#and he didn’t like the feel of grit on his teeth

[bratbby333]

a proper send off — toji fushiguro

synopsis: step daddy!toji trains ur holes stakes his claim before you go off to college ♡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ content warnings: taboo; step!cest, age gap (over 18!), rough sex, lots of praise, teasing, heavy use of pet names, dom/sub, dd/lg, p in v, cervix-fucking, tummy bulge, buttplug, throat-fucking, edging, overstimulation, mating press, creampie ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ word count: 5.3k...straight filth ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author notes: i was in a very specific mood when i wrote this...i hope you all enjoy!! xx not beta read !

nsfw 𓆩♡𓆪 mdni

"Toji!" you chirped, running toward the buff older man as he exited his vehicle. His arms stretched wide as he met you on the sidewalk, leaning down to catch your small figure as you leapt into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He gripped you tight against his body, rocking the two of you back and forth. 

You had only been apart for about four hours, but it might as well had been three months with the way the two of you clung to one another. 

"How was orientation, my sweet girl?" Toji asked, lowering you to the ground gently, placing a light peck on the top of your head. Your small hand wrapped around his last two fingers as he guided you toward the car, opening the door and getting you settled in the passenger seat.

"Mmmm, super boring...but I learned a lot!" you beamed, shuffling your feet around the floorboards while he turned the key in the ignition. 

The ride home was filled with you telling Toji all about your class schedule, which courses you were excited about, and how your new dorm looked after you had finished decorating it. He smiled kindly, offering the occasional hum or nod in response—he found your aimless ramblings so precious. Your darling voice was like music to his ears. His sweet little girl.

But something plagued his thoughts during the forty-five minute trip. A lingering appetite that he worked so hard to suppress. A dark, elusive feeling that manifested in the pit of his stomach. His grip was tight on the steering wheel, teeth gritted ever so slightly. Worry crept across his face at the realization that the dreaded day rapidly approached him. He was sure he had more time.

He was going to lose you, the inevitability of college now knocking at the door. 

He had gotten so used to having you around, falling in love with your sickeningly sweet nature, your tantalizing aura that oozed innocence. He worried that you wouldn't make it out there on your own; even at your grown age you still looked to him for any sort of guidance, big or small. He loved it. Loved how much you depended on him, how you couldn't live without him.

He knew the sudden departure of your mother hurt you more than you let on, so he made it his mission to keep you safe, feeling wholeheartedly responsible for your well-being, even though he had only been in your life for about a year. 

It was the most fulfilling year he'd ever experienced, far better than the time he had spent with your mother. It was unexpected, hell, it was even frowned upon, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He loved you more than he ever could have loved her, feeling an odd sense of relief when she had finally left, and feeling elated when you decided to stay with him rather than her. A burning question stirred in the back of his mind; were these feelings reciprocated? He didn’t dare find out the answer, instead hoping it would be presented to him first.

It didn’t take much time for the truth to unfurl right before his eyes; why you really wanted to live with him rather than your mom, the (not so) innocent way you began to cling to him…oh, how you loved your Daddy, and how he loved his little girl, too.

Toji knew there was evil out there, people who would take advantage of your soft heart and overly-trusting nature without a second thought. He couldn't let you get hurt.

He tried his best to convince you not to go to college, or at the very least, just commute to campus each day. He wanted to keep you close, to be there for you, to protect you. 

He was successful at getting you to take a gap year, but he could tell his baby girl was getting antsy. Your stubbornness persevered— adamant about furthering your education and staying in the dorms. You were set on going out on your own and he knew he couldn't stop you anymore. 

But he couldn't send his pretty girl out into the world without breaking her in first. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Upon immediate entry to your home, you were ordered to the bedroom, the rough rasp of Toji's voice echoing through your ears as you made your way to his room. 

"Daddy, did I do somethin’ wrong," you questioned softly, lips pouted slightly, voice quiet as you fumbled with the hem of your short, pleated skirt. Seated on the edge of the bed, you kicked your feet around anxiously as he stared down at you. 

"No, nothin' like that, sweetheart," he soothed, grasping your face in hands, his rough thumbs dragging across your blushed cheeks. Your wide eyes swam with curiosity as you stared back up at him.

"Listen t'me very closely, darlin'," he continued, crouching down to your level. Your neck instinctively relaxed, your head falling into his hands, nuzzling into his grasp. "You're going out into the world alone...I won't be around to keep you outta trouble anymore..." his voice trailed off as his eyes searched yours. 

"Mhmm, I know, Daddy," you giggled back, "Y'tell me that everyday." This is why he loved having you to all to himself...in public, he was "Toji"; in private, you only ever called him "Daddy". His little girl was damn good at keeping secrets...it only made things more exciting.

The look in your eyes drove Toji wild; deep, enticing pools of virtue. It was only right that he got to be the one to ruin you, to give you a proper send-off. He hated the idea of you being with someone that wasn't him, so he hoped, prayed, to mold your pussy perfectly around his cock to ensure no other man could live up to the standard he set in your life.

A slight growl erupted from the back of his throat as he continued to pet you. "There's somethin' we gotta do, baby girl,'' he took a knee in front of you, his hands resting atop your plush thighs, massaging them gently. 

"You 'member what we had talked about when you finally decided to go away for college?" he added, working his way up under your skirt. Your breath hitched as you focused on the circles he was drawing on your upper thighs, your head dropping to the side. 

"Uh huh...I do, Daddy," you were already breathless as anticipation swirled through your stomach. Toji hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs. Your shirt was removed next, leaving you in only your lacy ankle socks and skirt. 

"You ready? Think ya can handle this, angel?" he asked sternly as he strummed around your warm center. Your face twisted up in pleasure as he played with your pussy. "Uh huh..mmm...yes, D-daddy..'m ready," your voice wavered as his thick finger prodded at your needy hole. 

He pushed you back onto the bed, dipping his digit into the second knuckle, curling it slightly to toy with your g spot. You were already a moaning mess for him, the high pitched whimpers that fell from your lips sent pangs of arousal straight to his dick. The way you writhed around for him at the smallest stimulation made his skin burn. 

Every moment you spent watching him from afar, your innocent daydreams that manifested into dark desires at night, the way you’d hug him for just a bit longer than usual; each time his mind wandered to you, guilt nipping at his spine…it was all worth it.

He was addicted to you well before he ever actually had you— but after that fateful night, a few weeks after the divorce was finalized and your mom moved out, with your unexpected appearance in his room as you crawled into bed with him. The way your arms wrapped so tight around him, how your soft breaths danced so delicately across his bare skin, how perfectly your nestled head fit into the crook of his neck. His appetite became insatiable...his baby girl. The smoothness of your skin as he traced drifting lines around each curve of your precious figure. He couldn't get enough. 

Toji dipped down to kiss along your sweet skin as his finger continued to shallowly work into your dripping cunt. He licked and nipped at you, the taste of your flesh overwhelming his senses. His tongue narrowed as he got to your ear, lapping at it feverishly, suckling at your lobe. "Sound so good f'me, baby." You panted at his words, the coils in your tummy beginning to bubble up. 

He felt you clench around him and immediately withdrew from you. You whined at his absence, your hole spasming around nothing, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt to quell the pulsing between your legs. He grinned at your anguished huffs as he stood, removing his clothes. Your need for release still churned in your stomach as a small groan left your lips, pouting up at him. Toji only chuckled in response. "Not yet, sweetheart..." he teased, tossing his shirt aside. He was moving in accordance with his deepest, darkest secrets...he needed you to want him, to crave him, to not want to exist without him.

You knew better than to complain, Daddy always came through for you.

"How do you wanna start, princess," he asked while discarding his jeans, his throbbing girth standing proud in front of you. He loved when you asked for what you wanted, when you spoke your mind without shame. That’s a big part of being independent, right? He wanted to teach you, after all.

"Can I suck it, Daddy...love the way you taste," you mewled, your words coated with neediness as you leaned forward to grasp him in your small hands, licking your lips as spit pooled in your mouth. Toji had you right where he wanted you, he worked hard to fine-tune your body to respond to him and only him. You were completely wrapped around his finger. You looked starved, desperate for his cock to pound into your throat. 

"Of course, baby, gotta train that mouth of yours, hmm?" he teased, smirking as he positioned himself in front of you. "Already take me so well...let's see how deep you can go." His thick, dripping head pushed past your lips, your tongue swirling around his tip as you worked to take him further, choking on him as he settled in the back of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as you struggled to breathe around his substantial girth. "Relax, baby girl...breathe through your nose f'me," he soothed, running his fingers through your hair before squeezing the sides of your cheeks. "Look s’pretty like this," he grunted, his hips rocking into your mouth slowly.

He worked his cock in and out, groaning at how tight your throat was constricting around him. "Mouth's so hot n wet f'me..doin so good princess," he muttered, his jaw tight as he watched his dick slide between your taut lips. He grasped at the back of your head firmly, his other hand still squeezing at your hollowed out cheeks. "That’s it…keep it nice n tight."

His pace picked up, the sloppy sounds of Toji fucking into the back of your throat danced around the heady air of the room. You stared up at him, blinking away the tears that poured from your eyes, eager to capture the way his face twisted in pleasure as trails of spit dribbled down your chin. You loved pleasing him…loved the way that even the biggest and strongest men’s composure could waver. You knew Daddy’s tipping point, and you were dead-set on taking him there.

You felt him twitch inside your mouth as you hummed against him, the vibrations running through his cock and straight to his balls, his head thrown back at the added stimulation. "Mmm, there ya go, sweetheart...so fuckin' good. Pretty girl wants my cum, huh?" 

You nodded furiously, or as much as you could with his dick in your mouth and his hand still palming the back of your head, his strokes forcing you to take all of him. 

You gasped and coughed as Toji abruptly pulled your head off him, smearing a mixture of saliva and pre cum across your cheeks as he rubbed himself around your lips. "Open...tongue out for me, baby girl," he commanded. You obeyed immediately, your wide, pleading eyes staring up at him as Toji smacked his rock-hard girth against your hot tongue.

His hands gripped either side of your head, pulling your hair into makeshift pigtails as he shoved into your mouth again, smirking as you gagged around him, spit running between your tits and pooling in your lap. His eyes went dark at the sight, utterly consumed by how beautiful you looked while you sucked him off. God, how he’d miss his little girl. He pulled you off him again, amused at how much his princess was struggling to take him. "C'mon, doll, I know you can do better than that," he taunted, before ramming himself back in. 

Your lungs burned while your mouth stretched wide to accommodate him, his thick head bullying the back of your throat. “Stay with me,” he grunted as he left small smacks against your taut cheeks. You fought against your heavy eyelids, struggling to hold his gaze. 

With a rough jut of his hips, your nose was flush against his pelvis while he unloaded down your throat. Tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks at the inundation, heat coursing through you at the carnal sounds that left his chest. He pulled out with a pop, leaving you sputtering and coughing. The savory warmth of his cum coated your tongue, licking your lips to ensure you didn't waste a drop.

You dizzily gazed up at him as you worked to regain your breath. "Open up, show me you swallowed it all," he murmured, his breathing labored as he cupped the underside of your chin. Your lips parted as you stuck your tongue out. Toji hummed in approval as he checked your mouth for any remaining trace of his seed. "Good fucking girl...so needy for Daddy's cum, huh?" You nodded, giggling breathlessly, your throat sore from Toji's intimidating girth.

"Lay back for me, sweetheart," he said firmly, stroking himself as he watched you readjust on the bed. Toji kneeled on the edge, grasping your legs and throwing them around his waist. "So pretty...you know those boys will be all over you, yeah?" 

You shook your head furiously, pouting at the thought of being with anyone but Toji. "N-no, no daddy...only wan' you," you huffed, locking your feet behind his back. Your hands splayed across his abdomen, tracing lines around his prominent muscles. He leaned forward to position himself at your soaked core. "Mm..I know, doll," he cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as his other arm propped himself up. "But I gotta get you good n ready just in case. I can't have you embarrassing me out there...I did raise you, after all," he spoke low, the rasp of his voice sending chills to your core. 

“Some of 'em will be gentle with ya,” he murmured, inching deeper and deeper into you. His face was kind, a small smile twitching on his lips. He looked down at you, his eyes brimming with adoration and arousal, the o-shape of your swollen, parted lips and flushed cheeks pulled a raspy groan from his chest. 

He sunk into your warmth, his thick cock dragging in and out gently, his head brushing against your sweet spot with merciful thrusts.

You fussed at his teasingly slow pace, his girth stretching you out perfectly. It took every ounce of his willpower to not break you in half right then and there, driving himself into you with fervor, the jealousy biting at his spine fueling each rough jut of his hips at the thought of you with someone else. He maintained his leisurely rhythm, working you up until you reached your breaking point. "Need more..ahh...p-please Daddy...give m'more," you begged.

“Mmm, I know you do...but I gotta show you what you're gonna get when you mess with boys." His unhurried strokes antagonized your milky cunt that ached to be pounded properly. You writhed around underneath him, bucking your hips in hopes that he’d give you more, but you knew your efforts were all in vain. Toji smiled down at you with a raise of his brow, still inadequately sliding into you. Oh how he loved how needy you were for him, how easy it was to make you squirm. You were close to breaking down, tears beginning to surface as you begged for him to go faster, harder…anything. 

“This isn’t enough for you, is it?” he taunted, his palms on either side of your cheeks, rubbing away your tears with a quick flick of his thumbs. “Uh uh…need more, please,” you whined, pressing your head against his hands. 

Toji stared down at you with a coy smile as he watched you unravel, how hungry your sopping walls were for a good pounding. He wanted to play with you some more, to have you crying over how badly you need him. "Ya like it rough, isn’t that right, my sweet girl?” He toyed with your puffy clit as his tempo remained steady. “Love when I use you as my pretty little fleshlight, yeah?”

You nodded furiously. He grinned down at you, pulling your hips up toward him as his tempo suddenly changed, the new angle pounding directly into your g spot. 

“A…ahh!! F-fuckkk, Daddy,” you cried out, your head bouncing around to match his forceful rhythm. His hips were mercilessly rutting into you, every jolt bringing you closer and closer to your release as he continued to thumb at your swollen clit. You clenched around him, eyes locked on his as short pants left your lips.

"No, baby...not yet." He pulled out immediately, flipping you, lifting your hips as he shoved a pillow under your stomach. His hands rubbed circles into the flesh of your ass as he prodded himself against your cunt. You moaned, ready to complain to him as your body ached for release. His palm found the back of your head, pushing your face into the mattress, successfully silencing you. “Shh…let me play with you, princess.”

Toji flipped up your skirt to reveal the pink rhinestone nestled perfectly between your cheeks. "That's my girl, kept it in all day f'me, hmm?" He gripped the plug and pulled it out, spitting a fat glob of saliva onto the hole before circling the sensitive ring and shoving it back in, plunging the toy in and out of your tightness. 

Your hips pushed toward him, your already broken resolve absolutely crumbling from the prodding sensation in your ass. You prayed he'd let you cum soon. An unbearable ache coursed through you; a dull, evil reminder of your denied orgasms. 

"M-mmhm..wanna be so good f'you, Daddy.” Your head spun, the static sobs that ripped though your sore throat bounced through the room, echoing through Toji's ribcage and ricocheting around his heart.

He couldn't help the twisted smile that cracked across his face, his precious little girl, how obsessed you were with his cock, how gluttonous you were to have him nestled within your gummy walls. 

Truth be told, he was ravenous for your warmth. He loved how quickly he could wind you up and how easy it was to make you snap. He adored the way you shook when he'd bottomed out against you, the precious sounds that you made only for him.

His chest tightened at the gnawing thought of not having you anymore. He couldn't let you know that...couldn't show you how badly he needed you, how much he loved you and your perfect pussy. He gritted his teeth at his insecurities; his nagging fear of losing you, how he dreaded letting you go. How desperate he was to make this last forever. 

He prodded himself in and out... in and out... iiin and ooout, only giving you about an inch each time before he removed himself again, his brows furrowed with a hungered expression, wanting to savor the way you sucked him in with greed. Your hole clenched down on him in a pitiful attempt to keep him inside, only for him to leave you empty once more. "P-plea..se, Daddy," your voice trembled, "Need you so so bad," your head thrashed around as you babbled, your thighs shaking as Toji tormented your gushing cunt. He smirked down at your twitching frame, getting off on how needy you were, how your back arched so deeply in hopes that he'd push all the way in. 

"Already cock drunk and I've barely fucked you, hmm?" His aching cock teased at your spasming entrance some more, his fingers pushing and pulling the plug in and out of your ass. Your soft whines circled around his head, his chin tucked into his clavicle as he watched your holes stretch at the intrusions. “My dirty fuckin’ girl…you love when I tease you, don’t ya?”

“I–” your words caught in your throat as he shoved all the way, the head of his cock caressing the deepest parts of you with ease, the delicious girth of his member stretching you out so fucking perfectly. Your cheek pressed firm against the mattress, hands pulling at the sheets, your fists balled up tight around the fabric as overstimulating pleasure raked through you. Relishing in sinful bliss as Daddy finally gave you what you so pitifully longed for, the rough jerk of his hips smacking into the fat of your ass.

Toji was unraveling. His darkened gaze raked up and down your figure, reveling in the way your flesh rippled at the strength of his unrelenting strokes. He leaned over, one hand pressed into your lower back, the other grabbing hold of your bunched up skirt, pulling you to meet his thrusts.

“S-so–ungh–so deep, Daddy,” you mewled. Toji smirked, reaching around to press a firm palm against your tummy, growling as he felt himself deep in your gushy walls. “Mmm, I know, princess, but you’re taking me so well.” His brutal pace was splitting you in half. It felt unreal, impossible even, that nirvana had begun to manifest within your reality in the form of Toji’s thick cock absolutely destroying you, your gushing cunt greedily sucking him in, yearning to savor your little slice of paradise. 

“God, this pussy was made for me, huh? So fuckin’ perfect.” His filthy words sent undulations of ecstasy through you, making you constrict around him, the coils in your stomach forming once again.

“You’re gettin’ close, aren’t ya,” he huffed out, his fingers trailing lower to rub your clit. You clenched down on him, a tell-tale sign of affirmation. His thick tip brushed against your cervix, making you cry out, relishing in bliss on the steps toward heaven’s gates.

“Ahhh! Y-yes!…oh, Daddy, yes!” You were a blubbering mess, the tightening sensation in your stomach increasing tenfold at his added stimulation.

Toji’s mind was in shambles as he battled his own filthy conscience, torn between denying your pleasure once more or redirecting his attention toward his new goal: make you fall apart on him over and over again. He struggled to weigh his options as your cock-drunk cries echoed through the room, the delicious sound of skin slapping against skin clouding his mind.

“Grippin’ me s’tight, princess. Fuuuck– wanna cum, baby girl?” His jaw locked as his fingers dug into your soft skin. “Mhm…,” your voice was airy as you nodded vigorously, trying your hardest to form coherent sentences as his heavy balls slapped against you, “...pleasepleaseplease, Daddy–ugnhh–wanna cum s’bad…wan’ cum f’you,” you rambled, drunk off the way he was splitting you in half. The squelching sounds of your greedy little cunt coupled with your staggered whimpers and filthy begging finalized his desicion; Fuck breaking you in, Daddy was going to break you.

“That’s it…c’mon, baby,” his mean, persistent thrusts made your head spin, his fingers rubbing quick circles against your throbbing clit. “Cum. Now. Make a mess on Daddy,” he growled. Your eyes screwed shut, his permission ringing through your ears as you felt the tension in your stomach finally snap. Your face contorted as you squirted, painting your sweet juices onto his strong thighs. An animalistic growl broke through Toji’s chest as he worked you through your blinding orgasm, spurred on by the warm spray beading down his lower half and onto the mattress below you.

He pumped into you a few more times before pulling out. You nearly sobbed at the emptiness. As overstimulating as Daddy’s cock was, you couldn’t help but revel in the way he stuffed you. Your head spun while he manhandled you, flipping you onto your back, his strong hands pressing against your thighs. “Hold your legs there f’me, pretty girl,” he rasped. You diligently obeyed, your shaking hands anchoring into the pits of your knee, pulling your legs deeper into your sides as he rubbed himself against your drenched folds, the firm pressure of his shaft against your clit sending chills through your exhausted body.

You stared at him with a low-lidded expression.Your mouth fell agape while he smacked his member against your clit. A trail of spit dribbled from the corner of your mouth as he sunk back into you, your eyes shooting open as you cried out for him. He returned to his harsh pace immediately, giving you no time to recover from your orgasm. His hands replaced yours against the back of your legs. You clawed down his taut abdomen as he used his new found leverage to bury himself deeper inside you with every rough bump of his hips. 

“D-daddy–ahhh!– ‘s too much,” you cried out, your palms pressing into his torso in hopes he’d slow down a bit.

“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he growled, “Be good…play with your pussy f’me,” his cock colliding with the furthest wall of your gushing cunt. His palm pressed against your tummy, nasty groans falling from his lips as the added pressure made you even tighter. “You jus’ feel too good, princess.” His breathing staggered as he reveled in your warmth.

“So deep…oh, fuuuck! Daddy you’re so f-fucking deep,” you babbled, your words drawn out as electricity shot to your core, your fingers rubbing your sensitive clit. Your walls fluttered, the churning in your stomach returning with urgency. You clenched down around him, guiding the head of his cock to drive straight into your sweet spot. 

“Fuckin’ milkin’ me…gonna come again, baby girl?” You nodded profusely, ears ringing as your eyes rolled back. Your brain was numb—he was all you could feel, the only thing that made sense; Daddy. You were delirious, dickmatised, even. Oh how badly you wanted to marinate in this bliss, to make it last forever.

“Gimme another one…c’mon,” Toji’s foundation wavered as he stared down at you, pure, unadulterated lust swirling around his irises. He was about to break, utterly consumed by all things you. The sweet sounds you made for him, how perfectly your cunt molded around him, the way your sloppy walls hugged him so tight as you came around him once more. You were made for him and vice versa. 

“That’s it baby–Good…Fucking…Girl.” You cried out as his thrusts emphasized his praise, burying himself impossibly deep, his head kissing your womb. 

Every neuron in your body fired off at once as his strokes persisted. You were beyond saving, your entire existence orbiting around the man that was actively breaking you in half. He was the driving force in your life, the sole reason your atoms continued to vibrate and your heart pumped crimson through you. He was everything. 

Toji watched as you fell apart, expelling all the air from his lungs as he released a deep, guttural moan. The sight of your trembling body and the feeling of your quivering cunt around him made his heart beat with such fervor it practically slammed into his ribs. But it wasn’t enough, not right now. Not in the state of vulnerability, of fear, that he found himself in. He wasn’t ready for this to end. And it wasn’t going to, not if he could help it. 

He grinned down at you, his words bouncing around your skull as you attempted to wrap your head around his request: “Again.”

You wanted to give up, knowing damn well it would break you if you came any more. But when Daddy demanded another orgasm from his sweet little girl, you delivered. You’d be foolish not to.

“One more…just give me one more,” he coaxed, his fingers replacing yours, thrumming viciously at your clit. “C’mon, baby girl…Make me proud,” his head cocked to the side as he watched your pleading eyes shut once more, succumbing to the waves you had no choice but to ride.

Another soul-crushing orgasm raked its way through you. Every sense in your body dulled and heightened simultaneously. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you cried out in delight, your body drowning in a lethal dose of euphoria. 

After a few more pumps, he leaned down to press his chest against yours. Your shaking legs locked behind his back as he bottomed out, tugging your hips up as he shot a thick load deep inside you. You were breathless, light-headed, stuck in a state of ecstasy. Even with an empty head, you knew one thing for certain– triumph. The sounds he was making told you everything you needed to know. You were so good for Daddy. Your nails dragged across his back while you wrapped him up in your arms, desperate to feel as much of him as you could. 

Toji sat back up, pulling out of you as he crouched down at your core, spreading your puffy lips with his thumbs, beaming with pride as he watched his cum dribble out. You were his. “Did so good for me, princess.” He placed a gentle kiss on your clit as he realigned his face with yours, “Made me so proud.”

You offered only a small smile in response, reeling in enlightenment. You laid still while he cleaned you up, though you didn’t really have a choice. Your legs were numb and your back ached with a dull, constant reminder of who you truly belonged to. No one could fill the space that Toji held in your life. You weren’t going anywhere.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your tired bodies laid intertwined, the sound of synchronized breaths drifted through the room as the two of you relished in post-coital bliss. The love that pulsed from his chest into yours solidified your decision. There was nowhere else you wanted to be. 

“Daddy?” you hummed while he rubbed deep circles into your lower back.

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I…I think I’m gonna take another gap year.” You could hear a pin drop in the deafening silence that fell between the two of you as your words hung in the still air. Your heart thrummed as you waited for his response, anxiety running rampant in your body in hopes that he wouldn’t be angry with you. But you needed him. You knew where you belonged.

Your admission rang through Toji’s ears. His breath quickened every so slightly as his calloused hands dragged up and down your body, his lips pressing into the top of your head. It took every fiber of his being to keep his composure, to not jump from his skin at his victory. He did it. 

“If that’s what you want, princess. I support you.” His voice was steady, but his nonchalance was insincere. He was elated. He got to keep his little girl around, and he had no intention of letting go. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author notes: the need i have for this man is insatiable... this was my first fic for toji so i had to do it up

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[tetragonia]

My Body, His Choice

Rafe Cameron x F!Reader

Blurb: In which you've been arguing with Rafe Cameron all these years and that one time when arguments turned into something heated. Literally.

warning: no use of (y/n), kissing, harsh words, a bit suggestive?

note: enemies to lovers ;)

words: 445

“You know, for someone who claims to be so perfect, you sure do have a lot of flaws.”

You threw a bitter remark at Rafe. This was clearly not your first time getting into an argument with him.

"And you, of all people, would know about flaws, wouldn't you? I mean, it's practically your expertise."

Rafe was no stranger to you. You two grew up side by side as you were the same age. You often followed your father that Ward hired to lead some fishing expeditions. You met Rafe when you were 10 and none of those years patch your rocky ways together.

“Sarah is my sister, I sure know what’s best for her,” Rafe gritted his teeth.

“And that’s clearly not living with you,” you countered. “She’s happy with us, Rafe! I’ve never seen her laugh this much when she was with Topper, it felt like she was held hostage!”

Rafe stepped closer to you hurriedly, hissed, “Watch your little mouth.”

“Or what?” you removed more space between you and Rafe, throwing your head up in a cocky way and raising your right eyebrow. Hands on the hips, smirk never left your lips.

Rafe's breath was deep and his eyes were fixated on you. You thought he'd explode but then suddenly he grabbed your nape and pulled you close, pressing his lips against yours. His breath felt hot against your skin, his grip was tight.

Rafe’s kiss was rough and hurried, fueled by a mix of desire and frustration.

Caught by surprise, you didn’t think twice to kiss him back. He was infuriating, yes, but wasn’t he charming? With that cocky grin and confidence whenever he stride, Rafe was effortlessly dancing between the line of tempting and irresistible. 

Even if you find yourself rolling your eyes at his antics and cursing his name under your breath, there’s no denying the undeniable attraction of Rafe. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since you jumped on that boat,” Rafe whispered between kisses. His grip on you tightened as if afraid you might slip away, his movements desperate and urgent.

You kissed him deeper, biting his lower lips as he let out a soft moan. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the feel of his lips against yours, the taste of his skin, the sound of his soft sighs mingling with her own ragged breaths.

“Then why did you pick an argument with me?” you moaned as Rafe started to kiss your jawline, and then your neck. “Do you suck that bad at flirting?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Rafe hissed to your neck as you shut your eyes, feeling the intensity.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

[dyaz-stories]

say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.

(He fucks you on your desk)

word count: 2.6k

genre: canon compliant, smut

cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers

a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!

more gojo x reader here

Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.

“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”

“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”

“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”

“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”

“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”

You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.

It just so happens that you are very paranoid.

Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.

“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”

It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.

“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.

“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”

It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.

You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.

“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”

You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.

“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”

“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”

He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—

“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”

You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—

Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.

You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.

It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.

You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.

But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.

Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.

“Wait, wait, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.

“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”

“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”

He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.

“Yaga— Yaga could—”

“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”

He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.

You always laugh for him.

“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.

“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”

You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.

He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.

“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.

Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.

Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.

“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”

You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”

He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.

“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.

“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”

Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.

“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”

That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!

You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.

He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.

“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.

“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.

Ah, now that’s more like it.

“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”

Cute.

“Done. Now, about that round two…”

“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.

He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.

“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.

“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”

There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.

“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.

Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.

Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.

Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.

You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.

You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.

With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.

“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.

“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”

“No.”

“Yaga’s office is probably—”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.

“…Sure.”

He only savors his victory for a second.

“What about the couch?”

“Don’t push it.”

But he does, and you let him.

How could you not, when you finally have him back?

still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~

if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

3: COMPANY

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Bucky wants his best friends to get to know his girlfriend but a little voice makes him worry that there may be more going on between you and Steve.

Word count: 2.5k

Warning: miscommunications and Bucky Barnes being a colossal idiot (theme of this whole story)

Steve and Bucky walked down the corridor towards the large living room with the massive television screen. Their arms laden with drinks and snacks for themselves, you and Priya. Bucky wanted his best friends to get to know his girlfriend better and you'd begrudgingly agreed to a movie night, comforted by the knowledge that Steve would be present as a buffer for awkward questions.

Steve was smiling softly, happy to be able to relax with the people he cared most about without being interrupted to save the world. His self imposed responsibilities weighed heavily on his mind. Distractions where he could be Steve and not Captain America were hard to find. One of the things he loved about you and Bucky was that you both were his voice of reason, between the two of you, you would argue different sides of a point, until he was happy with the decision he had made. This was why seeing the two of you as a team made him so happy.

You had made yourself comfortable on yours and Bucky's favorite couch. It was just big enough for you and the beefy super soldier and in your mind, you imagined yourself and Bucky being comfortable under a throw blanket while you watched the movie. Your day dream was shattered as Priya dropped into the seat beside you.

"Oh gosh, this is so comfortable! Such a cuddle couch." She elbowed your side gently. "Hey, you think Bucky and I could sit here for the movie?"

It took every inch of your self control to stop a scowl from marring your features. "Sorry to be all Sheldon about this, but this is kinda my spot."

"Oh, yeah, I get it." She didn't, looking at you like she was indulging one of her young patients who was throwing a tantrum. “Do you mind if I sit until Jamie and Steve get back?”

"Sure." You tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. You had to play nice, for Bucky's sake.

"Hey Cricket, can I ask you something?" Priya’s voice was slightly hesitant.

"Course. What is it?" You replied. But you had a strong feeling you weren’t going to like what she was going to ask you and steeled yourself for it.

"Do you and Jamie have any history of being more than… just friends?"

"No." You suppressed a sigh. You had expected an annoying comment, as opposed to something that would break your heart all over again. "No, just friends. Why’d you ask?" You felt suspicious of her line of questioning.

"Oh, I was just curious. I know you're not his type and all, so I wasn't very worried about it, but I figured there's always a possibility." She shrugged.

"Bucky and I have never been anything more than friends." You confirmed through gritted teeth, and it was killing you.

"Okay," Priya smiled happily. "That makes me feel better. I really like him, and I just wanted to make sure there weren't any lingering feelings between you two."

"I'm happy for you," you lied through a smile.

"Thanks, Cricket. I appreciate that. And I'm glad we had this conversation, it's always good to clear the air."

"Absolutely."

"Thanks for being so understanding. You're a great friend, I’m glad that James and I have you."

Steve and Bucky as they paused momentarily, not wanting to interrupt your conversation, but at the same time, curious about what you were saying. They both felt a little awkward for eavesdropping but they didn’t feel comfortable making their presence known. Steve glanced over at Bucky, wondering what his reaction would be, but Bucky’s face was bathed in darkness and impossible to read.

When Priya said she was glad to have you as a friend, Steve nudged him gently. "Come on," he jerked his head, urging Bucky to follow. He walked into the lounge and deposited the snacks on the table in front of you and Priya.

"Thanks, Steve!" you reached forwards to grab a bowl of popcorn, but Bucky was blocking you. You swatted his legs playfully. "Buck! What’re you doing?"

"Cricket, can you move over a bit so I can sit with Priya?" Bucky looked at you with wide eyes and pouty lips. How could you say no?

Reluctantly, you got off the couch, Bucky giving you a questioning frown as you did so. You shuffled over and settled in next to Steve, feeling a stab of disappointment that Bucky had chosen to sit with Priya instead of you.

"Did you ladies pick a movie?" Steve asked.

You shook your head, but Priya volunteered a suggestion in a heartbeat. "You've Got Mail!"

Steve pulled up the film from Tony’s endless supply of media and hit play. As the movie started, you tried to focus on the screen, but your eyes kept gazing over to Priya and Bucky and how his arm was draped cozily over her shoulder. Your mind kept wandering back to the conversation you just had with Priya. You couldn’t help but wish that there had been more between you and your best friend. What made her think that you weren’t his type? You bristled at the thought. Bucky had never expressed his preferences to a woman’s appearance. Had he mentioned something to her?

Steve noticed your distraction and leaned over to whisper in your ear. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, trying to push aside your feelings of jealousy and insecurity. "I’m fine," you whispered back. "Just a little tired."

Steve gave you a knowing look, but didn’t press the issue. Instead he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, offering you comfort and support. As the movie played on, you found yourself leaning into Steve’s side, feeling safe and protected in his presence. You couldn’t help but wonder what could have been if things had been different between you and Bucky.

As you and Steve turned back to the movie, Priya leaned towards Bucky and whispered to him conspiratorially. "I think Cricket and Steve make such a cute couple, don't you think? They looked so cozy on their Coney Island date!"

Bucky looked down at her with surprise. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t feared that you and Steve might be more than friends, but it shocked him that other people considered it. As long as he was the only one to think it, he could have lived in denial, but having someone else voice it with such confidence made his skin crawl.

"Um, I don't know. They seem to get along well as friends."

"Oh come on, Jamie. I can see the way they look at each other. We should totally set them up! I mean look how he has his arm around her!" 

Bucky hummed with hesitation. "I don't think that's a good idea, Priya."

"Why not? They would be perfect together!"

"I just...I don't think it's the right time for them to start dating." Bucky answered, not avoiding eye contact, his eyes glued to Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

Priya was starting to sense that something was off. "Jamie, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Look, Steve doesn’t really talk to people about this, but he had a girl, back in the 40s, Peggy. He isn’t over her. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to enter a relationship when Steve still has feelings for Peggy." Bucky winced internally, hating himself for using Steve’s past to cover for himself.

"Wow, I had no idea," Priya said softly, her eyes widening in surprise. "That must be really tough for him."

Bucky nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for using Steve’s past as an excuse. "Yeah, it’s been hard for him. He’s never really gotten over her."

Priya looked thoughtful for a moment before turning back to Bucky. "Well, I’m glad you told me. I wouldn’t want to cause any unnecessary drama. They're lucky to have you looking out for them."

Bucky gave her a terse smile, grateful that she understood. "No problem. I just want what’s best for both of them."

As the movie came to an end, you and Steve exchanged a look, both of you feeling a sense of contentment and comfort in each other’s presence. Despite the awkwardness and tension that had filled the room earlier, you were grateful for the friendship and support that you had in each other. Unfortunately for the two of you, your closeness did nothing to assuage the envy that burned deep inside Bucky.

As everyone got up to leave, Priya turned to you and Steve with a smile. "Thanks for the movie night, guys. I had a great time."

You and Steve both nodded, returning her smile. "Anytime," you said, feeling a sense of relief that the night had gone smoothly.

As you and Steve walked out of the living room together, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for having him by your side. Maybe things weren’t meant to be with Bucky, but you knew that you had a true friend in Steve, someone who would always be there for you no matter what.

On the other hand, Bucky went to bed that night with Priya’s words burned on the back of his brain. Why did she think that there might have been something between him and you? She had worsened his fears about you and Steve. Would his oldest friend really betray his trust that way? Surely you would have mentioned that to him, wouldn’t you? The tiny voice in his head that sounded just like you, asked him why he would assume such a thing, since he had hidden his relationship for so long. 

*

Your voice of conscience in his mind did nothing to mitigate his turbulent thoughts. In fact they swirled around his brain until he found himself confronting you about them. This was becoming too common an occurrence. He blurted out the words while he found you training in the gym.

"You went to Coney Island with Steve." He tried to sound nonchalant as he spotted you with your weights.

You grunted your response, trying to stand up with the heavy weight balanced across your shoulders. Eyes screwed shut with the effort of pushing your knees apart to push yourself upright. You panted slightly, trying to recover your composure, but Bucky wasn’t ready to give up on his point.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were going?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," you attempted a shrug before going back into a squat. "It was Steve’s idea and honestly, I didn’t think it was a big deal since you were busy with Priya."

"It is a big deal! We promised we'd go together."

Your face dropped slightly as you stood up, remembering the promise you’d made almost a year ago. Things had been so chaotic and you’d forgotten about it. You put the barbell back on the rack before replying. "I know, and I was really looking forward to it." There was a sadness in your tone that you couldn’t hide. "But when you started dating Priya, I thought things had changed. I didn’t think you’d care."

"That doesn’t mean we can’t still hang out. You’re my best friend, too." Bucky leaned against the rack, as you busied yourself with unloading the bar.

"I know, and I’m sorry." You hid your face as you answered. "I just felt left out when you didn’t tell me about Priya."

"I’m sorry, I know I should’ve told you. But seeing you at Coney Island with Steve really hurt."

"Wait," you spun around with surprise. "You saw me at Coney Island?"

"Yeah…" Bucky’s anger abated slightly as he realized what he was saying to you.

You huffed. "You were there?"

Bucky had the decency to look ashamed.

"And you’re getting on my case? I mean Steve took me there as a surprise to cheer me up after I got sick. I didn’t decide to go there without you. And it’s not like Steve knew about our promise. What were you doing there, Bucky?"

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was there with Priya. We were on a date."

You felt a pang of jealousy and hurt, but you pushed it down but the aggression in your tone was unmistakable. "I see. Well, I’m sorry if I upset you by being there with Steve. But I'd like to point out that you didn't seem to have any issues going with Priya."

Bucky looked at you, his expression softening. "I’m sorry, Cricket. I should’ve told you about Priya - about Coney Island, about dating her. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just…"

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "It’s okay, Bucky. Just…next time, can you please just be honest with me?"

"Yeah," Bucky nodded. "and hey, you'd tell me if you were, right? As in dating… someone."

"Yeah, I'll keep you apprised." You rolled your eyes and shook your head with a small laugh.

"Even if it was Steve?"

“Why do you keep asking me that? Are you trying to set me up with Steve? Because I don't have those kinds of feelings for him.”

“You don’t? Because Priya said-”

"Bucky, why don't you ask me about me instead of your girlfriend?" The irritation you'd felt about his indignation earlier rose inside you again, enough that you decided to walk away from it.

He caught up to you outside the gym, heart pounding in his chest. "Hey, Cricket," he called out, his voice filled with sincerity. "I’m sorry for how I acted back there. I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have let my jealousy get the best of me. Can we talk?"

You turned to face him, your expression guarded but curious. "What do you want to talk about, Bucky?"

Bucky took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I want to apologize for not being upfront with you. I value our friendship, and I don’t want to lose that because of my own insecurities. I’m sorry for hurting you… and I want to make things right."

You studied him for a moment, your eyes searching his handsome face for sincerity. The way he looked back at you softened your resolve and after a moment, you nodded. “I appreciate your apology, Bucky. Let’s move past this and focus on our friendship.”

Bucky nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders as he heard your words. "Of course. And hey, maybe we can still go to Coney Island together sometime. Just the two of us."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I’d like that."

Bucky fell in step beside you, as you walked away from the gym, the tension between you slowly dissipating. He knew he had a lot of work to do to rebuild the trust between you, but he was willing to put in the effort. He was grateful for your forgiveness and determined to show you that he was a true friend, even if he couldn't have anything more.

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[junggunz]

5 | 🔞

summary: Jay Jo tutors you for an extra hour. wc: 2.2k cw: fembodied!reader, smut, university!au, tutor!jay jo, reader tests Jay's patience fr, oral (m receiving), facial cum shot, light degradation, spanking, p in v, all characters featured are 18+ an: since the prompt list had two different number 5's, NATURALLY i picked the one i've been thinking about for agesss.

“First, differentiate this part here…(-S)2 is equal to C2+S2…” Jay explains, using his pen to circle the components of the number expression you were currently working on.

Sitting beside each other in the library, knees brushing against each other every so often, you were growing antsy. It's hard trying to stay focused when all these equations are starting to look the same. And not to mention, your tutor is looking extra attractive today. But maybe that was just because of the residual tension lingering from your last tutoring session.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop interrupting me when I’m trying to teach you something?” Jay says through gritted teeth, his patience long gone after hearing you complain about being bored one too many times. 

You insulted his teaching skills, which led to him getting up to leave. Truly fed up with your poor attitude because it was your grades, not his, that needed help; he only offered to tutor you for the extra credit. You’re ready to let him walk out on you until you remember that he’s the only one who had an open schedule and was down to study with you at any time of day as long as you gave him heads up. Now desperate, you begged him to stay. Unmoved by your pleas, Jay tells you to give him one good reason to deal with you. 

And that’s how you ended up in this position.

Half past midnight on a Saturday, the library was sparsely populated. At least one person had fallen asleep with their face in a textbook. Aside from the three other people in the entire building, it's a ghost town. Not very many people want to pass up the Saturday parties when they can just cram on Sunday. Jay uses the lack of potential spectators to his advantage, making a mess of your mouth. There's no need to be sneaky or secretive if there's no one to witness the lewd dalliance of you and Jay.  Ducked under one of the tables at the library, knees digging into the scratchy carpet while Jay kept a firm hand on the back of your head; bobbing you along his cock leisurely. 

“I guess it’s true. Dumb sluts like you always give the best head.” He murmured softly, the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips as he watched your lips move up and down his shaft.

It doesn’t take long for your jaw to start aching from how wide you have to open your mouth to take him. Even with the slow pace he was fucking your mouth, you  gagged and sputtered every time the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. 

 With the deep strokes he gives, your drool gathers in your cheeks and slosh around with each push of his shaft until it trickles down the sides of your mouth. The way one of your soft hands squeeze and fondle his balls with your saliva acting as a lubricant, Jay is very much tempted into spilling his load down your throat. God knows he’s been craving this type of release for ages. But with how warm and slick your mouth is around him, he really doesn’t want the feeling to wane. 

Caught between a rock and a hard place, sweat beaded along Jay’s hairline, his teeth gnawed at the inside of his lower lip, and he kept your hair in a vice grip. The longer he held off, the more desperate your actions would become. Nastily slurping up the mixture of precum and your spit that covers his shaft, using your tongue to massage the underside of his cock and trace along each of the pulsing veins, and even going as far to flick your tongue across the seam of his balls whenever you deepthroated him; it seemed like you were getting a point of wanting Jay to cum more than anything. 

Jaw feeling like it was locked open for him to use, you looked up at Jay with glossy eyes, silently pleading for his climax. Desperation is cute on you—at least Jay thinks so, and wanting to take in the expression on your teary face, it makes the perfect incentive for him to hold out longer. Reaching down with the hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair, Jay yanks down the neckline of your shirt. Stretching out the soft fabric, he can slip his hand into one of the cups of your bra, roughly pinching your nipple. The tender flesh of your breast is used like a stress ball for Jay; his palm squeezing harder every time you hollow your cheeks around his cock. 

It would be a bold faced lie to say that you never imagined yourself kneeling in the library with your tits spilling out, sucking someone off all in the name of saving your grade. But with Jay Jo of all people? Jay was just some quiet nerd to you. You were confident he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to get his dick sucked if you offered. However, that was the only correct assumption you made. He wasn’t as shy as you expected. He wasn’t awkward. And he definitely wasn’t small.

His cock felt so heavy against your tongue. You felt the true weight of it when he pulled it out of your mouth to slap against your cheek. Just the sound of his shaft making contact with your face renders your mind completely vacant. And that’s exactly how Jay wanted you. He doesn’t wanna see any semblance of a thought when you’re sucking him off; you need to save the thinking for when he was actually trying to teach you a lesson.  

Deciding that he’s deprived himself of his release long enough, he guided your hand with his own to stroke his cock at the exact pace and grip he liked. Not even giving you a warning, all you saw was blurry white ribbons flying toward you before you felt warmth dripping down your face. Even in this situation, Jay’s expression was indifferent as usual albeit his flushed cheeks and labored breathing. It was only after he pulled up his pants and handed you some tissues before leaving, you were able to tell if he enjoyed this encounter.

“Same time, next week. Bring your last exam with you.”

“Jay, we’ve done so much tonight already. My brain feels like it’s gonna explode if I look at any more numbers.” You whine, laying your head down on the cool surface of the wooden table. “Can we end the tutoring session? Or at least take a break?” 

“If you start slacking now, you’re not gonna be ready for finals at the end of the term.” He reminds you, using that same vacant tone he spoke with all the time. 

Maybe if he was just a little more expressive, you’d feel more encouraged to power through the rest of your study session. You definitely felt more encouraged after last week. Jay wasn’t the type to make a big deal out of it, but he did acknowledge the six point increase on your quiz scores.

“At least I’m passing the class now! That deserves some sort of reward.” You insist, looking at him with puppy eyes. 

Seeing that your focus had been disrupted since the beginning of the session, Jay relents. 

“Fine, my reward will be helping you correct all the points you missed on your last quiz.” 

Initially, when you hear his proposal, you’re ready to complain and fuss. But when Jay starts packing up his things and telling you to do the same, you’re quick to shove your notebook and pencils into your bag so you could trail after him. 

Now, in the privacy in his dorm, you find yourself in yet another situation you couldn’t have foreseen. In Jay’s bed. Naked from the waist down. Settled on his lap with his cock deep inside of you but unmoving while he looked over your most recent exam. One of his hands held the neatly stapled set of pages while the other rested on the apex of your thigh.

“Didn’t I tell you how to solve these kinds of problems last time I saw you?” Jay scolds you as he looks over the first section of the questions you missed. “You did these problems just fine during our review session. How come you missed them?”

“Aah…I forgot a step of the formula.” You mumble in a wavering voice, struggling to refrain from rocking your hips against his. 

“You should have that formula drilled into that pretty little head of yours by now.” He tells you sternly. “Lift your ass up.”

Obliging to his demand, you pick up your hips until only half his shaft remains inside of you. With your eyes focused on Jay’s stony expression, you don’t notice his hand coming off your thigh until he brings it down on your ass; slapping you hard and making you whine. 

“Question 13 is the same. I even went over this one with you.” Jay murmurs, eyes scanning over your work shown and scoffing at the little mistakes.

“I forgot…” You mumble which earns you another mean spank to your ass. 

Flipping through the rest of your test, Jay does reward you for your good work; letting you bounce yourself up and down on his cock like the needy slut you are. Your walls are slick and hot around him, dangling the idea of forgetting about your test corrections right in front of his face. As much as he wants to lose himself in the feeling of your pussy hugging him so tightly, he can’t. For just a few minutes, Jay allows himself to focus on how hot and wet you are for him. 

That is, until he comes across another incorrect question. Immediately, he demands that you stop moving, giving your already burning ass cheeks several more slaps until you heed to his command. Manhandling you onto your back and telling you to hold your legs apart from him. Giving you only shallow thrusts, he reads off another problem you missed points. 

You look up at Jay with a glassed over expression, trying to focus on him to explain where you went wrong but all that fills your mind is the sensation of your walls clenching around his dick and trying to lure him deeper into your heat. The hand that wasn’t holding your paper menacingly lifts up, hovering above your already stinging ass as Jay asks you what the correct answer is. And now, you’re racking your brain, trying to remember what he said about solving that particular problem.

“Is the rational value negative two?” You ask in a small voice, already squeezing your eyes shut and trying to brace yourself for the repercussion of getting a question incorrect.

“Good job.” Jay tells you, awarding you another spank that’s not as harsh as all the previous ones. 

And then, your position changes again. After listening to him lecture you about everything you did wrong on your test, it’s time to actually make the corrections. Now laying flat on your stomach with your test in front of you and a pen in one hand, Jay fucks you from behind. Holding himself above you, his attention is split between rutting into you hard and watching you shakily redo each equation. 

“You’re too slow.” Jay grunts out, the tip of his cock meanly pressing against your sweet spot as you struggle to scrawl out any semblance of a number. “You can’t spend too long on a single problem.”

“But-” You start to whine out, trying to reason that during a real math quiz, you wouldn’t have him rearranging your guts and making it hard to focus. 

Alas, Jay wasn’t hearing it and only slams harder into that extra soft area deep within your walls, causing you to nearly drop your pen. Your handwriting is scratchy and shaky, looking more akin to a toddler’s work when it’s next to your usually legible print. Taking in a shuddering breath, you grip your pen tighter; desperate to prove to Jay that this kind of tutoring was the only way you could work with him. And the only way to do that was to actually work on your test corrections.

Unlike you, Jay is a very talented multitasker. He has no problem looking over your shoulder while you struggle to scrawl out your work on the page due to the way he was roughly slamming into you from behind. 

“I shouldn’t have to remind you about the order of operations.” He murmurs in your ear, thrusts barely slowing down even as he chides you when you neglect the numbers you had just rewritten in parentheses. 

“For fucks sake…” You mutter under your breath, trying to collect your thoughts for long enough to correct your mistake while also keeping back the moans that were tickling the back of your throat.

It’s funny to Jay; the way you’re able to remember to keep your ass up and back arched so he could fuck you deeper without him ever needing to tell you in the first place, but after weeks of him telling you the same fundamental math principles over and over, the material just wouldn’t stick. But could he blame you? His cock was hitting all the right places and you simply couldn’t get enough of it. Meanwhile, math was a subject you absolutely detested.

With the way things were going, it was going to be a long review session; but totally worth it if all the ones after this would be the same. 

[riri-twix]

Can We Become We?

Chapter 1: No Choice in the Matter

Summary: Satoru, Suguru, and you are forced into a marriage by your families for economic reasons. Satoru who doesn’t know what it’s like to love or be loved. Suguru who believes he is undeserving of anyone’s love. And you who didn’t want to love in the first place.

The three of you agree to stay out of each other’s business, and save the relationship acts only for the elders who imposed this on you. But what happens when feelings for each other start to develop?

She/her pronouns for reader | use of y/n | no smut in in this chapter

You can also read it on ao3 here

“I’m NOT getting married!” Satoru’s voice came out loud and forceful. It felt like his heart had turned into a ticking bomb, ready to explode at any second.

He didn’t even take a look at the two photos his father had thrust into his hands, before he ripped them up. Whatever remained of them lay shredded on the floor. His soon-to-be partners.

This was bound to happen. Satoru knew. Families like his needed to ensure their legacies don’t cease to exist. But he didn’t want to be told what to do by them, or the corrupt system they lived by. Stupid rules made by those stupid elders.

“You don’t have a choice!” His father shouts back, his words echoing against the walls. “It’s your duty as a part of this family-”

“What fucking family?!” Satoru screams, cutting him off. “This is no family! This is a fucking prison!”

His father's hand whipped out with lightning speed, striking his cheek with a hard slap. Satoru stands there, a stunned expression on his face. He reached a hand up touch the side of his face. The skin was hot underneath his fingers.

His father was glaring at him with so much contempt, that it almost burned holes into Satoru’s eyes. Blue clashed with blue.

“You’re nothing but a spoiled brat who doesn’t appreciate anything we’ve given you.” His father spits out, his voice low and menacing. “You have no idea what real life is like.”

Satoru let his arm drop to his side, the look in his eyes growing distant, as if he didn’t care about anything anymore.

“Our family line will not end with you, so you need a wife. And we’ve been given a great opportunity to own land with the richest soil in Tokyo.” His father hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re going to marry both of them. Do you understand?”

It wasn’t a question for Satoru to answer. The answer was whatever his sorry excuse of a father decided.

With an expression set in stone, his father turned on his heel and made his way out of the room. Satoru waited until the sounds of footsteps faded away completely before scoffing out an empty chuckle. “That’s right. Leave.” He sneered in disgust. “Leave like you always do.”

His eyes flick down to the photos on against the marble floor. Two faces staring up at him from the torn scraps of paper, taunting him with the fate that had been forced upon him.

His lip curls, eyebrows furrowing as if he had a bitter pill resting on the back of his tongue. He didn’t want to be tied down to anyone. But since when did his opinion matter?

He moved to sit back down at the large dining table in his family’s sprawling mansion. The ornate chandelier above him cast a warm glow over the furnishings and polished floor. He fiddled absently with an empty wine glass, glaring coldly at the expensive spread of food in front of him.

He was supposed to eat dinner alone. Again. The same way he did every single day of his life ever since he learnt how to feed himself. He was used to it by now.

His mother was busy making small talk with a couple of guests in the main hall, her laughter filling the space as she sipped on a glass of wine.

His father’s words repeated in his head, echoing through his mind like the relentless pulse of a headache. “You don’t have a choice!”

Satoru clenched his jaw, setting down the glass with a loud clatter. He aggressively pushed himself up as the chair rakes against the the floor beneath him, the sound drowning out his mother’s laughter.

“I hate you.” He grits under his breath as he makes his way out of the dining room. He stormed down the hallway with his hands curled into fists so tight, that if his nails weren’t recently cropped, they could’ve drawn blood.

Despite all the material possessions he had, he couldn't remember the last time his parents had spent any real quality time with him. Never a word of praise or sign of affection. There was always some important meeting or pressing matter that they had to attend to, some excuse to leave him to his own devices.

That's why, when he finally made it to his bedroom, he slammed the door behind him with a loud bang and let out a shout of frustration, collapsing onto the edge of his bed. He shoves his face into one of the pillows to hide his face.

He was sick and tired of it - of this life, of this family, of his parents treating him like he was just an obstacle. It’s not fair. But he knew they wouldn't listen. They never listened. Satoru knew he was nothing but a trophy to them - a symbol of their success, not a son to be cherished.

And now they were marrying him off just for the benefit of this stupid family. Not because they cared about him. He spent years of neglect, the memories of his parents' absence, and his own emptiness in this house that had never been a home.

The hair tie was dangling from Suguru’s teeth as his hands worked on gathering up his dark hair into a bun. He had just finished getting into a button up and slacks, the uniform he wore during his part-time job as a waiter.

There’s a light knock on his bedroom door, making him turn around. Only his mother would knock so gently that one might miss it. He sighs through his nose and drops his hands. His hair undoes itself, flowing loosely just below his shoulders as he takes the hair tie out of his mouth.

He opens the door, only to be greeted by the sight of both his parents standing there. His eyebrows twitch upwards, just by a whisper, before they settle into their usual position.

There’s a pleading look to their faces, ones that remind him of a homeless person looking at someone while holding out a cup for money. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows that they’re going to ask him to do something he probably doesn’t want to do but will do anyway.

“I assume you have something to tell me?” The question came out more like a statement, and Suguru turned around, letting them come into his room.

“Son, you already know about the circumstances of our family-” His father starts, but Suguru cuts him off short. He’s heard this story a thousand and one times already. Maybe even more.

“Father, don’t drag this on.” Suguru starts doing his hair again, collecting it into a prim bun near the back of his head. “Just tell me what you want.”

There’s a brief pause, and he could almost sense the way his parents shared a glance from behind his back.

“We’ve arranged a marriage for you.”

Suguru freezes. For a second, he questions if he heard right, but the way the room went eerily silent just proves that he heard just fine.

His jaw clenched, and with his back still turned from his parents, his hands start moving again. He reaches out to take his hair tie and sets his hair into its usual shape. Prim and precise.

Then, he turns to face his parents.

“No.” He smiles, tight lipped, eyes closed into upside down crescents. “I’m going to the restaurant now. Do you want anything else?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, already making his way past them and out of his room.

“Son.” His mother calls out, and he stops in his tracks. “We need this.”

Suguru feels the side of his temple throb, hands curling tightly around the strap of his laptop bag as he adjusted it onto his shoulder.

“No, we don’t.” His heart pounds in his chest like a drumbeat as he stands there, unwilling to face them. “We have enough to live.”

“It’s barely enough.” His father tries to explain. “The Gojo family wants to buy our farm land-”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“You sold our land?!” He turned on his heel, his eyes wide and wild. He can’t believe it.

His father's face softened slightly at the sight of his son's emotion. “They offered over 100 million yen.” He said, as if that somehow made everything okay. “Do you know how much that is?”

“And what about me?” Suguru spits right back at his father, voice laced with a bitterness he couldn’t even recognise. “This is my future, my inheritance. And you traded it away for some money?!”

This time, mother spoke up, cutting through the tension like a knife. “We said we wouldn’t accept unless they married you to their son and they agreed.”

The realisation dawns onto Suguru’s face like a shadow casting over the sun.

“You… you sold me too?” His shoulders drop ever so slightly.

“The Gojo family offered more money than we ever would’ve seen in our lifetimes added together.”

Suguru couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had always known that things were difficult for his family, but he had never thought they would go this far. He could feel the anger filling up inside him, threatening to overflow like a boiling pot.

"You could have asked me!" His voice raised with every word. "This is my life we’re talking about, not some shitty cash grab!”

His parents exchange a look of worry, regret etched onto their features, but he doesn't want to hear it. It was too late now, anyway.

“Son…” His mother starts off, her tone gentle.

“Stop.” He turned away, his eyes closing slowly. “Just stop.” What’s done is done.

He heard his own footsteps against the wood as he walked away, his body moving stiffly, his mind a blur. His father's voice sounded distant and abstract, before leaving the house and slamming the door shut behind him.

You close the door behind you, throwing your bag onto the ground with a heavy thump. You take a deep breath, feeling the familiar smell of your home surrounding you like a warm blanket.

Finally. After a long day of work at the cafe, all you wanted to do right now was kick back and relax.

“I’m home!” You called out, slipping your shoes off, before bending over and placing them up on the shoe rack.

“Y/n, come here.” Your father’s voice calls you from the living room.

You pause.

Was something wrong? The tone he used sounded serious, almost grave. Giving your head a slight shake, you take a deep breath in an attempt to steady yourself. Maybe it's not that bad, maybe it's something simple.

You make your way towards the living room, to see both your parents sitting on the couch, almost as if they were waiting for you. You try to ignore the heavy thumping in your chest. Your mind was running through a million questions. Was someone hurt? Was there bad news?

“Is something wrong?” You kept your voice steady, despite the fact that something felt very off.

“Nothings wrong.” Your father states simply, his expression unreadable. “But your marriage is in two days.”

For a moment, you don't believe it. A light laugh a little bit escapes your lips, thinking it's some kind of joke. But then your neither of your parents crack a smile.

The rock in your stomach drops to your feet. “What?”

“Your wedding.” Your father repeats slowly, as if you were too stupid to understand. “Is in two days.”

“No, I heard that part.” You spit out, voice rising in anger. “I meant what the fuck do you mean?!”

“Y/n.” Came the warning tone of your mother. You turn to her, your eyes widening as you search for an answer. But her expression is just as grim as your father's.

There’s a familiar sting of anger spiking up in your blood.

“No. Don’t Y/n me. Explain.” You snapped, heart violently thundering against your rib cage. “What do you mean, my marriage is in two days? I’m not engaged! Hell, I’m not even dating anyone!”

“The Gojo family is looking for a wife for their son.” Your father replies matter-of-factly, not a single trace of guilt on his face.

Your jaw might’ve dropped to the floor if it wasn’t screwed onto your face.

“Why me!? There are plenty of other women!” You yell, the rage burning up inside you growing hotter. “I don’t want to get married to some random guy I don’t know! I’m trying to finish college!”

“My close co worker, Yaga, knows them personally, and he told me about it. So, I offered you. They trust him a lot so they agreed on you.” You father says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You don’t understand what this could do for us, for me. The Gojo family is huge. Huge.”

“And what about me?!” You shouted, eyes beginning to sting from the frustration all building up at once. “Am I supposed to just go through with this? Like it's nothing? Like none of my decisions matter?" You can feel your heart racing and your mind spinning as you try to make sense of what's happening.

“You'll do what I tell you to do.” Your father’s voice is firm and unforgiving.

“No, I won't.” You shake your head, a fire in your eyes that could burn holes. “I won't let you ruin my life like this!”

Your father’s expression hardens as he looks at you with a steely gaze and a clenched jaw.

“If you don’t agree, we won’t pay a single yen for your studies.” His tone is low and measured. “You’re going to have to find your own money.”

There was a stab of betrayal as your father issues his warning. You wanted to yell at the top of your lungs, because what the fuck?! If you could pay for your own education you would’ve already done it!

“This isn’t fair!” Your teeth were grinding together, and you were this close to ripping out your hair.

“You’ll survive.” You father scoffs. He scoffs. And you feel your eye twitch. “I’m sure your future husbands won’t have an issue if you continue your studies after marriage.”

You have to double take, the cogs in your mind halting for a second.

“Husbands? With an s?”

“Yes, Gojo’s kid is marrying some other guy for land property.” Your father shrugs, pushing himself up from the couch. “You’re going to have to marry him too.”

Your mother follows after him as they walk toward the living room threshold.

The weight of his words hangs in the air like a dark cloud, threatening to overshadow your entire being, and for the umpteenth time during the course of ten minutes, your heart sinks.

“Are you hearing yourselves?” You scream, tears blurring your vision. Your voice wavers as you look from your father to your mother, then back to your father again. In that moment, it feels as if the walls are closing in around you, and you wanted more than anything for this to be nothing but a nightmare. “This is ridiculous!”

Your protest echoes through the room, and the silence that follows feels deafening. Until your father looks over his shoulder, his tone firm and decisive.

“You have two days to prepare yourself.” There was no room for negotiations.

And with that, your parents leave you alone with your despair.

You walk backwards until you reach the couch, slumping down and throwing your head in your hands. The dam breaks, hot tears coming in pairs as they roll down your cheeks.

Just hours ago, you had been just fine, casually working with your friends at Nanami’s cafe, not a single worry in the world. You had no idea that you were going to come home to this, your entire life being turned upside down.

As you lift your head up from your hands and pull out your phone, you tap through your contacts until you find ‘Smoke-o’. You take a deep breath before calling her. After the third ring, her voice comes through the speaker, sounding chill and relaxed as always.

“Hey, Y/n. What’s up?”

“Hey Shoko.” You sniff, pushing yourself up from the couch. Your voice is strained, and your friend immediately picks up on it.

“Woah, are you crying?” She asks, her tone suddenly turning serious. “What happened?”

“Shit happened. A lot of shit.” You start to make your way to your room, before closing the door behind you.

“There’s no shit I can’t handle.” Her tone is firm and confident. “Tell me who did this and Utahime and I will beat them up right now.” You can't help but feel comforted by her words. But you knew there was no point.

“My parents set me up in an arranged marriage.” There's a brief silence on the other end of the phone. “With two guys.” You add, feeling your stomach tighten at the thought.

“Oh fuck.” She curses. You can tell she's not sure what to say.

“I know.” You try to stop your voice from shaking but the tears are making it harder.

“Am I invited the wedding?” Shoko tries to break the tension with a joke, but you find it really hard to smile. “I should be the bridesmaid, but don’t tell Uta. She’ll get jealous.”

“Shoko…” You choked out weakly. You weren’t in the mood for jokes.

She replies with a contrite “Shit, sorry.”

As you throw yourself onto your bed, you wipe your tears onto the pillow and let out a muffled sob. The tears are flowing freely now, and you can't seem to stop them. She listens quietly while you tell her the whole story, before she finally speaks.

“Wow… your dad is such an asshole.” She comments, to which you silently agree. “This is so fucked up.”

“I don’t even know who they are! What if they’re old men?!” Your voice cracks, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “What if they’re total pervs?! What if they treat me like shit?!”

There's a slight pause on the other end of the line, and then Shoko's voice fills your ears. “I’ll literally assassinate them if they do ANYHTING.” She says, and you can hear the venom in her tone. “I don’t care, we’ll crash the wedding and pick you up, then drive away like the runaway bride.” A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Just say the word.”

“I know.” Then the smile quickly fades as the gravity of the situation hits you once again. “I’m scared, Shoko.” You whispered into the phone.

“Me and Uta will be here for you always.” Shoko assures you, and you can hear the genuine care in her voice. “You're not alone in this, and we'll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re OK.”

“I know.” You let out a shuddery breath. “Thank you, Shoko.”

“Hey, it’s nothing. That’s what friends are for.”

There was a slight comfort in her words, but despite her assurances, you can't shake off the fear and frustration of it all. You still feel a sense of dread, not knowing what the future holds.

chapter1, chapter2, chapter3, chapter4 (coming soon)

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 3: Figure it Out

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: You become Jungkook’s problem.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 3k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, tension, an argument, accidentally triggering someone else

a/n: this week, they actually get to talk!! hooray! except, well... they might not be so keen to celebrate this development... enjoy the drama👀

“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jungkook’s stare was level, voice monotone. You gulped, finding it difficult to meet his eyes.

Exhaling, you cast your gaze across the rest of the training space, though you knew it to be empty. You were tucked down the end, where Jungkook had been practising before, and now stood opposite you.

“I- I don’t-” you stammered, “what do you mean?”

Jungkook poorly concealed the roll of his eyes.

“Namjoon taught you how to do this yesterday-“

“-I wouldn’t say taught, exactly-“

“-so let’s see it.”

Was Jungkook not supposed to be helping you? Namjoon had said his powers were closest to yours. Clearly his eagerness for you to learn from Jungkook had blinded him to the very clear hatred Jungkook harboured for you.

But if this was how he wanted to play it, you would go along. Prove to him that you didn’t need his help to improve.

Gritting your teeth, you lifted your palms as Namjoon had shown you earlier. What else had he told you? To summon the right feeling.

This time, instead of being afraid of the pain your powers had brought at first, you searched for the sensation in your chest. Briefly, your eyes flickered to the side. Jungkook was watching you impatiently, eyebrows raised.

He didn’t think you could do it.

Swallowing, you pulled your eyes away from him and towards the metal target he had fixed on the wall, the one you had seen him training with earlier.

Like opening a trapdoor in your chest, a blaze of heat suddenly escaped. You panted as it flowed from your palms, watching with pride as your bright blue current zapped across the surface of the metal, just as his gold had done earlier.

After a moment, you felt your energy waning and fumbled to close off the power again. Though it took you a great deal of concentration, it came easier than it had done the first time. Glowing with your achievement, you turned, head high, to face Jungkook. Maybe you had been too hard on yourself earlier, as Jimin had said. You would soon get better.

But instead of any indication he was impressed, Jungkook simply folded his arms, expression unchanging.

“You need to be quicker,” he said.

Not entirely concealing the disappointment that lanced through you at his dismissal, you waited for him to elaborate.

But he merely stared.

It became clear he had no intention of continuing. Hands tightening to fists at your sides, you scoffed in irritation.

“And are you going to tell me how to do that?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out,” he said darkly. He turned and stalked away to the bench by the wall, leaving you no chance to argue.

Before he turned around, you wrenched your eyes away, and back to the target. Fine. He didn’t want to teach you. He was only here because Namjoon had made him, but he was taking it as a chance to try and see you fail.

But you were determined he wasn’t going to be the only star student around here.

Your arms lifted, and this time it was much easier for you to summon the electricity. Perhaps, like physical exercise, this was a matter of getting warmed up.

A sharp blast of blue rattled the metal against the wall. A smirk slid across your face.

You shut it off and tried again.

At the side of the room, Jungkook watched without reaction as blue repeatedly fired across the space, the same vivid lightning reflected as a glow in your eyes. You smiled as you watched that deathly light, and he knew he was right about you. He saw that same cold joy at using powers that could take a life – the exact same as the man who had given them to you.

By the end of your training time, your confidence had been restocked. Jungkook hadn’t offered you any more assessments of your weaknesses, but you were certain you had become quicker at both activating and stopping your powers than you could have imagined after your first try the previous morning.

Another clash sounded through the room as you hit the target again. As it faded, leaving just the sound of your panting breaths to fill the space, a voice spoke.

“Very impressive.”

Lowering your arm and whirling around, you found Namjoon leaning against the opposite wall. He strode towards you, though you noticed his eyes travelling to Jungkook who was still skulking by the wall.

“Loads better already,” Namjoon offered you a smile on his way past, “nice work, both of you.”

As his leader approached him, Jungkook got to his feet, enduring the congratulations of Namjoon who threw an arm around him.

“Yep,” Jungkook ground out, eyes fixed on you, “she’s certainly determined.”

His blood boiled even further seeing your mouth quirk up at that.

“Get some rest. You’re done for the day,” Namjoon told you. Nodding, you headed away, not waiting for Jungkook. It was just as well, because Namjoon held him back.

“I’m proud of you,” he told the younger sincerely, “I knew you would be able to welcome her in eventually. And it looks like you helped her a lot. It may not be easy for you, but you set aside your differences and that’s great.”

Namjoon’s encouraging smile was the first thing to strike guilt into him about how he had been treating you. His leader was so pleased, but it was all a lie. He hadn’t really done anything to make him proud.

Nodding with an attempt at a smile, he excused himself for the gym. Whenever he couldn’t make sense of his thoughts, they could usually be straightened out by a workout, so he headed straight there and began with some pull-ups.

He trusted Namjoon. Namjoon wanted to welcome you. But still, he couldn’t seem to support the decision.

Again, his mind replayed the mental images of you, standing with your shoulders set and arms raised, repeatedly firing deadly electricity through the air. The flashes of blue were enough to dissipate his guilt almost instantly.

His biceps and shoulders began to protest, but he pushed through. If he could just make a few more…

The problem was, he could see that fatal determination in you. His comments hadn’t prevented you from pushing your powers harder. Did you even understand how dangerous they were? Anyone could end up with powers like that, and not all were equipped to deal with them. Not everyone would use them for the best.

It was clear to him that you wanted nothing more than to master them as quickly as possible. And then, who knew what you could do? To him. To his team.

He dropped back to the ground, panting heavily.

Rubbing his burning palms together, he watched as gold static crackled around them. He clenched them into fists, turning away.

You stared hazily at the four blank walls of the room. It was entirely dark, your eyes only picking out slight details. Not that there were many to behold; you remained in the bare room from your first night, clearly not fully trusted with your powers yet.

Though you felt you had proved yourself a little when you trained with Jungkook earlier, you had to agree it was for the best. You didn’t want to admit quite how drained you felt after the adrenaline from your training had faded.

At first, you had crashed on the sofa, chatting with Hope and Jimin again. They were encouraging as always, understanding of the tiredness that seeped into your bones.

“Don’t push yourself,” Jimin had warned again. “You only just got your powers after all. You’re still adjusting.”

But fairly soon, talk of powers and training had been dropped. They put the tv on, and besides the news article which flashed up at first (‘Bolt describes his defeat of Monster Necrus X’), it was the first time the craziness of this new world you had crash landed into was gone from your mind. You didn’t care what they put on, paying minimal attention to the show and instead basking in the downtime with your new friends.

But when Hope looked up warily, you didn’t even need to guess who was standing behind you.

Jungkook’s venomous glare only met you for a second as he walked past, instead settling on ignoring you completely as he headed to the kitchen. The same loose t shirt hung from his frame, but since you came upstairs it had been drenched with sweat, clinging to his back as he headed to the kitchen.

Looked like he did train as hard as the others had told you.

Heaving yourself to a sitting position with some difficulty, you groaned. You hadn’t been working out, in the traditional sense at least, but your muscles had seized up.

You kept your gaze on Jungkook, who was filling a bottle and tilting his head back to gulp down some water. When he met your eyes again, his darkened, jaw popping in irritation.

With a sigh, you turned back to the others who were eyeing you apprehensively.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you sighed.

“You don’t have to-” Jimin tried, but you shook your head.

“It’s okay. I’m about to pass out anyway. Have a good night.”

You weren’t sure what time it was then, but it must have been early because on waking you found yourself wide awake while it was still dark, the house quiet. Despite the subtle ache in your body from the strenuous first day, and the heaviness of your head, you were firmly awake.

Pushing the covers off, you sat with a huff.

At least this feeling, this inability to sleep, wasn’t something isolated from the regular world you used to know. Even people who had never seen lightning shooting from their own hands had trouble sleeping sometimes. A normal problem, that you could deal with.

And so it was almost relieving when you padded into the deserted kitchen. For the moment, you didn’t have to cling to anyone, least of all someone who seemed to despise you, to guide you through.

In the kitchen, you flicked on the lights beneath the cupboards, the minimum level to light the space without assaulting your weary eyes.

Through your tiredness you breathed in the still air as you sat back, having set the kettle to boil. You watched the water inside growing restless as it heated up, tracking the bubbles as something to do.

It was only when the light flicked off, signalling that the steaming water was ready, that you took your eyes off it. And then you nearly fell out of your chair.

As you had turned to stand and retrieve the kettle, you found the seat beside you filled.

Biting back a curse, you simply panted, hand over your chest as you recovered from your shock. Big eyes blinked back at you.

While you steadied yourself against the counter, you took in the person’s face. You hadn’t been introduced yet, but remembered seeing him the first night you had arrived, holding onto Jimin’s hand.

He hadn’t said anything yet, so you shifted slightly and decided to break the silence.

“Sorry… I didn’t notice you come in. Do you have powers like Yoongi’s?”

The only move he made was to close his lips.

Okay, that hadn’t worked. Glancing over at the kettle, steam still emitting from the spout, you tried again.

“I’m making tea. Do you want any?”

Slowly, a smile turned his lips up at the corners. What could be considered a nod moved his head, and a knot of relief unwound in you as you scampered around the counter to fetch mugs. Eventually, the calming scent of tea wafted in steam from each cup as you slid one tentatively in front of your companion.

Clasping your hands around the warming ceramic, you spoke softly as you waited for it to cool enough to drink.

“I’m Y/N. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

His eyes raised from his tea and you mustered a small smile. You hadn’t expected him to reply at all, so when his smile returned and he spoke, you were astonished.

“V,” was all he said, a deep voice that didn’t disturb the quiet.

Your own smile grew. Sliding back into a seat, you took that as a win and kept talking.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you chuckled, “I figured no one would be up, not that it matters. I almost feel like I’m back at home. Midnight tea breaks are still a thing when you become a superhero, it seems.”

Laughing at yourself, you took a sip of your tea at last. But lowering you mug, you noticed a frown creasing V’s brow.

“Hero…” he muttered.

“I was just joking,” you laughed nervously, “I barely know how to use my powers yet.”

He said nothing else, but you noticed his fingers tightening around his cup. Had you done something wrong?

“Is something wrong?” you asked gently, reaching a hand subtly closer to him.

But in that moment, a hot, itchy feeling shot down your arm. With a gasp, you tensed, recognising the feeling and scrabbling to restrain it as you had learned to.

Though you held back the threatening torrent, a small flicker of blue escaped, leaping from your hand.

Closing your eyes and gritting your teeth, you withdrew, but a sudden smashing sound assaulted your ears, making it difficult to focus inwardly. The moment you flinched away, eyes snapping open to see a chair strewn on the floor among a growing tea stain and shards of shattered ceramic, control slipped away from you again.

Eyes widening, you backed away from V, now several paces away from you. Blue crackled around your hands.

It prompted you to take your eyes off the shadowy figure of V, breathing deeply as you locked your powers away, a slight simmering in your chest the only reminder as they retreated.

You had successfully shut down your powers, as you had been taught. But it didn’t seem to have been enough, not for the tense figure that stood on the other side of the trashed kitchen.

Your eyes opened as you staggered back and into the wall, panting with the exertion your powers always inflicted. You opened and closed your hands experimentally. No more electricity threatened. Next, your eyes fell on V, who took another step backwards.

You didn’t know what to say, but before you had the chance, another figure was approaching from the dark corridor. They were practically running towards you.

Even in the unlit space, you soon saw that it was Jungkook. His nostrils flared as he noticed you, but first he turned to V. Not far behind on his heels was Jimin, who didn’t spare you a glance as he ran to V as well, instantly throwing his arms around him from behind.

You could only stand, frozen as Jimin led V away. Jungkook remained.

Biting down on your tongue, you pushed yourself to stand unsupported again. Jungkook stepped disdainfully over the remnants of V’s tea on the floor, stalking towards you. He didn’t stop until he was close enough that it forced you to look up at him.

“What are you thinking?” he hissed.

“I-I don’t know what happened,” you stammered.

You might as well not have bothered, cut off nearly instantly by Jungkook. He was practically snarling, throwing a hand out as he ranted.

“You’re damn lucky you weren’t fried to a crisp!”

“I got my powers under control-“ you protested.

Teeth gritted, Jungkook pressed even closer to you, crowding your space as he glared into your eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about you!”

Clenching your jaw, you breathed through your nose, refusing to budge even though his face was mere inches away. Silence stretched out, nothing but your breathing filling the space as you tried to fathom his words.

“V…” you murmured. A curious frown creased your brows, but Jungkook didn’t feel like indulging you. His lips curled into a scowl.

“You must be stupid. I’m not sure if you noticed, but our powers aren’t anything to fool around with. All of us.”

“He… he wasn’t going to hurt me,” you spoke. At first in disbelief, but you grew more certain. V had had more than enough chance to attack you if he had wanted to.

“You don’t know that. Just stay away from him,” Jungkook spat, stepping back.

You jumped in before he could turn his back.

“And how am I supposed to do that? I live here too, Jungkook!”

“That’s the problem!” he rounded on you, “you don’t know anything about us!”

“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of,” you spoke coldly, “V is fine. And so am I, if you cared to know. I did exactly what I’m training to do.”

It was your turn to walk away, passing Jungkook on your way towards the exit. Unfinished tea be damned, you couldn’t keep arguing with him.

“Like scare him half to death?”

You paused in your path. Why did he think you were training to instil fear? You were training because you had no other option, with powers as unpredictable as yours. But it seemed fear was what you had caused anyway.

Dropping your head, you gazed at your hands, wishing anew that you didn’t have this complicated curse that drove people away. That made you into a danger.

But you didn’t have the words or the will to explain this to the obstinate Jungkook.

“See you at training,” you spoke flatly, and stepped away.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you're enjoying so far!!💜💜

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[glutengoblin]

Too Sweet (Part 2) - Sebastian Sallow X Reader

A/N: Apologies for the delay! As a Ravenclaw dealing with finals, I spent waaaaay too long in the library this past week. Here's part 2!

This story is inspired by "Too Sweet" by Hozier, which I have been playing on repeat for days at this point.

Also, if you'd like to be friends, please reach out! I would love to get to know you!

Summary: Sebastian has a problem, and that problem is his best friend. She is simply too sweet for him, and can't get her out of his head. Will he do something about his feelings, or choose to continue to keep them a secret? (She/Her Pronouns, House Neutral)

Word Count: 1.7 K

Ominis stared at his friend with surprise, trying to determine if he was actually meant to be taken seriously. Sebastian laughed at his expression- despite the fact that his stomach felt more queasy than it ever had, he settled on his decision.

“I mean, with graduation coming up, it's now or never, correct?” With that, Sebastian downed the last of his butterbeer in one fell swoop and stood up. Thankfully, years of downing fire whiskey after quidditch games had steeled him against the effects of alcohol, so for the most part, he was stable.

He turned around and surveyed the party, which had grown exponentially in rowdiness. Poppy was toppled over with laughter at something Garreth had said, with Natty by right by her side. Imelda actually stood on a table, chanting the Holyhead Harpies main cheer (apparently, she had just been accepted to the team that day). Even Amit appeared drunk, as he tried to explain the merits of astrology to Everett, who looked surprisingly okay with the topic of conversation.

When his eyes finally fell on Y/N, he grew a bit hot under the collar. She was sitting on a table, swinging her legs back and forth in her gleeful way. What Sebastian didn’t like was the cause of that glee, which was Andrew Larson, clearly telling that most fascinating joke. He was leaned ever so close to her, in a way that was awfully suggestive- and Sebastian hated it.

Sebastian stalked over, trying to flash his most charming smile, even though his anger was beginning to seep through. Truly, he didn’t adore the idea of Y/N being with some other than him.

As he approached, Y/N flashed him the most glorious smile. “Sebastian! I was hoping you’d come join. Andrew was just telling me about a new quidditch move he’s developing. I think its a brilliant idea.”

Andrew turned to look at Sebastian, his smile falling a bit as he examined his impression. “Y/N, I’m not sure its exactly information I want a Slytherin, of all people, to be privy too.” Andrew let out a chuckle, clearly trying to play it off as a joke.

Sebastian’s smile faded to a scowl, as he took a step closer, evidently sizing Andrew up. “And what exactly is wrong with being a Slytherin?” He quirked his head to the side, giving his best lost puppy expression, fanning ignorance to the fact that he knew exactly what Andrew had met.

Y/N threw a worried look between them, scooting off the table. “Hey, guys I don’t think that-” Andrew cut her off by giving her a hand, and giving Sebastian a scowl that rivaled his own.

“Perhaps I should clarify my statement Sallow. Its not so much that you’re Slytherin, as it is the fact that you’re you-” Sebastian gritted his teeth, clearly gearing up for the altercation that as about to ensue.

“Then what about me specifically-”

“I just think you’re an untrustworthy person. I mean, constantly up in the middle of the night, the way you’ve acted since your sister left- even she seems to think that you’re not worth associating with anymore-” Though Sebastian wasn’t proud of his next move, he was even less proud of what occurred after.

Sebastian lunged, socking Andrew with a fist straight to the eye. Stumbling back, Andrew drew his wand and threw a cast that Sebastian took straight to the chest, causing him to go flying back against the tables.

A hushed silence fell over the room as every onlooker watch the bar fight unfold in front of them. Sebastian lunged and Andrew, tackling him to ground as Andrew cried out. They rolled around on the floor, trying land more hits until Y/N finally drew her wand.

In an instant, the two men were floating in mid air, tethered in what Sebastian knew to be ancient magic. As soon as the shock from being lifted wore off, he took note of her expression. Y/N looked pissed- more than he had ever seen her.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she shot them both icy glares, before finally speaking. “ENOUGH! You two need to promise to stop acting like petulant children, and then I’ll put you down.” Evidently, both of them knew what was good for them as they nodded sheepishly. Lowering them both to the ground, Y/N then approached Sebastian. “You- Come with me.” Grabbing his upper arm, she lead him out onto the streets of Hogsmeade and to the nearest floo flame, muttering all the while.

Thankfully for his sake, she waited until they had arrived at her room of requirement before she lost her mind at him. “What the hell were you thinking Sebastian! Punching Larson? You’re already on thin ice with Weasley about the time you got in a brawl with Garreth after potions, what made you think it was a good idea to try a repeat!” Sebastian scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, I wouldn’t have punched the git if he hadn’t said those things about Anne. I mean come on Y/N, you heard what he said.” Y/N turned away, rummaging through one of her potions stations as she muttered to herself. Eventually, she returned with a cloth and deep blue potion, which she gently dabbed onto the wound on his forehead.

“I know Sebastian- Andrew was completely out of line. But still, violence is never the answer to your problems.” Sebastian snorted at that.

“That’s rich coming from you of all people. The girl who has probably killed more goblins than most aurors.” He retorted, gaining him a slap on the arm that made him yelp. She gave him a glare worth of rivaling Professor Sharp’s.

“You know what I mean Sebastian. I don’t know what I would do if you got expelled, and given your last insurrection you’re closer than ever to achieving that goal.” Sebastian let out a chuckle, pushing her hand away from his forehead.

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” That statement only earned him a shake of her head and scowl. Honestly, he found it weirdly attractive when she angry- it was so unlike her normal sweet expression.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief as his wound finally began to close up. Sebastian could have sworn that he imagined the next words out of her mouth, because that would be a more reasonable, logical explanation. However, he most certainly didn’t.

“Only about you…”

“What do you mean by that?” Their faces were rather close at this point, likely from her trying to ensure that his wound was properly tended to. Sebastian, however, let himself hope for a second that it was because she longed to close the distance as much as he did.

She let out another sigh, as she searched his eyes for the answer he was hoping to hear. “I suppose you could say… I care about you more than I really do for anyone else.” Sebastian eyebrows shot up at her admittance - could it possibly be that she returned his feelings? While still not sure, he had promised Ominis that he would finally do something about his pesky crush. Now seemed as good of a time as any.

“I-I… I care for you more than I do anyone else too… in a romantic sense-” Sebastian admitted, his hand traveling up to her cheek as he waited in quiet an anticipation. “Sorry if that was too rushed, or not romantic enough. I just don’t really know how else to say it.”

Her voice quivered a bit as the full weight of his words hit her, cause a wild blush to travel over her cheeks. “Really? You-You have feelings for me?”

“Really. Would it be alright if I-” Sebastian’s request was cut off as her lips crashed into his. Gone was the girl who had been so delicate with his injured self mere seconds ago. Instead, she was replaced with a someone that seemed to want this as desperately as him, as her hands found purchase in his hair, pulling him further into her.

Sebastian could swear his heart was exploding in his chest. The fact that after everything that had transpired, everything since 5th year, that she still wanted him- he was astounded. It was right then and there that he thanked Salazar for this chance, and swore that he would try his absolute best not to mess this up.

Her lips against his tasted sweet in a way he couldn’t quite describe- not sickening, but rather addicting. He knew right then he was screwed- falling even harder for her instantly became inevitable.

Deciding to jump head first into the intoxication, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her ever closer, pressing her smaller frame against his. She responded with a whimper that drove him absolutely mad, as he resounded to make her make that noise again.

Much to Sebastian’s dismay, they eventually had to pull apart for air. Staring at each other in shock, he gently brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, examining her eyes for any sign of regret. He was thankful to find none. After so long of just being friends, they had entered uncharted territory. The night felt new in an odd way, the excitement in the air was palpable.

Eventually Sebastian couldn’t bare it any longer, and grasped her hand in his. Running his thumb over her knuckles, he shot her a small smile. “Would it be too forward to ask you on a date at this point?”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, shooting him a sheepish smile. “Not at all, quite honestly I’ve been waiting two years for you to ask.” Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, as he quietly damned himself for not taking action much, much sooner. She broke his contemplative silence, urging her to look back up at her. “When did you want to-”

Sebastian squeezed her hand a bit tighter, considering for a moment. “Well, how about tomorrow? Preferably after 10 though, you know how I feel about my sleep.”

“That sounds fine. But don’t worry, eventually I’ll fix you. You’ll become a morning person if its the last thing I do before we graduate.”

Sebastian’s smile was wider than the whole sky as he leaned in, pressing another kiss against her lips.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

[bloodfiresandabram]

me: posts a snippet of the fic i started

me: doesn't do anything else for like a month

anyway, hey, here's another snippet because me giving in to the urge to write fics for aftg (and probably also tsc once i read it) has made me borderline feral with the need to write, write, and keep writing

Neil doesn’t mention his mother very often, not even to Andrew. Even thinking about her leaves him feeling conflicted, and while he can logically tell himself that Andrew’s distaste towards Mary is based on violent truth, whenever someone else points it out it becomes difficult to swallow down his urge to get defensive. If he’s being honest with himself, he can’t decide how he feels about her anymore. There’s a concoction of emotions that always swirl together in his head in a way, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

He knows that Bee is aware of Mary because he knows that Andrew and Aaron have talked about Mary during their joint sessions. He knows this because Andrew had asked if he could bring her up, making it very clear that he wouldn’t give any details that Neil wasn’t okay with, but also making it clear that Aaron would likely lose some of his continuous animosity towards Neil if he knew something that he could relate to. “And what better for you to bond over,” Andrew had drawled with falsified disinterest, “than abusive mothers who died in cars.” Neil hadn’t flinched back at those words, but Andrew was looking at him intently like he was expecting it anyway. When Neil gave him blanket permission, he cocked a bro  but didn’t bring it up again.

A few weeks later Aaron approached Neil between classes, looking disgruntled and reluctant and kind of annoyed, but he huffed a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest defensively and leveled Neil with a look that wasn’t completely scathing. “Your mom,” he said, then stopped, grimacing to himself as Neil looked at him curiously, making himself stay quiet and patient, something he often isn’t. Eventually Aaron managed to string his words together, though it was obvious that he was gritting his teeth as he spoke. “She wasn’t good to you,” he said. “But you loved her, right? And maybe you still do, but you feel like you shouldn’t?”

Neil had faltered at those words. “She kept me alive,” he said slowly.

“But maybe that wasn’t good enough,” Aaron replied.

The topic wasn’t funny, but Neil huffed out a laugh anyway. “Maybe,” he agreed.

Aaron had looked at him a moment longer, brows pinched together. Then, without another word, Aaron spun around on his heel and walked away. Neither of them have broached the topic again, and Neil has no plans to do so anytime soon, but Aaron has been a little bit less hostile towards him ever since.

fic is currently at 14k words (but this snippet is from the first 3k). i will probably post more snippets as i write it and eventually, at some point, actually finish it and then post the fucking thing o7

[wingedtrash]

cooper (from fallout) x reader where he rescues her from something?

Cooper Howard x !F! Reader

Kind of short, might make a smutty part 2 if y’all like it enough, otherwise use your imagination for the ending. Not proofread

Warning: mild violence, injuries, suggestive themes towards the end

The wasteland wasn’t new to you. You were born out here, so that meant you should know what you were doing when it came to surviving. But you still found yourself in bad situations.

“Oh shit-” you were cut off by the radscorpion knocking you to the sand. You hit the ground hard with a thump, the scorpion crawling quickly in your direction. You could hear more coming from other directions. You couldn’t tell how many more.

You were about to be trapped. We’re you really going to die like this. After taking on countless super mutants with their machine guns, and fire ants that could literally shoot fire. A group of scorpions were going to be your downfall.

You crawled backwards until your back hit a rock, blocking your path. You fucked up, you cornered yourself. You broke the one rule of not getting yourself stuck against a wall.

“Well fuck.” You mumbled, gasping for air. The suns rays were pounding down on you. The pain from your fall coursing through your body, you were sure to have a massive bruise down your side.

More scorpions came around the sides of the rock. You only had enough ammo to deal with one. But if you could deal with one and get it out of the way, maybe you could make a run for it. Just maybe…

But before you could put your plan into action you hear gunshots and the scorpion to your left goes limp. It’s dead, and the other 3 scorpions turn their attention to what or who killed it. You took this opportunity to make a run for it.

You hopped over the dead scorpion and ran to a nearby bus to hide behind it. As soon as you were behind the bus and had your breathing under control you realized you were bleeding. Your shirt was covered in blood, something must have cut you when you fell, you didn’t know what and you didn’t want to bother finding out. You dug through your medical supplies and found a stimpak and something to wrap your wound with.

As you were busy fixing yourself up, your savior took care of the rest of the scorpions. And came to find you hiding out behind the bus.

You hadn’t realized until you heard a man clear his throat. You stood up quick, getting your guard back up in case this man saved you for another reason besides out of the goodness of his own heart. He could be fixing to rob you for all you knew or worse.

Hand on your gun you looked up at him. “Uh-” you start, glancing over the man standing before you.

He was dressed like a cowboy, boots, hat, duster jacket. The whole works. His leather cowboy hat covered his face so you couldn’t make out any of his facial features.

“Y’know, ya shouldn’t be out here if you don’t know what you’re doing.” He drawled. His accent thick.

“I know what I-” you started before he cut you off again. “Clearly not.” He chuckled, flicking his hat up to uncover his eyes. He stared you down for a minute, waiting for your next response.

With his face now uncovered, you could tell he was a ghoul. You’d never met a ghoul that wasn’t feral before.

“I didn’t need your help.” You grumbled through gritted teeth. The ghoul was starting to offend you. You had been surviving in the wasteland since you were born.

“Well you got it.” He took a step closer to you. “And just because you didn’t need it doesn’t mean you don’t owe me now.” He was now a foot from you. “Owe you what?” You asked, getting worried.

He chuckled at your now worried tone. “Where’d all that confidence go sweetheart. Oh it’s nothing bad.” He was inches from you now. Your senses were heightening, your heart rate increasing.

Were you attracted to this ghoul? That would be the only explanation for the way you were feeling now.

“I’ll give you two options. How ‘bout that?” He asked, slipping a finger under your chin to force you to look up into his eyes.

“Hmm?” He hummed. “Fine.” You finally responded, gulping down the lump in your throat.

You could feel the tension growing. Where was he going with this?

[miss-celestia13]

An Arsonist’s Anguish

Richy’s Lament - A Duskwood One Shot

A dark, angsty exploration into Richy’s character as he sets the stage for his death. There is no happy ending. Just some hope that another soul made it out of the mine as it burns. Will also be posted on Ao3 later.

Trigger Warnings are below the line. Please check them.

TW: Suicide, Self Hatred, Hallucinations, and thoughts/descriptions of Death. Read at your own risk. I tried not to be too graphic, but you will know what’s happening.

Richy would never see the sun rise again.

The ghosts of all the beautiful things he killed to protect his secrets haunted his dragging, stumbling steps as he traversed the mine and ignored the cameras he installed. Gasoline poured and splashed from the canister he held as he wove through tunnels and gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm.

It was nothing compared to the emotional torture he felt inside. His thoughts were a tempest raging with the violence of a cyclone. Every destructive gust ripped through the fragile edifices of his grip on reality.

Within the labyrinth of his mind, self-loathing chewed on his soul like a pack of feral beasts tearing at the tender flesh of their fallen prey. Each bite drew forth burgundy rivers of desolation, self-condemnation, and unyielding fury. Blending with the physical aches until he couldn’t tell them apart

His arm throbbed as he ignored the yelling in his mind. Fucking Dan. Dan, who gave him a gun?! Oh, what an idiot! He scuppered all Richy’s plans and left him scrambling to end it before anyone else got hurt. Ensure nothing remains but ash.

Rivers of cold sweat streamed down his grey face as he held his injured arm over his stomach so he wouldn’t bang it into the rough wall. He wanted to punch the stone to take his mind off it. The bottle of pain meds he stole from his mother rattled in his pocket, but he couldn’t risk taking them yet.

His breathing roasted his throat, but his entire body shivered as though an icy glacier engulfed him. The persistent tremble in his body intensified with every labored step.

The combined weight of his physical and emotional agony was an anchor on his back, dragging his broken spirit beneath tumultuous waves, where the agony of drowning and being hammered from all sides echoed through the depths of himself.

It didn’t feel like any of it was unfair. The thirst was the worst thing. He kept smacking his lips together, attempting to inspire some moisture, but his tongue remained bone dry and coated in the remnants of bitter blood rust.

The blood he’d lost stained his skin and the stone as it dripped through the filthy dressing he tried and failed to use as a tourniquet. Everything felt like it happened to someone else. Something otherworldly piloted his body from the inside.

Like some demon possessed him, guiding him down depraved, treacherous paths, and the priest hadn’t arrived in time to exorcise him.

And he’d done it to himself. Every choice he’d made since kidnapping Hannah, it had felt like suicide in slow motion.

He marooned himself on an island surrounded by vipers of his own creation.

Now, the only option to set himself free was fire. It would hurt, he thought, and his stomach wrenched to the side, almost splitting in two as he dreaded it so strongly.

And death. There was a liberating freedom in death. A broken sob tore through his clenched teeth as he thought of Jessy, the emotions he harbored for her, and everything he had never deserved to have with her.

She was a shot of adrenaline after years of lethargy.

So many of his favorite memories revolved around her and their silly inside jokes. He’d used his closeness to her to torment and stalk her. Terrorized her and her friends. She would never forgive him. Her smiling face, her flaming hair, and desire for a life of adventure had made his miserable existence worth living.

She would forget him one day, but never forgive him. He was a coward. An idiot. He’d let them all believe a masked myth was chasing them.

The only masked freak after them was their own friend.

His megawatt smile, stupid jokes, and constant upbeat attitude despite the shitstorm life rained on him had been the heaviest disguise of his brief life. They’d all bought it.

Hook, line, and fucking sinker. None thought to check beneath that smile. Now, it had twisted and transformed into a permanent snarl. If they paid attention, they would have found the rot and ruin underneath his cheerful demeanor. None of his friends had stopped to think about just how stressed he was. How much he had to carry for his family and Hannah—screw her. She was party to his worst decision.

She caused it.

Her wanting to sacrifice herself, him, and Amy to clear her conscience, betrayal. Betrayal was a dagger Hannah concealed in a cloak of mutual trust and unspoken promises to take their secrets to the grave. That blade had appeared suddenly and without warning, piercing the walls of his shriveled heart.

Half of him wished he’d killed her while he’d had her under his control. End the threat, leave her body to decompose in the mine.

No one came here. He’d made sure of it. Everything might—well, it was too late now. She was safe in the hands of Alan Bloomgate. Hannah, perfect, beautiful fucking Hannah.

He hated her. He blamed Hannah. But it was Amy who he blamed the most. Richy blamed everyone but himself for too long. He knew that. And now he would pay the price for it.

He’d already staged his death. Now he just had to commit.

The cloying scent of gasoline infiltrated his nose, thickening in his raw throat, and the empty metal cannister fell from his weak fingers. The thunderous clanging as it bounced and came to a stop worsened the headache he’d had for the last few weeks.

It pounded in time with his thudding heart. Each pulse pushed yet more blood out of the wound in his heavy, aching arm. It tingled and sparked with fiery pain with every paranoid twitch as he glanced behind him, sure he heard footsteps chasing him down.

He gave himself a shake when only his shadow approached. It looked much bigger to him now. Sinister and spreading to encompass the entirety of him.

It had taken him over long ago, and at last, he accepted it. It was too late to beat it back. He’d embraced it. Its hug was gelid and dragged him down, down, down. The shadow had always been in him; his choices had brought it to life, and it was time to eliminate it so it wouldn’t harm anyone else.

If his last victim was to be himself, it would end on his terms.

His last words had been a confession and an apology. To Jessy, and his friends, to the unwitting stranger he’d dragged into this mess, and to himself. His conscience was far from clear, and his reckoning awaited him amongst the flames he would soon ignite.

The cave in which he’d chosen as his tomb would remain safe from the flames, but the poison smoke would choke him. An intangible noose, as he couldn’t bring himself to tie a rope. He shuffled inside and loosed a long breath that felt more like a death rattle.

His stinging eyes couldn’t penetrate the blackness encroaching him on all sides as he reached into his jacket pocket with his good hand, and pulled out the zippo lighter he’d stuffed inside days before. He’d always suspected.

Deep inside, Richy had expected that this was how it ended. The cold silver metal warmed a little in his clammy hand as his thumb stroked over the Garage’s logo and wished he had said goodbye to his parents before he gave himself to the fire.

It was best they learned with the world. His suicide letter would speak for him and he prayed it would ensure his family didn’t suffer for his actions.

Naïveté had always been his downfall.

Before he set his ultimate act into motion, Richy took his phone out of his jean pocket and flicked the flashlight on. The bright beam of white light assaulted his eyes and created a flurry of moving shadows. The skittering of tiny claws on loose stone racing away from him painted a cruel smirk on his mouth as he cast the light around the small cavern and found what he was looking for.

A grubby black backpack sat against the grey rock wall, covered in dirt, blood, and guilt as he scuttled over to it. He unzipped it and pulled out the almost empty bottle of water he’d been rationing for days.

After fishing the bottle of medication out of his pocket, he struggled to open them both, and cried out as his jerky movements irritated his wounded arm. It took five very long minutes to get the pills out. The light from his phone shuddered as he set it down to count the pills.

He’d chosen the strongest ones his mother had. One knocked her out for half a day, and he wanted to numb himself as much as he could before the smoke smothered or flames devoured him. They were heavy on his tongue as he tossed back a fistful of the chalky tablets and chased them down with the last of his precious water.

For a moment, they got lodged in his throat, his mouth flooded with saliva and his eyes prickled with fresh tears.

He couldn’t even kill himself right. Everything he did just failed in spectacular fashion.

He was a monster of his own making, and only he could slay it. He swallowed, compulsive and dry, ignoring the hot flashes creeping up his neck as the painkillers scraped down his throat and into his hollow stomach.

Richy dropped to his knees and crawled over to the wall, and slumped back onto it. Paper crinkled in his inside coat pocket as he shifted to get comfortable. He had about an hour before the full effects of the medication set in. He would light the fire once the gnawing, eroding ache in his chest and arm dulled.

Until then, he sat with his thoughts, his splintering sanity, and cursed himself. Cursed Duskwood and the predator the town had forced him to transfigure himself into.

The weight of hopelessness hung around Richy’s neck like a noose pulled tight, squeezing the light of life from his eyes.

It was a suffocating darkness that swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but the biting tang of despair on his tongue. Each breath felt like inhaling shards of broken glass, cutting deeper with every huffing exhale.

The silence that echoed in his soul was a relentless scream, a haunting, deafening reminder of the emptiness that consumed him.

“I should’ve told someone,” Richy said in a whisper.

The words bounced softly off the rock, a harmony of regret.

He twitched as it fell silent, mouth furling and eyes glazing over as he listened to the racket in his head.

All you had to do was hand yourself in. You could have avoided all of this.

What do you think will happen to your family? They’ll live happily ever after in the town you terrorized?

Do you honestly think your pathetic letter will save them?

The slippery voice of his own darkness broke into a baleful laugh. It made the hair in his nape rise and stand stiff. He shuddered, thrashing his head and gritting his teeth until they squeaked.

“I tried. I always tried. But I’m a failure. I’ve always been a failure. I can make it right. It’s the only way.” He muttered as the disembodied voice agreed.

Make it right? Ha! You think you can wash away the stain of your idiocy?

You’re tainted.

Forever marked by your wrong choices, Richy.

Redemption? You make me laugh.

Redemption is a fairytale, a delusion you’re desperately clinging to.

It is so far beyond your reach…

Richy’s voice was a growl as he said, “No, redemption isn’t my goal. I can’t undo the damage I’ve caused, but I can end it before anyone else gets hurt. I can make sure the world knows it was me.”

The derisive laughter of his demons chafed at his skull as if their talons were scratching their unspeakable names into the bone.

You’re a lost cause. A testament to all your failures.

Each step you take is a step closer to the abyss of self condemnation.

There’s no way out.

Your sacrifice won’t save your soul.

“I accept that!” Richy roared, spittle flying from his chapped lips as he panted like a wounded beast.

“My death might be the only way to atone for all I’ve done. I don’t care what comes after that. But my family won’t suffer because of me. Not any more.”

The voice in his head made a sound of agreement before it crooned his worst fears.

Yes, your death is the ultimate penance.

Your final act of contrition for the havoc you’ve so selfishly wrought.

Then again, have you considered the aftermath?

Your family will endure your actions. Long after you’re gone. Their suffering will echo until they, too, shuffle off the mortal coil.

Searing fiery agony ripped through Richy’s heart. It felt as though someone had taken a knife, heated it up over a fire until it glowed red hot, and then plunged it into his chest. The scent of burned flesh and molten iron filled his nose. The sensation felt so real to him.

His hand clawed at his jacket over his pounding heart, as if to pull the blade free, but his fingers met only dirty fabric.

“They won’t! They won’t! They won’t! I’ve made sure of it. This isn’t their burden to bear!” He yelled, voice laced with an anguish that made his body convulse as rivulets of salt descended his bared teeth.

Helplessness stole over him as his demons taunted and chuckled in a scornful manner.

You should have thought about that before you started donning the guise of an ancient legend.

Idiot.

Weak.

Pathetic!

Your existence is a festering wound that poisons all in your vicinity.

Embrace the fire.

Let it cleanse all the filth you’ve spread.

But just know, your family will bear the scars of your choices, as they’re carved into their souls for eternity.

Richy sobbed through the agonising sensation weaving through his internal organs. He felt as though someone was weaving his internal organs together with a blunt needle, and they had deliberately coated the thread in salt to prolong his suffering. The increasing pressure in his head demanded an outlet as well.

Everything ached, it bled, and it tore him apart. He was so tired. So tired of trying.

This mine, this town, and all it had demanded of him, he was done with it all. He wanted it to burn. His desire was for them all to suffer, just as he had for a decade. He hadn’t dug just one grave that night. No, there had been one accident and four graves waiting for them. They’d just seen theirs too late.

The forest had never forgotten them, though. It had been patient.

That night with Hannah and Amy, it had never ended. It was a living nightmare he had no way out of. Their deaths had simply waited for them to catch up, and even if Hannah could find it in her to exist after all he’d done, he knew she’d died alongside Jennifer and the rest of them.

Ghosts. That’s what they were. He saw it now. There was no point in trying to hold it off anymore.

It was as if the pressure in his head imploded with that thought.

He wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings as his mind fragmented and warped, and his tenuous hold on reality slipped from his grasp.

The cave dissolved in his vision. Something at the very core of himself disintegrated with it.

He was somewhere else. Somewhere he had long tried to forget.

It was ten years ago.

Amy was there. As was Hannah.

He held a muddied shovel. The surrounding forest smelled like home, but his blood had turned cold. Jennifer’s lifeless body lay broken and bloodied, the remnants of shock still painted across her lovely features.

Her hair lay in a sanguine halo around her head as Richy set down the shovel, and silently, the trio worked to lift the woman.

Hannah’s sobs blended with his labored breathing, sweat drip, drip, dripped down his sore neck. He’d wanted to report it to the police. Tried to convince them to do so anonymously. But Hannah, in her fright, had convinced him they’d be signing their death warrants.

His family would suffer. It was he who gave her the keys to a client’s car. It was due to be scrapped, yes, but that didn’t make it better. Everyone would boycott his dad’s Garage and now that mom was growing worse, the sickness in her invading her mind, he knew they needed that income more than ever.

All they could do was hide the body, agree never to speak of this night, and give the greatest performances of their lives to ensure no one ever suspected them once word of Jennifer’s vanishing spread through Duskwood. He felt like something inside him was dying.

His throat tightened, mouth flooding with saliva as the urge to vomit overtook his senses. Heat crawled through him as he swallowed a mouthful of acidic bile and looked heavenward as they shuffled to stand at the edge of the crudely dug grave.

The stars overhead mocked them as the foliage and freshly overturned earth disguised the metallic scent of spilled blood and their sour shared guilt.

“Are you sure you can live with this?” He asked as they hesitated to drop Jennifer into the ground.

Amy chewed on her bottom lip, blood staining her teeth she’d bitten so hard, and her leaking eyes wouldn’t settle on anything as she gave a single jerky nod. Richy’s stomach sank, but he turned his gaze to Hannah.

His friend’s grief mottled face would haunt him forever as she said, “What other choice do we have?”

That answer inspired zero confidence, but Richy accepted it as an affirmation, and said, “Okay, on three—1, 2, 3!”

With a slight swing and a wobble, they released their hold on Jennifer and all three screwed their eyes shut as she hit the bottom of the hole with a sickening crunch.

Amy fell to her knees, her shaking hands gripping the loose mud ringing the unmarked grave as she sobbed uncontrollably. Richy could hardly stand to watch her, and was glad when Hannah, who was crying freely herself, hauled her away.

He nodded once as Hannah and Amy embraced, clinging to one another, wordless apologies pouring from them both as Richy retrieved his shovel.

He felt like they were being watched. Paranoia snaked through his mind like a weed he knew would grow out of control. All he could do was start refilling the grave.

The soft sound of metal scooping up damp earth seemed to ring through the forest as he internally shut down. All his emotions, he forced them aside. He locked them in a cage made of lead and lined with explosives. Life would never be the same.

Life would be a method actors dream after this. He knew this would change them at a molecular level and none of them could breathe a word of it once they left this cursed forest.

Richy took the last deep breath he’d ever experience and watched expressionlessly as the earth rained down on Jennifer. The pattering noise reminded him of rain, of tears. Amy cried harder while he diligently worked to cover up their mistakes.

Hannah watched, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Wetness trickled down his cheeks as he slowly returned to the present.

Hannah’s face floated across his vision as the scene fully dissipated, and he found himself back in the cave. Stale air replaced the aroma of the night dark forest, and a thin haze hung over his eyes as a euphoric rush raced through his bloodstream.

He felt as if he was floating and drowning in a sea of deliriousness.

The medication had kicked in. His legs were leaden as his head lolled on his neck as if on a swivel, and there was an odd sensation in his nose, like the smell of a roaring fire, but none had been lit. The bullet wound in his arm still griped. Infection had set in, he thought.

Only death would cure it. The meds would ease his passing.

A synthetic fatigue draped him like a cloak as he blinked blearily at the dancing shadows creeping nearer. His mouth turned so dry his tongue curdled in his mouth, and his breathing grew shallower as the painkillers burned through the aches in his body. Not long now, his mosaic mind kept jumping between the past and present, footsteps and disembodied voices whispered so close and real that he answered one.

“I should have turned myself in, I know.”

“At least we agree on something. ”

A female said. His suddenly too heavy head swung around to find the source, his sluggish heart raced faster and faster as the voice sounded like Jessy’s.

“Jess? Remember the fish? The names I made up? If I could—No—I’m so fucking sorry...” He said. He spoke with a voice threaded with deepest despondency.

“The fish were just another lie. All of it was. Your life ended the night Jennifer did. Was any of it real after that? Anything you said, did you mean any of it?”

His shrunken heart broke irrevocably, the agony radiated through his chest, and filled him with a coldness that would soon embrace all of him.

“I didn’t mean—please—I’m ready to pay for it. No one else will hurt because of me.” He swore vehemently.

Jessy’s spectral laugh, derisive and humorless, taunted him.

“We will hurt. It won’t go away. Your actions caused wounds that will scar us forever. Death is your relief. Living with what you did to us is our grief. Goodbye, Richy.”

Richy cried silently as her voice faded and the full effects of the painkillers turned his bones to jelly. He had to light the fire before he passed out. A coffin was his only way out of this cursed place.

Bracing a hand on the knobby wall, he gradually rose to his feet as rock crumbled under his fingers, and rained to the dusty ground, sweat on his palm mixed with the dirt as he tottered toward the entrance. He thumbed the Zippo open as he panted, jaw clenched and eyes stinging with slaking tears.

Petrol permeated the air. He breathed it in as he flicked the lighter and swayed on weak knees as the tiny flame ignited. In the dim, damp recesses of the mine, shadows waltzed like specters as Richy, face obscured by the glow of the lighter and shadow, dropped the flame with a snap of his wrist into the pool of gasoline.

Flame surged away from him, hissing along in a serpentine trail until it morphed into a living beast starved and hungry for destruction. He stumbled back. The heat was a physical blow as it sucked out the oxygen, and he trembled like a newborn fawn as he dropped to his knees and stared and stared and stared.

Amidst the cavernous depths of the mine, the candescent light of the furious fire cast a macabre ballet of shadows upon the rough-hewn walls, a surreal tableau of light and darkness. Tendrils of flame licked and lapped at the stone, awakening ember-tinged echoes that wavered and flashed like phantoms in the subterranean gloom.

Billowing smoke, an ash ridden shroud, coiled sinuously through the labyrinthine passages. The evidence he had doused in gasoline would soon catch fire. Relief glittered through him at the thought. An acrid perfume of burning wood and charred earth mingled with the metallic scent of ancient minerals, an otherworldly aroma that lingered in his lungs and clung to all his senses.

There was no going back now. Every breath was slower than the last. It felt like he was inhaling lava as the heat singed the soft tissue and hair in his nose.

His weighty eyelids sat at half mast. The tunnel walls seemed to exhale, releasing murmurs of long buried secrets, as if the very mine itself sought to voice its resignation to the all-consuming blaze. Mirroring his own easing turmoil as he shut down the instinct to flee and welcomed the darkness speckling the edges of his vision.

His lungs were burning as he struggled for air, and it felt like there was a boulder sitting on his chest, keeping them from inflating and grinding his bones down.

The feeling went out of his legs as his hands turned to claws and raked down his neck, leaving scarlet trails of pain scoring his constricting throat.

His world flipped sideways as he collapsed and his head cracked off the rubble strewn ground, but he no longer felt any pain. The roar of the fire, the slowing beat of his heart, and the stones poking into his tear-streaked face were all he knew.

As Richy’s weary eyes teetered on the edge of closure for the last time, a bizarre scene unfolded within the tumult of his fading consciousness.

The nerves in his hands spasmed and his fingers twitched, filthy nails scratching at the dirt to distract himself as he resisted the urge to fight for his life.

No, it had to end like this. If Hell was real, it was best he got used to it.

Freezing panic blasted through him like a blizzard as his blurred eyes caught sight of something that didn’t belong.

Through the shimmering haze of smoke and heat, a figure emerged from a tunnel he hadn’t thought to include in his fiery last act. His heart tried to beat faster as fear spread its icy fingers through his body. The person appeared cloaked in a shivering orange glow and erratic shadows.

Masked and foreboding, the phantom figure raced away without noticing Richy. And lost in the fractured fabric of his perception, Richy could not see who or what it was. If it was a real person, they might’ve tried to drag him out. This would all be for naught. For once, his horrendous luck benefited him.

As it was, the panicked footsteps bolted away from him, barely heard over the howling fire, and vanished into the tumult of smoke.

He hoped they made it out. It hadn’t occurred to him he might take another’s life with him. Just another mistake. Another tally on his list of sins committed. His choices lay before him like an intricately woven tapestry, each thread a testament to the wrong turns and paths he tread, yielding a disturbing, wretched pattern he wished he could unravel and weave anew.

His trembling gaze soon faltered as the slithering smoke filled his lungs, gasping for air that no longer existed as he spluttered and coughed. With every shallow inhale, the world blurred and distorted. Black spots burst like maleficent fireworks in his eyes, shutting down his fleeting thoughts of crawling to safety.

A cacophony of wheezes and whines slipping from his open mouth faded into a distant echo, as his eyelids, heavy with surrender, fluttered closed. He gave himself over to the exhaustion eating him alive from the inside.

The world outside ceased to matter as an alleviating darkness enveloped his mind. His tiny exhales were little more than puffs of air. A whispered farewell to all those he was leaving behind.

Richy had fallen quiet, but the fire raged on, growing stronger as it feasted on wood, and hastily packed boxes, and the papers inside them. His legacy of ash and blood.

In the letter he left for his parents, he had assumed all guilt and taken the lion's share of the responsibility for Jennifer’s death, and his actions after. Hannah, he thought she had suffered enough, and whatever punishment she received, he didn’t want it to ruin her more. Death was his toll to pay, his lethal reputation would exist long after him and pay for the rest of it. He only hoped his parents could move on from this.

They wouldn’t see him again, not until the funeral. It was over. The corrosive effects of his choices had eaten away at everything good in him.

There was nothing left to salvage from his wreckage.

He tried. And he failed. This time, he finally succeeded in something. The complete demolition of him. A tear slipped through his lashes, warm and soft as it fell to the mucky ground.

It was the last. No more fell.

Death came quietly for him, as silent as a falling leaf drifting into a pile of its fallen friends. His chest stuttered as tentacles of smoke wreathed around him like funeral wrappings, falling as still as the rock he lay atop.

Death finally slayed Richy Rogers’ demons, and no one heard their screams.

——————

I have never been so nervous about something I’ve written. I hope that you—I can’t say enjoyed 🙈 but I hope your time wasn’t wasted. Thank you for reading, if you made it this far.

This is in no way meant to glamorise mental illness or anything like that. That is not my intention. I have been where Richy was in this story, I didn’t kidnap or help bury anyone, but I’ve dealt with depression/anxiety all my life. I’ve dealt with suicidal thoughts. There is nothing glamorous about it. This is just a fictional character study to explore his mind and emotions at the end of the game. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust. Or a stranger, if that works better. Share the burden. You don’t have to suffer alone. It can get better. I promise. I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t ❤️🫂

Thank you ❤️

And the “masked figure,” that was Jake from this story, The Ending You Deserve. Just a little Easter egg for anyone who read that 🤭❤️

[miniscule-meow]

Isabell and the Lads CH 2: The Healing Process (2.6)

Masterpost Wordcount: ~1.7k First Part | Last Part | Next Part (eventually)

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A rhythmic tapping rouses her from her sleep.

Her eyes peel open to find a familiar darkness surrounding her. She could almost convince herself she is back home and that she isn’t living out her biggest nightmare. Almost.

“Isabell?” Zeke’s voice, though gentle, shatters the dream of her being back in the walls, where she belongs. “Are you up?”

“Yeah, I’m up,” she calls out groggily. She must have been in a pretty deep sleep if his footsteps didn’t wake her up before he got to her, she doesn't like the thought of a human being able to sneak up on her.

Isabell sighs, raising her arms in an attempt to stretch, and she’s met with aching ribs and sharply protesting limbs. So that’s how it’s gonna be. As gently as possible, she maneuvers herself into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She has to pause here, the pain in her body has officially caught up with her. She thought there was a chance she could sleep all of this off, but as it stands right now, everything just feels worse. She takes another breath, deep enough for her ribs to flare their complaints. She’s been awake for maybe thirty seconds and she already wants to cry.

Instead, she grits her teeth and stands out of the bed, testing her leg. She doesn’t need to put much weight on it to know that it is not happy. She’ll need to stay off of it as much as possible if she ever wants a chance to get out of here.

Her shelf is still nice and dim, with only a bit of light slipping in around the edges of the curtain. So, the main lights must be on out there. Turning her attention to the curtain wall, she can see Zeke’s monolithic shadow in front of her.

“I’m coming,” she says, hoping he’ll just wait for her. She doesn’t want to see his massive fingers pull back the barrier separating them.

She’s trying not to think about it, but all of this is truly only the illusion of safety. At any point the human could decide that he’s tired of waiting, that he’s tired of her. Every single moment she’s putting so much trust in him. Trust that he’ll be patient, trust that he’ll be kind, trust that he’ll be gentle. It’s trust that she simply does not have, but she has no choice.

She hobbles her way out to the open part of the shelf, clinging to the wall as much as possible in an attempt to avoid putting too much weight on her leg. She’s really going to have to do something about that.

She blinks, her eyes adjusting to the full light of the room. Her breathing catches, seeing Zeke’s massive form kneeling in front of her, his eyes trained on her. Even though she’s been interacting with these humans, seeing them, especially for the first time again, sparks an intrinsic fear inside of her.

Don’t get caught. You’ve already been caught. They can see you. Run. Hide. Escape.

She shoves the thoughts aside. This is her situation. She can’t fix it right now. The humans are helping her.

The rational thought quells her fear meager amounts at best.

“Good morning,” Zeke says, his eyes scanning over her. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’ve been better,” she says, leaning heavily against the wall. “Um, thank you, by the way. For… setting this up for me.” She gestures over to her ‘room’ behind the curtains.

“Of course. I’m glad we could find something that worked for you,” Zeke responds with a small smile gracing his features. “I was going to make some breakfast. Do you want to come out to the living room?”

Does she want to? Does she want to willingly put herself in the palm of his hand? No. Not really. Does she agree anyway, of course. That’s what the human wants, right? At this point, it’s more dangerous to disappoint him.

She nods numbly, and Zeke’s hand rests on the shelf in front of her. She feels as though she’s watching her own actions from behind her eyes, as if she were instead watching a screen. The only way her mind can rationalize a willing interaction with this human is to just disconnect herself completely.

Sure, the humans have been nice so far. But every single moment she spends with them she has to fight every one of her instincts. Her brain’s wiring just won’t stop telling her that she’s in extreme danger. Don’t get caught, don’t get caught don’t get- she’s already been caught. She needs to play by a different set of rules now. But it’s been a lifetime of fear, well deserved fear. One or two reasonable conversations with a human isn’t going to magically undo all of that.

She takes a hesitant step forward, still pushing against the wall of the shelf for support, when the hand in front of her shifts. You were taking to long. He’s run out of patience. She jolts, expecting the hand to lurch forward and snatch her up in an unforgiving fist. Instead, the massive fingers curl in on themselves, and the hand moves in the opposite direction. She looks up, finally connecting the hand to the human, and meeting Zeke’s gaze curiously.

“Sorry. I just- You know that you can say no to me, right?” His brow furrows, his green eyes taking her in. When she doesn’t respond, he continues, “I don’t want you to say yes just because you feel like you can’t say no. That isn’t… that’s not consent. I mean,” he looks away, searching elsewhere for the right words to say, “yeah, before neither of us had much of a choice about anything. It was an emergency situation, and I’m really sorry about all of that. But now you have your own space here and- I’m rambling,” he shakes his head, looking back to her, “I don’t want you to say yes to me just because that’s what you think I want. And I really don’t want you to say yes to me because you’re afraid to say no. That’s… that makes me,” he hesitates, “that makes me feel really gross,” he admits, shaking his head once more.

She hadn't considered his feelings in all of this.

Her being afraid of him makes him feel... gross? How is that even possible. She'd always been under the impression that humans relished in the fear they caused. It never occurred to her that he might be just as uncomfortable interacting with her as she is with him.

Is it possible that she's been so wrapped up in her own feelings that she's completely missed the nuance of emotions from this impossibly large being? It is just easier for her to write off everything from them as fearmongering and manipulation so she doesn't have to consider that they aren't really all that different after all?

But still, this fear that is so deeply interwoven into her being. She's had horrific run-ins with humans. She's seen their cruelty, the inflated ego of having something smaller than them that they can dominate. She's never seen a human like Zeke. Kneeling down on her level, going out of his way to help her feel comfortable, telling her how he feels? This doesn't fit in the box of humans are scary and irrational beings that she has sequestered in her mind. This simply makes no sense to her.

Even if, and it's a big if, she were to take this human at face value, and she were to let herself trust him, it's not like she can just turn her fear off with the flick of a switch. Maybe she doesn't want to be afraid anymore. But can she really turn her back on the one thing that has kept her alive all this time?

She stays hidden because she's afraid of getting caught.

She goes out borrowing because she's afraid of starving to death.

Everything she's needed to do in life, she's done because of fear. Every choice she's made has been based on what outcome she's more or less afraid of.

Now to just say, 'no, fear, I don't need you anymore.' It feels impossible.

She feels herself slipping into a circle of thought. Be afraid, but don't be afraid, but you should be afraid, but you shouldn't be afraid, but you've always been afraid, but you don't have to be afraid anymore.

She will have to try to unpack this later.

Zeke continues, “you can say no, you can obviously also say yes. It’s- I mean, that’s why I’m asking. I want to know what you want. Okay? Do you want to go out to the living room, or would you rather stay here. It’s up to you.”

She looks up at him cautiously. What does she want? She tries to do the mental gymnastics required to figure out what he wants her to want. This has to be some kind of trick, right? What does she want? A human shouldn’t be concerned about that. She fits in the palm of his hand, and he cares about what she wants? Here she is again, trying to fit Zeke into a box of what she understands humans to be, and failing miserably.

“Um, I want… um, N-no. No, I’d actually like to stay… here,” she feels as wound up as a spring, her shoulders tense rigidly. I just told a human no. She looks up at him wide-eyed, terrified she’s made the wrong choice.

Zeke just nods indifferently. It doesn’t seem like he’s upset or disappointed at all. If anything it looks like he relaxes a little bit. “Alright,” he says standing. “I’ll bring you some breakfast soon, okay?”

“Pancakes?” She asks, remembering the warm fluffy clouds he made for her yesterday.

“Yeah, I can make that happen,” he responds. She can’t see his face, but he sounds amused. He could even be smiling, a rarity from him.

With that, his footsteps retreat off into the main part of the apartment. She takes this time to drag herself back into her room. Zeke had been kind enough to put a little electric candle in the middle of the room for her. She flips the switch and the warm light flickers gently in the space. Off to the side, he had left her a bundle of craft supplies. By the time he comes back with pancakes for her, she’s crafted herself a crutch. So, even though she’s still hobbling around, she’s at least doing it with some proficiency now.

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

OOO I'm very excited to share this chapter! We're getting close to the finish line!

Its name is "The Song of Us"

Page 54 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 15:

The Blind man asks his companion, before dawn break, What do you believe, is a beast’s fate, Once death seizes its life, in his inevitable grasp? The beast, his heart knowing of the fallen knight’s pleas, Of men they lost, who were left to be but a worm’s dark feast, Answers, death reaches for monsters all the same as men, For the unjust, for the cruel, For the kind, for the forgiving, All bones become one, until they become none, As death is the only being, to see all as one and the same.

This city is quiet, in the way a drowning is. Something wicked is happening under the surface, hidden from plain sight. If only its victim had air to scream.

The Hunter has intel beyond the SAS’s scope, beyond Laswell’s. Informants, comms. A man pronounced to all as dead. How is it possible, they were written off as a non-threat before?

Soap grits his teeth, tapping the lit end of his cigarette on a wall. Simon started moving a few minutes ago, the poison once again retreating. By the haunted look in his brown eyes, John could tell they both know he’s running out of time.

Price has been arguing with Laswell while helping Simon. Something about the fact the Hunter seemingly didn’t exist a year prior, on paper. Appeared out of nowhere one day with an army behind them, ready to burrow into intelligence networks in a way even Makarov couldn’t.

Makarov’s name came up a lot in that conversation. Enough that Soap had to take a smoke.

Anger thrums through his veins. Begging for blood. The same incessant screaming that drove him to choke the life out of Makarov, the same fire that kept him going through this personal slice of hell.

Maybe he’s an idiot, for wanting to kill the Hunter, for believing it will change anything.

The cigarette’s flame licks his fingers.

Soap crushes it against the wall. He turns around, watching Simon and the Captain. Far enough to not hear them, but they seem to need a bit of privacy anyway. Soap can’t say he’s ever seen Price that emotional, in their short meetings.

He asks himself where Gaz is when the Lieutenant approaches him.

“Price is bloody livid, isn’t he?” Gaz huffs.

Soap hums. His eyes move from the Captain to Simon, his mask still on the ground besides him.

Kyle follows his stare, “did you know Ghost’s identity, when I found you two?”

“No”, the white skull almost glows in the moonlight, “I only found out when… the communicator tried to use it against him.”

He can feel Gaz scan his features, “and you still decided to work with him.”

Soap doesn’t answer. Simon and Price are hugging now, the movement uncoordinated to Ghost. He doesn’t know how he can tell.

He turns to face Gaz, “I swore we will finish this together. I don’t go back on my word.”

“We both know this goes beyond that, Soap.” Gaz gives him a half smile, “the way you look at him… Haven’t seen you like that with anyone else.”

Soap frowns, scoffing, “don’t know what yer-”

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” Gaz asks, almost gently.

…Feelings?

…..Could he?

“I…”

“Don’t lie to yourself.” Gaz murmurs, “in all the years I’ve known you, you didn’t act like this. Going against everyone you know, jumping in front of him when Price starts threatening him, letting him rest his bloody head on your legs- c’mon Soap, you’re fucking smitten with the man-”

“Kyle.” Soap stops him, head hanging down to hide the embarrassment painting his cheeks red. He scrubs a weary hand over his features, looking up at his friend between his fingers.

Gaz’s eyes soften. Soap sighs, “I- this is not the time for that kind of shite. We need to fuckin’ dust the Hunter, and then-”

And then what?

Soap lowers his hand, stare unconsciously drifting towards Simon. Since when have his eyes started doing that?

It hasn’t been more than a month since he arrived to this godforsaken city. How is it that John can’t imagine being alone again?

Or… how can’t he imagine an ‘after’ without Simon?

“I won’t lie to you.” Kyle starts, his tone gentler, “I still don’t fully trust Ghost. Even if he is… Simon Riley.” the Lieutenant places a hand on his shoulder, “but I can tell what you truly want, even if you think it’s not feasible.”

“That’s because it isn’t-”

“Bullshit.” Gaz turns John around to face him, “look, we are not good men. We’ve been operating outside the law for… for as long as I can remember. What we do, the way we dirty our hands...”

Kyle lets out a shaky exhale, squeezing his shoulder, “what I’m saying is, we can make people disappear. And if you… if you want that, I can help. I’m sure Price will too-”

“Yer out of yer mind-”

“Are you going to go back to Scotland, mate?” Gaz’s voice sharpens on desperation, “are you gonna go back to feeling like you have nothing to live for? Can you really leave this life, leave Ghost, behind?” He almost whispers the end, “be honest.”

How could he go back? No apartment, endless job search, a buzz under his skin that cannot be scrubbed off, disappointment to his family, emptiness, emptiness, emptiness-

“What else can Ah do?!” Soap tenses under Gaz’s hand.

That hand keeps him steady all the same, “whatever you want, John.” Kyle smiles sadly, “me and Price don’t have that freedom, but you two? You don’t have stuffy generals breathing down your neck.”

“I don’t-” Soap cuts himself off, thoughts whirling faster in his mind. He gets reminded of what his therapist used to say about him, back when he was just discharged.

“You fixate on danger, John. To the point of obsession. You don’t know when to let go, if you believe you can make things right.”

“Even if the cost is more than you should be willing to pay.”

“Just… think about it. Besides…” Gaz looks away, expression darkening, “I have a feeling the 141 might need people like you in the future.”

Soap brows furrow, “dishonorably discharged adrenaline addicts?”

Kyle chuckles, “no”, his hands tighten on Soap’s shirt, “people we can trust. People who are willing to do what’s right, even if they know they shouldn’t. Even if they don’t act the way the higher ups would want them.”

His brown eyes turn to look at John, determination he first saw on bootcamp only growing stronger, “people like you.”

Soap goes through another cigarette with Gaz by the time Price and Simon return to them. Both of their eyes shine with tears.

“Laswell did some digging.” Price grunts, “wasn’t easy, finding intel on the Hunter. They know their way around our networks, clearly.” his stare flickers towards Simon, “this operation-”

“Mass murder” Soap corrects. Calling this an operation would spit on the dozens of innocent people left to rot here.

“Mass murder”, the Captain continues, “is very unusual for the Hunter’s soldiers. Almost… flashy.”

“The communicator admitted it was an attempt to frame me.” Simon rolls up the mask in his hands, slipping it on, “they needed to show the British Army I’m too dangerous to keep.”

“And they knew the SAS would send the 141 because of the informant.” Gaz huffs.

Price nods, “which they did succeed in, but it also exposed them to us.”

“The SAS wouldn’t have investigated it further if ye actually killed Ghost the first time around.” Soap grumbles, wincing a moment later when he remembered who he’s talking to.

The Captain takes it surprisingly seriously. “Correct. This is not the first time they hide behind a smaller, supposedly unconnected criminal.” he hangs his arms on his tacvest, commending voice booming in the empty streets, “the Hunter is now top priority for the 141, our orders are to eliminate them, along with any high ranking officers remaining within their army. This mission is classified to all but us and Laswell - anyone else will be treated as a potential collaborator of the Hunter.”

“What about Soap and Ghost, Captain?” Gaz asks.

Price sighs, “Ghost has escaped after releasing the civilian he captured as leverage. And John MacTavish?” a sly smile pushes his mustache up, ”he has never set foot in this city.”

Kate Laswell isn’t someone Soap knew well, back in his service. Has heard her name being dropped in a couple of debriefs, a few calls here and there regarding missions.

He becomes increasingly grateful she’s on their side, as she brings up more and more intel on the Hunter. Their main source of information is the informant Ghost killed - the man recognized several undercover soldiers moving supplies in and out of the city in the past few weeks. He knew something big was going to happen, but the SAS waved it off as a local gang.

On the day of his death, he managed to send in one last report. The informant knew his time was limited, that his cover was blown, so the message was painfully short.

‘Skull in warehouse, Konservy, game over’

It was not clear if who he referred to when he transmitted the name “Skull”, and at the time the comms officer asked the informant to repeat, thinking it was a mistyped “Ghost”. With what they know now, it’s highly likely he was actually talking about the Hunter, and their red skull insignia. Konservy is a name of a warehouse, two clicks out of the city, as Laswell quickly found out.

‘Game over’ is the agreed upon sign for caught spies.

Price and Gaz have brought out their maps, attempting to lock down the warehouse’s location. Soap and Ghost were gently shooed away after it became obvious they don’t have any more useful intel to provide.

“How’s your neck?” Ghost asks him, the two of them leaning against a crumbling wall.

Soap opens his mouth to answer, when gloved fingers brush over the bruised skin on his throat. “I uh…” he swallows, the hand following the movement, “I feel fine.”

Ghost hums, caressing the wound for a moment longer before pulling away. Soap wants to chase the touch.

He really is in over his head, isn’t he?

“Simon.” Soap looks up at the bright skull mask, “have you thought about… what are ye gonna do after?”

“...no.”

“...Would ye go back? To what you did before?”

Simon stares at him deeply, eyes closing, “I don’t think I can.” he looks back at Soap, “you? What did you do before?”

Soap chuckles bitterly, “ah, I was spendin’ my newly civvi life indulging in only the greatest of pleasures. Like sittin’ in an office for nine hours a day, or knittin’ a scarf on my therapist’s orders.”

Simon’s shoulders shake with a badly hidden laugh, “I’d like to see you knit.”

Soap grins, “oh I was a natural. It definitely didn’t have several holes by the time I was done.” 

“How did you get here, then?” Simon asks, mirth still creasing his eyes.

His smile drops, words dying on his tongue, “I uh…” that weeks-old shame starts creeping back in, “was about to be evicted. Got fired, bastards never liked me anyway. I jus’ took all of my money and… ran as far as I could.”

Simon hums, shoulder leaning in to nudge his. Soap thinks the conversation is over after a few moments of silence, the both of them mauling over the words, when Simon surprises him.

“Think I’d like that… running away.” he murmurs.

“Aye? Where would ye go?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think it matters.” Simon leans in closer, their foreheads almost touching, “as long as the company is good.”

Soap feels a shiver go down his spine, eyes wide as he tries to find the joke that must be in Simon’s.

But he looks so painfully sincere, even when he finally leans away, “too bad there’s none ‘ere. Might ask Laswell if she got any tips on finding partners in crime.”

Soap lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “think they make dating apps for fuckers like ye?”

“Doubt I’ll find anyone as mental as you on Tinder, Johnny.” Simon deadpans.

“That’s because yer looking in the wrong place - Christian Mingle is where the real crazy bastards are.”

Simon can’t hold in his laugh this time, and for the first time Soap hears the way he snorts a little when his giggles become uncontrollable. It’s a horribly endearing sound, one that he wants to hear for every day for the rest of his life.

It makes his heart hurt, heavy, sinking in his chest like a death sentence.

Gaz was right.

He’s in love with Simon Riley.

Gaz went back to get the vehicle he and Price infiled with. It had a laptop, a few maps, and the most wonderful MREs Soap ever had. He never thought he’d miss that shite, but after running on a handful of oranges and a possibly moldy sandwich, they tasted like heaven on earth.

As he and Ghost had their meal (Simon’s eyes sparkled in a way that told Soap he was clearly as delighted with the food as he was), the 141 finalized their plan with Laswell. Soap could see them arguing about something, but he was far too preoccupied with eating to care at the moment.

Ghost, however, did care, “need anything, Price?”

The Captain snaps his head up, taking off his hat and scratching at his hair, “we have an angle to breach, but…”

Gaz joins in, “We don’t have intel on how many guards are posted, their location… mission will be doomed from the start if we just go in guns blazing.”

“Why not do some recon, then?” Soap wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “we’re all trained for that.”

“Too risky, the warehouse is exposed, and the Hunter won’t leave any obvious gaps in security if they’re worth their salt.” Price grunts.

Ghost gets up, walking over to the maps spread on the truck’s hood, “then we break in.”

Soap smirks at the assurance in his voice, “and that’s why I love the Ghost.”

He instantly catches the knowing expression on Gaz’s face, as well as Simon stiffening beside him. Soap curses himself mentally, feeling his face heat up in shame. He prays for any god that might listen, that Ghost didn’t take it as seriously as the truth is.

Thankfully, Price saves him from blurting out some more recently-discovered-emotions, “no other way but through, eh Simon? What do you have in mind?”

Ghost scans the maps of the warehouse Laswell has sent over, “The Hunter doesn’t know we’re working together, if they’re expecting an attack they would only expect two people - me and Johnny.” his eyes flicker to Soap’s for a brief moment, “if we split up, the 141 could take them by surprise.”

“You said they’re after you and John, Simon. If they catch you, we might not be able to help.” Price says grimly.

Ghost sighs, looking away frustrated. His head turns to face Soap, eyes calculating, “...what if they don’t know it’s us?”

“What?” Price asks.

Ghost continues, eyes still staring deeply into his, “Johnny can easily disguise himself, he’s done so before. All he needs is to cover up his face and hair.”

The Captain nods to Ghost, “and what about you, son? Everyone knows your mask.”

“But no one knows his face.” Soap answers, understanding washing over him, “but Simon-”

“I can’t be Ghost if we want to finish this.” Simon brushes fingers over the bone-white teeth of the skull mask, hand tightening into a fist.

Gaz nods slowly, “and we can’t be the 141.” he sends a meaningful look to the Captain, “this operation has to be kept secret. If the SAS learns we collaborated with the Ghost…”

“Then we won’t be.” Price walks to the back of the truck, pulling out 3 black balaclavas and throwing them to Soap and Gaz.

Price begins explaining their plan, “Laswell has gathered up a few blueprints of the Konservy warehouse. There are several key points that appear to be far too open for us to breach, all except one - the offloading garage. We’ll split into two teams, me and Gaz will take the offices and CCTV rooms, clearing the way for Soap and Ghost to infiltrate the main machinery room.”

“Our plan depends on each team watching the other’s six, we’ll have to keep comms up.” Gaz adds.

“Once the first team takes over the CCTV room, we will be able to locate the Hunter. The faster we do this, the less likely reinforcements will arrive.” Price hands Soap and Ghost a radio.

“Do we know where they keep their vehicles?” Soap asks while fitting the comms over his clothes.

“Yeah, should be around where we first enter. Why?” Gaz raises a brow towards him.

A wicked smile spreads on Soap’s lips, “might be able to set up a little surprise for any newcomers.”

Ghost chuckles darkly, “always ready to craft a trap, aren’t you, Johnny?”

“Never failed me before, Simon.”

“You can take a look at our supplies, take whatever you need.” Price looks over each of them, “any questions?”

Soap flexes his hands, adrenaline thrumming a familiar song through his veins, anger painting his vision red, “what are we waiting for?”

[blitzy-blitzwing]

Does Blitzwing brush his teeth?

He started once he got too many comments about how much his breath stinks. :V