against his chest, knees giving out as you clutched his shirt.

Neither of you really had to say anything. You walked towards your bed in unison as he stripped his jacket off you. Then your head hit the pillow and he was holding your waist, fingers wrapping around your skin, to guide you to the center of the bed.

“Is this okay?” He asked, just in case- after everything was already said and done and your legs were twitching with heat and anticipation.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Your smile was the only confirmation he needed.

Slowly but confidently, his chest crowded over you and he straddled your hips, slightly hovering so his fingers could unbutton your flannel. He was holding his breath, really, curiosity building on what you could possibly be hiding under that flimsy flannel of yours- the one that didn’t shield you from the cold and the one that left everything to his imagination. But when he saw you, finally, with your flannel unbutton, you tits threatening to spill out of your bra-

“Shit.”

Jake retreated and your eyes followed. He was standing again, hands moving to remove his sweater and there he was- shirtless, his abs staring at you in all their glory. And you didn’t move, not because you were too paralysed to but because you chose not to. You simply chose to admire him that way, breath heaving and necklace dangling off his neck.

“Jake…”

Within no time, he was on top of you again, face fanning against you, noses touching. And then it approached, the moment both of you had been shamelessly thinking of. His head tilted and his eyes fluttered close and there it was- his lips on your lips, soft and plump.

He stayed that way for a moment, savouring the carve of her lips, a low rumble of a hum escaping his throat. Your heart was calm now, to your surprise, brain quiet as your eyes screwed shut. And you just stayed there, hands laid to the sides of your head, body awkwardly stiff, wondering what would happen next.

Because you were kissing Jake from ENHYPEN- it was unreal, unbelievable.

You couldn’t process it. So you didn’t. Whatever would happen would happen. And you would look back on the memories in haze.

Finally, Jake moved. His lips parted and he was coaxing your lips open, kissing your harder, with more fervour. And he shifted, brows furrowed, hips moving to grind into yours. His hands came up to pin your wrists above your head.

The softness in him was replaced with passion.

Things, however, didn’t go fast.

Jake took his time.

He used every ounce of strength, every flicker of need- but he was patient. Your bra slipped off slowly, almost reverently. Your skirt was unbuttoned with care. Your pantyhose didn’t survive though- he struggled with it and tore it off with a muttered curse that made you laugh into his shoulder.)

But the rest… he savored you. He kissed his way down your body- your neck, your chest, your stomach, your thighs, even your ankles. Then, slowly, he made his way back up.

He worshipped your body like it was something sacred. He mouthed at your breasts, sucking gently at your nipples, coaxing sounds from you- soft at first, then louder, more desperate. And you gave in so easily, so willingly- so compliant. It drove off the walls- he almost growled.

And when he finally fucked into you, it wasn’t rushed. It was precise, intimate, almost maddeningly slow. He held himself back, not letting his own desire override his focus on you.

He memorized everything- the way your breath caught, the crack in your voice, the way your eyes squeezed shut as your body welcomed him. The bounce of your chest with every thrust.

He adored you. Not just your body, but the quiet kindness it held for him- the way you opened up to him, gave him space he never knew he needed.

When you came together, it was a crescendo- messy, beautiful, overwhelming. He collapsed beside you, his breath tangled with yours, his hair clinging to damp skin.

And then he looked at you. It was a look you were almost certain was love. But you didn’t let yourself believe it. You couldn't.

So when he kissed you again- softly, slowly, his hand warm against your jaw- you just closed your eyes and let him and let yourself. Open mouths, tongues colliding, moans mixing into one. And he kissed you until he fell asleep, his naked chest pressed onto yours, an arm loosely hanging off your waist, fingers drumming against your back.

But you didn’t sleep- simply stared at the ceiling. Because if you did, it would mean the day was over. And you weren’t ready to let it go just yet.

But the inevitable was meant to happen.

You knew about a million people that would be jealous of you in that moment. You knew about a billion people that would kill to want to be you.

[angel-sweets666]

stuck together chapter II

Barbarian bakugo x princess! Reader

Your parents arranged you to the brash and rude prince of the barbarians to save their own skin.

Warnings: suicide of a character, death and dead bodies (flash backs or nightmares) mentions of war, threats of execution. Wet dreams (smut) talks of impregnating, thoughts of breeding. Slight breeding kink, swearing, slight time skip

first chap here

A/n just wanna warn yous deku is not a good person in this AU, think of like a bad ruler. Someone who acts nice and then executed like a bunch of people. A hypocrite

Bakugo tapped his index finger against the wooden table, his eyebrows furrowing. Clear frustration on his face. Staring up at the map then at the two guards before him, a blonde and a redhead. Both large men with equally frustrated looks on the faces.

“well what do you think we do?” Denki asks, staring at his two other companions “that lands too rugged, not good.” Kirishima rubs his chin in deep thought. “You idiots! It’s obvious here!” “Too close to the monoma kingdom, he’ll obliterate it the moment he sees it.” Kirishima interrupts bakugo, trying to knock some sense into the prince. The electric blonde looks back over the map, staring at the multiple empty lands. Most of which were once war grounds.

“we could… go here!” He points to a green patch, several kilometres long and wide. It be perfect, If only it wasn’t where bakugo fought in a bloody war.

flash back

bakugo heaves as he looks to his left over his shoulder, dead bodies. He looks forward. More dead bodies, most of which were of todorokis soilders. “Stand down Bakugo. Your gonna loose!” A tall red headed man booms out, standing next to a once alive horse, now dead and laying down. “No…. I won’t….” Bakugo straightens his back and grabs his sword. Letting out a loud war cry (scream) before lunging at the huge red headed man, his act of bravery to avenge his men who were now cold bloody and dead on the floor. Leaving their wives, children, siblings and parents behind just to fight in this war for him.

back to now

Bakugo snapped out of his flash back , placing a gentle hand on the large burn mark on his side, a scar from a brutal war. The scar now healed over and nothing but scar tissue. "Todoroki battlegrounds, can’t do the plan there " he mumbled to Denki and Kirishima. Neither of them had been at the war; they were still in training at the time. If only katsuki could’ve just trained at that time, he was only 18 where the first war he fought in happened

Denki rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Like everything is Todoroki battlegrounds! It's taken your family, what, seventy years just to get Flamoria to back off? This whole continent is practically Todoroki battlegrounds!"

Bakugo glared at him but couldn't entirely disagree. "There. Still battlegrounds, but fifty nine year-old battlegrounds," he said, pointing to a large plain of land in the distance. The expanse was unclaimed by any kingdom, a constant reminder of the war's devastation.

. “Are you sure bakubro?” Kirishima asks, his pupils turning to slits. A feature almost all purebred dragons have. “It’s fine shitty scales.” Bakugo grumbled as he looks to Denki “huh?! Oh yeah.. it’s uh.. very green!” Denki stuttered, nodding his head “good, here’s final” he takes a pen and circled the large land. Chucking the pen back onto the wooden table “there, done.” Bakugo said as he arose from his chair and began walking out the room, kirishima quickly rolling up the map and grabbing it before scrambling to keep up with the two blondes

You heard the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing through the stone hallway outside your chambers. Curious and slightly annoyed, you peeked out the door to see three men you knew all too well: Kirishima, Bakugo, and Denki. Their boots clomped loudly against the floor, disrupting the quiet.

Frustration bubbled up as you leaned against the doorframe, placing your weight on one hip. "Can you three keep it down?" you shouted, your voice sharp.

Bakugo spun around, his expression already irritated. "What are you on about, woman?!" he yelled back, clearly not in the mood for any complaints.

"Can't a girl sleep?" you retorted, your tone matching his.

Denki and Kirishima scrambled to get on their knees and apologize, "We’re sorry, your highness! We didn’t mean to wake you!" They looked so apologetic and sweet that you couldn't help but smile. "It’s alright, hons. I’m yelling at Bakugo," you reassured them. Sometimes you wondered, "Why can’t Kirishima or Denki be the future king? Then I’d marry them," because they were such sweethearts.

Bakugo grumbled, "You’re not my mother."

"No, but I’m your future wife. Close enough," you teased, unknowing to bakugos already bad mood. You didn’t know that when he had nightmares or reminders of war he got angry and sometimes… physical

His eyes darkened with rage. "Excuse me? I am the future king, and you will not speak to me like that unless you want to end up in the dungeon with your head hacked off! His voice boomed as he got close to your face, causing you to back up in fear.

"Kat…Katsuki?"

"WHAT?!" he roared, his voice filled with venom, making your heart race.

You backed up again, trembling. "S-sorry…" you stammered, scrambling to get back into your chambers, your heart pounding in your chest.

“way harsh man she was only teasing..” kirishima mumbled “I don’t give a fuck she needs to learn her place.” Bakugo spits back, his flared up anger bubbling to a cool. Beginning to walk up the hall again, yanking the map from kirishimas hands and storming away. The two boys looked shocked! Bakugo was always so calm with women, rude? Sure, very. He made fun of and were rude with women, but never yelled at them. Same goes for children and the elderly. what was going on??

bakugo walked up the halls to his bedroom chambers, trying to take deep breaths. “Bakubro what’s going on man?” Kirishima asks “yeah! Ever since we thought of the plan you’ve been acting all funny!” “IM NOT ACTING FUNNY!” Bakugo yelled in response “You just threatened to execute *name* by hacking off her head.”

bakugo sighed “just..! Leave me alone. I’ll see you idiots later” bakugo walked into his chambers and slammed the door in his guards face. “Who put a stick up his ass?” Denki mumbled as the two marched to their posts outside the palace.

You sat in your room, shocked at what had just happened. How could bakugo just threaten you like that? He was rude to you, ignored you ect but never threatened you! You slowly sat down on your bed, staring off into nothing. The way he yelled at you, they were right when they said he was terrifying. You thought you two were warming up to eachother, clearly not.

you laid down in bed and tried to go to sleep, but you were very shaken up from the incident it took you a while to fall asleep. The way Katsuki looked at you like you were nothing more than a block in his way just shook you to the core. Bakugo on the other hand was completely fine! As if he didn't just threaten to kill you. He was sleeping soundly in his bed of furs.

however as time went on and the clock ticked to early in the morning, katsukis once peaceful sleep became that of a nightmare.

nightmare

bakugo heaved on the ground, a todoroki soilder standing over him menacingly. One that was particularly short. He clicked his tongue as he crouched down over bakugo “I thought you were strong? Didn’t you kill lord Izuku? That’s what they all said, you stabbed him right in the chest. Cold blooded killer you are.” He harrassed bakugo, an attempt to scare him “I didn’t fucking kill him he killed himself.” He spat back, unable to move due to the blade of the soilder right near his neck under his jaw. “ then howd they find him with YOUR blade in his chest and you gone?” The soilder asked “I- left him alone for five god damn minutes!” Flash backs of the day Izuku was interrogated and tortured by members of bakugos court, the screams of his once childhood friend turned mortal enemy rang in his ears. In a desperate attempt to escape the torture he stabbed himself with katsukis sword with scary aim

right in the dead centre of his chest.

back in real word

katsuki shot up in a cold sweat, panicking. These nightmares had been getting worse and worse, he knew izuku deserved it! But the boy was once his child hood friend, and an ally to his kingdom. Only for when he took over to put his kingdom in insane amounts of debt, poverty and famine. He was a horrible person as he got older, bakugo had to do something! The man got up, wiping up remaining sweat from his body with a rag. Taking a walk down the hallway, he paused by your chamber doors. you.

the woman who seemed to get in his way constantly.

he felt bad for you, he knew you had no choice in this. You couldn’t control if you were to be married off or not. Neither did he. He bit back his pride, knocking on your bedroom door loud enough to wake you up.

The sound of fur sheets rustling filled his ears, followed by your soft voice. "Come in…"

Katsuki opened the door and saw you in your nightgown, snuggled up in bed. "It’s me," he grumbled in a low voice.

"Oh… Baku—"

"Call me Katsuki," he interrupted, his response shocking you.

"Okay… Katsuki."

The blonde sat by your sleepy form awkwardly. "Sorry about today… I shouldn’t have gone off at you. I won't hack off your head, dumbass," he apologized, a rare occurrence.

You blinked in surprise. "Holy shit, did pigs learn to fly?"

Bakugo scoffed. "No, I'm apologizing."

"So… yes, they have. Okay… I accept your apology," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Bakugo breaths a sigh of relief “you better” he grumbled out “I am! I’ve accepted the apology!” You sat up, staring up at him. Bakugo looked over you, checking you out for a second. A slight blush going over his cheeks but you would never see that in the darkness. You cleared your throat “so… Uhm… when’s the wedding?” You asked to try and strike up a conversation. “When was your gown fitted?” Katsuki asked “2 weeks ago..?” “Then in two weeks.” He replied calmly

“your voice is pretty when your calm..”

“hah?!”

“your voice, your always so loud and gruff…it’s pretty when your calm.” You compliment him

“Oh shut up.“

you giggle “you should get some rest, it’s late.

“early.”

“huh?”

katsuki looked at you “it’s early, it’s 1 am.” His face seemed almost like he was mocking you. “Right… yeah… early…”

katsuki stood from your bed “g’ night..” he makes his way to the door and walks out, closing the large wooden door behind him.

that visit of his was strange and oddly comforting, a late night apology from katsuki? What did kirishima do to make him do that?! You laid back down onto the mattress of your bed, staring up at your roof.

The way he walked in shirtless, he was so handsome you’ll give him that.

sleepily your eyes fluttered to a close and you soon drifted off, having a much opposite dream from katsukis.

your dream

your face was pressed into the pillows by a big hand, the feeling of hips slapping against yours being the second thing you feel.

the first thing would be the monster sized cock sliding in and out of your pussy.

katsuki grabbed your hips and pushed you down on his cock harder

“cmon you can handle… hah… it. How else am I supposed to get that heir huh? I need to.. fuck! Fill you up with a baby first to get a baby…just a little longer…” he grumbles into your neck, biting down onto skin before you feel a hot sticky fluid rush into your womb. Doing just as he said he would do to you.

hopefully one day 🙏

a/n I WONDER WHAT “the plan” ISSSSS. it is shorter but it builds up to what’s gonna happen trust the process🙏

tag list:

@literallyjusta-reader. @augustraine @audreykins45 @i-simp-for-mha-men @applepi25 @gabby-ha @@luv444lay @sillyemanusz @thecutienadq @chimeily @thephantomkid6-66 @mutsu422 @alligator-person @nottherealslimshady @therealsatorugojo

[lucimaaie]

big deal ✧.* tlou

pairing - Ellie Williams x fem!reader, ellie williams x miller!reader

summary - you and ellie fight over your jealousness.

warning - short, not proofread bc what is that, lil angst to fluff, possibly occ ellie idk

jealousy was something ellie knew all to well. though she wasn’t exactly ready to deal with it in you. she didn’t entertain any other girl (not on purpose) and left you very mushy (to be kept private for that very reason, notes when she was gone with joel and tommy. and yet, you were jealous.

“i’m serious. i don’t see how she was flirting,” ellie walked along side you, ahead of joel and tommy who had been tuning in and out of the argument.

“really? she did the arm squeeze, el. i did that before we got together, remember?” you walked at a pace faster than anyone else, the embarrassment of having to explain your thought process making you want to run away just for a moment. yes, you were jealous of some girl you barely knew and yes you were having this conversation in front of your dad and uncle. it wasn’t something to be particularly proud of

“the arm squeeze?” ellie looked at you incredulously as she walked to keep up with you. “the arm squeeze.” she repeated.

“yes!” you stressed.

“the fuck is that?”

“it’s basic psychology, ellie. the arm squeeze means she likes you. did you not know that when i—“

“does it matter? i like you, not her.”

“i know that.”

“then i don’t get why this is such a big deal, i’m dating you!” though her words rang true something in them didn’t agree with you. maybe it was the just the heat getting to you and not envy. maybe, but it didn’t matter the reason because your feet took you elsewhere as soon as you got to an old abandoned outlet.

you walked around the open space, kicking rocks of debris around as you looked at the broken in and looted stores. some caught your interest and you ventured into them despite joel’s warning to not go too far. you hadn’t even noticed ellie creeping behind you as you flipped through old ripped magazines. “ellie!” you screamed, covering your mouth.

she looked equally as shocked as you as you waited for sounds of clickers, runners, or any monster in the shadows. when the coast was clear, ellie smiled sheepishly and leaned against the counter you sat on. “so..jealous.” she tapped the counter, looking up at you.

“i..don’t want to talk about it, el. you’re right. it doesn’t matter.” you flipped through the magazine as opposed to looking at her. the image of carefree teens looking back at you made you frown. ellie grabbed the paper from your hand and set it on the counter.

“you did an hour ago.” she said with seriousness this time.

“that was an hour ago. it’s not a big deal, like you said.”

ellie shut her eyes as you threw her words back at her. she knew deserved it to some capacity. “it’s not nothing. okay, maybe she was flirting, but i didn’t flirt back, i swear.”

“you don’t have to—“

“yes, i do because you’ll just keep talking about it until i get you to believe me.” she sat down next to you on the counter, her hand coming down over yours. her eyes flicked from your hands to your face.

“i believe you, el.”

“so, then why’re you still mad at me?”

“i’m not. not really. i mean, i was. it’s stupid. i don’t get jealous about anything but—“

“me?” she said, her eyes widening in surprise. you could tell the way she held back a smile, even if the mood was serious.

“no, cupcakes. yes you!”

“alright, alright. i’m just clarifying.” she held up her hands in peace. “you only get jealous about me? actually?”

“yeah. and it does not feel good being the jealous girlfriend. at all. i just started an argument with you over an arm squeeze.”

“you did.” she laughed lightly as she knocked her shoulder into yours.

“my theory is still valid.”

“bullshit. i smell bullshit.” she sung. “i get jealous when it comes to you too. i just..don’t say anything.”

“and i turn it into an argument.”

“both equally as shitty.”

“not a competition.”

“like hell it is.”

the light of flashlight flicked on and off and your direction. the sight made you and ellie squint your eyes before you recognized it was joel’s signal in a place like this. “c’mon. gotta get back before the oldies get grumpy.” ellie hopped off the counter and reached for your hand. you did the same and intertwined your fingers with hers.

“e?” you said as you two walked out of the store and into the empty space. she hummed. “if..when you get jealous. could you tell me?”

she looked at from the ground to you. she seemed to consider it for a moment before gnawing on her lip. “you’d get annoyed with me.”

“did i not just piss you off fighting with you?”

“eh.”

“i’m saying annoy me, piss me off back. i’m your girlfriend, i can handle that.” you shrugged as you spoke the words despite your feelings underneath the facade. the whole girlfriend thing was new to the both of you, who known each other for years at this point. you knew the most about each other than anyone else. neither one of you want to be the one to mess it up.

“i’ll hold you to that.” ellie said quietly. your words seemed to give her an unexpected confidence boost enough to pull you closer to her and press a gentle kiss onto your lips. her own were but a bit cracked but that didn't matter as her came to cup your face. she pulled back, eyes soft with affection and hint of anxiety for your reaction. this wasn't your first time kissing each other, she didn't know why she was desperate for- "mph!" she hummed against your lips as you kissed her again. this time still sweet, but not so gentle.

“are yall kissing?” tommy yelled.

you and ellie quickly dispersed, pretending to be enamored with the broken displays of the stores. it wasn't surprising that neither Tommy or Joel bought it. Joel simply waved you two over, glaring as you walked ahead of him, hand-in hand. the air of awkwardness barely lasted a minute before you and ellie burst out laughing, only to be shushed by a grumbling, mildly mortified Joel. "to be continued." Ellie mumbled into your ear.

thank you for reading!