#IF I COULD ONLY FIND THIS FUCKING MOSQUITO

[boydykewannabe]

my name is inigo montoya. youve bitten every single part of my body and woken me up. prepare to die

[callooopie]

NSWF MODERN CREGAN HEADCANNONS PLZZZZZ💋💋💋

Modern!Cregan Stark headcannons (pt. Smut)

Be like the love that discovered the sin — Be // Hozier

found time to finish this!! I had to take breaks and fan myself when writing this… but that’s what I do for all my writings oops I’m a silly lady who gets flustered too easily >~>

< currently unedited >

aw man guys… Cregan loves shower sex. ‘Cause to him? He’s strong enough to lift you up and press you against the shower wall, and very easy cleanup. At this angle with you held against the wall, Cregan can also watch as he drags his thick cock in and out of your hole. His hands? A firm grip on your ass, arms wrapped around the outside of your thighs as he holds you up. He’ll make you wash his hair in this position, wanting to see your hands shake or tremble as you reach up to lather his hair with shampoo. He was just outside all day, he doesn’t wanna be too dirty touching you.

Cabin is secluded enough to where you two could essentially do anything, inside and outside. Although in my professional opinion, summer mosquitos in Alaska? Hell on Earth. However, a bit of tent action now and then didn’t hurt (the bug bites sure did tho ouchh). It’s just nice being out there with you, a warm campfire going, your warm walls clenching around him as he pounds into you from behind. And you can be as loud as you want too.

I find it hard to think of specifics for Cregan here. Is lazy sex a term for it? You’re not fucking, and it could technically be classified as lovemaking. But really, you’re just talking about your day as you ride him while he sits in one of the chairs on the back porch. A beer in hand of course, his eyes never leaving yours as he listens intently. He has his other hand on your hip, not guiding you, only to hold. Being so comfortable with each other that you can have full on conversations even as you’re bouncing on his cock. There’s no rush to it and you’re both content with stopping, pausing, continuing. At the end of the day, Cregan just wants your skin against his in any way possible. It’s a peaceful feeling, having you and the sounds of nature. And then one or both of you will start to grow impatient, conversation running dry as you focus on chasing your impending orgasm.

Breakfast in bed, giving or receiving. Or both—Cregan would not mind you choking on his dick while he eats you out. But if he wants to wake you up something special like; he’ll be the one to get up first, make you an actual breakfast or just coffee. A refreshment for after. You’re still fast asleep, and the sun’s barely funneling through the early morning clouds. But Cregan will be awake, hovering over you, making sure not to let the blankets slip off of you as he inches himself lower and lower. A kiss pressed to your heart, and then your stomach, another kiss against your womb. And then finally a faint kiss pressed to your clit, followed by many more and a tongue that swirls around the sensitive bud. Tiny kitten licks to start out that are soon followed by long drags of his tongue up between the folds of your cunt. His arms are supposed to be gently wrapped around your thighs, however they lose their gentleness when Cregan starts to lose himself in the taste of your wetness.

If he’s on the receiving end though? Be prepared for his hand to latch onto your hair suddenly. Cregan’s a light sleeper. I feel like he’d have to be if he’s got a type of farm going, ready to respond to any threat or disaster at the drop of a hat—early morning or dead of night. So it doesn’t take long for him to be roused from sleep at the feeling of your tongue running up and down his length. He’s a little lost for a moment, only when he’s coming out of sleep. A tired and grumbled moan coming from him. But when he realizes what’s happening; his hand will grab your hair and force you down onto his cock, loving how your lips feel around him. He’s thick, he’s big, you can barely fit half of him into your mouth. More fun for him, watching you as you struggle and gag around him.

He’ll be more mean about receiving head. When you gag, he’ll make it his “secret” mission to thrust more into your throat. On accident he’ll say. Do not believe such falsities. His large hand will grab your hair, gripping onto your head almost as he shoves your head down. On accident! His hand slipped and got the better of him.

But what he does onto you, can be done onto him. He’s got such nice long hair, yank on it as he eats you out. It’s also nice how you keep his hair out of his way, nothing to interrupt or bother him as he tries to bury his tongue inside of you. Messy eater, so it’s even more important to keep his hair out of his food. He will spread your legs, actively pushing them apart or holding them in a way they can’t budge an inch. Even a twitch in your legs makes him wrap his arms around your thighs tighter.

Top. Even on bottom Cregan’s a top. He’s not a dominant top though. He’ll be nice. He’ll praise and compliment you as you ride him. He is bigger than you, he hopes you can handle him some more. You’re doing well as it is too, despite your complaints of your legs burning and your pace slowing; he’s very, very proud. He’ll get impatient maybe, a firm hand smacking your ass, his tone slightly more stern as he tells you “to get a move on” he’s gotta be up early, and you’re stalling just ‘cause your legs are tired? Fine, he’ll take over for a bit.

[after-witch]

The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you. 

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters. 

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess. 

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.” 

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal. 

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?” 

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room. 

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips. 

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse. 

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel. 

“Then show me.” 

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke. 

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts. 

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?” 

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.” 

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

--

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair. 

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning. 

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say. 

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.” 

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains. 

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles. 

“Don’t.” 

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again. 

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.” 

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.” 

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward. 

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up. 

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches  in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable. 

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!” 

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end. 

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them. 

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you. 

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

[canmom]

So a little over a month ago I was reached out to by @peterkats, a gay refugee currently living in a camp with a small group of other gay and trans refugees.

Peter has, to put it mildly, had a fucking time of it. In his home country, Uganda, his partner was murdered for being trans. He stayed for some time in Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya with a group of gay and trans people (pictured above), but violence from police forced them to move, and they're currently in a refugee camp run by the UNHCR. (I've been asked not to explicitly name the country but you can probably figure it out.)

Unfortunately this has not in any way been a reprieve. They've managed to flee right into an impending famine, and if that's not enough, they're still facing violence from police and other refugees, and general indifference from the UNHCR medical staff - who are also facing supply shortages. But it's not completely hopeless. When Peter contacted me, he needed money for food - I sent him some via an intermediary and he was able to get quite a bit (the exchange rate seems to be favourable). With help, things can be quite different.

We've stayed in touch since then, talking about our respective lives, the lgbtq situation in different countries, even videogames and music. He's a really sweet guy, despite it all still trying to find a place he can live free. For real, I would not survive any of this shit.

Recently a couple of people in Peter's group have caught malaria. They are currently sleeping on bare mats without mosquito nets. There seems to be some confusion about the exchange rates but as far as I have been able to gather, about €150 (~20,000ssp) gets a mattress and €10(~1000ssp) a malaria net. The UNHCR have not been able to provide any medication except paracetamol, and it's raining which promotes mosquito activity, so this is kind of an emergency.

I would very much prefer if the new friend I've made doesn't die of starvation or malaria. Unfortunately, I do not have the money to support Peter and his group alone. I've sent him money for one mattress (via PayPal for expediency, it won't show up on GFM), and I would be immensely grateful if you would be able to contribute a bit to getting them another (which would be just about enough to keep six people safe from mosquitoes if sleeping three to a mattress).

Beyond that, these guys are prohibited from working so they would definitely benefit from food money. And if anyone has an idea for a long term plan to get them somewhere safer where they're less likely to get bashed, I am sure Peter would appreciate hearing about it. We talked a bit about the UK asylum process but getting everyone here would be very difficult (passports, flights etc.).

But still like, I can only do so much on my own, and I want to give these guys a fighting chance. So if you could pass this around and donate if you can spare a bit? I'd be insanely grateful.

[wittlesissyb4by]

Alphabet Soup

She really could steep so low when she was angry. He wasn’t suggesting she was dumb. He was just saying he’s smarter than her. Logically, there’s gotta be one above the other in a relationship, doesn’t there??

Ryan always prided himself on his intelligence. Constantly correcting people’s grammar, inserting a fun fact, discussing philosophy at length, and the only reason people spaced out when he started relaying the Socratic method of question and answer was because they couldn’t possibly match his intellect. But, most importantly, he always had to let Wren know when she was wrong, he couldn’t have her going around embarrassing him with inaccuracies. Just the other day she said there’s “got to be a million mosquitos out tonight”, and obviously there couldn’t possibly be that much. As smart he was, he couldn’t understand why she would get so butthurt about him correcting her in front of all of their friends. 

“You treat me like I’m stupid, Ryan! All the fucking time. I’m a doctor for crying out loud! I may not know everything, but I’m not an idiot!” She was white hot, taking sharp breaths to keep her blood from overheating. “And you know what? Not that it matters or I would ever fucking care, but do you ever think maybe, just maybe, I could know a little bit more than you about certain subjects? Like, everyone has their strengths Ryan…”

She looked at him expectantly, glaring into his soul, could he just admit he was wrong about something for once? Ryan could have kept himself from smiling–if he was just a smidge less smug. “I’m sorry, but in the years we’ve been dating, I just haven’t found something you’re smarter than me at. And if you really believe in hypnosis, you may be dumber than I thought…”

Steam erupted from Wren’s ears.

“Jesus, you are the most arrogant asshole I have ever met!”

“What??” Ryan scoffed exaggeratedly, throwing up his hands as Wren stormed off, “I’m just saying that that hypno bullshit is a bunch of crap! I don’t care how many so called ‘studies’ you try to show me! There’s no way you could possibly think that works!!”

Wren stopped in her tracks, clenching her fists. She wanted to just go into the room, slam the door, and make him sleep on the fucking couch, but she just couldn’t let him win this one. She couldn’t let him even think he had her beat, even if it was just in his own fucked up head. 

Letting out a hefty sigh to maintain her composure, she pivoted on her heels. “How about this…” She said through gritted teeth, “you think you’re sooo smart? Well we’ll see. I’ll bet you that in one month, I can drop your IQ down to less than 20.”

Ryan had no choice but to absolutely guffaw at the proposition. “Are you kidding? Twenty?! Wren, my IQ is at least 140, no way you could actually lower it. Much less by that much! I mean, Twenty?! That’s like, the average IQ of a todd–”

“Do we have a deal or not?!” Wren interrupted with rolling eyes.

“Well you haven’t set the stakes, young lass.” He said with a swaggering smirk, “What do I get if I win?” Ryan replied, crossing his arms.

It was Wren’s turn to scoff. “Pshh, I really don’t care…cause you’re not going to win. Name your prize.”

“Blowjob.” Ryan said almost without a thought, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even gotten one. He had no idea why.

“Fine.” Wren said without even blinking.

“Every day.”

“Sweetie,” she said, softening her tone as she brushed a hand to his cheek, bringing her face so close that he could feel her breath on his lips, then let out a whisper, “If you can maintain an IQ above 50, I’ll give you three of them! Every day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Ryan laughed, unable to find this preposterous notion any more amusing. “You’re really that confident?”

“If you agree to my methods without putting up a fuss? Yes. I absolutely am. I bet I can make you so stupid in just a month that you won’t even remember the fucking alphabet by the time I’m done with you!””

Ryan grinned from ear to ear. This was going to be the easiest bet of his life. His balls would never be full. 

“You’re on.”

******

Ryan scoffed at the patronizing nature of it. Was she really going to make him use his left hand?

“You have to color while you listen to the tape.” Wren told him when she placed a crayon in his hand. She sat him down ‘criss-cross applesauce’ in front of a little table with a coloring book on it. Wren flipped it open to the first page, which had a big letter ‘A’ on it. 

“Now Ry-Ry, can you tell me what letter this is?” She asked in a sardonic tone. 

“It’s an A.” Ryan grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

“And can you tell me what ‘A’ stands for?”

“Apple, asparagus, aardvark, apostesism…”

“Very good, Ry-Ry!!” She clapped mockingly, pulling out a large set of headphones. “Now you just sit here and color your wittle pages while you listen to this lovely music! I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours…”

“Hours??” Ryan repeated incredulously. Was she really going to make him sit and do a fucking coloring book for that long? There were much better things he could be doing with his time. But he had to play her game. A bet was a bet, and he planned to prove her wrong. 

She tapped something on her phone and the music kicked on shortly after. Much to Ryan’s chagrin, it wasn’t even good mysic like Bach or Tchaikovsky or even Tame Impala, it was some nursery lullaby bullshit, but with a weird reverb effect added to it. He could also hear faint little voices in the background, but they were too drowned out by the other noises for him to discern what they were saying. He could only pick out certain words like ‘baybee’ and ‘diapers’ and ‘poo poo’s”, which made sense, because it was nursery rhymes. 

He found himself zoning out, but that was just from the sheer boredom of it all. He was better than this. He’d submitted dissertations on complex epigenetic interactions of the human genome, and now he was just coloring the letter A a hundred times over. 

How was she going to make hom forget the alphabet if she was ‘teaching’ them to him? Maybe she was just exaggerating, it’s literally impossible to forget something that’s been embedded in his brain since before school even started. 

After what felt like an eternity, she finally came over and tapped him on the shoulder, removing the headphones. His mind was a little hazy, but again, it was probably just from the lack of any complex thought for the first time in his life. She shooed him and allowed him to resume his more age-appropriate activities. 

*****

The next day went much like the first, except instead of ‘A’, he was doing the letter ‘B’. 

“Boredom, beneath, balderdash.” Ryan sighed, listing off words to convey how ridiculous this whole thing was. 

“And…” Wren said, placing something down on the table next to the Crayons. “ Bottle.”

Ryan chuckled heartily. It was an actual bottle. A baby bottle, with a little nipple and everything. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you give up?”

“No.” Ryan said quickly, “but i’m not drinking…whatever that is. Especially not out of that!”

Wren just shrugged. “You don’t have to, but it’s there if you get hungry.”

She put the headphones over his ears once more, clicked them on, and left the room. 

Ryan was already over this whole thing, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of quitting. He swirled the blue crayon through the loops of the big B’s while the music played. The little voices seemed to be louder this time, but it still wasn’t worth paying attention to. 

About halfway through his 4 hour session though, Ryan’s mouth felt a bit dry. Something at the back of his throat was pulsing. His cheeks felt empty.  For whatever reason, he needed to have something in there. 

At first he bit his nails. That was nice, for a little. But that soon turned to his finger tip, and eventually his whole thumb. 

After another hour of suckling his fingers, he looked to the bottle. He was hungry, and Wren refused to give him cheerios and goldfish like she did yesterday. 

He picked up the bottle, pressing the rubber nipple to his lips. Jesus that felt good! He gave a little suckle, then another, then gagged. The liquid wasn’t milk, it was…something else. It tasted awful. But he couldn’t stop drinking. The nipple felt too good in his mouth, it was worth putting up with the disgusting flavor. 

He finished every last drop. 

Wren had to practically pry the bottle from his hands when it was time to remove his headphones. Ryan couldn’t explain why he was so attached to it all of a sudden. Why was he getting so angry and flustered over such a silly thing?

Thankfully, Wren had an alternative ready, another ‘B’ word:

Binky. 

******

Ryan sucked on it the whole night. His cheeks ached in the morning, but luckily a fresh bottle helped to ease the pain. 

His brain felt fuzzy, but it was probably because he didn’t sleep that well. He was too busy worrying about the binky possibly falling out of his mouth while he slept. 

The lack of sleep was also why he couldn’t think of complicated ‘C’ words. He could only come up with ‘Car’, Cat, and whatever the word is for the thing you put water and juice in. 

Luckily, after his hypno session, Wren had the perfect thing to help him sleep better: a Crib. 

******

Something happened that night. Maybe his bottle leaked, or maybe it was the ceiling. But when he rolled over from his cramped position in the undersized crib, the sheets were warm and wet. 

Wren assured him that this happens all the time but, just in case, she had something for him to wear. 

Ryan threw an absolute fit when he saw what it was. She was holding up a big giant diaper. 

He tried to tell her off, but his mind was too foggy to form a coherent argument. He really wasn’t sleeping well. 

Still, he tried to fight her when she took his hands and laid him down, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate. It felt like he was moving through molasses. 

She had him on his back. He stared at the clouds on the ceiling. Were those always there? Or was that just his vision? No, they had to be new. His whole room was starting to look different. Another large cloud floated into view. But it wasn’t a cloud, it was a diaper. 

His mind was back. She wanted him to wear a diaper. Absolutely not! This was perposter— prepos—perslweterous. 

“D’awww!! Don’t be scared!!” Wren cooed, it sounded like angels singing. “It’s just a wittle diapurr!! You’ll get used to them!”

Ryan felt something screaming inside him. Something deep down. But then Wren said “look! It has the ABC’s printed on it!” And that made him feel better. He recognized those letters, even though he couldn’t think of much else. 

But the padding felt weird when she slid it underneath him. Not bad. Just…weird. Different. Like something wasn’t right. 

He started squirming on the floor, flailing as much as he could, but even in his foggy vision he could see that his arms were only making minor twitches. 

So he did the only thing he knew he could do: he started crying. C-c-Crying. That starts with a C! He knew that for sure. He was so smart. 

He felt the tears slide down his face, one after another. He could hear his wails, could hear how ridiculous it sounded, but he didn’t want to stop. That is, until something rubbery entered his mouth. Then he immediately stopped crying, and felt instantly better. 

He suckled the binky while Wren made a cloud of powder between his legs. He watched as she pulled the diaper up and taped it on. It was hard for him to explain—especially now—but he felt this amazing sense of comfort once it was on. He really liked it. Which may be why something warm and sticky formed inside the diaper almost immediately. 

He spent the rest of the day coloring in ‘D’s’ while wearing his diaper. 

A few times he had to get up to use the restroom, but Wren insisted the headphones needed to stay on, even if his diaper was down. A very agitating song played the entire time he was on the toilet, and the words that the voices used were not very nice. It made him feel bad, very bad, almost guilty for doing something so silly as using the potty. 

Ryan didn’t get a bottle that night, just some chicken nuggets that Wren had taken the liberty of cutting into tiny pieces for him. 

When he was done, she took him by the hand to his new room. He didn’t know why, he didn’t need her help, but without her he probably would have gotten lost. Not because he was dumb, but because he just wasn’t used to sleeping in the guest room. 

Wren stopped in front of his new crib, making a show of checking his diaper. Another absurd display, just because he was playing her little game and wearing this stupid garment didn’t mean he would actually use it. So when she was finally satisfied that every square centimeter was not wet or ‘messy’, he climbed into the crib. 

When he laid back on the plastic mattress, he noticed there was a new mobile hanging above him. It had little geometric shapes and symbols that he didn’t feel like naming right now because he was tired, he could definitely do it if he wanted to though!

She placed his binky in his mouth and he gratefully accepted it, he was terrified of having to spend the night without something in his mouth.

Wren clicked a little button and the dangling shapes on the mobile started to spin. It was mesmerizing, even more so because it played a happy little tune from the speakers. The very same tune that played through his headphones earlier that day.

 ******

Ryan’s diaper was plump and swollen the next morning. His mind wasn’t as fuzzy, so he must have finally gotten a good night's sleep. 

Wait, his brain said, finally catching on to what was happening. He was in a diaper, and he’d wet it. Several times by the feel of it. 

Wren was smiling when she came through the door, even though Ryan was spewing vitriol. The words were coming easier to him again, but so was the gravity of his situation. Had she really been making him wear diapers and drink from bottles??

Wren continued to smile like a mother letting her little one get his tantrum out. Ryan hung over the bars of the crib, he was too scared to climb out himself, but he wasn’t scared to call Wren all sorts of names. 

After almost a minute of Ryan’s blabbering, Wren had had enough. She clicked a button on her phone which made the little mobile over Ryan’s bed start whirring again. Playing that tune that Ryan was really starting to grow attached to. 

Suddenly, Ryan didn’t even feel like calling Wren a bitch any more. He wasn’t even sure what that meant. Instead, he let out a hefty sigh, and brought his thumb to his mouth. He couldn’t find his pacifier. 

“How’s your diaper, little one? Did somewon have an uh oh’s last night?”

Even though Ryan was calm, he still felt this combative stirring rising from his chest. Something was wrong. He knew he wasn’t supposed to wear diapers. He knew he was too old for them. And he definitely knew he wasn’t supposed to pee in them. He shook his head ‘no’ in an exaggerated fashion. 

“No? You didn’t have an accident?” Wren tisked, squeezing the saturated padding, “what is this then?”

Ryan could feel shame welling up inside him. He was a grown man and he’d pissed inside a pair of pampers. He couldn’t even remember doing it. It was all while he was asleep, while those stupid songs were playing. He would do better. This would never happen again. She might have had an upper hand on him, getting him to agree to the diapers and cutesy shit, but he was not about to—wait. Was that a bottle??

He made grabby hands at the little container of off-white liquid, practically spilling some when he snatched it away from her. 

She let the bars of the crib down, allowing him to clamber out, rubber nipple not leaving his mouth. He would have walked, but he felt it was easier to scooch around on his knees.

About halfway through the liquid, Ryan felt something stirring in his tummy. 

“What is it, dear?” Wren asked sweetly, placing her hands on her knees while she smiled down at him. 

“I have to go potty.” Ryan said, unsure why he said it like that. 

“Oh?” Wren asked, looking overly surprised, “is it #1 or #2?”

Ryan couldn’t understand why she was talking about numbers right now. Wren giggled at what must have been a perplexed look. 

“Do you have to go pee pee or poo poo?” She clarified. 

“Poo poo.” Ryan said, feeling his face flush. Something told him this was a weird conversation with a little too much information, but he brushed that away. 

“D’aww! You need to make poopies?!” Wren exclaimed exaggeratedly, “well you don’t wanna have to go all the way to the bathroom do you? It’s a pretty long way…”

She was right. It was a long way, and his legs did feel tired…

“Hmmm…mayybee…” she said, deep in thought, tapping her chin, “maybe you could just use your diaper?”

The very thought was revolting. She wanted him to make a stinky poo’s all over himself? “Na uh! No way!” 

She dangled the binky in front of his face, “I'll give you a little present if you make a present for Mommy!”

Ryan immediately agreed, and he got to suck on his binky the entire time he was crouching down, pushing a warm load of mush into his pampers. 

Wren was so proud of him. She clapped and cheered and giggled uncontrollably, even while she pinched her nose and teased him about the smell. 

But with the warmth came a deep sense of displeasure. Disgust. A part of Ryan’s brain was ridiculing him for what he just did. The words were coming back to him now. 

“You’re doing something to me!” Ryan shouted. He knew it was wrong. Something was happening to him, he couldn’t figure out what, but he knew that the normal him wouldn’t like it! “Stop all this right now! Whatever it is you’re doing isn’t fair! You’ve got me shitting myself! I’m not doing this anymore! I’m not gonna—“

“Shhh…” Wren smiled, placing a hand to his droopy diaper. “Don’t be sad!” She whispered softly. Her voice was like honey, l angelic, the greatest sound in the whole world. “I’m your Mommy, remember? I’m right here.”

Ryan could feel his anger and shame evaporating from his body. 

“Do you want me to stop all of this?” She asked, rubbing her palm against the bulge of his diaper. “Do you want me to take your binky away?”

Ryan’s eyes immediately went wide. Why would she even say such a thing? Why would she need to take his binky??

“Nooo you don’t want that do you?”

Ryan heard himself whimpering, felt his head shaking. 

“And what about your diapers? Do you not like your diapers?”

No. He didn’t like them at all. They were sweaty and itchy, but they were also sooo soft…

“Do you think you should stop wearing them?”

His head moved up and down. 

“But what if you have another accident? What if you wet the bed again? That would be really embarrassing, wouldn’t it?”

It would. She was right. It would be embarrassing. 

“But if you wear a diaper you don’t have to worry about that do you? All your messes go in there! You don’t even have to walk all the way to the potty! You can use them any time, anywhere!”

She was making such good points. She always made good points. She really was so smart. 

Still, some weird logical part of his brain was firing again. 

“But I’m a big boy!” Ryan whined around his binky. 

“Oh?” Wren asked, shaken. “Do…big boys have accidents?”

Another great point. 

“And big boys surely wouldn’t use diapers, even on purpose!” Wren said, turning into a very scary tone. “But what did you just do, Ry-Ry?”

Ryan’s face flushed. “I pooped them.”

“You did what?”

“I made poo-poo’s…” he could feel the tears welling up again. He wasn’t even sure why. All of this was so confusing. 

“Awww! Don’t be sad!” Wren cooed, switching to that heavenly tone once more, “good baybees use their diapurrs all the time! Like you just did!!”

Ryan smiled, a flood of warmth seeped through his chest, and maybe also into his diaper as well. 

“And baybees that are good get to make a different type of mess, too!”

Ryan wasn’t sure what that meant, but Wren started rubbing the front of his diaper, squeezing it, massaging it, and that felt really good. 

“Tell me you’re a good baybee!” She said, rubbing faster. 

“I’m a good baybee!” Ryan squeaked. 

“Tell me what you did in your diaper.”

“I made pee pee’s and poo poo’s”

“Do you like making messies in your diapurrs?”

“Yes”

“Yes Mommy.” She corrected.

“Yes Mommy!”

“Which do you like to use better? The pampers? Or the potty?”

“The potty.”

She stopped rubbing. 

Panic coursed through Ryan’s veins. He was so close!

“Pampers!!” He corrected, “I prefer peeing and pooping pampers!!”

The rubbing started again. 

“Every time you poop your pampers, Mommy will give you a reward!” She said. 

Ryan nodded, moaning and groaning while Wren rubbed his defiled diaper. It felt so wrong, so disgusting, but he couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t tell her no, because it also felt so good!

It felt even better when he started spasming, and another warm load leaked into the padding. 

Wren patted his padded butt. “Such a good baybee!”

Even with her kind words, a huge rush of shame hit Ryan in the face. His horniness was gone, the haze was lifting, his complex thoughts were coming back, and so was his attention to this disgusting diaper! 

“Wren what the fuck are you doing to—“

But he couldn’t hear himself say the rest, because the headphones were back on his ears, and that lovely tune was playing again. His mind melted away, but before it did he could see her place the book in front of him again, a giant letter ‘E’ emblazoned across the page. 

“You just stay right here and finish your coloring” Wren said, even though he probably couldn’t hear her. He was laying down flat on his tummy, swishing back and forth in his pissy, poopy pamper, smiling and humming the little tune to himself.  “I’ll be back in a few hours to change your diaper.” She continued, patting him on the bottom, “Then we’re going to learn a new ‘E’ word: Enema!”

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

21 Letters to go! What else could be in store for little Ry-Ry? This is one of my favorite stories I've ever done, so if you would like to read the rest, head on over to SubStar! It's available for all tiers! Credit goes to @dj-kinkster for his help and ideas on making this story a reality!

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Can I request Ghost being a little spoon despite his s/o being much shorter and smaller than him please?

Little Spoon {Simon "Ghost" Riley}

A/n: thank you so much for requesting, I hope you like this

Pairing: Simon Riley x reader

Trigger Warnings: mentions of Simon's trauma,

If he could help it, the situation he was in right now didn't happen often. It wasn't that he didn't like it but if he were to be honest with himself, Simon was still trying to come to terms with his needs and desires in general. He had raised himself to be this rock of a person with close to zero if not zero feelings and now that you were together he was finding it hard to accept that this was all he was becase the feelings he had for you were not even close to zero.

But fuck it, you could make his mind shut and his thoughts stop and damn him if he didn't find you adorable with how you looked at his hair, playing with it while he laid his head on your chest. He found it hillarious. The height difference, the size difference, everything to be precise.

"You should throw away all of your hair products Si." You said in the softest voice. You hadn't done it on purpose, it had naturally came out that way and Simon could feel his heart melting. "It's not like you have much."

"It gets the job done," he referred to the shampoo, the only hair product he used.

"Your hair is... rough so I don't think it does." He would have responded but the way your toes wiggled against his knees sent butterflies to his stomach.

"Do whatever you want, as long as I have clean hair." He murmured and shifted so his face was burried in your chest. He loved it. He loved every second of it. He loved how he felt safe in your arms and how nice it was to feel safe and protected even though realistically speaking the only thing your small frame could protect him from was the mosquitos.

And maybe it was the warmth of the blanket, or the peace and quiet of your bedroom or your heartbeat that had him close his eyes. He didn't even stop himself to think about how it was only four in the afternoon and that if he slept now, he would most probably have a tough time sleeping at night. No, Simon couldn't give a fuck, he only snuggled closer against you, practically mimicking the way you snuggled up against him whenever he was the big spoon, and allowed himself to fall asleep.

[saeist]

ITOSHI BROS FIND OUT THWIR SIS DATING A TEAM MEMBER THEY SPECIFICALLY HATE.

HER DATING ISAGI OR SHIDOU (IK SAE DOESNT REALLY HATE SHIDOU BUT STILL)

It's worse cause isagi or shidou won't even get scared of the brothers. They would just be cocky about it oml.

and the member they specifically hate is no other than the man, the myth, the demon himself, shidou ryusei!! ++ part two of this basically

you are actually genuinely surprised that your secret boyfriend, shidou has not outed himself that he was dating you, a literal itoshi, in secret

that is until one day that you decided to sneak shidou inside the house not knowing sae was home

“ryu! stop” you gasp playfully after you felt his hand grope your ass while you two were quietly tip toeing upstairs to your room

“you know you want it, angel” shidou coos, snickering to himself after watching your reaction.

when you both reach your bedroom, shidou did not waste a single second and crashed his lips with yours. wrapping arms around your torso, pulling you closer and closer. his hands were roaming around your body like an animal.

he guides you to your bed, he carefully lays you down and straddles you. shidou removes his shirt and throws it somewhere in your room.

shidou pulls away and looks at you like you were some prey. you whined, pulling his head close. shidou hovers over your neck, blowing on your sweet spot before sucking on it.

you let out a small mewl, clamping your legs together but shidou places his knee in between. shidou grunts, crashing his lips against yours once again til you hear the garage doors open and close

“fuck!” you and shidou curse. he jumps off of you as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand. you sit up and try to fix yourself from you and shidou’s little activity. shidou paces around your room trying to eavesdrop outside in case one of your brothers barge in your room (he’s praying they don’t)

“fuck, ryu! where are you gonna hide?!” you hushed, scared one of your brothers would hear you. shidou shrugs and sits on the foot of your bed,

“they won’t find me. i’ll just jump out your window if they come in” shidou wiggles his eyebrows, as if he was teasing you. you slap him before coming up with a plan to scout your house and try to keep your brothers away from your room as much as possible

“whatever, ryu. i’m gonna go come down to look who just came home. could be my parents”

“okay, angel. whatever you wanna do” shidou waves you off as he finds something else to entertain himself. you huff, kicking his butt playfully before going downstairs.

you waltz inside the kitchen to see rin who looked like he just got back from his gym sessions.

"what is that?" rin asks, pointing at a strange looking bruise that was on your neck.

you reached over to touch the spot rin was pointing at and immediately you had flashbacks on certain events that occurred the moments before.

"a mosquito bite" you lie, swatting his hand away as you scurry over to the fridge to get something to eat

rin raises a brow at your weird answer, "why is it on your neck?"

you turn around to look at him and shrugged. "how should i know? i'm not a mosquito"

you backed up from the kitchen only to bump into sae who looked like he just woke up from his daily afternoon nap. he hisses and basically snaps at you to watch where you were going before his eyes spot the same "mosquito bite" you lied about

"what the fuck is that a hickey?!" sae's eyes looked like they were about to pop out from his eye sockets. he grabs both of your shoulders to have a proper look on your neck

rin immediately runs in, also to inspect the weird looking bruise he saw earlier

"I KNEW IT! IT WAS A HICKEY" rin accuses, pointing yet another finger in front of your face.

"should i go find this mosquito and beat the shit out of him?" sae blurts out, stretching his limbs

"how do you even know what a hickey looks like?!" you exclaimed, trying to run away but of course rin comes in and blocks your way

and of course during your commotion, shidou must’ve accidentally knocked something down inside your room. you closed your eyes and face palmed that shidou just blew his cover. both brothers pause before looking at the direction of your room. both rin and sae make eye contact before bolting up the stairs to try and catch shidou who was inside your room

you let out a shriek as you tried to chase down your two athletic brothers up the stairs.

sae was the first one to get to your door. without hesitation, he yanks your door open (almost breaking it) and barges in. eyes scanning the room for a potential intruder aka your boyfriend that they now know off.

the window was open and all of you heard a loud thud outside and some bushes rustling. rin peeps his head out the window to see shidou running for his life, his shirt on hand

“I’LL SEE YOU ANOTHER TIME WHEN YOUR BROTHERS AREN’T HOME, BABE!” you hear shidou yell from the distance.

you may never not be able to leave your house without one of your brothers OR you will never be left home alone ever again after this

[vampiretendencies]

a visceral feeling, that i can never leave behind

summary; jj crossed his heart, hoped to die that he wouldn’t get in another dust up; now he’s suffering.

authors notes; getting back into the groove of writing full length fics, still doing blurbs. but if you have a request either way, requests are open.

pairing; jj maybank x pogue!fem!reader (reader is almost always a pogue, unless i specify other wise)

warnings; angst to fluff, maybe suggestive if you take it that way

It was unusual to not hear from JJ.

Whether it be sullen facetime calls, hundreds of affectionate text messages, or not being able to pry your hands off of one another in person.

It was just unusual.

Which is why you are silently cursing yourself, sat parked outside the Chateau. The Twinkie was gone, but that in more ways than one didn’t mean JJ wasn’t in his bedroom.

Maybe John B took it out on an errand.

Maybe John B, Pope, and Kie went out on the marsh.

The possibilities were endless— but JJ never was the type to miss out on a Pogue expedition. Nor was he the type to not tell you about it; hell he’d update you if he was doing a task, as simple as smoking a blunt.

Glancing down at the blue and grey text chain, a photo of JJ kissing the bone of your jaw ever so slightly adorned the top, a helpless dimple poking through— but, you couldn’t understand why most of it was blue. Why were they so many texts from only you?

J <3

JB did a lil fire tonight

Got mosquito bites in places I shouldn't have mosquito bites

Need you to help me scratch them :(

I'm being serious

Goodnight baby, wish I was sleeping with you

Those were the last few texts you'd received from JJ, after you'd worked a late shift at the wreck and he'd known you fell asleep. JJ also knew today was your late shift, typically he'd be at the front door of your home; parents ready to boot him out from how much he continuously rambled on about you. You even tried calling Kie, Pope, and John B numerous times with no response.

Yeah, something was definitely fucking wrong.

With a slam of your car door the leaves from the tree above crunch beneath your feet, adjusting your cropped tee so it didn't fall too low. Rays of the sun beaming thoroughly on the skin of your legs and the exposure of your back, making your way towards the screen door of the Chateau. Screen pulled back and worn out, the wood chipped and chewed but this wouldn't be the Chateau if it wasn't. Past the porch you step foot inside, pushing aside beer cans with your shoe clad foot; empty cereal boxes, stale three-day old pizza, open sodas. Anything that you could imagine that was on the hard wood floor, it was.

But what you couldn't find was answers.

"JJ!"

You called, knowing full well there wouldn't be a response as he isn't visibly here. But it's JJ, he could be fucking around.

"Baby!"

You tried the pet name in hopes that it would work, but as you enter his room and see an unmade bed with miscellaneous clothes thrown on it your thoughts grew thin. You huffed limp body falling back onto the solid twin matress.

Instantly flying upward upon hearing familiar voices and footsteps, one familiar voice in particular.

Questions seeming to be answered all at once.

Seeming.

"Did you see that headlock John B had him in?"

"Easy access! Took one hit and I swear I heard his jaw crack!"

It was, in fact JJ.

Doing that thing that he does after the Pogues think they've accomplished something big, yet they always fail to see the bigger picture.

Heat of the moment or adrenaline, you assumed.

"His face was so fucked up!"

"He's had it coming for a long time."

You confirmed it was John B's voice with Kies toward the end. Now the issue was, who the hell did they have to get into a fight with this time?

Though you may not know, you'd make certain to find out.

Creeping around the corner, you make your presence known at the entrance of the living room where they all stood. Appearing as if they's seen a ghost.

Not only did they not have the decency to include you or fill you in, but JJ's fist is coated in blood. Disheveled and mulled, like they'd been ran over by the same bus various times. Kie's curls fanned outwardly, John B with a busted lip, Pope with a black eye, and JJ with a welp against his cheek bone; a gushing cut seeping through.

Your voice grows horse, mouth running dry; fathomed by your supposed friends in front of you.

What were you? A sick joke?

"Look ... we can explain, JJ told us not to tell you and we-"

Kie offered, guilt eating away at her portraying a bad habit.

"Just don't."

"Shouldn't someone like ... be mediator this time, she might actually kill him."

Pope chimes in and it makes your stomach churn because he was partially true.

You brush past them, aiming for your car and of course JJ's steps behind you. Echoing your every move, fingertips knotting around your wrist in an effort for you to turn around and face him. Unexpectedly, your back met with the warm glass window of your car. His fists at the hood, arms hovering near the sides of your head. Tresses combed backward from his digits, out of fear that this situation right here would happen.

There were certain confrontations JJ appreciated and certain one's he didn't.

He had no problem with pummeling someone unrecognizable for the sake of his friends, which spells out the entirety of this.

The confrontations he hated though was this one, the one where he can't even look you in the eye. He invariably lost his tongue in a fight with you, his past making him think that every fight could result in you abandoning him and never coming back. For the long run.

"You should go get that looked at," you spat, biting back so harshly. Peering at a slash that would take weeks to scab over.

"Just stay okay? This doesn't have to be a fight."

His speech is low and he's looking everywhere but at you until you shoved him- hands connecting with his chest in an effort to get his attention and for him to stop caging you in.

Exasperated that he couldn't just tell you, that he couldn't just talk to you about it.

Animosity that he would dare get his precious face damaged in such as way.

Irate and bitter that his somehow get himself in this overwhelming imperilment.

A menace before you.

"It does JJ! We're lying to each other now? This is what we do?!"

It was a show, a show that people would stream on television for their on laughter and enjoyment.

But this was the sheerness of a susceptible couple, glass nearly empty.

Time bellowing out.

"I had to baby!"

Not to be dramatic but JJ's heart had been stitched together once, when you entered his life.

And that's why he tried his utmost to prevent any interference in this relationship.

Because now he swears, he can physically feel a stitch rip open with every remark you make.

"We tell each other everything JJ!"

"And I didn't tell you 'cause, I knew this is how you'd react!"

He stands still with a clenched jaw; tight enough for teeth to grind, hand gesturing at your current 'pissed off' stance—notrils flaring and mouth agape.

And he thinks this actual smoke fuming out of your ears.

Silence fell over the two of you, stood so desperately apart in the misty front yard of the Chateau.

"It was Rafe," He rasped through monotone. "We had to take this round while we could-"

"So fucking stupid, you know he's coming back for ya'll!" You still speak sharply, infuriated past envy. "M'the one treated like shit, just for you to get one up on Rafe Cameron ... of all people JJ!"

"I know, baby! I know-"

He reached for your arms, in ordinace to hold them close, but he failed whilst you inched to the car door.

What's upsetting is, after the fight and pirior to it- JJ craved to breathe in your oxygen and get lost inside your lungs.

"I dont care if it's a decision I won't like, it's still something I deserve to know," and now your voice is just growing weary. "You do such dumb shit and m'expected not to say anything."

All JJ could do was ache.

Ache with regret.

And ache with longing at the feeling of you not wanting to be near him.

He hadn't even gotten a kiss today, for Christ's sake.

"You said you wanted all of me JJ, I gave you that. Why aren't you doing the same..."

Your figure folds, stepping low into the car, JJ running forward bloody fist pounding on the glass window. Praying to God, that you'd give in just this once and hear him out.

"I am! I fuck up one time and you're there to make sure I don't hear the end of it!'

He's finding his voice, a minute two late as his takes note of gear switching and the vehicle moving backward to leave.

"Get out! Don't go ... please don't baby!"

“Baby!”

He trails behind the moving car, as if running would make a difference.

But you wouldn't be there this time.

The last altercation he got into, you were on the other end to clean his bruises and linger kisses onto his cuts; yet, there was also an agreeance that he wouldn't be caught up in another scrutinizing fight.

You validated yourself in thinking you had the right to your reaction.

And JJ validated himself in thinking he was right in not telling you, your words engraving in his brain like clockwork; agatizing that he saw reason.

Nearly a chore for him to listen— heardheaded beyond belief.

Ravaging in the come down.

Always finding the beat, now they can't find the rush.

All filaments of emotion turned to dust.

“You can stop shitting your pants now, she’s already seen us.”

John B’s banter is not one that makes JJ’s tongue stop clicking, nor does it make his leg stop bouncing up and down out of horrid anxiousness.

He’s forced John b to take him to your home, only to be dismissed in your family saying you weren’t around.

You were, you just couldn’t stand to see JJ.

Fed up with his antics and his constant need to put himself in a position of hazardous instability.

Allowing him to resort to plan ‘work invasion’— the one place he knew you couldn’t escape him.

Despite how he typically acts, JJ has precise memory when it comes to you. He still has the little crumpled piece of paper you gave him in first grade— folded neatly inside his wallet, being besotted with you for that long.

‘I like your hiar — signed Y/N’

He picked fun at the way you spelled hair, though he took pride in his hair since then. And no matter how much he misplaced things, he endlessly found his was back to that note.

Resembling you, evermore.

With that being said, remembering your work schedule was something of ease to him.

You did glance at them stepping foot into the eating establishment, sat at a table on the far side— also know as your serving section.

Ultimately, you didn’t want to argue any longer with JJ; you didn’t want to argue to begin with. You bargained with him to learn— to learn that he can’t always have his way.

Especially when he’s teasing you so, showing up during your shift, and wearing that stupid fucking navy blue button up shirt besides the fact that it was, unbuttoned. Chest on display, muscular and built.

You felt the dagger of his eyes on your back whilst you served the table that was ahead of them, still feet away. Unable to concentrate on the order, eaves dropping on their conversation.

“Ma’am, are you listening?”

“Sorry … sorry what was that?”

Your saccharine voice apologizing to the woman and her small child, JJ chews the inside of his mouth. He despised going longer than a millisecond without hearing that sweet, sweet sound, laced with the inticement of veneration.

Accidentally fumbling the pen and note pad in your hand, rubbing your sweating palms onto your greasy black half-apron.

“Just two milkshakes.”

The woman was quick to repeat, voice more stern at you for not getting it right the first time.

But JJ was going to win you over, wether that be clogging every toilet in the stalls to announce to everyone that there was a plumping problem— isolating only you and him.

Though, he had something else in mind. Maybe not we’ll thought out to most, but it was the quickest and most efficient way he new of to win you back over on his side.

You slide your feet against the tiled floor, anticipating serving the group of Pogues. Instead you plaster on as fake as smile, and interrupt their witty banter by clearing your throat.

“What can I get ya’ll today? Our special today is a main dish of lying with backstabbing on the side.”

You were being bitter and you knew it, purposefully standing on the side of the table that JJ wasn’t on. But still the dining chair screeched on the floor, in an effort to move closer.

“Look we actually love you a lot more than JJ, if we’re being honest,” Pope conquered, and Kie and John B shook their heads in eagerness, willing to mask the tension in the air. “He convinced us to leave you out of it and we didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“You don’t have to justify anything JJ did Pope, he chose to break our promise and that’s on him.”

You sneered, eyes rolling harshly at the blonde that’s twirling his thumbs— peering up at you with a deathly smirk on his features.

“That was a one time thing, Rafe deserved it baby, you know he did.”

“Baby, you know he did.”

John B mocked JJ, warning a kick from JJ’s combat boot beneath the table with a scoff.

“Did you guys hear something … like this irritating buzzing sound of some bastard talking?”

That earned a hissing sound from John B, the actual remnants of what JJ felt from that comment.

“Are y’all ordering or what? I have other tables to serve.”

You conquer, JJ’s at the edge of seat, tapping his foot. His sense being filled with that of burgers, shrimp and grits, anything he could utter but he didn’t have an appetite.

No, not when the only thing he had a hankering for was currently in front of him.

Back straightened and stood tall, typically a stance he’d drool over but he can’t get past the weeping sensation— dire need to never be at odds.

To simply just be.

For you to be his, and him be yours.

All over again.

“I was hoping you were on the menu.”

Courage emphasizing his words, eyeing you up and down— nearly eyefucking. Seeing now as his opportunity to go in for the kill.

“Okay, you know what-“

You’re spinning on your heels, in a notion to walk away— refusing service.

Until.

“JJ! Get down, my parents are never gonna’ let us back in here!”

But, he didn’t give a fuck.

A sickly pit in your stomach causes you to turn around, to be met with a JJ stood bright eyed— a disfigured expression and sunken shoulders hanging low.

Standing atop the table, head closer to the ceiling than it ever was before. Loud and proud, whilst his hands clapped, cupping together for a infamous effect.

Your face burns with prim red scrutiny, horror covering your face— just powerful moments ago.

Insides scrambling to nothing, a stupid toothy grin plastered across his features.

Wreckless, per usual, consequences of no variation to him.

He’s irrevocably standing on top of a restaurant table with only lovingly sullen eyes.

“This woman right here,” He gestures his arms toward you, all bodies turning toward you— wanting to cower in shame but oddly enough you were enticed and lead by infatuation.

Pope and John B, just let JJ do his thing— either way he was going to do what he pleased.

Crowds of familiar faces, family, a friends— some with mouths wide open in awe, some making snarky remarks, and some wishing like hell that it was them.

“She’s gonna’ have my babies,” He started a small chuckle escaping his lungs. Announcing to the entirety of the restaurant, giving them entertainment; despite the promise he broke to not get himself hurt again.

This though. This was promising, and convincing and everything in between.

Salvaged with being allergic to the waiting.

Waiting for you to come around.

You’re in the room, you earn his gaze.

You open your mouth, he’s hypnotized.

Starstruck.

“And m’gonna have those lips on mine for however long she lets me … forever I hope.”

He beamed, Kie’s father’s disgruntled face entering the room, waving at JJ to get down.

A sinister grin still on his features.

“And ya’ll will pass by us in disgust, that you can’t be us. That you can’t have our love.”

You’d hoped someone was behind you because you were about to collapse.

“This enough of an apology for you, pretty girl?”

He echoes, bits of his accent flowing through the sentence.

You managed to fight the smile on your features.

Let’s just say JJ proclaiming his love infront of nearly thirty people didn’t come close to his usual public displays of affection.

“Get your ass down!” Kie’s father, Mike, stammered, and JJ willingly jumped down from the table, being that he wasn’t finished.

And he knows by the smile lines next to your mouth— that this argument is officially past tense.

And he knows that tonight he’s going to relish in all the delicacies that you have to offer him.

“I mean it was alright,” you joke, picking fun to pass your inkling of embarrassment.

Knowing that it topped any apology you’ve received.

JJ glides over to you, hands wholeheartedly cupping your face, thumbs nestling you chin. Like the two of you were on a stage and this was a live performance.

You hold his heart in your hands internally, JJ is merely thankful to be alive during this lifetime with you.

Appreciating your existence and the relationship the two of you founded, together.

He places a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips, pecking them repeatedly. Delving them together, molding with perfection and engulfing yours with his.

Exhilarated to have the opportunity to graze mouths with yours.

“Don’t ever make me chase you again.”

But, he knows he’d do it all over.

Standing hand in hand, with lovelorn souls.

Knowing that he’d redo it without hesitation.

[p4r4syte]

its boiling hot rn so heres some lost boy hcs. what i think theyd do/be like in summer (mildly suggestive?)

pls add comments, ill add to it :3

David :

•avoids everyone. i know vampires are cold blooded but no doubt these mfs get agitated during summer. David the worst. he’d be sat there, coat discarded with a pissed off expression. still smoking. god forbid he doesnt smoke

•will even get pissed off with Feeding Time™️ because the bloods warm so he’d just disappear for days on end. hiding away. basically hibernating

•Is Extremely Snappy. he will go for anyones throat, doesnt even matter if youre together (god forbid mates), he’ll be avoiding you just in case but will Bark at the boys given any chance

•”he wouldnt hurt a fly” HE WOULD!!!!!! Fuck That Fly Do Not Invade My Personal Space

•will only calm down once hes cooler, he would genuinely have to piss off to the sea (or i imagine the cave has a watered in area) ((only dwayne knows about it but he let david in on it)) or hes sulking in a damp, desolate part of the cave. just waiting for the summer to end

•only one of the boys that can speak to david during this time is dwayne because of how hes empathetic towards his Boys. Marko And Paul Will Be DropKicked On Sight.

•sleeps upside down, near the darkest most secluded park of the cave. there isnt any air, theres no breeze. he doesnt care, he just wants to, fester. Leave Him To Fester

Marko :

•becomes more feral than he ordinarily is

•he Will be dangling from the ceiling, trying to catch any breeze that rolls in

•he will also be chilling with the pigeons, they find the coolest places in the cave to rest so Why Not?

•the summer heat will also be giving him unneeded energy. he WILL be playfighting with paul and then laying there overheating and gets pissed off once paul tried to interact with him again. Cant You See Im Warm? Jesus.

•will find endless cool drinks on the boardwalk once it cools down during night. itll give him no sustenance and he’ll be pissed off that he has a headache tomorrow but. Mmm Slushie :3

•still eats hot food and will complain about how hes warmer now than before he ate the food. yes he knew beforehand. no he wont stop. let him complain

•him and paul sit shirtless in the centre part of the cave, eating ice creams and then getting pissed off once theyve eaten them all (or theyve melted)

•calmer than david, less irritated than dwayne, less energetic than paul

•sleeps in a random, small part of the cave because the air rushes straight through (he followed the pigeons)(he learns many things from them, this is one of the many great things he found out)

Paul :

•please calm down. its Hot. Get The Memo

•continues his antics, just with, less clothes.

•the ONLY motherfucker thats actively trying to interact with everyone else

•he doesnt get it, god bless. not a single thought in that head x

•is also smoking. sat on that fountain (the cold marble against his back), trying to yell to the others (they ignore him) speaker blasting music (its pissing everyone off)

•the only one that actually leaves the cave (until he convinces marko to get slushes with him. then hes no longer going alone)

•a nuisance. a pure fucking mosquito of a man. he’d be stuck to you if he could, please don’t let him you dont know where hes been (various ponds) (hes upside down in a shrub) (dont help him)

•hes a boombox blaster, weedsmoking, white rum drinker in summer. or whatever he can get his hands on. but best believe he’s living it up even if he doesnt make it out the cave most nights

•sleeps drunk in the fountain, naked. Hey, Its Cool. What Do You Want From Me?

Dwayne :

•is the only one who Actually attempts to cater to the rest

•he knows exactly how everyone is and as much as he Needs To Rot too, he needs to check on everyone first

•only person hes really checking on is david lets be honest

•after finding david and just, checking, he’ll find his own section of the cave. not too far, within ear distance of Everyone in the cave

•he’ll just rest there for a while, just dangling, all sweaty

•sometimes he has enough energy to chill with paul and marko but quickly loses it after a while. paul is Way too much for him in this heat. Hes Markos Issue Now :)

•he is the only one that will remind the other boys that they need to eat. it may be hot, but you still need to eat. cue moody david, hyper paul, sweaty and overstimulated marko and coping mother dwayne

•doesnt speak to anyone, literally not at all, because hes just Too Hot™️ so he’ll just pull your hand to what he wants, guiding you to what he needs

•sleeps alone, in the centre on the cave. just above where they all gather, so he can hear everyone but is just far enough away to get peace. oh, hes also naked.

[dreamdaddydutch]

could you pls do a javier/arthur/charles/whoever you want x reader flinching away from them thinking they’re gonna hurt them when they’re in an argument? sorry this is a super touchy subject i completely understand if you don’t wanna do it 🙏🙏❤️

Hey, so this took me a sweet age to write! I started about two months ago but with my job, planning my trip to NZ, and comedy/the shows I promote and sorting out festival stuff - I've just been completely exhausted and had no time or energy to write :(

But I have finished this now, and am still around - hoping to get a few more things written in the coming month or two.

I decided only to do Javier, Arthur & Charles as it is quite a sensitive topic and I worried any more and it would start to sound samey. I hope this is okay! ❤️ I struggled a bit for using content warnings on this as there is no physical violence happening or mental abuse - it's just heated arguments. But if you know this is going to affect you please do not read.

Javier

Arguments with Javier were rare, but with the increased pressure among the gang they had become more frequent and heated. You knew the immense pressure Javier felt and how he was trying to hold everyone together, how he wanted to believe things would work out. Sometimes you just got in one another’s way.

It was an incredibly hot afternoon at Shady Belle, everyone was irritated, sweating, bitten by mosquitos and fed up. You’re not really sure how the argument started but within minutes the two of you were at one another’s throats shouting insults neither of you meant.

Micah was nearby laughing at you, only making the situation worse.

When you reached the peak of the argument Javier suddenly lurched forward, his fists clenched. You stop and freeze completely still, mouth open just a little to let the fearful yelp escape and you feel your body tense, please…you think…please not him too.

You screw your eyes shut and wait for the blow that never comes. Instead, you hear Javier sigh loudly before the rage took over and he let out a scream – his anguish clear.

As you open your eyes you find him facing away from you, hands in his hair desperately clutching at his head, completely exasperated.

“Javier?” You ask softly as you reach out to him, too afraid to touch him in case he reacts violently.

When he turns, he has tears in his eyes, not something you’ve seen before. Javier has never cried in front of you, but now he’s here, vulnerable, and open, “I could never, I would never,” he says.

You nod, you know he’s telling the truth. He would never hurt you. You hate what this place, what everything is doing to the two of you right now.

You take another step and wrap your arms around him, no words are needed. Life is tough, being in the gang right now is tough. Everyone is on edge, everyone wants to beat the shit out of someone, to scream, destroy, fuck, drink their way through this. Javier is no exception and neither are you.

As you hold one another he continues to apologise, his words barely audible but it’s clear how much this is hurting. True he had frightened you, knowing what Javier is capable of for a moment you really believed he could do it.

When you pull away Javier kisses you, there’s need dripping from him. He knows anger isn’t the solution but he needs to be with you alone, even if for one night. As if reading his mind you say, “There’s other ways we can let out our pent up frustration you know…”

Arthur

“How, how did you manage to fuck this up again!” Arthur shouts at you.

You don’t know how to answer him, he’s right of course. You have fucked up again and what you’d been asked to do couldn’t have been simpler and yet here you were, a complete failure and you’d let the one person you love, one person you trust down.

“I’m sorry Arthur, I didn’t…I know I fucked up.” You reply through sobs.

Arthur is exhausted, everyone at Beaver Hollow is exhausted. Being alive right now is exhausting, but at least you’re alive. Emotions though they still run high.

When Arthur doesn’t respond and just continues to pace up and down you cannot bare the silence, the anger in his voice, in his movements and body language is unbearable to be around. You’d rather he shouted and told you to leave, rather he did something, anything than continue to stew in the silence.

He turned to you then, red in the face and suddenly he seemed so much bigger, so much taller, broad…He seemed like a giant in comparison to you, Arthur had always been big but it was only now you noticed it and realised how easily he could break you in half. How his presence, his shadow dominated you. As he loomed over you, practically frothing at the mouth with rage, eyes bloodshot and crazed, his breaths hard and shallow you were sure he was going to go in for the kill.

You inhaled sharply and held your breath waiting for him to lash out, to hit or slap you, to kick you…something to get his frustration out. His fists were clenched, his body taunt and ready to release all that tension.

You screamed as Arthur moved and braced yourself for the impact.

Which didn’t come.

Arthur punched to the side of your head…quite far from your head in fact, so far he couldn’t have possibly ever meant to have hit you. His fist went through the flimsy wall of the hut behind you. And then he stayed like that without removing his fist.

For a moment you thought he may cry, he didn’t.

“Ahh hell.”

Arthur seems ashamed of himself in that moment; his head hangs heavy.

“I’m sorry, okay, I..I just need some time. You know,” he pauses choosing his words carefully, “the fist was never meant for you.”

You nod, “S’ok Arthur, come find me when you need me.”

He looked up, slowly removing his fist from the hut. The smile he offered was both small and sad, “I won’t be long.”

Charles

Charles stormed into the hotel room, immediately you felt irritated. This was supposed to be a nice night away for the two of you, away from the others and all the noise at camp.

But Charles had found something to be annoyed at, something to be irritated with and now that peace was shattered.

“Charles, please.” You’d pleaded. It wasn’t like Charles to be like this, he was usually so stoic and easy to get along with, rarely showing any extreme emotions so this was different, even by his standards.

He squared up to you, his chest practically puffed out and shoulders tensed. He looked bigger than ever. Usually this was something you loved about him and it made you feel safe. You thought of all the times he picked you up with ease, could carry you, make love to you…all while holding you and you with your legs wrapped round his waist.

But now he is imposing, his presence is a shadow…you shut your eyes waiting for something and flinch as you hear the floorboards creak when you

“Did you think?” He looks wounded as he speaks, shame flushed across his cheeks as he shakes his head. Charles appears disappointed in himself; he’s aware of how he was behaving and what impact this had on you.

“I’m so sorry y/n you know I’d never do a thing to hurt you don’t you?”

You nod, not just because he’s speaking in earnest and you detect no lies in his words, but because you know him sometimes better than he knows himself.

He pulls you to the bed and sits down next to you, his presence a comfortable weight that sinks in the mattress. He sighs heavy and places a hand on your thigh, “I am, I mean it.” He pauses, “I can’t believe I allowed myself to get that worked up, something is so wrong.” When he sighed you could see the weight on his shoulders.

A lot was wrong with the gang and everything you’d all been through together.

“But it’s not an excuse, I should never speak to you like that or behave like that.”

“It’s okay Charles,” you were still blinking back tears, but when Charles put his hand on your knee and gently squeezed and rested his head on your shoulder the healing begun.

[selarina]

Behind Closed Masks

→ Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Amidst a looming threat to Yuuji’s life, you're all holed up at Shoko's house for safety. It's the practical choice for him, to be surrounded by Jujutsu Society's strongest. Alternatives are in the works, but for now, as you’re all holed up in Shoko's place, events begin to unfurl with Gojo Satoru in the centre of it all.

Content Warnings: friends with benefits, fluff, angst, unrequited feelings, canon divergence because getou is here and mentally well, mention of smoking, mention of violence, mention of harassment, exhibitionism-ish, oral sex (f!receiving) MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.8k words

Author's Note: Ngl I kinda hate this but enjoy :) Might be kinda ooc

Read on AO3

Satoru Gojo, the receiver of one too many love letters, the rejector of one too many confessions was obviously coined to be every girl’s boy, and inadvertently, as the lady's man.

But truth be laid bare, Satoru never truly had the time, not for women or men. He only truly had time for his intimate circle of friends who luckily had managed to penetrate through all of the layers of façade.

But it's off season, he’s on a low stakes mission and there’s not many curses to kill and he's bored. He’s been bored for a while now and since Yujji had been buzzing at his ear like a mosquito, he decides that maybe he should undertake the mantle he had been anointed with for years.

So, he downloads tinder, albeit his reluctance. Because surely, there were more dignified avenues into hookup culture? But who was he to argue with Suguru, a man who actually lives up to the reputation expectation — hailed as everyone's resident fuckboy.

It's not surprising by any means at all, but there's swell of pride that blooms in him with each illuminating "It's a Match!" notification on his screen. He's not expecting to do much from here, at least — not today. He only downloaded this app to appease Yujji after all.

However, at your entrance into the living room, with your barrage of bags upon bags, he finds himself hastily pocketing his phone — a bit too swiftly than he should have. 

He notices Suguru's discerning eyes staring at him, at his move, but Satoru, ever the consummate performer, simply offers him a genial smile and redirects his gaze back at you — this very angry version of you. 

You're staring at the lot of them — dead in their faces, almost like you're planning to squint your way through to a create a hole in their faces.

"What's with the frown? It doesn't suit you, pretty." He rose from his seat, a beat behind the swift advances of Suguru and Yujji, both of whom had promptly positioned themselves at your side. 

Yuuji relieved you of your bags as he took half the weight off, while Suguru merely extended his help in the form of a box of raspberry juice.

"What's with the frown?!" Yuuji asks.

You stop, taking a long sip of the juice, before you start talking again, "I told you guys to come with me. You didn't want to. The least you could do was pick me up when you agreed to. But no! I was out there, in the middle of no where, trying to get a fucking Uber. And then the Uber driver started hitting on me. And he was so creepy about it too. This is why I hate ubering by the w—"

"Is he still outside?" Satoru's voice cuts through, abruptly altering into a tone of sobriety.

"I don't know. But I want to punch something, maybe we should practice today, Suguru."

You looked up to see him, wanting to see if he agreed with you. But Suguru had disappeared. You turned around, searching the room with your eyes, but there was no sign of him. He wasn't there anymore. The room remained still with only four of you giving it company.

Then, a distant sound, the rumble of an argument spewing its way from outside, reached your ears inside the living room. The four of you are quick to move, swivelling your way through to the point of discord. 

Yet, upon arrival, you only catch the diminishing silhouette of the Uber vehicle taking its departure from Shoko's compound. And then, your eyes catch Suguru, arms akimbo, as he looked down at the concrete, uttering an expletive.

"Aww, now I feel better already," you quipped, making your way to hug an annoyed-looking Suguru.

He melted, as one naturally does at the touch of another. Albeit, it may be through reluctance, but his hands don't show it as they come up to gently pull you closer into his chest. He knows you need this more than he does. 

"Sorry for not picking you up," he murmurs.

Drawing back slightly, you said, "Well, you going up to fight him makes up for it, I guess."

"Wow," Shoko interjected with an incredulous laugh. "You want us to resort to violence?" 

"Well, obviously not. But you would if I asked you, right?" you contended with a smile, fixing your gaze on Suguru.

"Absolutely not," Shoko voice comes out swift and emphatic, a declaration that's seconded by Suguru's shrug of indifference.

Satoru, however, interposed with a grin, speaks up, "I would fight anyone for you." 

You look at him, your eyes assessing him from hair to shoes. "Really?" you said, your tone clearly coloured by amusement.

At that, Satoru's eyes squint in annoyance, "I would, and in case you've forgotten, I am the strongest one here?"

"I mean, sure when we were teenagers. That's different, you're kinda wimpy looking now."

You don't actually believe that, you'd be a fool to believe that. Truth be told, he's likely the first person you would instinctively turn towards if you found yourself in any trouble. You're just teasing because you find his attempts at acting annoyed and angry all too endearing, and it's nice — the way he's fighting to fight for you.

Satoru feigns a dramatic sigh, hand pressed against his heart. "Wow," he remarks. "Here I was, prepared to face dragons in your honour, and all I get is this indignation."

"Alright, both of you drama queens can continue you the play for us," Shoko's hands come up to push the two of you inside the house. "As we make dinner," she continues. "I'm fucking starving."

—

Dinner unfolded in its familiar routine. Suguru's standing behind the counter, his hands moving with a practiced grace as his swished through the vegetables. You make your way from sitting on one counter to the other, munching on cut vegetables and cheese alike. 

Satoru flitted between scenes, briefly checking on the TV and Yuuji in the living room and then joining you and Suguru in the kitchen. Shoko, on the other hand, was for a smoke as she often is — you wonder if that's just her way of taking the time she needs away from the group. 

And as the night deepens, you all sit down to eat together beneath the glow of Shoko's yellow lights — you savour each bit as you try to extend the night, not wanting it to end yet. But eventually, the plates were clear, and all of you share the task of washing and cleaning up into the night.

When it came time to rest, sleeping arrangements fell into its usual place. Satoru found his place on the couch, while Suguru occupied the other one. Yuuji chose the floor, favouring it over the couch or the bed. And Shoko's retired to the comforts of her own familiar bed. She deserved as much for tolerating the lot of you, she said.

You, on the other hand, spoiled as you often are, you sleep in the guest room, all alone. 

But on a night like this you know you're not going to be alone, not when all the warning signs were laid out — the incessant touches on your waist as he moved, the soft smile, the stares — it was all a bit too apparent than usual. 

So, when you hear the door creak open gently you're not surprised, and when Satoru patters in with softly laid footsteps you're not surprised. "Hey," his voice whispered its way to you.

In response to his whispered greeting, you softly murmur, "Hey."

Satoru settled onto the bed beside you, making himself comfortable as he placed his phone on the table beside the bed. 

A knowing smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you reach out to him, draping your arms gently around his neck. With a deliberate and unhurried motion, you shift your position, sitting up and moving to straddle him, your legs finding their place on either side of his hips.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his thumb coming up to graze the edge of your lip. His tone was neutral, but his eyes they peer into your eyes, so intently, it almost makes you feel bare. 

Your fingers play at the short hair that remains at the nape of his neck, a feather-light touch eliciting a faint shiver from him, but he maintains his gaze at you.

"I'm okay?" you respond, a hint of confusion in your voice.

"The Uber guy—"

Recognition dawns upon you, and you chuckle softly "Ah, that. Yeah," you pause, considering your response after. "That's normal. I mean, it's not but yeah, I'm okay don't worry. Used to this really."

His gaze softens, "I can find him right now, teach him a lesson if you want," his thumb continuing its absentminded caress along your lip.

You give him a small, appreciative smile, your fingers continuing their gentle dance on his nape. "No need for all that, stupid," you reply, "It's really fine. I didn't think twice about it." You let out a chuckle. "Well, maybe twice but not more than that."

"How long are you staying for?" Satoru's question shifts the mood.

"I'm leaving in two weeks, around the same time as now," you finally share. 

His gaze flickers, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "You?" you inquire, but you don't truly want to know, you'd rather you just all stay here for a month, or two.

He hesitates for a moment, his fingers tracing patterns on your waist. "Not sure yet," he admits. "Could be around a month. Haven't finalised the details."

"That's good to hear," you murmur softly. "I mean, you've been up to a lot lately. Must be nice to be back home."

"Yeah, I miss food," he frowns.

A few beats pass, as you sit there in silence.

"Wish you could stay longer," he says, his voice coming out a bit too vulnerable than you're usually used to because it's jarring, it's starting to sound like a confession you know you'll never get. 

"Yeah?" you ask, swallowing. "Why?"

He stares and you stare back, there's a moment, for a silly little moment during the fragile second suspended between you two, you think he's going to say something real. But then, with a shift, his hands reposition their grip around your legs that are wrapped around his hips, and he pulls, guiding you to fall back onto the softness of your pillow.

Your heart pounds, the abrupt change of position leaving you two separated before on top of you, as he moves his face to your neck.

"To do this,” he speaks, and his words are ticklish against the side of your neck. His knee quickly moves to lodge itself between your legs, hovering but not fully pushing. 

"Satoru—"

He continues to map his way down to your neck as his hand slid along your thigh. Your legs come to wrap around his waist, as it usually does and his hips pressing firmly into yours to pin you into the bed.

Your fingers come up to his hair, tugging on his roots as he continued his ministrations around around your neck, as he continued leaving a hickey. “Aw! I’ve missed you too—” Your breathy confession ends up in a gasp, as he bites particularly too hard.

"Sorry," he says but he doesn't really look sorry.

You know he's not sorry because he moves almost immediately to yank his shirt from over his head. 

"Maybe we shouldn't," you voice as he lays his palms on your knees, smirking in satisfaction at the way you were already spreading your legs for him to settle in between, even as your words professed otherwise.

"Why not?" He asks, as he bends down to tug on your shorts as you help me by shimming your way out.

"Well, Yuuji and Suguru are literally a door away and well, we're at Iwa's place—"

Pushing the hem of your t-shirt up to your stomach, he brought his head between your legs. “Is it because you like him, you—“

“What?” He pauses, and you couldn’t help but sound a little annoyed, because this is odd. In all your times together, he never brought this up. In all your many years of friendship, he never brought this up. "What?" your tone softening as you repeat.

A palpable beat of silence lingers between you two.

Satoru lets out a sigh, the tension in his voice giving way to weariness. "I don't know, I was just wondering."

"About what, exactly?" you inquire.

"I don't know," he responds, a touch of frustration tinging his tone. "Do you like him? Suguru?"

"Like Suguru...?" you spoke, baffled. "Of course, I don't. You'd be the first to know if I did."

"Why's that?" His question hangs in the air.

A soft, incredulous chuckle escapes your lips. "Well, you're kind of my best friend, aren't you?"

He doesn't speak up, merely nodding before you push his head down between you thighs. He complies, his mouth moving to suck bruises on the inner part of your thigh as he hooks his fingers around the side of your underwear.

He pushes your underwear down your legs and you help him by kicking it off. His hands then movie to push down your thighs to the bed, leaving you bare in a way that leaves you abashed. 

He runs his tongue across his lower lip, Satoru didn’t start slow and he was nowhere near as gentle as he usually is, but you figure the aspect of your friends right outside your door might have spurred him on to go quicker. 

He didn't leave a little kiss as he usually did, nor were there any tentative licks, he just straight up latched his mouth against your cunt, spreading your legs apart until you were as exposed as you could be so his tongue could reach deep inside you.

“Fuck—” Your hand immediately went back to his head, curling your fingers around his soft locks. You aren't sure if you were pushing him closer, or pushing him away.

You moaned softly, still concious of your precarious state in a friend's house as a guest. You bucked against him as his tongue flicked over you. 

“Oh, God—” His slick muscle pressed flat against your folds, drawing designs across your sensitive skin. He went up and down, up and down, again and again, and again — he only momentarily stopped to pay attention to your clit, sucking until your thighs began to slowly tremble. 

“Satoru, Satoru, fuck wait—” Your breathing hitches.

Satoru had always been good with his hands but that was nothing compared to what his mouth and tongue could do. He was so good at this that you could barely form any other reactions and you were getting progressively scared as you started to get louder and less in control of yourself.

His gaze, hooded and fixed on your face, holds a glimmer of need as he spoke, "What's wrong?"

"They'll hear us," you murmur softly, a hint of caution in your voice.

"It's fine," he responded, with a smile, as he dove back in.

"What— No, it's not okay," you protested.

But he didn't relent, he continued on and on and on until your legs began to tremble. He savoured your taste and you felt the vibration of his muffled voice reverberates directly against your skin. “You’re gonna come for me, baby?"

And at the sound of that, you do. 

"Fuck— You're so annoying sometimes," you exclaim, sitting up from where you had been lounging against your pillow, your breath slightly uneven.

Seated now, you deliver a playful slap to his shoulder. "Ow— Is that any way to treat the man who just gave you an orgasm?" he quipped as he rubbed his shoulders to soothe your assault.

Your initial impulse is to give him a mock scowl, maybe even playfully shove him down to show him what you would do to a man who just made you come. But then, his phone buzzes.

Your eyes instinctively dart to the side, and just as swiftly, Satoru moves to turn off the glowing screen. However, his speed isn't enough to prevent you from catching a glimpse of the display, not enough to discern the specifics, but enough to stir, well... something.

"You're on Tinder?" The question slips from your lips before you can catch it.

"Uh—" Satoru's expression shifts, a mix of embarrassment and guilt colouring his features. "Yeah, Yuuji kinda forced me to do it."

"Forced you into it?" Your curiosity deepens, your voice coming out incredulous.

"Yeah," he says, plainly.

"How does someone force you into downloading and signing up for a whole app?"

He wants to explain, but really he's not sure what he can or should say, so he merely asks what lingers in his mind. "What's the big deal?"

"Nothing," you concede. It's true, it's nothing. Plus, you've been part of the club after all. You know how this goes.

You repeat the mantra in your mind—it's all just nothing. Meaningless and not real. But despite your efforts to convince yourself, a twinge of unease stirs within you. Sensing the potential weight of those unspoken thoughts, you quickly shift your focus, grabbing your underwear as a way to distract yourself from the festering emotions that boil right below the surface.

"What? Wow — No head?" he muses.

"I'm just too tired today," you reply, the weariness in your voice matching the fatigue that weighs you down - as though your words have spoken your exhaustion into fruition.

As the night stretches on, you lie in the dimness of the guest room, ensnared in a ceaseless loop of replaying the day's events. It's as though you're stuck with a malfunctioning record that refuses to stop. So, you shift and you shift in your bed, and you're suddenly overcome by an uncomfortable heat.

Truth be told, your heart ached not just from the events of this day, but from years and years of unspoken words.

Your closeness to Satoru, a social man who's cautious about who he allows into his life, can be traced back to a confession you made. 

Dumb and in love, back when you were 17, you mustered the courage to reveal your feelings for him. Naturally, he turned you down. You were expecting it, of course and were hoping that wish away the feeling you had for him. There's a strange solace in embracing the stages of heartbreak - your friends telling you stories about how a "Fuck him, I'm sad" phase quickly turns into a "Fuck him, I'm hot" phase.

But alas, fate had other plans. A friendship sprouted instead.

You presented yourself as having moved beyond your emotions, and at times, it felt real. But then he would do small and ostensibly insignificant acts, as one does for a friend – brushing a speck of grass from your hair, surprising you with your favourite beverage, reminding you to carry an umbrella – and they just made fall deeper into the well.

That wretched well.

After a while, of jostling in bed, you couldn't stand the heat and the suffocating weight of all these thoughts. Quietly, you slipped out of the bed, carefully making your way out of the room. The living room was dimly lit, but you could still see where Satoru lay sprawled awkwardly, half on the couch, half on the floor. While Yujji and Suguru slumbered soundly, the former clutching a throw pillow.

The soft glow of a lamp casting your shadow across the room as you opened the balcony door and settled onto the swing outside.

A floorboard's creak drew your attention, your gaze turning to the living room. And that's when saw Shoko standing there, her figure outlined by the soft light. He seemed surprised to find you awake, her expression a mix of concern and contemplation.

"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked, as she made her way next to you, shutting the balcony door. Her voice carrying a hint of weariness. Perhaps, he was asleep.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice to respond. There was a heaviness in your chest that you couldn't put into words.

She settled beside you in silence, letting moments pass before he spoke. A sigh escaped her, "I'm sorry for not picking you up earlier. It might not seem like a big deal, but I should have showed."

You looked at her, her profile illuminated by the soft light from the moon. "It's really not a big deal." Your hand found its way to her arm, a gesture of reassurance.

You think about how kind Shoko really is as a person. It's not often you find someone like her. I mean, sure Satoru is nice to you but he can often be petty, arrogant and hurtful, even if he may not want to be these things, Shoko, on the other hand, was deliberate with her words, at least around you. It makes you feel loved in a way you have always needed.

Your mind drifted to a specific memory – the last prom. You were clad in a soft shade of purple, and you felt hopeful. Despite going with Shoko, the presence of Satoru, now a friend, lent a certain optimism. Yet, she had snapped at you, in hushed tone though as she did not want his date hearing him, she wanted you to give him and his date space. 

It wasn't his fault really, you were lingering in their space after all but you made your way through, seeming as normal as you could, taking some punch in a cup, finding your seat almost working in auto-pilot mode, and after awhile you felt her come sit beside you. Shoko. 

She sat beside you in silence for a bit and then she spoke, standing up and offering her hand up for you to take. 

"May I have this dance?" she asked.

"I'm tired, Shoko," you responded, dejectedly.

"Come on," she implored, meeting your eyes. "Let me have the honor of sharing your very last prom dance."

With a sigh, you accepted her hand, rising from your seat. Turning away from the amorous couple, you focused on Shoko as she led you into a waltz. 

In that moment, you thought you couldn't have asked for a better date.

Soon, you noticed Shoko gradually dozing off beside you. It didn't take long, and with a gentle nudge, you roused her from her slumber.

"You should get some rest," you suggested, your voice a soothing caress.

"Alright," she agreed, a plain weariness in her tone. Rising, she paused before leaving. You think maybe today's the day she would finally ask you about it.

"You know," she began. "You can always talk to me, right?"

A nod was your response. 

She leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead. With that, she turned and made her way to her room.

A sense of lightness enveloped you, the fatigue gradually returning to your bones. Retracing your steps to the guest room, you knew sleep would find you.

[thezombieprostitute]

Fireflies

Written for Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration.

Prompts: catching fireflies; “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

Summary: Jake helps you kick off your vacation in the best way.

You've been having such a rough few weeks, maybe even few months at work and Jake has been trying so hard to help you out. You finally have some time off coming up and he's been working hard on figuring out all the things you can do, that you need to do, to help you really relax and enjoy the time off.

He's definitely starting you out on the right foot by picking you up from work. You step into the car, give him a kiss, and just collapse into your seat.

“So what's the plan, Jakey?”

“It's a surprise,” he smiles. He hasn't hidden the fact that he'll be taking care of you but he refused to tell you all the ideas he'd come up with.

“Can we get some food first?”

“That actually is part of the plan! Let's go get your favorite fast food.”

“Yes! You're the best, Jakey!” You lean over and kiss him again before buckling up and heading out.

It's about an hour-and-a-half later and you swear Jake is driving to the middle of nowhere. The only reason you're not grumpy is because he got you extra fries without even having to ask if you wanted them. The sun is low in the sky and you haven't seen any signs of civilization for a while.

“Jake, are we lost?”

“Nope,” he answers confidently. “I've got the GPS and I managed to bounce off some...unsanctioned satellites so we can always have a signal.”

“So, where are we going?”

“I told you, it's a surprise!”

You give him a suspicious look but his grin never falters. He takes a left onto what looks more like a path than a road and drives for another twenty minutes or so. At least the scenery is nice. You don't often get to the woods like when you were little. You kinda miss them. The path is taking you through quite the forest and you think it'd be nice to take a walk through them with Jake. Maybe that's what he has planned!

The path ends at a clearing in the woods with a small lake. Jake immediately declares “we're here” and jumps out to start getting things from the trunk of the car. You chuckle at his enthusiasm and step out, taking a look at the area. You and Jake are the only signs of civilization out here. It really is just a lake in a clearing. You know you've told Jake you wanted to get to the woods more, but you'd kinda hoped he'd opt for a cabin or something.

You feel a mosquito bite on your arm and instinctively slap at it. Then another. Then another!

“Jake,” you call to him, “please tell me you brought bug spray!” Jake is walking towards with a cooler and he stops. His expression betrays his answer. “You brought us out to the woods without bug spray?! It's mosquito season and we're right by a body of water!” You're still smacking spots on your arms.

Jake's head drops, “I...I didn't think of that.” He winces and you know he's been bit as well. “I just...this spot is...” he drops the cooler and starts smacking the bugs that are increasing in number with the darkening skies.

“Let's get back in the car,” you suggest. He doesn't argue and makes sure you're safely in before he puts gets in. Within the safety of the car, the swarm of mosquitos dwindles and you're both able to take out the few that make it into the car.

Jake lets out a sad sigh, “they said this place would be best.”

You turn to Jake, “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

“I cross-referenced a bunch of firefly websites with angler forums to find the best places we could go to for fireflies. I wanted you to start your vacation with a little magic and I fucked that up.” He sags in his seat, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

Your heart flutters at how sad he looks. He really did want to do something nice for you. Something he knew you would love. Taking you to the woods, seeing fireflies. If it weren't for the mosquitos, or the lack of bug spray, it really would've been a wonderful night.

You gently caress his cheek, “hey, you tried. You put in a lot of effort for this and you know I appreciate that.” He turns to you and sees your gentle smile. “We still had a night of good food and even better company.”

“You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” you assure him with a kiss. “We should probably head home, though.”

Jake nods and buckles in while you do the same and look out the window.

“Jake!” you quietly yell. “Jake! Look! The fireflies!”

Sure enough, the telltale flickers of light are starting up all around the car. You're absolutely giddy with excitement, even tearing up a little. It's been so long since you've seen so many in one place! You stop making coherent statements and just give appreciative noises of delight as you unbuckle and practically bounce around inside the car to look at them from every window.

By the time you calm down, Jake is just staring at you with loving eyes. You grab him for as big a hug as you can get in the vehicle.

“This was the best, Jake! Thank you so much!”

Tagging @alicedopey; @bigtreefest; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[bonny-kookoo]

bonnie~! (Or question for finish line mc) In a bunch of race car movies I’ve seen the drivers are ripped… so’s Jk buff too? Mc’s answer to the interviewers question made me cackle, so… what is mc’s reaction to maybe first time seeing him work out or just meeting buff Kook for the first time?

yeah JK is kinda beefy not gonna lie...

You remember the first time you noticed a change in Jungkook after he'd been 'discovered'- now put under a more demanding workout routine, an actual team now taking care of him to make sure he's in top-condition for training and every single race.

It was late summer. A simple barbecue, to celebrate one of the driving instructors' birthday- Jungkook already there with friends, since you had to work that day, only able to meet up later.

Maybe it was the hectic schedule he's had, the lack of sex you both had (and if you did have something slow and sloppy before going to sleep it would be in the dark), or maybe it just happened over night and you never knew- but when did he became so.. big?

"I uh- brought beer?" You announce yourself as Jungkook turns around from where he stands near the barbecue grill, nothing covering his upper body but a white sleeveless top, a bit of sweat in the back making the fabric slightly darker. He's always wearing that chain around his neck with the promise ring you both exchanged when you first started dating- Jungkook still a little shy, nerdy, glasses on his nose and voice a bit quiet.

You barely recognize that Jungkook from back then now.

"There's my baby." He beams at you happily, hugging you before he takes the plastic bag and carton of beer from you. "You could've texted me to help you carry everything." He says, helping you set everything down on a camping table close by.

You're familiar with this dirt-road by now. It's a little like a second home, that dusty racetrack he basically spends almost every weekend at.

"I brought you something for the mosquitos later?" You say, and he nods.

"Ah, look at him- he's got a keeper!" His instructor laughs, greeting you. "You make sure he keeps that head on his shoulders, eh?" He says, and you grin, nodding.

That old man is proud. Of course he is- he's pretty much adopted Jungkook as somewhat of his grandson by now.

A little on the side now, me runs his fingers over your bare arms, before he moves them to sit around his neck. "When did you become so.. beefy?" You ask him, eyes squinted in suspicion as he laughs.

"I think it's the new workout." He shrugs. "Is it too much?" He worries, but you shake your head.

"Honestly? Makes me wanna ride your thighs again. Feels like I don't know your body at all anymore." You simply say without shame. "Also makes me feel all fuzzy in my heart- so have such a strong, pretty boyfriend- like a knight in shining armor!" You sing-song, and he laughs, head tilted back for a second.

"I'll even carry you around like the princess you are." He purrs down at you, pecking your lips.

Twice, because once is never enough.

"...pretty sure you could just fuck me while holding me too, no?" You whisper up at him, and he bites his lip, playing with his lip ring.

"Guess we'll have to find out?" He responds, and you giggle.

"But right now I'm hungry, so too bad, beefy-boy!" You laugh, hitting his chest before you run towards the barbecue again to grab a beer for yourself.

Leaving Jungkook a little frustrated between his legs-

but he'll get his revenge.

[wishfulimaginings]

I spent all of yesterday thinking how I can turn a prompt like "betrayal" into something funny and this is what I came up with.

For @erisweekofficial Day 3: Betrayal

Read on Ao3

Gross Betrayals

It was fall , the trees were a vibrant tapestry of yellow, orange and red, and the world was a beautiful mess. Belos Vanserra had decided to visit home when his mother informed him that his father was away on a business trip for the next 10 days. Although he had no desire to see his father, he missed his mother and his brothers. One such brother , whom he was currently babysitting, was on the ground mashing dried leaves and then eating it. This wasn't what he thought would happen when his brother begged him for a ride to the park because he needed to do something urgently .

"Lucien , are you eating dead leaves?"

Lucien looked up from his concoction and said " Its for medicinal purposes"

Belos must have made an incredulous face because Lucien immediately got defensive." Look what happened to my arms, look!", he said shoving his forearms into Belos's personal space.

" They look like a bug bites."

" It's from a deadly bug called Culicidae Mosca! The only way to counter its venom is to eat dried Red maple leaves twice a day for a week!"

Belos squinted and said, " ..... and a doctor told you this?"

" No. Eris told me! He googled it and everything! He said I have Mosca itobitis !"

" He told you , you have mosquito bitis?",asked Belos unable to hide his amusement.

Lucien's face went slack as the wheels started turning in his brain. " This is a mosquito bite isn't it?", he asked.

Belos pressed his lips together as he tried to control his smile. "mhm....where are you going?"

" To spit this bite in Eris's tea and tell him its Maple flavoured."

Belos couldn't stop his laugh then. This was why he loved coming home when Beron wasn't around, there was never a dull day in the Vanserra house in his father's absence. To Lucien he said ,"Wait, I have a better idea."

*

Eris was having the best fall. He was having an even better Saturday. No father to harass him, no mom to supervise and blissfully no brothers to hog on the tv or restrict his content. He was so proud of himself for getting the kids out of the house, it was a pleasurable activity all on its own. It wasn't his fault if his brothers were too thick to realise when they were being tricked. October was the prime month for pranks , all these years with him and they still fell for it. Every. Single. Time. Little Lucien was as gullible as a fish and it made him an easy target. Killian was harder to get rid of , but Eris was nothing if not thorough. He'd been pining after the new Playstation for so long that Eris couldn't resist but use that obsession against him.

Feeling entirely too relaxed, he grabbed himself a soda and sank into the couch to watch an episode of Game of Thrones on the big flat screen. The lengths he'd gone to, to get the miscreants out of the house felt worthy of its own HBO series. 

Eris was smack in the middle of an intense scene when his phone started buzzing next to him. The screen flashed 'Little Lucien'. 

He answered the phone with an annoyed "What, Lucien? " as he paused the TV. His instinct was to start with the word NO . Knowing his brother, it couldn't be anything good .

SOS, SOS!" he heard his kid brother cry in his ear ,his voice trembling. " Erisss" he sobbed desperately.

It was the sob that snapped Eris out of his GoT induced daze and into emergency mode. 

" Lucien! What's wrong why do you sound like that?"

" I fell off a tree."

" WhAt? Why were you in a tree?! Where are you?  And Where's Belos? Didn't you leave here with him? "

" I don't know, okay?! I was looking for red maple leaves but the only ones I could find were brown or yellow! Then I saw  red ones high up on this tree and I thought I can tottally climb that but then I fell and I think I broke my leg. Please Eris, it really hurts!"

"Fuck", he swore grabbing the front of his hair as he stood up to find his keys.

" I'm not allowed around that word!"

" Stay where you are Lucien. I'm coming. Do. Not. Move. Share your live location with me . I'm coming." 

Eris didn't know if he had ever driven this fast before. With his heart hammering in his chest from panic, he wondered if perhaps he should have called 911 first. He wasn't sure if Lucien's leg was actually broken, but what if it was? Did he have anything that could be used as a splint in this car? 

The GPS took him to a conservancy not far from their home. He parked the car and started running because the little dot that was Lucien was still a good 10 minute hike in from where he was. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. Their mother was going to murder him, Eris was a dead man walking.

Halfway through ,he realised that the dot!Lucien had veered away from the path. Cursing, Eris followed the map into the thick foliage nearly dizzy with guilt. Where the hell are you?!

He was so consumed by his panic that he failed to notice the rope snare and before he knew it , he was hanging upside down, ten feet off the ground.

WHAT THE FFF-

Peels of Lucien's laughter filled his ears and Eris was simultaneously filled with relief and rage. The kid was okay, their mother would not kill him after all. This was not an ethical prank. Eris nearly died from a panic attack.

"LUCIEN !! This is a gross betrayal of trust! AND an abhorrent misuse of the sacred 'SOS' ! Do you not know about the boy who cried WOLF?! LUCIEN! GET ME DOWN."

"na uh"

"LUCIEN!" 

That's when he spied his older brother leaning against the tree he'd tied Eris to , with his legs crossed and arms folded .

"Belos!!!"

Belos threw his hands up, palms out in a gesture of innocence, and said, "Hey, I’m not involved!"

" Like hell you're not."

Before Eris could either threaten or bargain with his elder brother Lucien said, " I don't hear an apology Eris."

" For what ? Being smarter than you? How gullible can you be, Little Lucien ? "

"That doesn't sound like remorse " , quipped Lucien who had also folded his arms. 

 " Fucking hell all the blood is in my head now! My brain is drowning and my organs are about to fall out of my mouth!", cried Eris in desperation, ever the drama queen.

Belos said, " That sounds medically impossible."

Lucien's eyes sparkled as he said , " I have a few demands."

Eris could barely speak. 

" I'm not taking any buses to my Hockey practices anymore. From now on, you have to drive me. And you're no longer allowed to say the F word. Every time you slip up you have to pay me a 10 dollar fine. Also, I require a 50 dollar Phantom Ailment fine for all the leaves I ingested.   "

"Not a chance."

Lucien stepped forward and gave him a solid shove , and Eris started to swing back and forth like a human pendulum.

" This is torture! Its a punishable offence, you'll end up in juvie!"

Belos, his face bright red from laughter said ," Just agree to his terms before you start orbiting the earth ."

"NO."

Lucien tried to give him another shove, but Eris began flailing his arms and said,"Okay, okay fine! You win. Just get me down- I'm starting to lose my eyesight up here." 

"If you go back on your word , I'll tell mom about this.", warned Lucien.

The kid learned fast, Eris could respect that. Not that he would ever say it to Lucien's face.

" Okay", Eris squeaked.

Lucien nodded to Belos who undid the ropes and Eris fell to the forest floor like a sack of potatoes.

The moment he had his feet under him Eris lunged towards Lucien , who swiftly ducked behind his eldest brother to escape Eris's grabby hands while Belos yelled , "Enough! You got what you deserved." 

" A betrayal of the grossest kind. That's what today shall be remembered as Lucy." 

*

As they began their hike back to their cars Belos suddenly asked , "Where is Killian?"  And Eris , feigning intense interest in the forest, pretended not to hear.

Belos stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and demanded, "Where is Killian , Eris?"

"Firstly let me remind you that I've just been through a traumatic event and you should show me some compassion."

"ERIS!"

"Secondly , its not my fault that I have all the brains in this family. These two are stupid beyond belief."

Lucien exclaimed, " Hey!"

Belos gritted his teeth as he asked, "What. Did. You Do?"

Eris sighed and confessed, "I told him the veil between the worlds is thinnest right before Halloween. I said if he really wants something, like real bad, he should light 41 candles and arrange them in a circle, then draw a pentagram , sit inside it and pray for 14 hours. "

Lucien started howling beside them, and Belos couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of him either. A sudden thought struck him and he asked, “Eris, did you seriously send him to a graveyard?!”

Eris replied, “I considered it, but then I figured he’d drag me along if he got too spooked. So, nope. I sent him to church."

[frozen-waters]

General Johnigail/Marston family hcs?? <3

ofc ofc yay yay yay!!!!!!! sorry for making John a little lover boy whenever I write johnigail and there are also a few angsty-ish hcs in here

More Johnigail and Marston Family hcs!!!

• John loves when Abigail plays the piano (canon but it makes me giggle)

• John also watches Abigail sew new clothes or mend old ones. I don’t mean this in a weird way but he likes watching her sew without her knowing. in like a sweet way. she looks peaceful to him

• I’m not sure how to explain this but the Marston family (or mostly Jack) is a few The Smiths songs to me

• speaking of The Smiths modern Jack would listen to them

• after Abigail died, Jack wished he had read to her more in his tween/teen years

• even as Jack gets older, he still laughs sometimes at the stories Uncle tells

• Jack also kept all of Abigail’s dresses that she had after she died. he didn’t really know what he was gonna do with them but he couldn’t stand getting rid of them. he did the same with John’s clothes but he kept them so he could wear them

• in modern when Abigail has to go to work in the morning or something John will wake up before her and turn on the car for her so it’ll be warm by the time she’s gotta go

• John and Abigail dancing together!!!!!!!!!!!!!! idk when but maybe if Uncle still plays the banjo or overhearing music is Blackwater!!!!!!!!!!

• modern John had a gamecube when he was in highschool but the only games he played were like. sonic, eternal darkness, and resident evil. dug it out of Hoseas garage or attic when Jack became a teen and "gifted" it to him -> has it in the livingroom and John plays it and Jack will watch him sometimes -> John also thought Jack was insane when he didn't know what he was supposed to do w a gamecube. to him its The Gift

• in modern when Jack was like 7-10 he'd infodump for an entire dinner about a book or show he read or watched in excruciating detail

• Abigail loved dressing up Jack and his sister

• the Marston daughter used Johns shirts and basketball shorts as pajamas for like. five years straight in modern

• mosquito's were Jacks worst enemy in his tween years

• Abigail loves the horses they keep on Beechers Hope. she likes keeping them all pretty and clean

• John buys Abigail jewelry sometimes. it takes all his brainpower to find something that will look nice with an outfit of hers but its worth it when he sees her get giddy over a necklace he got her

• John bought Mary-Beth's books for Abigail since they were mostly romance and he would read them to her. after John died Jack would read the books to her on her and John's anniversary along with taking her to the movies. or he'd read them to her if she asked

• in modern I know deep in my bones John had some weirdass senior quote

• in modern the Marston daughter was afraid of the dark and had a horrible habit of going into John and Abigail's room and accidentally scaring them

• modern Jack wants to have a bunch of little nick-nacks and cool stuff in his room but everything he finds he feels like it doesn't fit the "vibe" he wants

• John does recognize Jack's empathy towards the animals on the ranch. not that he knows what to do or say about it. tried sugarcoating some sickness among the animals to Jack once but eventually had to tell him what was actually happening and Jack was very sad about it

• Abigail did teach Jack to sew a tiny bit

• John would give Jack "relationship advice" (as if he fucking knows anything) when they'd go into Blackwater to sell the ranches goods

• every year for John and Abigail's anniversary he'd take her into Blackwater and take her to see a movie

• Abigail always notices when John wears a gift she got for him no matter how long ago its from

• when Abigail's sick John tries to keep the house nice and tries to cook for her even though they're both fairly bad cooks

• Jack absentmindedly tells Uncle about the book he's reading when they sit on the porch together and Uncle comes up with some story he witnessed similar to the book

• John also takes Jack to see a movie for his birthday. the first time he did Jack does that thing where he gets excited and cant really talk straight and John was proud of himself

• Jack does occasionally like helping Abigail cook or gather things in the garden

• as Jacks hair gets longer he braids little pieces of it without thinking sometimes

this wasn't as long as the last one whoops

[gwaedhannen]

[Excerpt 6 from Sorrow Beyond Words: Collected Testimony of the War of Wrath, 4th Edition; edited by Elrond Peredhel.]

“It—it would have been easier, I think, if the rest of Beleriand was as dead as Anfauglith. Not just easier to march through. I don’t miss the mosquito-wetas. But—it’s one thing to march through a choking wasteland when you know there’s no refilling your canteen 'til you get to the other side. It’s another thing entirely to walk through thirty leagues of verdant wetlands and every single spring and lake you find is so clear you can see all the skeletons at the bottom. Every fucking time you get your hopes up that maybe, maybe, this one will be drinkable—but—but…

“Not all the skeletons were at the bottom. Some of them still almost looked like people, too.

“No food, either. Fruit trees? Pah. Every apple that isn’t rotten is full of worms and wasps. Herbs? Poison. Roots? Also poison. Game? You fucking guessed it, poison. Or viruses, whatever. Sorry that we never really had the leisure time to reinvent microscopic biology here.

“It, well—it wasn’t entirely ruined, I guess? He left Hithlum mostly untarnished to keep the Easterlings a little happy. Heh, not happy enough apparently to stop most of them from jumping to Elros’s banner the moment they could. Nan Dungortheb was as much a pain in his arse as it had been in ours, especially once Mindeb gave up holding it back. We think the spiders ate a Balrog, actually. Good for them. He never touched the ruins of the Havens either. Guess he liked the statement that sent better than more despoiling.

“But, uh, in some ways that was more disheartening. The little bits which were still standing, or seemed to still be standing. There were still lots of too-clear pools. But you’d come across the ruins of a homestead with the garden only overgrown with normal weeds, or an orchard where the fruit still smells fine; and then you’d look twenty feet away and see what's left of the former inhabitants and another fucking field of razorwheat and another cloud of hornets that want to lay eggs in your eyes and a pool that only isn’t clear because Glaurung shit in it eighty years ago. That’s worse, if you were wondering.”