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20forty9 · 6 months

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I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter I - From Me, To You

Summary : You just wanted to understand what it felt like to be human, but instead ran into a cruel fate. After being cursed, you must revisit your past to find how to break the pattern, all while moving forward. It was supposed to be a one-man job, but why do you suddenly seem to be surrounded by so many people that you cherish? Why are you having second thoughts about this? Maybe things don't have to end this way. But maybe they do.

Word Count : 12k

Warnings : Suicidal ideation/attempt

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N: I honestly don't care about Tumblr formatting as much as I do Ao3, so take this. If it looks funky, mb but idgaf LMFAO. All characters are depicted as 18+.

There are different kinds of curiosity: one comes from self-interest, which makes us want to know everything that may be profitable to us; another from pride, which comes from a desire to know what others are ignorant of. ~ Francois De La Rochefoucauld

Curiosity is an innate characteristic of being human. Existing in one from birth; a flame that, once lit, is impossible to extinguish. It burns bright until the one holding the candle passes on.

If curiosity is so human, then why does a spirit, sworn to its duties, experience it?

And so violently, too.

It feels like all the questions it wants answered are trying to tear themselves out of its skin, keeping its mind racing every moment it finds itself unoccupied. What is a pure companionship? What does a handmade meal taste like, made with care and patience? What does hatred feel like? What does it mean to feel alive, to live your life to the fullest? What is loneliness?

What is hurt?

What is love?

Hundreds of unanswered questions, an unending list that grows more and more each day, until it can’t take it anymore.

All the things it liked to do in the past to bring itself entertainment feel dull. There isn’t a rush of satisfaction after playing a trick on another fellow spirit or even a curse; the feeling of a smug victory after being yelled at for causing yet another mess in the realm is missing; the bathhouse is full of greedy spirits desperate to wash mankind’s pollution from their very being, pushing against each other and fighting – it’s disheartening.

It has had enough.

It ventures to the outskirts of the sacred forest, the air surrounding it unusually heavy and suffocating; oppressive . There’s not a single bird singing – not that it would be able to hear them, in the first place, but there are no telltale signs of branches rustling that move along with the birds. There’s no breeze, either, it notices. This is strange.

It feels dead leaves crunching underneath the sole of its bare feet, rocks digging into its heels and small sticks poking its toes. Undeterred, it continues along the natural pathway carved into the forest floor – indented from frequent use by humans, spirits and animals alike.

There’s a presence nearby, the spirit can tell. It’s an indescribable feeling that it feels often, almost as if it's being watched, hairs on the back of its neck rising as it snaps its head to the right, presumably in the general direction of the presence.

Squinting its eyes, its keen vision picks up the person’s cursed energy long before they enter its field of sight. There, through the forest thicket, a woman dressed in royal red robes takes careful steps, mindful not to catch herself on any loose branches or stones. Her light blonde hair cascades over her shoulders; long, flowing, looking silky and smooth to the touch. She keeps her hands hidden behind the long sleeves of her robes. Her porcelain skin contrasts against the deep red lipstick adorning her lips, a gold pendant resting around her delicate neck and dipping into her neckline. The spirit’s eyes trace every enchanting feature of this mysterious woman, feeling its gaze quickly snap back up to her face as they trail too far past her neckline.

The woman stops a few short feet away from the spirit, not facing it, but obviously not oblivious to its presence. They are both acutely aware of each other, letting the dead quiet of the forest envelop them both.

Her lips move to form words, but the spirit is too distracted by the shiny layer of gloss that accentuates the deep red painting them. It subtly pinches itself to shake it out of its reverie, focusing on telling the words apart instead of getting lost in the alluring siren standing before it.

“What are you?” She asks it, tilting her head to look at it in its eyes. “You’re beyond human… I can feel it.”

Instead of replying, it nods slightly.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” The woman chuckles, it can tell by the repetitive rise and fall of her chest, eyes crinkling closed – the smile does not reach her eyes. So strange. “The least you could do is introduce yourself.”

It quietly replies with its name. It cringes, nose scrunching in awkwardness, knowing its voice is off – a few syllables missing, maybe, or its voice pitching in different tones. “My name. You?”

“Oh my,” she giggles again, this time a clothed hand coming to cover her mouth. It drops back down once she calms herself down. “You talk in such a peculiar way… but, your voice…”

She steps closer to it, raising her hand to trail a finger along its bicep. “You can’t hear, can you?”

It shakes its head to confirm her suspicions, breath hitching lightly at the close proximity.

“Let me describe your voice to you, then.” The hand touching the spirit’s bicep moves to its chest, pressing down lightly to force it to sit down on a fallen tree log. The woman quickly hikes one leg over its thigh, plopping herself down on its lap, making herself comfortable. Skin peeks through the slit of her robes, the supple, soft skin of her thigh calling out to the spirit to place a hand there, and it does so, albeit after an awkward pause.

The blonde raises her hands to gently hold its face, tracing its jawline, eyes boring into its mismatched ones. Her eyes are a deep grey, the spirit notices; a tempermental cloud, the reflection of light in her orbs akin to the strike of lightning.

It's suddenly aware of her chest pressing against its own, trying to get her body as close as possible.

“ Seductive ,” Her lips form the words, it feels the rumble of her voice verberating against itself. “Deep, and low. It’s beautiful, a shame you can’t hear yourself speak.”

“You could bring nations down to their knees with a voice like that,” she says, sending a shiver down its spine.

What is this feeling? The spirit thinks to itself. It feels like a knot in my stomach, a burning sensation. It's not sure if it likes it.

“I can see so many questions in your eyes, spirit,” the woman continues. “Know that with me, you will have potential. A curious thing like you can’t go to waste, can you?”

What is going on? Blood feels like it's rushing away from its head, the warmth in its stomach spreading throughout its entire body, making its fingertips tingle.

“Come with me,” her hands trail to its back, digging her nails into its shoulder blades, muscles rippling underneath her touch. “I’ll make you discover amazing things. A powerful future awaits you.”

The offer is enticing; maybe this is what it has been waiting for, the opportunity to finally answer those questions constantly running through its mind. The spirit isn’t entirely stupid; it knows that this woman wants something in return. No human ventures through this forest without having a plan to come across whatever unfortunate spirit’s path and asking for a blessing after providing an offering. Maybe if it plays its cards right, it can trick her to work this out in its own favour, without it having to sacrifice much in return.

The spirit moves its hand away from the woman’s thigh, pointing at her wordlessly.

“I’m a simple being,” she sighs, immediately understanding its wordless question. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes flick over to the scenery surrounding the two of them. “I want what any other person would like to have.”

It tilts its head to the side in confusion, not completely catching onto what she meant.

“Power,” she starts, “fame, fortune, all the men in the world tumbling down to their knees to worship the ground which I walk upon… and immortality, of course.”

Ah, the age-old request. The spirit frowns, eyebrows knitting together and lips slightly downcast. How typical, how boring – and to think the spirit was starting to become entertained by this unknown woman.

She notices the change in behaviour, and simply gives a light pat to the spirit’s cheek before resting her hands on its shoulders.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m different,” she reassures it, declaring it with the utmost conviction. “I will change the shaman world as we know it.”

Shamans. Now, that is a familiar word. Whispers of shamans, sorcerers, wizards & witches and what-have-you passed through the bathhouse on the daily. Normal spirits aren’t too worried, but there’s word that cursed spirits are being wiped out one by one, trying to make the world a safer place , in the shamans’ words.

“It’s rotten out there, you know,” the woman says. “People are so selfish, greedy and impulsive.” Like you? The spirit thinks to itself, raising an eyebrow. “Violent and angry.”

It doesn’t understand those words; yes, it has heard of those emotions, but it has never experienced them. So it continues to blankly stare at the woman, waiting for her to continue with her spiel.

“Their hatred is what keeps us shamans alive.”

Her grip tightens on its shoulders.

“One day, someone will try to take over and become the most powerful shaman in history. That person will be me . I’ll change our society. But…”

…

“...It’s not enough. I want more,” she continues, “I need more. But I require more firepower for that, more time, and there are countless other goals I want to achieve – will achieve, no matter the price. Nobody understands me, not like a spirit would.”

This… could actually pan out for the spirit, if the odds are in its favour. This woman is obviously obsessed with her self-centered desires. A binding vow is a binding vow, even non-humans face its negative repercussions, but there are always loopholes, especially for a spirit as cunning as itself. A life free of its original duties, in exchange for the curse that is immortality. A fair trade, indeed.

The resolution must show in its eyes, because the woman gets up from its lap to stand on her feet, taking a few steps back to let it stand up as well. She extends her left hand, strangely enough, but the spirit shrugs it off as an unusual quirk of hers. It extends its own left hand in reciprocation, their fingertips grazing before their hands finally clasp together. Their eyes never leave each other as they shake on it.

The woman brings her right hand up to her face, holding her pointer and middle finger up and nearly touching her nose with them, mumbling incoherent words that the spirit cannot lipread. Suddenly, dark purple wisps emerge from her left arm, forming tendrils that slowly wiggle as if they have a mind of their own, crawling away from her and onto the spirit’s arm. It frantically tries to unclasp her hand, attempting to tug its arm away but to no avail; it’s like their hands are glued together.

The tendrils make contact with the spirit’s bare skin along its arm, and it feels like acid is sinking deep into its bones, a burning feeling spreading all throughout its body. It’s agonizing. It’s painful.

It hurts.

It looks from the tendrils back at the woman’s face, a deranged look in her eyes as her smile stretches wickedly, the corners of her lips nearly touching her ears as she shows off all her unnaturally pearly white teeth. Her body heaves – this is clearly not an easy task for her – but she is somehow successfully draining incredible amounts of energy from the spirit.

“I imagine it must feel strange being overpowered by a weak human, am I right?” She cackles as she lets the cancerous tendrils do their work, eyes unnaturally wide and sunken-in. The ache in its bones spreads to its spine, sending unpleasant shivers running down its back, making its legs weak.

With its right hand, the spirit snaps its fingers, sending a large swoosh of fire, targeting the woman, but the lack of energy makes the attack more inaccurate. Just as the flames flicker too closely to her, black tendrils appear from the ground and easily block the fire before it can touch her; this must be a part of her technique.

Spots start to appear in the peripheral of the spirit’s vision, a wave of nausea and dizziness overcoming it. Another snap of its right hand, but the small explosion rumbles the ground too far off to have been anywhere near its opponent. At this point, she blurs in with the background, royal red robes blending with the rich green of the trees, and the spirit feels its knees buckle before it falls to the ground face-first.

Finally, it feels the woman let go of its left arm, letting it follow the rest of its body, falling limply to the ground. It gathers just enough strength to turn its head to the right, squinting its eyes as a last-ditch attempt to make out her features.

“I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement, spirit,” it can just barely make out what she’s saying. “And to answer your question from earlier…”

“...I am Madame Suliman.”

And finally, its vision completely fails, body going completely limp as it falls unconscious.

It’s a clear night, the stars shine brightly in the sky, not a single cloud to obstruct them. If you squint your eyes just right, you can see a plane’s lights blink on and off, slowly moving through the dark expanse.

The long sleeves of your ragged sweatshirt scratch at your skin, reminding you of your current situation. Cheeks sunken in, dried scabs and unhealed cuts litter your arms. Your ripped running shoes are covered in mud and speckled with your own blood. Your stomach rumbles loudly, sides cramping angrily at the lack of food over the past few days – or was it weeks? Experiencing hunger in the way only a human could was not new to you, but it was just as uncomfortable and strange as the first time you had felt it. However, things would change soon, you think to yourself. Things will change.

You walk along a tall bridge that looks over a river whose water flows quickly, slamming against exposed rocks and sending waves crashing against each other. If you tried to reach out, you would feel the energy and life from the river, coursing through your veins. But you don’t.

Matted hair falls in front of your face as you take a peek over the edge of the bridge. It’s so dark out that the flowing water looks like a void, the stars reflected in it making it look like the sky never ends and the horizon never stops, blending seamlessly and wrapping around you entirely.

Is this what peace feels like?

You don't feel anything other than the cramping in your stomach, hands coming up to clutch and squeeze your sides to try and give your body at least a second of reprieve.

This is not peace, you decide.

You close your eyes, moving your arms to grasp the railing of the bridge. Your foot blindly seeks out to find a small ledge to heave yourself up further over the railing, too weak to use your arms to lift up your entire body.

Just as you feel your foot catch onto a small step, there’s a flash of light beyond your eyelids, making you snap your eyes open. There, to your right, down on the riverbank; a gaggle of kids messing around with each other, watching the eldest of the group light another firework. There’s a small straight line of light that shoots straight up before a sudden burst of colour explodes in your vision.

Blues, purples, reds and greens flow into a thousand sparks, and you can nearly feel the sound verberate through your chest.

The kids all have large grins spread across their faces, one exclaiming in surprise and pointing out to a bright red firework going off. The smell of gunpowder tingles your nostrils, leftover smoke covering the reflection of the stars in the glimmering water.

Not here.

You take your foot off the ledge, taking a step back, but your hands remain firmly planted on the railing of the bridge. It was so close, yet so far. The cramps seem to pulse in discomfort tenfold this time, making you hunch over yourself until your forehead presses against the cool metal where your hands rest.

When can this all be over?

Clearly, not soon enough. This isn’t the place…

Tomorrow, then.

A sudden and quick tap on your right shoulder makes you turn your head slightly, smooshing your cheek against the railing to see who would be bothering you at this time of night. A man in a black sports jacket and dark grey jeans stands next to you. His buzz-cut is clearly done by himself, some hair sticking out at random angles that he had missed in the mirror when he shaved his hair off. His moustache is recently shaved, but it looks like he’s trying to grow a beard; the hair on his chin is left untouched. His shoes are well-worn – clearly this man does regular exercise, which is probably why he was out at this hour. There’s a serious look in his dark brown eyes as he looks at you.

The man’s lips move, and you suspect that this guy is asking you if you’re alright. You give a weak nod in reply, raising your left hand to your ear and then making an ‘x’ as you bring your right hand up to cross both of them with each other. Hopefully it gets your point across pretty easily without the latter knowing sign language. I can’t hear.

The man nods, taking out his flip phone from his jacket’s pocket, large thumbs moving awkwardly against the small keypad before he turns the screen to you. You squint your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden harsh light.

- Need food? YES or NO.

Surprised, you nod awkwardly. Is this guy serious ? The man turns the phone back towards himself, typing again.

- U have place to stay? Y / N?

You shake your head this time. No, you ran from the only place that dared to house you, if it could even be called a home . It was the furthest thing from it.

The man closes his flip phone, motioning to you to follow. If you were in any other state of mind, you would maybe think twice instead of blindly following this man, but your hunger and exhaustion take over. The potential idea of having even just a single bite of food and maybe a soft pillow to rest your head on is too promising of an opportunity to pass up. You don't feel any weird aura from the man, either – but maybe that’s just your senses being dulled by everything else going on right now.

…What were you just doing, anyways? Where did you come from again…?

Your movements are sluggish as you take a step towards the man, disregarding your own worried thoughts about forgotten plans from just mere moments ago. Your right knee buckles slightly underneath your weight, but you heed it no mind; not until you take another step and your vision starts to spot at the edges, creating a warped tunnel in front of you. You collapse, feeling yourself fall into a pair of strong arms before everything goes completely black, enveloping you completely and taking your consciousness away with it.

The years pass by in a muddled mess, and now you look at yourself in the mirror. Your hand holds your chin as you stare at the jagged scar that runs from the top of your right eyebrow, along the bridge of your (currently broken) nose, down to your left cheek. Another smaller scar sits right next to the bigger one in your eyebrow, almost looking like a claw mark.

Your eyebrows furrow in distaste at the ugly scars, nose wrinkling before you hiss at the pain that pangs throughout your face. The bandage currently resting along the bridge of it feels like it’s barely doing its job at holding the broken bone in place, and to distract yourself from the persistent ache, you look up into your mismatched eyes. Your right eye is its original colour, but your left eye is a deep, vibrant magenta that you still aren't used to seeing. There’s a distinct lack of light that should normally be reflected in your eyes – instead, they look empty. Worn out. Cold.

Your gaze trails down to your left arm, which is left uncovered by a black sleeveless compression shirt. The curse mark looks back at you, an ugly dark purple with a lighter, thick burgundy outline. It’s in the shape of the tendrils that once crawled along your skin, leaving their permanent mark deep within your bones. It covers nearly your entire forearm, looking like a messed-up tattoo. The pain is constant, only slightly dulled with whatever concoction of medicine Yaga tends to give you. Never in a thousand years did anyone think a spirit could ever experience chronic pain, yet here this one stands, insomnia riddled nights keeping you awake and acutely aware of the never-ending throbbing. The dark bags underneath your eyes speak for themselves.

Your hair hasn’t been cut since Yaga took you in, and you style it the way you usually like it, making sure that there’s enough hair that covers your ears completely.

Besides the curse mark, the purple eye and the broken nose, everything else seems to be in place as it normally should be.

Your knit-picking of yourself gets interrupted by a presence on the other side of the bathroom door. You can tell someone is knocking by the way that the old handle shakes and the door slightly bounces back and forth in its frame.

Sighing through your nose, you open the door to reveal a familiar man. Yaga’s buzzcut is what greets you first as the teacher seems to be looking down, fumbling with something in his hands. Oh, the elastic bandages. Your left hand goes to grab it, distracting Yaga from his awkward struggle and grabbing his attention.

The man seems to be saying something unintelligible as he drops the wraps into your awaiting hands.

“ Here you go, ” Yaga signs to you once he realized that you couldn’t understand him, “ they’re clean bandages. Do you still have the dirty ones in here ?”

You turn to the sink where the discarded bandages lay. There’s dried blood and dirt littered all over the fabric, wordlessly telling Yaga everything he needs to know about what happened. The teacher quietly watches as you unfurl the clean wraps before enveloping your left arm with the bandages, just enough to cover the mark of the curse. One-handed, you struggle with tucking the wrap properly so it doesn’t fall off, so Yaga swats your right hand away to do it himself.

Finally secured properly, you take a step back to create a bit of distance between the two to take another look in the mirror. You nod your head, approving of the placement of the bandage. No sign of the curse mark underneath it.

“ Now that you’re all fixed up, there’s something I want to discuss with you,” Yaga signs to you again. “ Do you mind reading my lips? ”

You shake your head. Thankfully, Yaga’s beard isn’t too obstructive to his lips, so it’s easier to understand him compared to others.

“Thank you for understanding,” he seems a bit sheepish, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “My sign language is still rusty at best, but the classes are paying off. I can understand you better now.”

At this, you give him a grin. “ I really appreciate you taking those classes. Most people wouldn’t bother.” You sign to him, making sure to move your hands more slowly than usual so he can understand.

“Well, we have to communicate somehow, don’t we? And anyways, it’s an important skill to have,” the brunette brings a closed fist to in front of his mouth momentarily, probably to clear his throat, you surmise. “Moving on…”

Yaga leads you to exit the bathroom, walking out into the small dorm that you currently occupy, unbeknownst to the other students living at the school.

You both sit down on your respective mats laid out on the floor, sitting across from each other with a small coffee table in between the two of you. Normally, you would prepare green tea for yourself and him, but it looks like Yaga has something on his mind, so you let him take the lead. He folds his hands together, resting them on the tabletop before he starts speaking.

“I’d like to have you join the Jujutsu society, officially,” he says. “No more hiding. You’d be training with others, and have an official rank.”

You can’t help the way your jaw drops quickly, eyes widening. Immediately, your hands start to move frantically as you lean over the coffee table excitedly.

“ Seriously?! You’re not joking??? I could be out there again? But what about the higher-ups?! You know Gakuganji hates my guts! ”

Yaga lets a small smile grace his usually stoic face at your excitement, though he quickly gets nervous, as the speed at which you sign is not something he’s used to. Who knew someone could ramble so efficiently with sign language? “Hold your horses – first off, he doesn’t hate you, he’s just a traditionalist. A spirit working amongst us, no less a cursed one, is probably the highest form of blasphemy for him. I’m surprised he hasn’t had a heart attack already, truthfully.”

You sit back on your mat, huffing out longingly, lazily tilting your head side to side as you slump over and pout. “ He acts as if I murdered his entire family. ”

Yaga says nothing to that, simply nodding along. “As I said, it’s nothing personal… the higher-ups weren’t happy with my proposal, but I can’t keep you locked in here. You’ve proven yourself time and time again that I can trust you. It’s due time that you discover our world properly.”

You bristle at that, back straightening. Similar words were spoken to you decades ago, hiding a sinister truth behind them. Yaga isn’t her, you remind yourself. Things have changed... though not everything. Funnily enough, your body hasn’t aged a day since your creation – constantly stuck in the body of a young adult. However, the things you have seen and experienced are enough to last for a thousand lifetimes.

“I’ve trained you underneath me for some time now, but you should learn to work in a team,” Yaga continues. “I have very promising students this year, you’ll be a good match for them.”

“ They won’t take kindly to me being a cursed spirit, ” you frown. “ I’m not entirely sure that’s a good idea.”

“We won’t know until we try, will we?” He raises an eyebrow in question, which you return mockingly. “Don’t give me that. You’ve always been an optimist, prove yourself to me.”

You sigh dramatically. “ Lots of pressure you’re putting on me, old man…” You lay your head on the coffee table, eyes still on Yaga’s lips to read them properly.

“Run that by me again?” The teacher asks, and suddenly it feels like a heavy weight has appeared in the room. You immediately sit up straight, eyes growing the size of saucers as you grin nervously.

“ I mean, you look as young as ever!” You shake your hands out in front of yourself defensively, sweating profusely. “ You haven’t aged since I’ve known you!”

“...That’s what I thought.” You breathe out in relief.

“ So when would I be meeting your students? ”

“I was hoping for our first class of the day today. It’d be good to get you involved as soon as possible,” Yaga says.

His timing is reasonable – today is the first day back to school after summer break, so it’d make sense for you to be introduced then, instead of halfway through a random semester. It would feel invasive if he did otherwise. The prospect of being introduced to a class that already knows each other well makes you a bit nervous, but the excitement to meet new people and no longer having to hide your presence overshadows your anxiety.

You take a look at the digital clock on your nightstand, seeing it is approximately twenty minutes before class starts.

“We should get going, then,” Yaga states as he follows your eyes to the time, tapping the table with his pointer finger to get your attention. Your head snaps to the teacher’s fingers, who points behind him to the door of your dorm with his thumb.

You both get up, and you quickly dust off your dark brown cargo pants before you follow behind Yaga, the familiar feeling of the knob locking signaling that you closed up your door properly. You make your way down the hallways of the dormitory, stepping outside to walk along campus towards the school itself.

It’s a beautiful morning; the sun shines brightly, only a few clouds can be seen in the light blue sky. Birds fly back and forth between the trees, and you are sure that they must be chirping (a noise that Yaga had tried - and failed - to explain to you, but at least you know what the word is). The day still holds a bit of the overnight chill, though it’ll soon dissipate into the oppressive heat that summer usually holds as it ends.

You step into the school, and you make your way to Yaga’s classroom, sliding the door open. The wooden desks with white tabletops are holding up stacked chairs, and on Yaga’s desk sits a pencil holder and sharpener with a chunky laptop placed on top of a few stacked papers.

You tap the man’s shoulder, grabbing his attention.

“ I see you went all-out with your decorations, ” you joke.

“Ha ha ,” and you know that’s a sarcastic laugh because Yaga’s eyebrow twitches like it usually does when there’s sarcasm laced in his tone. “There’s only three of them, plus my two first-years. It feels ridiculous to have a classroom of this size for just a few brats. Take a seat, one of them should be here shortly.”

You obediently take a seat at one of the desks in the middle at the very front, plopping yourself in the chair and leaning back to make room to rest your legs on the top of the desk, crossing one over the other. At least in this seat, you’ll be able to read Yaga’s lips with little to no issue.

“ One? ” You sign with a simple motion, raising an eyebrow questionably.

“Yeah, the two others are always late no matter what.” Yaga seems exasperated as he says it, rolling his eyes, followed by his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as if a headache is already forming when class hasn’t even started yet. Then, Yaga signs a word that you are incredibly familiar with. “ Morons. ”

That makes you laugh without a sound. “ Are you even allowed to say that about your own students? ”

The teacher nods his head fervently, and it’s enough to tell you all you need to know about the people you’ll be introduced to shortly. Speaking of which, you take a look up at the clock on the wall above the chalkboard. Oh, they should be here right about…

You notice movement in the corner of your eye, and someone takes a step through the doorway and into the classroom.

…Now.

A girl with dark brown hair cut in a bob holds a pack of cigarettes in her hand, doing a poor job of concealing it in front of her teacher. Her bangs are swept to the left, and it looks like the length of it is annoying her, as she blows air to get some loose strands out of her eyes. She dons a long-sleeved shirt in Jujutsu High’s typical dark blue colour with a skirt to match it, black tights underneath and brown sandals on her feet. The features that stand out the most to you is the mole right underneath her right eye, accompanied by the tired look in her chocolate brown eyes.

She fusses with the pack of cigarettes, trying to slip it into a pocket of her skirt, and is discussing something back and forth with Yaga, completely oblivious to the other presence in the room until he jabs a finger in your direction.

“...Oh,” you read on her lips. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

You wave back politely, signing good morning to her with a smile on your face. She tilts her head in question, not understanding the movements you did with your hands.

“ Ohh. ” The girl drags the word out. She brings her right hand up to her forehead, pinching her thumb and forefinger to make something similar to an ‘OK’ sign, hand tilting sideways, then flattens out her hand vertically and brings it down. ‘ I’m sorry’ in sign language. “I don’t know much sign… besides ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’,” she says as she turns to her teacher.

You’re surprised that she knows how to say sorry in sign language in the first place, and it makes your grin stretch even wider. It’s still something.

“They’re very good at reading lips, if it’s any consolation. I’ve been learning for the past few months but I’m still a novice,” Yaga tells the girl before he rummages through a drawer in his desk. He pulls out an empty notebook and then takes one of the pens in his pencil holder, handing it to the girl. “You should introduce yourself.”

You try to take a peek at the notebook, sitting upright as the brunette hunches over, writing away. Finally, she turns the paper to you, letting you read it properly.

- My name is Ieri Shoko, sorry I don’t know or understand JSL.

You stick your left hand out, right one pointing to the pen in her hand. She hands it to you wordlessly, moving to stand over your shoulder and look down as you write away.

- Nice to meet you, Shoko!

You write down your name on the paper to introduce yourself, leaning your head over so she can read it before you continue again.

- It’s okay. I’m fine with reading lips or writing in this notebook. I’m completely deaf and mute, so if it’s not too much trouble, face me when you’re talking or else I won’t understand you. I apologize.

Shoko waves her hand around nonchalantly, as if saying it’s no problem. She grabs the pen from you to write again.

- No need to apologize. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.

You smile at her, and she sends you a lazy one of her own in return, setting the pen down on the desk.

“Where are those two runts?” Yaga looks towards the doorway, waiting for the rest of his students.

“Probably setting the microwave on fire, I think it’s a biweekly ritual of theirs,” Shoko says as she grabs a seat at the desk to your right. “Either that or terrorizing the staff again.”

Yaga mumbles incoherently to himself, rubbing his temples, annoyed. “I swear…”

A movement out of the corner of your eye catches his attention. Shoko is writing something down again, making sure that you can see the notepad.

- What happened to your nose?

You cringe slightly to himself, brows furrowing in annoyance.

- Bad run in with a curse.

“Literally,” Yaga makes sure to mention to her. “They ran into a wall while chasing it down.”

You wave your hands back and forth, as if trying to cut him off while glaring at the man. She doesn’t need to know that! All dignity is thrown out the window when you realize Shoko is chuckling. It’s so over, you slump back into your chair, dramatically sighing.

There’s a thumping that vibrates the floorboards on the other side of the doorway. Multiple, actually. Curious, you look over to your right and through the windows of the classroom, seeing two figures blur as they run down the hallway and rush into Yaga’s room.

Two men stand there, both wiping sweat off of their foreheads as they catch their breath.

The first that catches your eye has black hair tied back into a bun, letting his bangs stay loose on the left side of his face. His eyes are dark brown, and he has black gauges pierced in his ears. He’s tall and slim, but you can tell that his arms are muscled underneath the long-sleeved uniform shirt. He wears extremely baggy pants and dark black sandals.

The other has stunning pure white hair that sticks up at random angles – he obviously doesn’t care too much to brush his hair in the mornings – and he wears a black hoodie with the hood flipped up, covering most of his head. His eyes are an electric blue, almost seemingly glowing. He wears the school’s uniform pants with expensive-looking shoes. He looks a little taller than the other one by a couple of inches, too.

“Sorry we’re late…” The dark-haired one says after catching his breath. The other seems to have his gaze locked onto you, slapping his friend’s arm to grab his attention and pointing to the new addition in the class. Uncomfortable at the intense eye contact, you avert your gaze to his friend’s earrings.

There’s a certain indescribable aura that emanates from the mysterious stranger sitting at the desk, setting off warning bells in both of the boys’ minds. They take a defensive stance, ready to attack at any moment.

“There’s no mistaking that…” The black-haired guy mumbles, fists raised.

“It must be a cursed spirit.” The other one finishes.

Shoko seems surprised, but doesn’t make a move to make any distance between her and you.

“Calm down, you two,” Yaga steps forward slightly. “They’re joining you.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” The white-haired one asks.

“This is your new teammate, or your babysitter, depending on how you look at it, Gojo,” Yaga answers. You presume Gojo is the one with the striking blue eyes.

You quickly grab the notebook in front of you, holding it up so they can read the introduction you wrote to Shoko a minute prior.

The two friends look at each other, apprehensive. Obviously, they aren’t too keen on you being in their proximity, which is exactly what you feared in the first place. You can’t blame them for their initial reaction, though it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Are you being for real?” Gojo asks his teacher. “This thing is joining us?”

“That thing can read your lips. It’s a complicated story,” he says. “It’d take too long to explain. However, I can assure you that they’re perfectly safe. They’re not a curse.”

A pen being thrown in their general direction grabs their attention, the three men’s gazes trailing to you, holding your notebook up again.

- Don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the same room as you.

Yaga signs an apology, but Gojo crosses his arms and frowns at you.

“So what, you’re joining us on missions and training?” He asks.

“That’s the idea,” Yaga says. “So play nice. That goes to you too,” he says your name.

Your point to yourself, pouting. “ Such offensive accusations. I’m an angel. ”

“Huh? What’d they say?” The black-haired one tilts his head in confusion.

“They’re a bit of a trickster as well, been a pain in my ass for the past few years. Not unlike you three…” the teacher pauses for a moment. “ Goddamn , I just realized – introducing you all to each other is probably the worst thing I could’ve done to myself.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, now…” Gojo mumbles before looking dead-ahead at you and addressing you. “Satoru Gojo.”

Despite his attitude, you move your hands together to sign ‘ Nice to meet you. ’ His last name seems familiar, but you can’t quite place why. The lack of recognition in your mismatched eyes must be obvious to the white-haired man, who’s eyebrows raise at the lack of reaction.

“You know, like the Six Eyes? The Gojo Clan ?” He points to himself to drive his point home.

The mention of Six Eyes rings a bell, but for some reason it still doesn’t click. You shake your head, shrugging, then pointing to the dark-haired man standing next to Gojo.

“I’m Suguru Geto,” he introduces himself simply, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. “...You’re completely deaf?”

You nod, quickly writing down in the notebook.

- Can’t hear a single thing.

“Shit, that sucks.” Gojo says.

“Gojo, have some decorum, idiot,” Geto hisses to his friend, slapping the back of his head, though it has zero effect on him.

“My bad,” The white-haired man half-heartedly apologizes. “You’re the one who asked in the first place.”

“Can you take your hood off, Gojo?” Yaga gets the student’s attention.

“But sensei , my head hurts again…” he complains, pulling the hood down even further to cover his eyes completely. “Everything’s so bright today.”

“I’m guessing that’s why you were late. As usual. ”

You tilt your head, taking the pen off of your desk and scribbling down in the notebook again. Shoko leans over to read what you’re writing, and Suguru, noticing her behaviour, does the same.

- Does he have migraines often?

Suguru nods in reply. “Yeah, pretty much every other day.”

You hiss through your teeth, mouthing ‘ ouch’ and doing a thumbs-down, making Shoko chuckle lightly.

“Anyways,” Yaga speaks to the entire group as Gojo sits on top of the desk to the left of you, “I’d like you three to take today easy and get acquainted with them. Since this is your first day back to school, I’d like for you to train for an hour. Following the next few days, we’ll get onto a regular schedule.”

“We don’t need a babysitter, sensei,” Gojo pouts at his teacher. “We’re fine on our own.”

“This isn’t just for you, Gojo. This is also for them,” he looks over at you. “They need to learn how things work around here so they don't get into more trouble.”

“ Ooooh, is someone in cahoots with the higher-ups?” This time, he directs the question to you. You make a so-so motion with your hands, shrugging at the same time.

- Something like that? You write down in the notebook, giving an awkward tight-lipped smile.

“Seems like you might fit in with us, in the end.”

Silence stretches out for a few moments before Yaga breaks it by clapping his hands together once.

“Well then, I’ll leave you to get to your training. After that, do what you want,” he says before he turns to you. “ Notebook O-K?” He signs.

You nod in reply, giving him a thumbs up. With that, the teacher exits the classroom after tucking his laptop and loose papers underneath his arm, waving goodbye to your small group.

A poke to your shoulder takes your focus away from your only friend to these strangers. Shoko gives you a lazy grin, pointing at you, then your notebook and pen.

“So, what’re you good with?” She asks.

- Polearms, or my fists. What do you use?

“Ah, actually, she uses a scalpel. Shoko’s refining her Reverse Cursed Technique,” Gojo butts in.

“I could’ve answered that myself, thank you very much, ” she hisses at him, though seeing the small grin on her face, you can tell that there is no actual bite to her words.

Then, you point to the two men standing to your left, as if to ask what about you two ?

There’s a small pause before Gojo breaks out into a shit-eating grin, and both Geto and Shoko shake their heads exasperatedly.

“ Well , I’m glad you asked,” he says as he lowers the hood of his hoodie, completely uncovering his head as he splays his arms out as if he’s performing in front of a crowd. “See, I’m the strongest . I have both the Limitless and Six Eyes.”

The look on his face is full of pride, a hint of mischief flashing in his blue eyes for the split second that you make eye contact with him. You give him another blank stare like a few minutes before, making the white-haired man clench his jaw and shove his face into his hands, irritated. By the look on Geto and Shoko’s face, he’s complaining about that, as they start laughing.

“See, I already like you. You’re actually funny, unlike these two,” Shoko turns to address them. “You guys might have your panties in a twist, but them and I will be best friends,” she says, drawing a small smiley face and a star next to you and her’s names written in the notebook. “Right?” She asks as she looks at you.

You tilt your head to the side, then smile, nodding along. You point to yourself, then to her before clasping both of your hands together tightly and making a small circling movement with your clasped hands.

“What does that one mean?” She asks goodnaturedly.

- Can we be friends? You jot down on the paper.

The brunette repeats the motion slowly, mumbling the words to herself as if it’ll help her remember more easily. “Like that?”

You nod, the smile never leaving your face at the small interaction.

“Sweet!” She exclaims. “You’ll have to teach me more eventually, it’d be cool to communicate properly with you.”

“ I’d be happy to, ” you nod again before you turn to Geto, pointing at him again.

“Oh, right,” he says, mostly to himself. “I manipulate curses.”

Immediately, your jaw drops before you give the raven-haired man two thumbs up. “ That’s sick!” You sign, impressed, eyebrows raised.

“Oh come on, that’s hardly fair! Barely a blink of an eye to my insane powers, and now they’re shitting bricks over Suguru’s ability! This is crazy glazing,” Gojo whines, draping himself over the top of your desk dramatically.

Geto gives him a full-body laugh. “I guess I’m just cooler than you, Satoru.”

“This hardly feels fair. C’mon, I’m sick of this room. Let’s go to the training grounds!” He thumbs in the door’s direction.

Your group gathers their things before making your way outside, not crossing by a single other staff member or student. You can tell how deadly quiet it is on the campus of the school, even without your hearing – there’s a certain lack of energy. You recall Yaga mentioning that jujutsu sorcerers were far and few between nowadays, which explains the few number of students attending.

Now that you’re all walking next to each other, you notice how much taller the two men are compared to yourself. Shoko’s around the same height as you, but Geto is nearly an entire head taller than you, and Gojo is even taller than Geto. You feel short compared to the two of them, and it annoys you.

The weather is still nice by the time you arrive at the training grounds, however the heat is starting to make itself known, making you cringe. You’ve never been good with the warmth that accompanies summer, usually only having a certain amount of energy before you’re knocked out for the rest of the day. You won’t be impressing any of your new acquaintances (and friend ?) today, that’s for sure… not that you wanted to, in the first place. Better to keep your power under wraps for now, especially with the heatwave. Stick to normal physical attacks instead.

You can feel the dry dirt crunch underneath your beat up black – mostly brown, now – converse shoes. You mentally note to not make the wrong move, or else you’ll roll your ankle on the dirt.

There’s a small shack nearby the training grounds, and Geto opens it to reveal an entire array of weapons. There’s a long wooden polearm hanging on the wall; precisely what you need. You grab it, weighing it in the palm of your hands. It’s much lighter than what you usually use, so you’ll have to adjust a bit to that.

You take a quick glance at Geto, who’s doing stretches on the grassy part of the field, and then your eyes drift to Gojo, who stands there watching his friend, hands in his pockets. Isn’t he at least going to pick up a weapon or something?

The latter must feel your attention focused on him, because his gaze snaps up to meet your own. You nervously divert your eyes, looking down at Gojo’s nose and lips instead in case he begins to talk.

“Something on your mind?” He asks you.

Multiple things, actually… you think to yourself. Setting your wooden polearm on the ground, you grab the notebook and pen you brought with yourself and scribble down a few words before turning it around to face him.

- Aren’t you gonna grab something too?

It seems that there’s always a stupid grin smeared across Gojo’s face that you can never wipe off. This time, instead of a dramatic display, he just crosses his arms and shakes his head.

“You’ll see.”

There’s an undeniable curiosity that itches at the back of your mind, so you decide to put the notebook down and pick the polearm up again, making your way closer to Gojo. You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow with a lighthearted smile playing upon your lips.

Well, what are you waiting for?

The white-haired man immediately pulls his hood down, an aura of confidence surrounding him. There’s not a single twitch of his finger or furrow of his brow that gives a hint to any anxiety – he has complete faith in himself and his abilities. Gojo spreads his arms out like he did earlier, as if to make himself an easier target than he already was.

You aren't stupid; you know that your opponent has something up his sleeve, so you have to be careful with your opening moves. You need Gojo to give away what his techniques are without getting caught in the middle of it. Thankfully, this is just a training exercise, so it’s not serious if you get a scratch or two; Gojo wouldn’t go all out, after all, so you wouldn’t either.

With that reassurance, you make the first move. You take a quick step to the right, so swiftly that the air whips around you, the grass where you once stood ruffling angrily from the sudden movement. Gojo immediately reacts; he tries to put more distance between the two of you, not quite expecting the speed at which his opponent moves, but not entirely surprised either.

Another step forward, and you’re suddenly behind him, raising your staff and bringing it down to whack him with it. However, before your weapon can touch Gojo, it gets caught mid-air by an invisible force. Furrowing your brows, you try to put more force behind the blow, but there’s still some sort of force field surrounding him. There’s no way you can land a single scratch on him with this ability activated.

Suddenly, the polearm splits in half, sending shards of wood everywhere around the two of you. Gojo turns around, about to take his turn to attack, but your reaction time is faster, right foot immediately pressing down on the ground below you, sending you flying backwards to put enough distance between you both and landing on your feet.

Your polearm lays pathetically broken on the ground next to Gojo, who continues to smirk at you, completely relaxed as he tugs his hood over his head again.

Even though you had barely done any physical exertion, you already feel sweat form on your brow. You sit down on the grass, leaning back on your hands, feeling the earth refresh your bare palms for a few seconds.

“ What was that? ” you ask him, hands moving quickly as the curiosity continues to eat away at you.

“That was Infinity,” Gojo says, deciding to sit across from you on the grass. For a split second, you look up, and his eyes look less bright than before; it might have something to do with activating his ability, you think. “It’s a work in progress, but I’m basically untouchable with this.”

Shoko walks up to the pair of you, Geto following close behind with your notebook and pen in hand. Grateful, you sign your thanks to him and take them from him, writing some more.

- That’s impressive!! :D You’ll have to tell me more about your Limitless and Six Eyes, I’m curious to learn more.

“Why, so you can take over and kill us all?” Gojo asks, ignoring the flare of pride in his chest at your interest – he knows he can’t trust you that easily.

You level him with a deadpan stare, raising your eyebrows, completely unimpressed.

- Obviously. While I’m at it, I’ll burn the whole world too.

“ See! ” Gojo hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “I knew Yaga’s must’ve been sun-downing when he introduced us to a freaking cursed spirit to add to our team.”

You make a ‘cuckoo’ sign, rolling your eyes and trying not to take the male’s words to heart. He’s just speaking that way because he doesn’t know the entire story – not that he should, honestly – and has only been taught to exorcise curses.

- Jokes aside, I promise not to lay a finger on a single precious hair of yours. As Yaga said, it’s complicated when it comes to me. I’d appreciate it if you keep an open mind. I’d get killed in a split second by the higher ups if I even thought of that, anyways :/

“Seriously, they haven't done anything to show that they’re aggressive,” Shoko comes to your defense, though you find it hard to read her lips as your eyes unfocus; you can’t help but think that maybe Gojo isn’t completely wrong to have that mindset.

“But what if one day they are? Not that it would be a problem for me to exorcise them, but c’mon now. It’s a threat to have them around.”

“Satoru, I think we can trust sensei with this. If he says that they’re trustworthy, then they probably are. He’s a good judge of character,” Geto says next. He isn’t entirely convinced that you’re harmless, but Gojo is being rather harsh with his words.

He huffs, annoyed that both his friends are on your side. “Don’t come crying to me when they finally snap.”

“ I’m not a curse ,” you sign even though none of them know sign language. “ You wouldn’t be exorcising me. You’d be killing me. ”

Tired from this back and forth, you get up, brushing your pants off and grabbing the notebook, tucking it underneath your arm.

“Wait, where’re you going?” Shoko asks.

You point back to the dormitories, shrugging. There’s no point in you sticking around right now if this is going to be the team’s dynamic.

“Don’t go, Satoru promises to behave himself,” Geto says while pinching Gojo’s ear. “Right, Gojo?”

“Fine, fine! Jeez, I’ll stop.” He shakes himself out of his friend’s grip, soothing his now-swollen ear. “Did you have to yank it that hard, Geto ?”

“Seems to be the only way to get you to behave, so yes.”

Shoko claps her hands, satisfied. “Perfect. Let’s go downtown to grab something to cool off, hm?”

A refreshing drink doesn’t sound like a bad idea, you muse to yourself. After a moment, you nod in agreement, making the brunette smile widely at you.

The subway is packed with people; afternoon rush hour is no joke on these trains. Shoko is uncomfortably pressed up against the windows of the doors, Geto is stuck between two people chatting away on two different business calls, you’re desperately clinging onto the railing attached to the ceiling and trying not to lose your footing as you sway back and forth, squished in between the crowd, fingers brushing against the metal pole as your arms aren’t long enough to reach it properly… and Gojo sits happily in the one free seat that was left in the compartment, sitting right behind you.

He’s looking down at his flip phone, obviously amused at something as his body wracks with laughter. He looks up, feeling a hint of murderous intent in the air, making eye contact with Shoko, who’s current glare held towards him could kill someone. The white-haired man smiles innocently at her, sending a lighthearted wave and mouthing something – Having fun over there?

She flips him off in reply.

Meanwhile, you and Geto share equally uncomfortable glances with each other, neither of you being able to breathe properly in this sea of people. Your view is suddenly obstructed by a tall man with bright orange hair, a large suitcase in his hand. His mouth moves quickly, too quickly for you to read his lips properly. Not only that, but you’re pretty sure that this man isn’t even speaking Japanese.

Oh, a tourist… This isn’t good.

Nervously, trying to keep his legs steady, you lower your hands from the too-tall ceiling railing, your left pointer finger pointing to your ear, then making an ‘X’ with your hands. Can’t hear, you mouth, shaking your head back and forth.

Not understanding, the stranger tilts his head to the side, obviously confused, trying his hand again at communicating with you.

What’s this guy not getting? Damn, Shoko has my notebook in her bag and she’s stuck in the corner across from me…

You repeat the motion but it falls on deaf ears – or eyes, in this case.

The man is starting to get irritated, lips downturned, but then his eyes widen at the same time as you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you jolt. Looking back over your shoulder, you’re surprised to see Gojo standing up, starting to talk to the tourist with an easy smile spread across his face. You’re even more surprised to see that Gojo is speaking an entirely different language, seeing as you can’t understand the way his lips are moving, unable to place a single word compared to what you’re familiar with.

The warmth of Gojo’s hand resting on your bare shoulder makes you uncomfortable, but you can’t exactly shake him off when you’re stuck in between this many people.

Looking back up, the conversation seems to flow easily between the two men, and by the next stop, the stranger steps off the train, lugging his heavy suitcase behind him.

Hesitantly, you turn around to sign a thank you to Gojo, surprised he would’ve gone out of his way to take over the situation when he holds an obvious distaste towards you. The white-haired man waves you off lazily, sitting back down in his seat and flipping his phone open again, completely disregarding you.

A few stops later, and the four of you shove your way through the train to get off. Each of you takes a deep breath of fresh air, relieved to finally get out of that cramped space.

“It smelled musty in there, oh my god,” Shoko complains, taking a quick peek in her tote bag to make sure that everything she brought with her was left untouched. Cigarettes and lighter, check , wallet, check , phone, check, your notebook and pen, check .

“What did that guy want, by the way?” Geto asks Gojo. “He seemed pretty intent on bothering you,” he looks at you as he speaks, “I just couldn’t get through my two entrepreneurs to help out.”

“He wanted to know where the museum was located,” Gojo replies. “I gave him the wrong directions.”

You choke on your spit, quietly snickering to yourself while coughing a bit, signing another thank you.

“It’s not that serious,” Gojo waves you off again before he starts laughing. “Anyways, look at this hilarious picture I got of you trying to struggle to grab the railing!”

The man turns his phone screen to face you, showing off a semi-blurry picture of you, your fingertips brushing against the railing while on your tip-toes, a determined look on your face (that made you look a bit constipated, if you were being honest with yourself).

I’m either going to kill myself, you think to yourself as you glare at Gojo, who continues to cackle, or I’m going to kill him.

“...” Shoko finds it hard to stop the grin from spreading across her face, turning to her friend. “Send me that.”

He sends her a thumbs up, and immediately Shoko hears a ping coming from her phone that sits at the bottom of the totebag.

“You guys are jerks, y’know that?” Geto asks, somehow the voice of reason between the three of them. “C’mon,” he says your name, “let’s ditch these two and go get bubble tea or something.”

You immediately go to walk next to the raven-haired man, sticking your tongue out at Shoko who gives you an offended look. Even though you had only met her this morning, you felt comfortable enough joking around with her. It was a nice change of pace for once, having only known the glares of the higher-ups for the past few years.

Shoko and Gojo immediately catch up to the two of you, your group walking down the bustling streets of Tokyo, the afternoon sun beating down on everyone. The heat is oppressive, and you find yourself thankful there’s only a few more weeks of this kind of weather before it starts to cool off.

You all look at the different shops and restaurants, Shoko focusing on a run-down corner store.

“After we get our drinks, I’m gonna stop here and pick up some more cigarettes,” she tells you. “I’m running low.”

“That’s gonna develop into a problem,” Geto says.

“As if it isn’t already?” Gojo asks rhetorically.

“Don’t blame me, blame the principal for making me do all this shit for my reverse technique.”

You find a nearby boba tea shop that’s relatively empty – most cafes are bustling with students who are in-between classes. It’s a comfortable little shop; there are small plants littering the shelves all around, a few people are already occupying some tables at the back, which leaves the table at the front right next to the window free. Shoko immediately claims it, dumping her bag on one of the two seats closest to the window.

Gojo and Geto are already at the counter, ordering their own drinks, but you hang back awkwardly, looking back and forth between the menu and the brunette next to you.

“What’s up?” She looks over at you, noticing how tense you look.

You point at all the different drink options before shrugging; I have no clue what to pick. Unbeknownst to his group, you’ve never had boba tea before and have absolutely no idea what it tastes like, or what flavour you should be getting.

“Ohhh, I think I get it,” Shoko says, pulling out her wallet from the tote bag. “Want me to order you something?”

You nod in reply, handing her some pocket change to pay for your own drink.

“I gotcha. Stay with our stuff, I’ll go order.”

You sign your thanks, taking the seat across from her so you can people-watch in the meantime. Many businessmen frantically walk by, rushing to get to their next meetings while balancing phones next to their ears, meanwhile a mother gives a piggie-back to her young kid, both smiling and laughing. Couples hold hands, one sharing ice cream between each other and whispering inside jokes in each other’s ears. You picture how their voices must sound – are their tones different when they speak to each other? You can’t picture the specific sounds in your mind, but you imagine that there’s a difference in pitch when someone talks to the people they like, they dislike, their coworkers, customers and more. It makes you long for something you haven't known in centuries. You wonder what your new acquaintances sound like, what you sound like. You’ve forgotten your own voice.

A flick to the forehead brings you out of your reverie. Shoko sits across from you, two drinks in hand that look exactly the same.

“I got you what I usually get, I hope that’s okay,” she tells you, handing you one of the drinks. There are small black blobs at the bottom of the creamy-looking substance. You observe the way Shoko pierces the plastic top of the cup with the thick straw, imitating her, careful not to pierce the cup itself. Immediately, you smell vanilla and coffee with a hint of something else.

Tentatively, you take a sip and the taste of caramel touches the tip of your tongue. It tastes delicious .

Gojo sits next to Shoko, Geto taking the seat next to you. His drink looks more fruity, with swirls of orange with whipped cream on top – he doesn’t have the black boba at the bottom, though. Gojo’s is a light blue, and he seems to have taken extra boba.

Geto taps his pointer finger on the table, grabbing your attention.

“Ever had this before?” He asks. You shake your head, and immediately flinch backwards when Gojo slams his hands down on the table and leans over it, a look of horror on his face.

“Has Yaga been starving you?! He’s been hiding this from you the entire time?? I think this counts as a form of abuse!”

“Oh my god, Satoru, quiet down - there are other people in the shop,” the raven-haired man clenches his jaw, giving a look to his friend across from him.

“But this is tragic!”

You huff, a small smile playing on your lips as you happily take another sip from the drink, your left leg swinging back and forth as you get lost in the taste.

“Do you like it?” Shoko grins at you.

You nod enthusiastically, giving her two thumbs up.

Suddenly, another drink is pushed towards you. It’s Gojo’s blue drink.

“Try mine,” he insists, inching it closer to you.

All three lean on the table, curious as to what you will think of it. You look at them awkwardly, hesitantly grabbing the cup, and take a cautious sip. Your eyebrows immediately shoot up at how sweet it tastes – the coconut slush tastes delicious though, especially the coconut jelly that is mixed in with the drink.

“Sooooo…?” Gojo awaits a reply.

You look over at Shoko’s bag, pointing to it. She catches on quickly, handing you the notebook and pen.

- It’s soo good and rich :D but super sweet

“Yeah, this guy has an addiction,” Geto says, handing you his drink next. “I’m curious as to what you think of mine.”

Gojo grabs his drink again, pouting as he takes a big sip from the straw. “At least they appreciate my taste in drinks, unlike you guys.”

Ignoring his pouting, you take a sip from Geto’s drink, catching yourself before you can hum at the taste. Passionfruit and mango – your favourite – hits your taste buds. You also taste crushed biscuits with the whipped cream. You close your eyes, content.

“I’m guessing that was good,” you read upon Geto’s lips when you open your eyes again.

- I really like mango, so that’s an instant winner.

“HA! Suck it, Satoru,” he mocks his friend, smiling ear from ear.

“When and where?” He instantly says in rebuttal, barely taking an eye off his drink, making you slap a hand over your mouth as you cough over another laugh.

“Not in front of my drink, guys,” Shoko whines as you try to take sips of your drink to cover up your amusement. “Now I definitely need a smoke.”

After finishing your drinks and disposing of them in the trash, you make your way back to the corner store the brunette wanted to stop at earlier.

“You guys can wait out here if you want, I’ll be quick.”

The three of you stand outside, Geto and Gojo talking amongst themselves while you peer into the window of the store. The sunlight shines directly into it, hitting the sunglasses display. Curious, you look more closely, an idea suddenly popping into your head as you notice something.

When Gojo looks back to where you once stood, he notices that you’re missing, instead hearing the sound of the bell of the front door to the store opening, then closing.

You step inside, making your way to the rack of sunglasses, looking at a specific pair of round ones. They look nearly completely blacked out, and just for fun, you try them on – sure enough, you can barely see a thing with these on. Is this even legal? You think to yourself for a moment, but…

It might make for a good peace offering. A helping hand in return for a helping hand, equivalent exchange, isn’t that what they all say?

Looking at the price tag, they’re not necessarily cheap sunglasses, but you can afford it with the money that Yaga has given you as an allowance. You nearly scoff – you , needing an allowance ? How ridiculous is that?

You walk up to the cashier, lost in thought as you pay the worker absentmindedly. Hopefully this will work, or else you’ll look like an idiot.

Not a moment later, you step outside again, a pair of round sunglasses in your left hand, notebook in your right.

“What’s that for?” Gojo approaches you, eyes trained on the object.

You point to him, holding the sunglasses out in the palm of your other hand.

“Uh, okay…?” He feels the need to take the pair from your expecting hand, and decides to put them on. Suddenly, it’s not overwhelmingly bright outside – colours stop melding together in the corner of his eyes to make him dizzy, and he feels the constant headache gnawing at his forehead and the bridge of his nose slowly dissipate, tuning into his Six Eyes to see instead. The overload of information he was so used to is suddenly dulled, and the persistent feeling of overstimulation is gone.

- Sunglasses could help with your migraines. Saw these ones and thought it would be good.

Sure enough, you were right. He lowers his hood, the headache nearly non-existent by this point.

“Whaddya know, it actually worked.” Gojo says as he looks around. He’s able to feel Geto and Shoko’s energies, as well as your rotten cursed aura, and the hundreds of people walking down the streets or driving their cars.

“Good idea,” Geto says your name as he walks up to you both, smiling. “Not sure why resident boy-genius didn’t think of that sooner, honestly.”

Just as Gojo is about to insult him in return, Shoko walks out with a new pack of cigarettes in hand.

“Alright, I’m ready to head back. I need a nap,” she yawns as she speaks… which makes Gojo yawn, then Geto, then in turn, you.

You nod in agreement, feeling your crappy mattress call out to you.

By the time you return, the sun is just starting to set a bit, pinks starting to creep through the blue sky. You all go their separate ways once you return to the dormitories, and you immediately faceplant into your bed, barely making it in time to take off your shoes before you crash.

As you turn your head to look at the calendar right next to your bed, smushing your cheek into your pillow, you think back to the day that you’ve had today. Meeting new people and talking to someone besides Yaga was riveting, even if it didn’t all go according to plan (you frown as you think back to Gojo’s attitude), but you definitely got somewhere. By the end of the hangout at the boba shop, there was a lighter air surrounding the four of you. You feel something burning in your chest, something you think you’ve never felt before.

Maybe…

Maybe things won’t be so bad, in the end.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #cross posted on ao3

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leupagus · 1 year

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OK I promise to stop sharing all of my writing praaahcess, but I did figure out the other day that one other reason this Broadchurch fic is giving me trouble is because I haven't written a ball/dance into the story anywhere and that's frankly shocking

She's sweating a bit, her bloody awful hoodie tied loosely around her waist and revealing a monstrously pink top underneath. Her hair's been shaken loose from its ponytail and the curls are everywhere, spilling over her shoulders and sticking to her neck; even as he watches her she blows a strand out of her face. It immediately falls back to where it was.

"I haven't done that that in ages," she says, still breathless. "Didn't think people still played Tubthumping in clubs."

"It's not a club, it's a school dance," Hardy contradicts, because if he doesn't, he's going to reach out and tuck that strand of hair behind her ear or something equally horrific.

She rolls her eyes. "We're supposed to be chaperones, not pedants." Whatever the new song is, it's at least less frenetic, and those who aren't singing along are sorting themselves out into pairs. He's about to suggest they extricate themselves from the throng of adolescent hormones when she holds out her hand. "When in Rome, I suppose."

He takes it, but he's got no idea what comes next — not until Miller puts her other hand on his shoulder and like that, it's decided; his free hand lands gently at her waist, just above the belted sleeve of her hoodie. He swallows and keeps his eyes fixed on the top of her head.

"Were you and Maggie worried about me spilling my guts to Olly?" Miller asks, as if they're bickering in the car instead of… whatever this is. "Is that why you braved the sea of youths to cut in?"

"Not at all," he says, leaning out of the way of someone behind him, enthusiastically singing about laying down his weapons. It moves them closer together, and he curls their clasped hands in to rest on his heart.

"So Maggie wasn't, but you were," she deduces, infuriatingly; her fingers on his shoulder drum in irritation. "I do know how to keep my gob shut about an investigation, you know. I've had practice."

"I think Maggie just wanted to — what's the phrase?" He nods in their general direction. "Take a turn about the room, sort of thing."

"So she asked you to dance?" Miller scrunches her nose up at him. "Did you tell her you were in no mood to give consequence to ladies slighted by other men?"

"Am I Mr. Darcy now?" he asks, looking down at her. A mistake; her top isn't particularly low-cut, but from this angle he's got more of an eyeful than he ought to have.

Not only that, but she's looking up at him, smiling, and that's far more dangerous. "You'd be an absolutely rubbish Mr. Darcy," she says.

"How d'you mean? I'd be outstanding. I don't like anyone, nor does he."

Miller nods, thoughtful. "That's true. You're broody, so is he."

"And I make even more than ten thousand a year."

"Wa-hey, we've got an eligible bachelor here, lads," she laughs. "Or whatever the line is, a single man of good fortune, in want of a wife."

#I don't remember exactly how many fics of mine have pivotal scenes during a ball but #it's a very high percentage #it's been over a year since I wrote a fic where the two love interests dance in each other's arms!#clearly this must be remedied #although I do have vague ideas for a regency era (of course) broadchurch fic #and there will be dancing aplenty there so #...do they call them hoodies in the uk?#broadchurch motherfuckers

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peachesofteal · 2 years

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Witchling / Chapter 3

Morpheus/reader AO3 2k words - Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Spoilers for The Sandman (kind of) if you’ve only seen the TV show, throne sex/oral sex, Dream is an idiot, mentions of death and dying.

“I mean you no harm.” He cautions you from where he stands, shrouded in shadow of the setting sun. Hysteria bubbles in your throat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I only wish to help you.” He takes a step forward, and then he’s closing the distance between you. You have every reason to fear this being, but your body must have missed the memo, because it yearns to be underneath him again.

“Give me my book back.”

“I cannot.”

“Then you can’t help me, Dream of the Endless.” If he’s surprised you know his name, he doesn’t show it. You lift your hand to try to conjure up something, anything to push him away from you, but he catches it in his instead. You suck in a breath as his cool fingers encase what is left of yours.

“Your magic will not work against me.” He pauses, and you feel the drag of his thumb across the bones of your knuckles. “I did not know.” He says softly. You close your eyes, unwilling to face him or accept his tenderness. You focus on the floor, vision becoming blurry with tears. “I cannot leave you like this. Let me help you.”

“You can’t!” you cry, turning away. “The spell will burn me to ash unless the book of shadows is returned.” You turn back to him, sleeves rolled up to expose the grotesque nature of your arms. “Please, Morpheus. I need it. I need it back. I don’t even care that you stole it, please. I’ll forget all about it, forget all about you. Just give it back.” Your voice is shaking, the panic that you’ve been loosely keeping a lid on stirring awake as it reacts to your deteriorating state. His body so close to yours is cloying your thoughts and you move away from him so you can think. He says your name for the first time since you’ve met him, and you glance at him surprised.

The cold gaze that you saw in his eyes the other night in your study is nowhere to be found. Instead, a million different emotions dash across his face as he holds your gaze. It draws you back in, pulling you closer until you’re within arm’s reach. You open your mouth to tell him that you know he did not intend for this to happen. How could he have meant for any of this? But as you do, he snatches you by your upper arm, fingers curling into the skin there, and pulls you into his chest. The floor beneath you tilts, and then the whole world whirls. You close your eyes against the spinning, yelling curses at him at the top of your lungs.

When you open your eyes again, you’re somewhere you’ve never seen before.

“Did you just fucking abduct me?”

“Welcome to The Dreaming, witchling.”

The first thing you notice, outside of the black sand beach that you’re standing on, is your arms. Your skin is perfectly intact, no burnt away patches or exposed bone in sight. You gasp.

“This can’t be real.”

“Why not?”

“Because. It’s not reality.”

“This realm is as real and as tangible as your realm.” Your face contorts in confusion.

“But, last night. My arms weren’t like this.” You try to explain.

“I did not bring you here last night. You entered The Dreaming on your own.”

“And The Dreaming is...”

“My realm.” He finishes for you. “I would show you, if it is of interest to you.” You hesitate, looking him up and down for a moment as you consider. He looks as he did the other night in your dream, different. His coat is long, to his ankles, and he seems taller here somehow. He oozes power. It’s practically suffocating, and you follow the thread of it until you realize it’s everywhere around you. You stomach sinks into your knees. This realm is made of his power. You wouldn’t stand a chance against a being like this. Your best bet is to see if you can convince him to give the book back. Appeal to whatever it was you saw in his eyes earlier. It’s your only shot. Surely he doesn’t want to kill you, right? You take a deep breath and give him a nod.

“I still don’t like you. But yes. I’d like to see your realm.”

“How did you know who I am?” he asks as you walk. You frown.

“Oh, I asked a Hobgoblin that hangs out in town.” His brow furrows, face etched with concern.

“Their answers come at a steep price, do they not?”

“For a human, yes. But a lock of hair from a witch usually covers it just fine.” You swallow against the anxiety that’s left over from your earlier encounter. Might I know yours as well, little spellcaster? You shiver as you look around, gasping at the gates that stand before you now.

“The gates of horn and ivory.” He supplies, and you lean you head back to take them in.

“The carvings?” You ask as they open, revealing a lush valley centered around a castle below.

“The carvings tell a very old story.” He says, slowing beside you. You turn to him with an eyebrow raised, an invitation to elaborate. He smiles, and you can feel your heart rate quickening. No. you chide your body. This being seduced, and then robbed you. We do not like him.

“Well then, Dream of the Endless, tell me a story.”

He tells you about Alianora and the gods that imprisoned him, how they fought them together, and then made their bones into the gates and his helm.

“Alianora could not return to her own realm, or the Waking World, so I created a place for her to live out the rest of her days in The Dreaming.” He finishes, and you see him watching you out of the corner of your eye.

“Just like that? She got to stay here?”

“She was my former lover. I could not, in good conscience, abandon her.” Good conscience. You snort. He frowns but leads you down the path towards the awaiting castle.

The castle is stunning. Your footsteps echo across the stone, mixing with the soothing sounds of his voice. You find yourself hanging on every word he says, eager to learn anything you can about this realm. You can’t help but grin as you walk the halls by his side, listening as he explains different bits and pieces of The Dreaming. You take it all in, nodding your hello to the beings you pass who give you curious glances.

You come to a stop in the throne room.

“That’s a fancy chair.” You whistle. He cocks his head.

“Would you like to see it?” You take his hand as he leads you up the stairs. When you come to a stop, he pushes you down by the shoulders, until you’re firmly planted on the throne. Then, as you open your mouth to protest, he sinks to his knees in front of you.

“I have been plagued by memories of you.” His voice is soft as his hands travel up your thighs, fingertips stroking at your skin. “I feel the pain of regret when I think about what my actions have caused.”

He hooks his hands under your legs and pulls your hips to edge of the throne. Fuck, he’s strong.

“Allow me to repent.” His lips press into the side of your knee, and he looks up at you, eyes hooded, feathered eyelashes half hiding his gaze. Your throat goes dry, and you nod your consent. In the next moment, your pants and underwear are gone. You gasp. He moves one of your legs over his shoulder and spreads the other so that you’re on display for him. Your burn with embarrassment as he licks his lips and presses kisses to the inside of your thighs.

Your head hits the back of the throne with a thunk when you feel his tongue on your clit.

“Oh, oh.” You moan, his mouth expertly moving on your body. His finger slides into you with ease, and the pressure between your legs rockets through your cunt as he crooks his finger upwards. Your hand finds his hair, flexing in his raven locks as he eats you out like he’s doomed, and you’re his salvation.

“You taste like a dream, witchling.” He murmurs, the vibration causing your hips to jerk forward. His tongue flexes against you again and you cry out. “Perhaps you are a dream, crafted only for me.” His mouth is wicked, and he fucks you with his finger as your walls tense around him. Your pleasure coils inside of you, swirling alive and ready to spill over the edge. “Come for me, little star. Let me taste your light.” His words slam into you, and you explode with your orgasm, your skin glowing as you moan your pleasure. When he looks up at you on the throne, his face is glistening. His nose, his lips, his chin all wear the mark of your cunt. It’s enough to make your walls clench around the finger left inside of you, and he smirks at your body’s response. When you look in his eyes, you find more than arousal there. Sadness and remorse bleed from his gaze, and you watch as his lips press reverently to the top of your folds. “I am sorry for the pain I have caused you.”

“I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.” You smirk, and his tongue returns to ravish your clit as your fingertips dig into the arms of the chair.

You sit together in silence, your mind slowly catching up to your body amidst your post multiple orgasm glow, and a question forms in your mind. One that is impossible to shove down.

“Morpheus, why did you steal my grimoire?”

“I have been hunting the old magic grimoires that are left in your realm. The spells in them posed a risk to my siblings and I.” Posed. Posed?

“Wait. You said posed?” His silence is answer enough, and when he looks at you, it’s written all over his face. “Oh god. No. Please. Tell me you didn’t.” The blood drains from your own face. For a brief moment, you’re afraid you might puke on his throne.

“I did not know about the spell.” He says, reaching out to you. His fingers stroke your cheek softly, his other hand cupping your knee.

“You didn’t know about the spell.” You repeat, the words like cotton in your mouth. This being used you. He tricked you. He stole from you. And now… “You have sentenced me to death.” You whisper, voice trembling. He visibly flinches.

“Surely there is something that can be done.”

“You don’t understand. There is no reversing this spell. It is blood magic.” Your body is fully shaking now, and he takes a cautious step towards you. “I am going to die.” You sob. “Because of you!”

“Witchling.”

“Get away from me.” You hold your hand out in front of you, power gathering in your fingertips. “Send me back. Right now.” You shoot to your feet, panic clawing at your skin. Your magic surges forward, unchaining itself inside of you, surging in your blood. Something in the air pulls beneath you, smothering your magic where it stands, before the realm around you fades to black.

You come to on the floor of your living room. The sun has long set, and you cry out in horror as you look down at yourself. The spell has spread up past your elbows, past your upper arms, onto your shoulders. Your stomach flips and then you heave, vomiting onto the carpet.

You are going to die.

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #smut is seriously hard to write?#peaches writes

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gaywiththesauce · 1 year

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Wait one more thing oh my god I’m so sorry I was rereading your thoughts on my fic remembering Giyuu doing CPR on Sabito while I was writing I was like “wait his whole head got. Mega Smooshed. Why would he be doing CPR what is he stupid (yes)” but then. I pictured little Giyuu like dragging Sabito(‘s body) away from the battle and he isn’t an idiot he can tell he’s long dead but he just can’t accept it and tries and tries and tries and tries anyways bc he didn’t even GET to try with his sister so he has to try he has to and when he gets home to Urokodaki (alone) Urokodaki just takes one look at him sees all the blood on the sleeves of his little training robe thing and KNOWS because his eyes are so far away he’s just completely catatonic and doesn’t speak for like. Weeks probably.｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Anyways. IM ANIME ONLY I DONT EVEN KNOW IF THEY EVEN WENT THROUGH FINAL SELECTION TOGETHER AT ALL so this is all just bullshit but. I’m so sorry please ignore me I just had to put that out into the world so it wasn’t torturing my brain anymore ok bye again I’m so sorry

I KNOW I WAS LIKE "did he??? did he actually?!!??!??" and I'm anime only as well but like they have the same pattern so that's my excuse. I say they went through Final Selection and now Giyuu cries alone :) also THANK YOU for sending me this bullshit, one person's trash is another person's food and oh boy is this the Good Bullshit!

I'm inspired for the angst after my long day today sooo

(No graphic description of violence or gore.)

Giyuu knows that it was useless to try. It was completely useless. Urokodaki's technique was only for people whose heart stopped beating and their chests stilled with the lack of breath. It didn't work for people who were bleeding out. It didn't work for people missing body parts. It wouldn't work for Sabito.

But, he couldn't give up. Sabito never gave up, so he couldn't either. The sun dawned on them for the sixth day, meaning things should get better now. The sun was a good sign, wasn't it?

His little hands couldn't move faster than the rate of the song he hummed to himself through broken sobs. The song Urokodaki taught him for the correct rhythm of a beating heart. Sabito's heart didn't beat like that right now. Sabito's heart didn't beat at all.

He couldn't give up despite his rational mind screaming at him the truth. It was right in front of his eyes, so he closed them and counted in his head until he had to force air into Sabito's lungs. Gently, he did so, but gentle wasn't in Sabito's vocabulary. He doubted if it would even work for him if he had a chance to save him.

Soon enough, his hands- entwined like he practiced on straw dummies- wouldn't go as deep as he urged them too. He didn't know what else to do. This was his only chance to try, he would never get another after this. He had to do something. The sun moved positioned and he could barely breathe with his efforts. He slumped forward, struggling to keep his eyes open as he passed out from exhaustion.

It was midday when he awoke again. Flies circled around both of them. Giyuu only had one thought in his mind. Sabito's body would not be eaten. He didn't have any tools other than his sword, so he went to digging a small hole in the ground. It was almost sunset when he made it deep enough to keep him level with the ground.

The shallow grave was covered with loose dirt and leaves. Giyuu did his best, he really did, but it was quite obvious that something was hidden underneath. He kneeled down, said a short prayer for him to rest in peace and to keep his body hidden, and turned around to face the moon.

Revenge wasn't his to enact, but one day, someone would be strong enough to decapitate the hand demon...

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thethistlegirlwrites · 9 months

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Songs and Ships Tag

Thanks so much for tagging me @talesofsorrowandofruin , I'm putting this on my Writeblr instead of my main because I'm doing some OCs for this...

Rules: write about two to five songs from them that represent your a ship between your OCs (it can be platonic or romantic or a secret third thing). Then add a quote from said WIP (if possible!) underneath it.

I'm going to do this for Sierra and Shay because I'm kind of obsessed with their dynamic right now...

They both come to the situation with so much past baggage and issues, and I love how over the course of the story the perspective shifts as to which of them is the real monster (and then starts asking whether anyone is too monstrous to change, and where we go from there if we do).

The Unforgiven II by Metallica

Lay beside me and tell me what they've done And speak the words I wanna hear to make my demons run The door is locked now but it's open if you're true If you can understand the me then I can understand the you Yeah, what I've felt, what I've known Sick and tired, I stand alone Could you be there? 'Cause I'm the one who waits for you Or are you unforgiven too?

2. Flaws by Bastille

All of your flaws and all of my flaws They lie there hand in hand Ones we've inherited, ones that we learned They pass from man to man You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground Dig them up; let's finish what we've started Dig them up, so nothing's left untouched All of your flaws and all of my flaws, When they have been exhumed We'll see that we need them to be who we are Without them we'd be doomed

3. What I've Done by Linkin Park

Put to rest What you thought of me While I clean this slate With the hands of uncertainty So let mercy come and wash away What I've done I'll face myself To cross out what I've become Erase myself And let go of what I've done For what I've done I start again And whatever pain may come Today this ends I'm forgiving What I've done

4. Gravel on the Ground by John Denver

So let's walk the road together. Who knows what we'll find tomorrow; Maybe good times, maybe sorrow will be waitin' 'round the bend. Given time, two hearts discover what they're feelin' for each other; At the best we'll end up lovers, at the least we'll make a friend. But life ain't no easy freeway, just some gravel on the ground. You pay for every mile you go, to spread some dust around. Though we all have destinations, and the dust will settle down; But life ain't no easy freeway, just some gravel on the ground.

I had to have ONE road trip adjacent song in this list given that's literally the entirety of Compass, and I tried to put these in some logical progression of the relationship?

Anyway, here's a snippet:

Sierra walks over and kicks the chair. Shane startles awake, blinking in the lowering sunlight. “Huh?”

“Got a proposition for you. You told me a pretty good story back there. Enough I think I might believe you. If I’m right, then either I go toe to toe with my agency, or I let you go. Either way, my career is most likely over. But if I let an innocent…person…die, then it ought to be.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t think you lied to me. I don’t know why you didn’t tell anyone else the truth already, but I think you’ve told me now. Which means somewhere in LA, a murderer is still on the loose, we’re the only ones who know that, and we need to find them in case they kill again. And I’d rather do it with you. You’re the closest witness to the crime. We need you in the middle of the investigation, not a thousand miles away. After this is over, if you still think the stake is your best option, we’ll do what’s best for you.” She leans on the back of the seat. “What do you say? Do you want to spend the last days of your life in a cell, or would you rather look the bastard who framed you in the eyes when we take him down?”

No Pressure Tagging @nade2308 @catwingsathena @telltaleclerk and anyone else who sees this and wants to jump in!

#writing #compass #sierra aguirre-stoker #shane barrett #tag game

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otaku553 · 2 years

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Trying to make sense of tighnari’s outfit

More sketches below

#tighnari #genshin impact #we stan a guy who escaped toxic academia and put his academic knowledge to practical use #we don’t stan whatever his outfit is because why is the tight sleeve the same color as his hoodie #and why is the loose sleeve underneath that like do you mean to tell me this dude is wearing a loose tshirt missing one sleeve #under a tight sweatshirt? buddy please I love your character but why would you do that

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babybluebex · 2 years

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Eddie trys to tutor you as you are struggling with a uni paper?

oh wow i heavy relate to this, also COLLEGE EDDIE MY LOVE

Knock, knock, knock. Even as you knocked on his door, you realized how stupid the decision was. He was just a guy in your literature lecture, and, if you remembered correctly from the first day of term, where the professor went around the room and made everyone introduce themselves and their majors, he was an accounting major. He likely was only taking this course as general education course, just something to fulfill his degree requirements. Why were you knocking on his door for help with the paper?

Before you had much more time to beat yourself up over it, the dorm room door opened a little to show the guy you knew as Edward Nashton. You had never been right up next to him— he sat towards the back of the lecture hall and never raised his hand or spoke— but the way he towered over you made your mouth go dry. His hair was long, brushing at his shoulders, and he wore a pair of wire-framed glasses with thick lenses. He was handsome up close, with his little freckles and the pink pout of his lips, and he stared at you for a second before he blinked, his owlish eyes popping like a flashbulb. His eyes were green.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

You were just standing silent in his doorway, staring at him, after all. "Sorry, yeah," you said quickly, clearing your throat. "Um, you're in Dr. Frank's World Lit class, right? Like, Lit 110 or whatever?"

Edward nodded. "You are too," he told you. "I remember you. You've always got something to say."

You shrugged, a little put out that he seemed to be insulting you. Maybe he was secretly a huge asshole and it was a blessing in disguise that he never spoke. "Yeah," you mumbled. "Do you... Um, have you started the paper?"

Edward nodded again. "Finished it," he said in a clipped voice. "Why?"

"I'm just struggling with it a bit," you said, and felt your face go all hot with shame. "I just, uh, need someone to use as a sounding board, y'know? I tried my roommate, but she's not in the class so she doesn't really get it, a-and it would be a huge help if you just... I don't know, listened to my idea? Tell me if it's terrible or whatever."

Edward seemed to take a second to consider the offer, smoothing his hand up the door jamb. "I didn't mean that as a bad thing," he said. "Like, the whole 'you've always got something to say'. That wasn't a dig. You've always got something good to say."

"Thanks," you said. "So you'll help?"

"Sure," Edward said, and he disappeared behind his door for a moment before returning, now holding his keys. "As long as you've got something good to say."

It felt weird to have Edward sitting at your desk. Your room was usually your safe space and, besides your roommate occasionally, nobody ever came in there. It felt odd to have someone else occupy your space, let alone someone you knew so little about. You weren't even sure if Nashton was his last name.

"Okay, so I was thinking," you started. "Since we read Hamlet for so long, that I'd talk about the role of the supernatural in it. Like, the ghost of the king and everything, really talk about him."

"Sounds good," Edward said, picking at a thread on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "It's a good start."

"Start?" you echoed. "No, that's it. Just... Talk about the ghost and how he moves Hamlet forward."

"But that's not all he does," Edward told you. "The ghost is there to advance the plot, yeah, but he's also there to, like, showcase the sadness in the play and tell us where Hamlet's morals lie."

You frowned and folded your legs up underneath yourself on your bed. "Hamlet doesn't have morals," you said.

"Yeah, he does," Edward argued. "They're loose and they're not our morals, but he does have them. Like, um, what is it he says about the serpent that stung his father wears his crown now or whatever? It's telling us what Hamlet thinks of Claudius: he hates him, and he thinks that everything Claudius does is bad."

There was something attractive about the way that Edward seemed ti puff up as he explained everything to you. He seemed to grow in size, asserting himself and his words and making himself important. You kinda liked it. You liked what he was saying a lot more, though, and you quickly tapped it into your computer.

"And the sadness?" you asked.

Edward shrugged and pushed his glasses up his thin nose with a single finger. "What do you think?" he asked. "It's your paper, after all."

You sat and stewed on his question for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what your opinions were, and you finally said, "Yeah, it's sad. If my dad died and haunted me, I'd be pretty upset. Wouldn't you?"

"I guess," Edward said, and he suddenly seemed to put his walls back up in an instant. His puffed chest seemed to disappear back into his body, and he fiddled with his glasses again. "I didn't know my dad too well."

"Oh, shit," you mumbled. "I'm sorry. Did he—"

"I don't like talking about it," Edward said quickly. "But, I guess, yeah, if my dad came and haunted me or whatever, I'd be sad. And probably pissed too."

"Sorry," you uttered softly. "I, um... Yeah. Hamlet's dad haunting him is really sad, and it's sad how we just kinda accept it. Like, this is really tragic and we just don't ask questions. What does that say about us?"

Edward shrugged. "What does it say?" he asked.

You couldn't help but think about your snafu and how you had obviously upset Edward, and you closed your laptop slowly. "Thanks for your help," you said. "I appreciate it. I, um... I'm sorry about your dad."

"It was a long time ago," Edward told you with a heavy sigh. "I was a baby. I don't... I don't think I know his name, even. But whatever. There's really nothing to be sorry about, there's no condolences to give or whatever."

"And your mom?"

"Car accident," Edward said. "Took 'em both. I grew up in an orphanage. It was... Not good. Gotham could definitely afford to spare a little money towards the Wayne's orphanage... So, yeah, if my parents decided to haunt me or whatever, I'd be pretty weirded out about it. Not as weird as Hamlet—" he paused to laugh, a high-pitched sort of half-giggle, like he was really trying to laugh. "But, yeah. Whatever."

"That's not whatever, Ed," you said, and he popped his flashbulb eyes at you. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say, that's awful."

"That's why I don't like talking about it," Edward said. "People always try to say something. What do you say to that anyway? 'Sorry for your loss'? How can you lose something you never really had?"

"Well," you started, swallowing thickly. "I won't say anything then. Forget I started that conversation. Thanks for your help on the paper, by the way."

"Anytime," Edward shrugged. He stood up, obviously done and ready to go, but he hesitated as he palmed his keychain. "Um. Feel free to say no, I won't be surprised if you did. But... do you wanna grab some coffee or something? Sometime, before lecture?"

You couldn't help but smile, and you shifted off your bed to stand closer to him. "Sure," you said, and you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek before you could think better of it. Edward smiled then, a real smile, and you could see the flush in his cheek radiate from where you had kissed him. "I'd love to."

#college!edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #bex answers #hollyisaberry #paul dano #paul dano x reader #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x you #edward nashton #edward nashton fluff

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cyndilovesprongsie · 2 years

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You’re just like me.. | R.L

TW/mentions of: SH scars and SH, anxiety, crying, swearing, NOT ROMANTICISING PLEASE DON’T ASUME (people cope in this way)

Remus Lupin x Male!reader

“y/n, I’m home!” Remus called out into the desolate apartment, placing his coat and bag down, frowning. Usually you would come running up to him and engulf him in hugs and kisses..he wasn’t late home…why weren’t you answering? Remus took off his shoes and made his way to the living room

“Y/N!” He called out once again before making his way to your shared bedroom “y/n are you-“ he froze as he watched you desperately try to clear up your arm, tears were streaming down your face and it was obvious you hadn’t slept in days..maybe even weeks. You hadn’t realised he was standing there until the floorboard underneath him creaked, earning your full attention

“Remus!” You went wide eyed, struggling to pull the jumper sleeves down with a small wince, managing a small smile. Your boyfriends face was pale. He didn’t look hurt or disappointed…just a little upset and confused “what are you doing home so early?” You whispered, sniffling as you wipe your eyes on the jumper sleeve

“Half a day” Remus mumbled as he stood in the door way, fiddling with a loose string on his maroon jumper. You nod slowly before looking away, blinking back tears as you try to steady yourself. He shouldn’t be home. As you go to speak, Remus was at your side with his arms around you, soft sniffles coming from him that were muffled into your shoulder “why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?” Remus whispered, his voice lingering with sadness and guilt. You take a minute to think about what to say next…something that wouldn’t hurt Remus even more

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You whisper. You hear remus’ small cries into your shoulder, which without a doubt starts you off. You grab onto his hand, being careful of your arms that were very irritated against the jumper. Remus noticed your discomfort and slowly helped you remove it, breaking down once again at the sight of your forearms “I’m s-sorry Remus” you choke out, not wanting to look at anything you had previously done, meaning you stared at the floor, Remus shook his head as he grabbed your chin, still crying

“Don’t fucking apologise for something you can’t control.” Remus whispered, shaking his head as he slowly grabbed his wand and began to clean up your arms for you, his other hand latched tightly in yours. You had no words. You didn’t know what to say.

“I- I bet I look so stupid with these” you whisper, sobbing softly as you point around to scars and fresh cuts. Remus froze what he was doing before instantly shaking his head “don’t you dare Y/N.” He warned; wiping his eyes before taking off his own jumper “you see these?” He pointed to every scar he had on his stomach and face

“these are signs of battle…signs of the troubles I’ve faced. You’re just like me…we’re both scarred inside and out, but we show them off with pride, to show the journey we’ve been through and the things we’ve done to succeed” Remus whispered, making you keep your eyes on him with a hand on your cheek “and I don’t care what anyone has to say about you or your beautiful body, because you’re perfect, you have to remember that okay? No matter how you feel you have to remember you’re perfect and you’re worth it, Y/N. To me, to our friends…to yourself”

He nodded, finishing up bandaging your arms before you hugged him tightly, breaking down again “I’m just not okay Remus…” you whisper “I know baby…but you’ll get better, I know you will. And you’ll feel glad you’ve done it…because you have proof of victory” Remus whispered

#remus lupin #sad Remus Lupin #i’m mentally unwell #I’m mentally not okay!#i hate sad Remus #male reader #SH and scars #please talk to someone if you need too #i love you

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ohbuckie · 3 years

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FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT II

college!bucky x fem!reader (first part isn’t a necessary read prior to this one) summary: bucky fucks you in the back of his car at a drive-in. warnings: smut, semi public sex, implication that reader has hair long enough to pull word count: 2k masterlist

(pls dm me for credit or removal of this gif)

Your hand is on Bucky’s thigh.

It’s customary for the boyfriend’s right hand to be on the girlfriend’s left thigh, but his only real hand is occupied by the steering wheel, and he can’t hold the wheel with only his prosthetic. So, you fill the role, fingers tapping against the inside of his muscular right leg.

He looks pretty when he drives—with his arm outstretched to display his sculpted muscles. His hair is fluffy and shiny and soft, and his lips confidently mouth the lyrics to the songs that play through the car. He was wearing sunglasses before the sun disappeared below the horizon, and they’re now atop his head, holding his hair away from his forehead, with the exception of a stubborn strand that dangles between his eyebrows.

You stare down at Bucky’s phone, held by your free hand, adding music to his Spotify queue. Just enough to bring you to where you’re going. “How much longer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes.”

It takes twelve.

He pulls the car between two posts in the very center of the dirt lot, parking it and unlocking the doors so that you can hop out. While he sits in the front and tunes the radio to the channel indicated on the slip of paper that the teenage girl at the front booth gave you, you spread out the plush blankets and soft pillows, making the trunk—and backseat, with all of the seats down—mostly habitable, at least for a few hours. Pillows are pushed against the backs of the front seats, a small blanket covering the area beneath you, leaving the comforter that he brought from his bed against the side to be put over your laps once you’re both ready to sit.

It’s already dark, and the cold air bites at your nose, nips at your fingertips. Bucky turns the headlights off and climbs over the center console, laying over the setup you’ve created. You lift yourself into the trunk, kicking off your shoes onto the ground beside the car, settling beside him. He looks at his phone for the time, and announces that the movie won’t start for another ten minutes.

He says it with a suggestive smirk and a hand on your waist, and you roll your eyes playfully just before he captures your lips with his. You lay on your back with your arms around his neck as he hovers over you, leaning on one elbow and using his other arm to hold you close to himself. Your fingers twirl around the thick hair at the back of his head, dark brown and intentionally unkempt.

“I’m not doing this during the movie, you know.” You breathe against him, and he pulls away.

“Why not?”

“We paid thirty dollars to get in here. We can shove our tongues down each others’ throats at home.”

“Then we should probably get it all out now.” He doesn’t wait for a response before kissing you again, hand slowly trailing down your back to grab your ass. The old-timey drive-in commercials play in the background of the hot, wet kisses that he delivers to your mouth, and your jaw, and your throat. He sucks a mark into the side of your neck, most definitely too high to cover with the collars on any of the shirts that you own.

The screen goes black suddenly and the opening sequence starts; a rumbling storm, birds chirping, Echo and the Bunnymen. He sighs, pecking your lips a last time and letting you shift to get more comfortable. For you, that means pushing your back against his chest and pulling the thick blanket over the two of you, putting your hand over his, which rests on your waist.

“All good?”

“Mm-hmm.” You put your arm under your head for a better angle of the big screen. He kisses the crown of your head sweetly.

It doesn’t take long for him to start fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. He pulls at the fabric, twists it, inches his fingers beneath it. You squirm in response to his cold touch, and feel him smile against your shoulder, soon finding your neck with his lips.

His fingers trail down your stomach and nestle underneath the waistband of your sweatpants—his sweatpants, actually—stopping to ask for permission.

You nod, but he makes a gentle demand. “Words, sweetheart.” “Do whatever you want.” You say softly, almost shyly.

His hand slides down your pants, teasing you over your panties. He presses his middle finger against your core, making you grind against him for more friction. With pressure on your clothed clit, he kisses down your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His lips are dry from the chilly air, but his kisses are delicate.

He removes his hand and taps your lower lip with two of his thick fingers. You take them in your mouth, tongue slithering around them, coating them with saliva to help him out. They nearly touch the back of your throat when your lips reach the knuckle, and you pull off slowly when they’ve been properly lubricated.

He pushes his hand down the front of your underwear, finally making contact with your skin. His fingers are warm now, from being between your legs as well as in your mouth, and you’re grateful not to be shivering anymore. He rolls your clit between his fingers, moving down to your entrance to spread around your wetness, which is already abundant.

You inhale sharply when a fingertip probes you, slipping in carefully and letting you accommodate. “Bucky.”

“Gotta be quiet.” He reminds you, mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I know.” You squeak.

“Shut up, then.”

The words go straight to your center, making you tighten around him and swallow hard. He gives a couple of slow pumps. “Another?”

“Mm-hmm.” You whine, and he takes his hand out for a moment, pulling it from your pants. He shoves it in again, down the back this time, and stretches you around two of his fingers. You bring your hand to your mouth, biting on your sleeve to keep quiet. “Fuck.”

He moves his hand with purpose—which is, of course, to make you cum—while the giant screen in front of you plays a movie you’ve both seen before. You can hear the words in your head before the actors even say them: Oh, please, tell me, Elizabeth, how exactly does one suck a fuck? You want me to tell you? Please, tell me.

It takes your mind off of the fingers breaching your entrance; helps you last at least a little bit longer. He pushes and pulls, twists and curls, while you writhe beside him, trying desperately not to make any noise.

It makes an obscene noise—a wet slurp that serves as evidence of how quickly he can drive you crazy. “You’re so fucking wet.” He mutters against your cheek.

You swallow a moan, whining somewhat loudly. “Bucky.”

“Yeah?”

“Please fuck me.”

“You don’t wanna cum first?”

You shake your head. “I need you.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, making sure you’re looking behind your shoulder at him when he sucks your taste off of them, releasing them from his mouth with a pop. He gets up on his knees, reaching to close the trunk for at least a little bit of privacy.

He tells you to get on your stomach in front of him, and he shoves a pillow beneath your pelvis to prop your hips up. With two hands, he yanks your pants and underwear down and over your ass, exposing you to him. You point your ass upwards, giving him a view of your wetness.

You hear rustling, and assume it’s him shoving his pants down his thighs. A crinkle and a rip alert you to the opening of a condom.

“You seriously had a condom in your pocket this whole time?”

“Of course I did.”

“You’re such a tool.”

“Yup.”

He spreads your ass and spits on your pussy, putting his painfully hard cock against your entrance. He pushes into you, bottoming out quickly and holding onto the driver’s seat for leverage.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

“Shit, Buck.”

He pulls his hips back, far enough so the head of his cock threatens to slip out, before slamming forward again. You slap a hand over your own mouth, feeling him find his rhythm.

It’s safe to assume that everyone around you knows what you’re doing. With the trunk closed and the inside lights off, they can’t see anything, but the SUV wobbles on its suspension in the loose dirt and alerts everyone of your activities. You try to keep quiet, because nobody needs further confirmation that you’re being had in the trunk.

This position makes it easier for him to hit all the right spots—more specifically, the one deep inside of you that makes your legs shake and your toes curl. The stretch you feel with every thrust stings only a little bit, but doesn’t hurt. You always need a minute to get used to him, anyway.

You moan quietly, lips sealed, and arch your back so that you’re pushing back into him.

“You’re so tight like this.” He says, and rests his metal hand on your lower back.

“Bucky-y.” You whine, unable to conceptualize any other words.

“Lift up your hips up for me.” He requests. “On your knees.”

You do as he asks, bracing your hands on the floor in front of you when you rise to your knees. He puts a foot up to balance himself after he removes his hand from the seat and grabs hold of you, using your hips like handles to hold onto while he slams into you barbarically.

He pulls you backwards with every thrust, but your clothes—still covering as much as possible, since it’s cold and this was meant to be a quickie—muffle the sound of you hitting against each other. It’s only a soft clapping; much more innocent than the usual slapping of damp skin that’s shared between you.

You hear his necklace jingle with every movement—a ball chain with a pendant on it that reads your first name, hammered crookedly into a circle of aluminum, letter by letter, with a small mallet and metal stamps. It hits his clothed chest and rings like a bell as a sort of reminder to you that it’s him who’s making you feel this good.

You feel him tangle his flesh fingers in the hair close to your scalp, balling up his fist and tugging. You moan, and he allows himself to do the same, all the while holding your head back at an uncomfortable angle.

“I’m close.” He mumbles, releasing your hair suddenly and quickly finding your clit. He briefly pulls away and spits on his fingers, pressing against you again, this time letting his saliva cover you. He rolls the sensitive part between his fingers, and soon starts tracing circles. They’re small, and fairly gentle, at first, but he quickly heats things up. He adds more pressure, and increases the size of the circles that he draws like his life depends on it.

Your breathy moans that you try hopelessly to conceal grow louder with every passing second, and you’re soon being dropped over the edge. Your head drops between your shoulder while you cum, and you clench around him unwillingly, triggering his own release. His hips falter and he spills into the condom, staying inside of you until he’s milked dry.

When he’s ready, he pulls out, ties up the condom, tosses it in the bag of trash that he keeps dangling from the shifter in the front seat. He pulls your pants back over your ass, and does the same to his own, waiting for you to maneuver yourself around to face him so he can kiss you.

It’s much gentler than the sex was, and his pink mouth seems to melt against yours while he holds your face, breath fanning over your cheek. You pull away, glancing at the foggy windows, dripping with evidence of your actions.

“Let’s get outta here.”

“Is that you asking for round two?”

“Uh-huh.” He smiles. “Just not in the car. My knees hurt.”

“Tell me about it.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

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Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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miekasa · 4 years

Text

homecoming (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: college au, how many ways can i fit levi’s captain status into the modern world, fluff

↯ notes: i love levi :// and i’m out of gifs to put at the top of these, so when i learn how to make headers i’ll let you guys know. also this isn’t proofread rip in peace

↯ summary: there’s a pretty well known homecoming tradition, and levi’s hoping you’re willing to partake in it.

“So,” you hum, wiping away any crumbs from your mouth, “Are you going to tell me exactly why you wanted to have a picnic at 2:30 in the afternoon on a random Thursday, or am I supposed to wait for a grand reveal?”

Levi rolls his eyes, and sips on his wine, ignoring your incoming giggles. “Can’t I want to take you on a date?” he clicks his tongue, setting his, now empty, plastic wine cup onto the picnic blanket, “Ungrateful brat.”

You smack him on the arm, mouth open in offense; but Levi’s chuckling, shoulder’s shaking at your reaction. “I am a very grateful brat,” you correct him, “But I am also very suspicious one.”

Levi hums, not bothering to reply. Instead, he separates the two halves of his sandwich, wraps one half around a napkin, and hands it to you. You accept it, albeit a little hesitantly, and watch as Levi pays you no mind, biting into his half neatly.

If it were any normal situation, you’d probably try to snap a picture of him—you have somewhat of an ongoing collection of sneaky pictures of Levi on your dates, particularly when he looks cute munching on his food, much to his disdain—but this was not a normal situation.

Levi is acting strange. It’s not just the nature of this date itself—it may be out of character for Levi to want to go on a picnic of all things, but could be quite the romantic at heart, and often planned very quaint dates for the both of you. It was everything that happened since you set up your picnic that was truly out of the ordinary.

Like the way he seemed distracted, getting lost in thought in a way you hadn’t seen before; and how he kept sweeping his hair out of his eyes, and readjusting his small silver earring. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s nervous about something.

“Seriously,” you say lightly, carefully setting your half-eaten portion of the sandwich back onto the blanket, “What’s this all about?”

Levi looks at you for a beat, once again using his free hand to brush his dark hair behind his ear, then with suspecting eyes, “You don’t like it?”

Your eyebrows draw together at his questioning, confused by the lack of sarcasm, or even hurt in his tone; like he was genuinely surprised.

“What? No, Levi, that’s not what I meant,” you assure him, “I just mean that this isn’t really us. You hate eating outside—you always make us wait for indoor seating—and, if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen a couple go on a picnic in real life.”

Levi reaches to pour more cheap wine into your faux glasses, “I guess romance really is dead.”

You squint your eyes, carefully tracking his movements as he hands you a plastic cup before refilling his own. Levi isn’t one to dodge questions, or any kind of confrontation. Now you know for sure that something’s up.

“Levi,” you call gently, feeling like you finally have his full focus when his eyes meet yours, “What’s going on?”

His gaze softens at your question this time, and you finally see a hint of the Levi you know behind his expression. He sighs, carefully closing the boxed wine, and taking his cup into his hand. With a slight head nod, he motions for you to come closer, and you obiiently shuffle closer to him, until you’re sitting side by side.

You take the liberty of resting your head on his shoulder, cheek soft against his coat. You can hear him take a deep breath, feel his exhale deflate his shoulders, before he speaks.

“Homecoming is next weekend,” he starts, “You’re going, yeah?”

You hum in affirmation, watching as he takes a careful sip from his cup before continuing.

“There’s this tradition. It’s stupid as shit, if you ask me, so you don’t have to say yes,” he mumbles, lips barely off of the plastic, before he takes another sip. “But, if you’re dating someone, they’re supposed to show up to the game in your jersey.”

You snap your head up from his shoulder, blinking at Levi and the implications of his words, as you begin to piece together the mystery of his actions from this afternoon. Levi—your Levi—took you on a picnic, complete with homemade sandwiches and cheap wine, to ask you to be his date to his homecoming game.

Your stunned silence is filled with light breeze that brushes past your hair, and makes Levi return to brushing his away again. He drinks in your expression, grey eyes growing cloudy as he assumes the worst of your silence.

“Like I said, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he explains cooly, bringing his cup to his mouth again for a bitter sip, “I didn’t know if you were going to stick around for the whole day anyways, you’ve probably got other shit to—”

You kiss him quiet. Levi is surprised at first, jolts a little bit when your actions cause him to spill some of his drink, but he kisses you back, a small wave of relief washing over him. At least he didn’t make a complete fool of himself just now.

“Of course I’ll wear your jersey, Levi.”

Most parents and alumni stuck around for the traditional football game, but the boys’ soccer team was always popular amongst students, and for good reason.

Not only did the university’s team have an exceptional record, but they had no shortage of eye-candy playing for them, either. Even the team’s managers were pretty cute. You were certain players like Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger were not plastered all over the university website solely for their soccer skills.

Though, good looks aside, they were undeniably good, and made a damn impressive pair on the field. However, most of the crowd would agree that Jaeger, Arlert, and the entire team, could thank their captain for their win today.

You step onto the field with a wide grin as you watch Levi’s team wrangle him into the middle of their circle and toss him up in the air unceremoniously. You almost want to capture the moment for yourself, but to your left, Hange is already recording a video you’re certain Levi would threaten to have deleted.

Most of the mob had fizzled away after the exciting win, leaving behind the team themselves, and a couple of students—likely friends or family of the athletes. After their final huddle, the boys begin to dissipate, greet the remaining crowd. Hange leaves you to badger Erwin, who had been sitting out due to an injury.

You spot Levi carefully picking up his duffel bag, and take the opportunity to run up to him, encase in a sudden and warm hug. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Levi has but a moment’s notice to secure his hands around your back and steady your bodies, lest you both fall to the ground from your uncoordinated momentum.

“You played so well!” you exclaim, pulling back from your hug, but keeping your palms on his shoulders, bouncing excitedly, “I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good! You’ve never played like that before!”

Levi admits to tuning out your praise in favor of drinking in your appearance. The green of his away jersey looks good against your skin, the fabric somewhat loose on your frame. His eyes trail down to the sleeve, a minuscule smirk growing on his lips as he reads his last name in all capital letters underneath his number.

“Come on, Hange and I are taking you guys out for lunch!” your words snap him back to reality, “Anything you want, it’s on me, Captain.”

Levi rolls his tongue against his inner cheek. That’s a promise he’d have to take you up on later. For now, he plays along with your childlike enthusiasm, agreeing to your plans.

He motions for the two of you to get going, but his stride is blocked when you refuse to move from in front of him. Instead, you let your hands crawl from his shoulder to his neck, fingers tickling the hairs at his nape, before you pull him forward into a gentle kiss.

“You really were great, Levi,” you tell him again, pressing another kiss to his lips sweetly.

Levi hums, indulging you one more time, before he hears gasps and not-so-subtle exclamations of “Captain has a girlfriend?!” coming from his annoying teammates. He scoffs when he pulls back to see Jaeger looking at him with his mouth open so wide he could catch flies.

“You’re kind of ruining my reputation,” Levi tells you, but there’s no real bark to his tone.

It’s your turn to scoff, slowly trailing your hands down his arms, and eventually back to your side. You turn and the both of you begin to walk, not before you note, “You ruined your own reputation when you invited me and Hange here.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Hey!” you whine, frown deepening as Levi chuckles at you, “You’re not supposed to agree, asshole.”

Levi doesn’t stop laughing, but gently wraps his arms around your shoulder as the both of you follow behind Hange and Erwin, and back to your car.

“Don’t think your unusual displays of affection are going to make me forgive you,” you pout, but reach your hand to wrap your fingers around his anyways; Levi doesn’t even bother to hide his smirk, “I don’t care if you scored the winning goal or not, just for that, I’m only buying you one appetizer.”

Levi hums noncommittally. That’s fine, he could think of at least three other things he would rather you do for him instead when you both got home. With and without that jersey on.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader

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afeb · 4 years

Text

Bucky Barnes - Salvation

long and kinda slow-burn :)

“Stay safe you,” Matt said as I walked out of the small bookshop.

“Always try.” I smiled back as I skipped down the steps.

I scanned over the books I’d bought on my short walk home, turning the first few pages and already sinking into the stories within. The streets were quiet, sun setting as I hurried home to avoid dark.

I finally stepped foot inside my apartment and immediately went around and turned on all the lamps. I detested the dark, an old habit I found hard to break, as I swiftly checked from room to room. I did this to make sure no one was inside, but in the back of my mind I only looked for one man. Books placed on the side, I was about to sit down when a heavy knock sounded from the door.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered as I walked over. I swung open the door.

Fuck.

Slamming it shut quickly my heart raced and face paled. I could throw up, or faint, and I considered doing both. How did he know where I lived? What was he planning on doing? I bargained that I’d never go to police, and I didn’t for that matter, so why is he here?

“Y/N?” The Winter Solider said through the door.

“I-I haven’t told anyone.” I said.

“That isn’t why I’m here.” His voice was softer than I remembered, he sounded...normal.

“P-Please just go.” I begged, hand still tightly holding the doorknob.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “I won’t even come into the apartment, I just need to say something.”

I peeped through the spy hole, making sure he was alone. He usually was, however, on one occasion he brought back up. That was the worst of times.

“Step away from the door.” I ordered, to which he readily complied and took two large steps back. I opened the door a crack, waiting for him to pounce. But he remained firmly planted in his spot.

Warily, I creaked the door open. He was dressed in black jeans, a navy top and a black leather jacket. His hair was cut short, his beard was growing out and he no longer donned the muzzle he used to in public. Gloves covered his hand. He looked completely normal.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and I am no longer the Winter Solider,” he said. “Apologising to you is my way of making amends with my past.”

I furrowed my brows. “What?”

He gulped. “I...I did awful things to you, and I’m sorry.”

“Is this...is this a joke?” I asked, peeping my head out a little and looking down the hallway.

He shook his head. “I’m trying to be a better person, and apologising to you is part of that. I could also, do things for you?”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“No!” He said. “No, I meant like...jobs or, I dunno...anything.”

“I’m so confused.” I whined as I rubbed my eyes. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

His eyes looked pleadingly at me. He was alone, he looked normal and I could feel the truth drip off his words. After a long pause, I sighed deeply.

“Do you want to come in?” I stepped aside.

“If that’s okay.” He stiffly smiled and walked past me.

I shut the door and watched him. He looked around the small space, standing in the hallway. I had photos lining the walls, all of friends and family, and he took care to look at some of them.

“You can take off your coat and gloves.” He nodded and shrugged of his jacket, however, chose to leave the gloves on.

“Nice place.” He complimented.

“Thanks,” I had no clue how to act around him. He followed behind me as I led him into the kitchen, turning to face him as he lingered in the doorway. “I was going to cook some dinner.”

He nodded. “Anything special?”

I shook my head. “You could...join, we could talk.”

“That would be...nice.” He smiled.

I cooked in near silence. James took a seat at the small table by the window and watched me as I mulled around the kitchen. Chicken in, salad made, I turned to face him.

“It’ll be about half an hour.” I said as I sat opposite him.

“You’re being very kind.” He said.

“So, what is this?” I gestured between us.

He leant back. “The US Government has pardoned me, and part of that agreement is that I have to go to therapy. My Doc came up with a plan to help me...move on from my past. I have to go around and make amends with the people I hurt, or helped, and that means you.”

I nodded. “How many have you done?” I asked.

“A few,” he said. “I was...I was putting off doing you.”

I frowned. “Why?”

His eyes cast over to me as he took a shaky breath. “I...hurt you. In life changing ways, even if you forgave me, I could never forgive myself.”

I pursed my lips for a moment and didn’t speak. His eyes looked down at his lap, a sad expression coming over his face.

“I hated you,” I whispered. “I always thought in my head that if I ever got the chance, I’d kill you. But then I spent a while researching you, your past. What they did to you, how they treated you, what they made you do. And I realised, it wasn’t really you who hurt me, it was them.”

He gazed at me through his lashes. “Y/N...”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” I smiled, reaching over and taking his hand. “Water under the bridge.”

His hands flexed, squeezing mine. “Water under the bridge.” He repeated.

The gloves were soft against my hands as I peered down at them. “Can I see?”

His face grew uneasy as he shifted in his seat. “Um...yeah, sure.”

He peeled the gloves of slowly, almost waiting to me to stop him. The metal had changed. Instead of the bright silver I was used to, it instead was sleek black with gold details. He rolled his sleeve up as high as it would go, the infamous star now gone. It suited him better, I thought, complimented him more.

“It looks nice,” I smiled. “Better than the old one.”

“Thank you.”

“Could I?” He gave me a nod as I ran my ran over the cool metal.

It was really a work of art. Oddly, this one didn’t scare me. The other had felt my skin, brought me to the edge of death so many times, but this one? This one had only gently squeezed me hands.

We both jumped as the oven beeped, giggling a little as I stood and plated up our meal. We ate quietly, James complimenting my cooking one too many times. The evening drew on and soon James was shrugging on his jacket and lingering by the door.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Dinner was amazing.”

I laughed. “I’ll have to cook it again.”

His eyes glistened with happiness at the chance of us seeing each other again. “I’d like that.”

I opened the door for him. “It was nice seeing you, the real you.”

He nodded. “I meant it you know, need a boiler fixing, walls painted, I’ll do it.”

He quickly scribbled his number in a small notebook and ripped out the page and handed it to me. “I’ll keep that in mind,”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” He danced around me for a moment before enveloping me in a short, tight hug.

Weeks passed and I didn’t contact him. I thought I’d be a painful reminder of his past and thus didn’t want to keep contact with him. That was, until my sink burst and my landlord claimed it wasn’t his responsibility. I’d tried hard to fix it myself, and the local plumbers charged ridiculous rates, so I found myself texting James.

To James B -

Hi! Sorry I haven’t contacted you before, been very busy! Could I pick up the favour you owe me? My sink has burst and I’m in desperate need of a plumber. - Y/N

I didn’t expect a reply, but he text back before I’d even put my phone back on the table.

From James B -

Hey! No worries. Heading over now.

I scrambled to tidy the apartment, dreading to confess I in fact lived like a pig most days. After a frantic half an hour, a knock sounded from the door.

“You’re a life saver,” I sighed as I opened the door.

James offered a lopsided smile, shrugging his shoulders. “No worries,”

“It burst two days ago, I had a go myself but I think I made it worse.” James set his bag of tools on the counter and opened the cupboard under the sink.

“Oh yeah, I see what’s wrong,” he silently set to work, laying on his back and doing god-knows-what.

After a while I went into the living room and read my book, curling my legs underneath me and settling down. James banged about the kitchen and a swear word or two later, he popped his head around the door.

“Done.”

“So soon?” I quickly stood and bounced into the kitchen. I turned the tap and stepped back, expecting water to drown my feet, but instead it simply swirled down the drain. “It lives!”

James chuckled at my remark. “A few bolts came loose and disconnected, easy stuff really,”

“Thank you James.”

“Bucky,” he quickly said. “Call me Bucky.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” I smiled. “Want to stay for lunch?”

“Yeah,”

We chatted mindlessly as we made sandwiches, Bucky telling me about his childhood. When he was the Winter Soldier I only heard gruff orders, but he had a voice that sounded smooth and sweet. His eyes lit up when he spoke of his siblings and parents, of a life that felt like thousands of years ago.

“You got a boyfriend?” Bucky asked, fiddling with the label on his beer.

I cocked a brow. “No, you?”

“No.” Bucky said. “I’ve tried these dating websites but...feel out of my depth.”

I nodded in understanding. “I abandoned those long ago,”

“I’m glad you text me.” He said. “I’ve spent the last few weeks wondering if you would.”

“Truthfully, I thought you wouldn’t want to speak to me.” I confessed.

“Why would you think that?” He frowned.

“I’m a reminder of your past,” I explained. “I can understand that even looking at me must be hard for you.”

Bucky paused for a moment and scanned over my face. “I see you as my salvation, not my damnation.”

I smiled. “I don’t think I said it before,” I shuffled a little closer. “But I forgive you, Bucky.”

His breath hitched, arm dropping to rest behind my head. “Say it again.” He whispered.

“I forgive you.”

Our bodies were close, Bucky resting his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and waited for him to make a move, but they fluttered back open when I felt the moment slipping.

“I don’t want to push it,” he confessed.

“You aren’t.” I promised.

“I did bad things to you,” his hand stroked over my cheek.

“Then do something good.”

His lips pressed to mine. They were soft, softer than I’d thought, and he went slow and easy. I sighed into the kiss and pressed my body flush against his, my hands planting on his chest. His hand on the back of the couch slid off and looped behind me back, pressing me further into his as the other hand slid into my hair and held me close.

“Please,” he mumbled against me.

“Yes.”

Bucky eased me back into the sofa, lips still pressed tightly to mine as he eased between my splayed thighs. My hands moved up to fist his short hair, causing a quiet groan to escape his lips. Bucky’s hands held onto my hips as he gently, almost teasingly, ground his crotch to mine.

“Lemme make it better,” he whispered, trailing kisses down my cheek and neck.

“You can do anything,” I breathlessly promised, rolling my body up.

His hand slid down my stomach and into the back of my loose trousers, cupping my clothed pussy and flexing his fingers. I gasped and threw my head back, Bucky surfacing to peer down at me with hooded eyes.

“There?” I nodded at his question.

His fingers eased my underwear to the side and felt over the slickness he’d created. The cool metal of his hand ran over my burning cheeks and I thanked god for the relief of coldness in this moment. My eyes widened as his finger tips circled my swollen bud.

“So wet,” he murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“For you.” I whimpered back, cupping his cheeks.

“Me?” I nodded. “Good girl,”

I moaned again at his words, his fingers picking up their pace. My back arched as he eased two fingers into me, stretching me out. He groaned a little, muttering something about my tightness, before pressing his lips to mine.

“O-Other hand,” I said against his lips.

“What?” He pulled back, stopping his movements.

“Can you u-use your other hand?” I pouted my lips.

“Are you sure?” He furrowed his brows.

I nodded. Bucky removed his hand from my underwear, offering his glistening fingers to my lips. I hastily took them in my mouth, small hand wrapping around his wrist as I sucked. He momentarily closed his eyes, losing himself for a second before easing his metal hand between our bodies.

“Really?” He questioned again, playing with the waistband of my trousers.

I bucked my hips. “Please,”

I couldn’t help the loud moan that left my mouth as his metal fingers resumed his flesh fingers task. They rubbed tightly into my clit, causing my eyes to pinch shut and my jaw to slacken and drop.

“Such a good girl for me,” he cooed against my cheek.

I whimpered again. “I-I’m-“

“Gonna cum baby?” He asked, fingers increasing their speed.

I nodded and cried. “Yes!”

“Like feeling my metal hand, huh?” He teased with a smirk.

“I do! Yes!” My nails bit into the skin of his forearm, the other hand running over the smooth metal of his shoulder. “Oh Bucky!”

“Cum,” he shortly ordered. “Please baby, please cum.”

My head threw back and I saw stars. My back arched as Bucky wrapped and arm under me and held me close. He moaned softly into my neck, grounding his crotch against my thigh. My arms loops around his neck as I shuddered against him.

“S-Stop,” I begged, gently coaxing his hand from my underwear.

“Sorry baby.” He sighed into my neck.

We stayed tangled in each other for a moment before I reached a teasing hand down between us. Bucky quickly stopped me, sheepishly grinning down at me.

“I already...just then...” he blushed.

“Really?” I giggled.

“You have no idea how good you looked.” He whispered, pecking my lips.

I smiled warmly, stroking over his cheek. “Would you like to grab a coffee with me?”

He laughed loudly. “I’ll do more than that.”

#bucky #barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian #stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan smut #marvel #marvel smut

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bitch-for-bo · 3 years

Text

"Worried I'll Replace You?", "No." (Ushijima Wakatoshi x chubby reader)

TAKES PLACE POST- TIMESKIP

Despite the fact that you and Ushijima have been dating for years, he still doesn't want to introduce you to the team. You find out that it isn't because he's embarrassed, it's for selfish reasons of his own.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY

When you had told Wakatoshi that you were going to be attending the Japan National team’s practice later that day, you didn’t expect him to react. Why would you? Toshi rarely reacted to anything you said in explicit ways, he was a stoic man. Sure, he was a stoic man that you happened to love, but a stoic man nonetheless.

You had been curling your hair in the bathroom mirror as Wakatoshi took his morning shower when you brought the fact that you’d be attending his practice up.

“I’m going to be there with Kuroo-san planning some advertising strategies.”

“Do you have to be with Kuroo?” Wakatoshi’s deep voice rumbled from behind the shower curtain.

“Why?” you asked, leaning against the counter and looking at the shower curtain through the mirror, seeing Toshi’s large outline through the light material.

“I don’t appreciate the way that Kuroo speaks to you. He isn’t your boyfriend, I am.” He replied before ducking his head beneath the showerhead to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at Wakatoshi’s blunt statement. No matter how many times you told him that Kuroo was only kidding when he teased you, Toshi was still unnecessarily possessive of you.

Not that you minded. It was nice to feel protected by the powerful ace, even if that meant having to almost hold him back when he saw Kuroo playfully ‘flirting’ with you.

The shower turned off and the curtain was slung back, revealing a fully nude Wakatoshi. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist as your eyes followed him lustfully in the mirror, admiring how the beads of water ran down his broad, tanned back as the muscles flexed and relaxed with his movement.

“I also don’t want my teammates meeting you.” He said, walking up behind you beside you to the counter to continue his morning hygiene routine.

You scoffed lightly at that. You knew that his words held no ill intent or malice, but if Ushi would have said that sort of thing in public, and someone overheard the conversation, they would’ve thought that Ushijima was embarrassed by you. So much so that he didn’t want his team meeting you. Again, deep down you knew this wasn’t the case, but that didn’t stop the small ball of dread from making its way into your heart as you began to question if Toshi really was embarrassed by you. You knew that the only way to find out what he meant was to ask, or else you would be upset the rest of the day and lord only knows that Wakatoshi was too bad at verbal communication to ask you why you were mad at him.

“Why?” You teased, grinning at your boyfriend in the mirror despite the small pang of hurt in your chest. “Scared I’ll find someone more attractive to replace you with?”

“Why would a be scared of that? I am the most capable partner for you on the team.” He replied, turning to look at you in the eyes with an expression of slight confusion.

You couldn’t help but giggle at your big dumb boyfriend.

“Awful confident about that aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

You just laughed more, stepping towards him and craning your neck to place a small kiss on his jaw. It was mean to bully Toshi like that, especially since he took every word you said so literally, but it was too fun not to.

��How about this,” you offered, wrapping your arms around his bare hips and encouraging him to do the same to you, forming a loose hug between the two of you as you stood in the doorway of the bathroom. “I’ll go do my job with Kuroo, but you don’t have to tell the team I’m your girlfriend. We can both pretend we’re strangers.”

You weren’t gonna lie, you really wanted Wakatoshi to introduce you as his significant other to his friends, after all, you’d been dating for almost 5 years, but you understood that PDA made him uncomfortable so you could deal with your own butthurt feelings if it meant that he was more comfortable.

“Are you sure?” Wakatoshi asked, his eyes looking down at yours, seemingly into your soul.

“Yes.” You smiled, kissing his chin, “Who knows,” you added, “it might make for some hot foreplay too…”

Wakatoshi chuckled and kissed your forehead, letting his lips rest against the skin for a couple of seconds before pulling away and detaching the two of you from your ‘loose hug’.

“When do you have to go?” You asked, glancing at the bedside clock that read 5:50 AM.

“I have to be there by 6:30.” He responded. You groaned in reply, turning back to your own routine as he moved out of the bathroom to get dressed so he could go to practice.

You absolutely hated the days where Toshi had to go to practice early in the morning. He would wake up at almost 4 AM to go on his jog. And of course, being the huge oaf that he is, he’d always wake you up with him as he tried to maneuver his bulky frame out of bed. It wasn’t too much trouble though, because usually, you would just go back to sleep. The best part was when Ushijima got back from his jog and joined you in the shower for some pre-practice ‘endurance training’.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened today. You had to be a work kind of early too, so you had already taken your shower and done your makeup by the time Wakatoshi was back.

You were almost finished curling your hair when Wakatoshi came to wish you goodbye, wrapping his large arms around your waist as he pulled you into one of his kisses that never failed to take your breath away and leave you weak in the knees.

After he had gone, you finished getting ready in the bathroom and went to decide on something to wear.

You wanted to wear something nicer than usual to make a good impression on the team, even if Ushi wasn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend. It was rare for Wakatoshi to see you in your work clothes, so you also wanted to wear something that would get his attention, and if you were lucky occupy his mind all day until he could rush home and fuck you.

You settled on a black lace blouse tucked into a pair of red slacks. Kuroo had told you that the two of you would get ‘bonus points’ with the bosses if your clothes matched the team’s colors. Plus you knew that Wakatoshi loved the way that the outfit looked on you. The top displayed an appropriate yet sexy amount of skin with its black velvet bodice and long lace sleeves and the high waisted slacks hugged your curvy hips and made your ass and legs look amazing.

You looked in the mirror, admiring your ability to look professional and badass at the same time. If only your highschool self could see you now. Highschool You wouldn’t have been able to see the way that the outfit complemented your plush form. She would’ve been focused on the small yet noticeable bump of your stomach underneath the slacks, or the way that the light hit the stretch marks on your arms, making them visible despite being covered in black lace.

It had taken a long time to love yourself, you’d gone through the first twenty years of your life despising how you looked. Finally, you learned to accept who you were and with the help of your friends and family, you learned that you were worth more than what YOU saw in the mirror.

You remembered the first couple of times you went out with friends after gaining your confidence. They convinced you to accompany them to a small sports bar. You remembered that night fairly clearly, you had worn a flowy maroon blouse with a pair of high waisted black jeans and a pair of 3-inch nude heels. It was one of the first times that you had looked in the mirror and liked what you saw.

You and your friends drank and watched the games on the TVs that were situated around the bar, a different sport playing on almost every one of them. You remembered that you were attracted to a volleyball game that was one. You had played volleyball a lot with your brothers when you were young and over the years, the fondness towards the sport never died. You took a seat in front of the television, sitting next to a tall, slender red-head who was nursing what smelt like a vodka cherry limeade. Your eyes were fixed on the TV, smiling as the players volleyed back and forth, admiring the strength and power it must take to perform like that.

“It’s impressive isn’t it.” The redhead next to you spoke, looking at you with wide, analytic eyes. You nodded, your eyes barely leaving the screen to give him a quick ‘hello’ smile.

“You like volleyball?” You asked, giggling a little as the man tilted his head at you.

“I used to……” He said wistfully, taking a long sip of his limeade that he happened to be drinking through a straw. “I played in high school. I quit cuz I knew that I’d never be serious enough to play like them.” He waved towards the players on the TV before continuing, “My buddy is still obsessed with it though. He’s in the bathroom right now.”

You nodded, you weren’t sure why the stranger was telling you so much, you figured that it was kind of due to the alcohol so you let him speak, plus you were enjoying the conversation.

“That’s cool.” You smiled, bringing your own drinks up to your lips as the two of you continued to watch the game in silence for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, he looked over.

“Listen,” He said, “my friend that I mentioned, the one in the bathroom…”

You nodded.

“He’s had his eyes on you the whole night.”

As soon as he said those words, your face lit up with the biggest blush you had ever had. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ before opening and closing like a fish. No one had ever looked, let alone stared! at you (to your knowledge). You had no idea how to react seeing as this was your first time anyone was so brash with you.

“I-I’m sorry- are you sure that it’s me and not one of my friends?” You asked, still in disbelief that anyone could find you attractive enough to stare.

“Of course I’m sure!” the redhead confirmed, his eyes scrunching as he looked back at you in just as much confusion as you looked at him.

He wondered if you were completely oblivious to all of the attention you’d been getting from the inhabitants of the bar. You looked gorgeous with your long legs, your thick thighs…..hell he would’ve approached you if it hadn’t been for his best friend expressing his interest in you first.

“It’s actually kind of a miracle that you sat here.” The redhead continued, “Wakatoshi isn’t very good at talking to people. Unless it’s about volleyball, which you also like!”

The blush on your face was unrelenting at the thought of a guy approaching you. A guy that you didn’t even know if they really existed. This guy you were talking to might have been a complete crazy who had gotten a little too much to drink.

“Well, I-” You started, only to be interrupted by possibly the deepest voice you’d ever heard, coming from behind you.

“Tendou, who is this in my seat?”

That’s how it all started. In those first couple of minutes, you were terrified of Ushijima. His face was so serious. Handsome, yes, but also very serious. Tendou had acted as a buffer that first night, giving you a smooth transition and kind of teaching you how to talk to Wakatoshi.

Over the next couple of months, you and Ushijima went on dates. Every week on Friday. He would pick you up at 7 pm sharp without fail. He never talked much, he much preferred to listen to you, always watching your face closely as you spoke. He made you feel safe and listened to and before long, five years had passed and the two of you were living in domestic bliss.

The sound of the phone broke you out of your little daydream, Kuroo’s caller ID flashing across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Where are you, Kitten? I’m at the gym. I see your super ace boyfriend here, but not you.”

“I’m coming” you replied, pulling a pair of black block heels on as you walked out the front door, “Also, I promised Wakatoshi that no one would tell the team that I’m his girlfriend so please behave!”

**********************

“Waaaah?? Girlfriend??” Hinata Shoyou exclaimed, leaning closer towards Bokuto who had just gathered the team while Ushijima was in the bathroom to tell them all what he had overheard from Kuroo’s phone call.

“She’ll be here today!” The owl-like hitter whisper shouted, excitement practically seeping out of his pores.

“I can’t believe Mr. Stone Solid has a girlfriend and I don’t” Miya Atsumu groaned, hiding his face in shame. As the team started to speculate about what she would look like.

“I bet she’s really pretty”

“Dumbass Hinata! Of course, she’ll be pretty! Why would Ushijima date her if she wasn’t!!” “The real question is, why would she choose Mr. no-emotion. He has the emotional range of a crayon!”

They all nodded at Atsusmu’s statement, even Iwaizumi, and Aran, who had been silent in the conversation regarding Ushiwaka’s mystery girl.

They all flinched at the sound of the gym door opening and sprang away from the huddle as they heard Ushijima coming into the gym. They all had quickly gone back to practicing as if they hadn’t just been gossiping like middle schoolers, and Ushijima being the oblivious idiot that he is, noticed nothing as he picked up a volleyball, wondering when his girlfriend would be arriving with her work partner.

Not even ten minutes later the gym doors opened again and in walked the coach, Kuroo, and you.

“Holy shit!” Atsumu whispered to Hinata, imaginary blood bursting out of his nose as he took in your figure.

The team was enraptured with you from the start, even Kageyama had stopped setting to look at you. They couldn’t stop looking at you, eyes drinking you in disbelief as to why you were with someone with Ushijima. And while you didn’t notice all of the male attention since you were currently talking to Kuroo and the coach, Wakatoshi did and a mix of possessiveness and jealousy burst into his chest.

His eyes roamed your body, fists clenching at how devilishly perfect you looked in your outfit. And even though Ushijima wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, he could figure out that you’d worn the outfit just to make him feel like this.

He looked across the faces of his teammates, even the athletic trainer’s eyes were on your body as you made your way towards the court, your heels clicking lightly on the glossy wooden floor.

No one was really listening to the coach’s words as he introduced you and Kuroo to the team. They hadn’t even heard the coach ask them to introduce themselves until Ushijima began to speak.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He said, shaking Kuroo’s outstretched hand and then yours, staring deep into your eyes.

‘Just wait till tonight’ his dark eyes read, making something in you keen in arousal.

“Well you all know me, this is my associate, Y/N,” Kuroo said, causing you to break Wakatoshi’s gaze. It jarred the others out of their dazes as well.

“Hello.” You said brightly, smiling. You and Kuroo then went down the line of them, shaking all of their hands and learning their names.

“Are you a model?” Hinata asked, his eyes wide as you towered over him in your heels. You almost looked like a goddess to the short spiker.

“No, but thank you Hinata.” You laughed, shaking his hand gently. You shook your head in amusement and moved to the man standing next to him. A dark-haired man with a blush dancing across his cheeks and his mouth turned down in an attempted frown.

“Y-you are tall,” Kageyama mumbled, holding out his hand to shake. You merely nodded and responded with an ‘it’s mostly the heels. It’s nice to meet you’

You continued to greet them one by one, feeling extremely awkward as they one by one stumbled over introducing themselves. You wondered what was wrong with them, painfully ignorant of the fact that they were all in awe of you.

‘I kind of see why he didn’t want me meeting them’ you thought.

“Aright!” Kuroo exclaimed as soon as the two of you had given all of them handshakes and introductions were finished. “Y/N and I will just be casually monitoring the practice and thinking of advertising strategies. Anything to add?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Sorry for the intrusion!” You said, smiling at all of them once again, “Please play like normal and do your best!”

Ushijima scowled, he could pretty much hear all of his teammates’ brains exploding.

***************

It was a long but successful day, you thought, sliding your key into the front door of your apartment. Wakatoshi was home, the team was let out at 2:30 but you and Kuroo had headed back to the office for a couple of more hours before you came home.

“Toshi?” you called out into the seemingly empty apartment. There was no smell of dinner being cooked or sounds of the shower or sink running. You wondered where he had gone. Tendou wasn’t back in town, so unless Ushijima was out with the team you hadn’t the slightest idea where he was.

You flicked on the lights.

“AHH!” You screamed, hurling your messenger bag at the figure sitting in your living room. Your hands coming up to search for something else to protect yourself with. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you sighed. “Wakatoshi what the fuck? You scared me!”

Wakatoshi said nothing, a frown painting his face while his eyebrows were angrily scrunched towards the midline of his face.

“Toshi?”

“That is why I didn’t want you to meet my team,” he said, taking you completely by surprise.

“What?” you asked, confusion prominent on your face.

“I didn’t want them looking at you like that. You’re mine.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah. Toshi, they were just being nice to me. That’s all” you replied sweetly. A small smile worming its way onto your face at your boyfriend’s childish jealousy.

“You are mine.” He repeated, a bit more assertively this time, getting up and walking towards you.

“I know Toshi.” You whispered soothingly, your arms opening up and accepting his huge form into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your perfume as he sighed in content at your affection.

“I felt jealous as they looked at you. Why did you wear those clothes?”

“I wore them for you Toshi…” You whispered in his ear.

“Oh. I see.” He said, his hands slowly beginning to draw firm circles in your lower back.

“Why were you jealous Toshi?” You whispered sweetly, you couldn’t stop the sly smile from gracing your face. As mean as it was, you loved it when Wakatoshi got all possessive like this.

“They looked at you.”

“People are allowed to look at me Toshi, how would they talk to me if they weren’t?”

“They’re not allowed to look at you the way they did. Only I can. Only I own you.”

You felt your stomach twist with arousal at Toshi’s deep voice, whispering into your neck. You knew that he didn’t realize the effect that he had on you when he talked like that, but you couldn’t help the want from building in your core as your thighs pressed together.

“Show me Toshi.” You breathed out, your arms tightly wrapping around his neck, pulling his face even closer to your body, “Show me you own me.” Wakatoshi obliged, groaning lowly as his mouth began pressing bruising kisses to your neck. You tilted your head back, giving his rough lips wider access as you let him guide you into the bedroom, pressing you up against a wall.

His hands were gripping your soft hips, pulling you closer to him as his hips rolled against you. You could feel the hard outline of his cock through the thin sweatpants he had on, making your mouth water.

“Shit Toshi…” you moaned, your arms trying desperately to pull his body against you. You reached down between the two of you to feel him through his sweats. As you pressed your palm to it, his hands came down and caught both of your wrists before bringing them above your head.

“Did I say you could touch me?” He growled, his tone changing from the usually even, calm tone, to one of domination.

“Please Toshi….” You keened, a light whine of frustration slipping out of your lips.

Wakastoshi didn’t move, his eyes roaming down your body, taking in your heaving chest practically begging to be bitten and sucked, your thighs pressed together around his muscular leg that had forced its way between your soft ones. He couldn’t’ stop the surge of incredible pride that swelled in his chest as he looked down at you, hunger evident in his eyes. Your pupils were wide and blown out, lips parted and gasping for breath.

‘All mine’ he thought, slowly and firmly taking your mouth with his, demanding that you submit to him. He loved how pliant and submissive your body was beneath him. He loved how you trusted him with your pleasure. He knew he wouldn’t disappoint.

“Fuck!” you gasped as he pulled off of you, allowing your lungs to breathe in deeply, relishing at the feeling of air. Your panties were sopping wet, and you were afraid that if you didn’t take them off soon, your slacks would be in the same boat.

“Please……” You begged, your hips bucking pitifully against Wakatoshi’s firm grip. You needed relief, your brain was beyond clouded with want and the only end in sight was Wakatoshi fucking you hard and deep against the wall.

“What do you want Love?” He asked, his baritone voice invading your brain, making you involuntarily arch your back towards him, a breathy plea slipping from your lips.

“Fuck me Toshi…”

Without a word, Wakatoshi tore your blouse down the front. A small surprised shriek leaving your mouth.

“Toshi! Yo-”

“I will buy you a new one. Their filthy eyes ruined this one.” He growled before reaching down and doing the same to your slacks. You couldn’t even be mad at the incredibly hot strength of your boyfriend. Your shredded clothing fell to the floor as the super ace yanked down your soaked panties, his fingers sliding through the wet folds as he groaned softly against your ear.

“Open your legs.” He commanded, gently yet firmly grasping your thighs as he guided them apart. His fingers glided over the outside of your pussy, dipping in and pressing against your clit while his other hand fondled your breasts, pinching at the nipples.

“Toshi….” you whimpered, yearning for the feeling of his thick fingers inside of you and his mouth on your chest. He seemingly understood your pleas as his fingers slowly thrust into you, stretching you out with two straight of the bat.

“Fuck!” you squeaked, not expecting the brutally fast pace that followed.

“I will not be gentle tonight. When you see the team tomorrow, they will know you belong to me.” He growled, mercilessly finger fucking you with two fingers, using a third to draw small circles around your clit.

You were gasping for air as your head tossed back against the wall. There were no words to express how you felt, even if there were you wouldn’t be able to say them with how Wakatoshi was fucking every breath out of your body.

He didn’t let up, not until you were almost to climax, your nails digging into the meat of his bare shoulders. One of your legs was wrapped around his waist as three of his fingers pressed in and out of your g-spot at lightning speed. You could feel both of your thighs shaking under your body weight, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold your one thigh up around him.

“Wakatoshi....please….” you cried, raking your fingers down his shoulder blades, reveling in the way that they flexed against your grip. “I’m so close!”

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” he asked, taking his fingers out of you and turning you around before pushing your top half down against your vanity in the corner of the room. You could feel your dripping pussy exposed at a new angle as Wakatoshi quickly kicked off his own pants, stroking his thick cock in his hand before stepping up behind you and rubbing it against your slit, wetting it with your juices.

“Yes, please!. Pleasepleaseplease!” you babbled, the feeling of the head of his cock rubbing up and down your pussy becoming too much to bear.

With a single thrust, Wakatoshi was completely inside of you, ripping a scream from your lungs as his cock split you in half. Usually, he took his time, but you could tell that tonight he wanted to show you that you truly belonged to him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, thrusting his hips into you at an intermediate pace. He wanted to teach you who you belonged to, but he didn’t want to hospitalize you by going full speed right away.

“Mmmm….” you moaned, “love the feeling of your cock baby.” you tried to bring your hips back to meet his thrusts but were immediately stopped by his big hands pressing them into the wood of the vanity.

He continued his onslaught, snapping his hips and thrusting in and out of you, quickly building up to a seemingly inhuman pace. He wove his finger through your hair and pulled your head up to look at him through the mirror of the vanity.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He demanded. You opened your mouth in a silent moan as your eyes were met with the sight of him fucking you into the piece of furniture. Your face was red with exertion, your hair sticking with sweat. It wasn’t a superficially erotic sight (at least in your opinion) but the fucked out expression on your face was a dead give-away of how badly you enjoyed Wakatoshi dominating you like this.

Wakatoshi groaned, the feeling of his cock pushing in and out of your tight hole as he brutally fucked you was glorious. His eyes never left your form in the mirror as he stared at the way your pretty tits and stomach bounced with each push of his hips.

Fucking you in the mirror was his favorite was to take you, the ability to watch your face, your tits/stomach, and your ass/thighs all at the same time was quite possibly his favorite thing in the world. He felt himself getting close as his eyes continued to watch your blissed-out face through the glass.

One of his hands reached down and his fingers began to circle your clit again, making your eyes, that you hadn’t even realized were closed, spring open and another cry slip from your lips.

“Ooooooh…. Toshi…:” you panted. “I’m close…”

“Tell me who you belong to.” He growled, his free hand coming up and wrapping around your neck as his lips pressed against your rapid pulse. You could feel yourself beginning to lose yourself, you were so close to orgasm that tears began to run down your face.

“You! Toshi- only you!”

“Are you sure?” he asked meanly, flicking his thumb out maliciously over the oversensitive bud of your clit.

“F-fuck YES! Fuck yes Toshi….. p-please....let me cum!”

“Cum.”

Your body began to practically convulse as your orgasm ripped through your body, leaving your vision white as you shook with pleasure, you could feel yourself clenching around Wakatoshi’s cock as he moaned deeply and began to cum inside of you, letting himself be milked by your walls.

You cried as you came down from your high, your legs feeling like jelly as Ushijima’s strong arms wrapped around your body, supporting you and making sure you didn’t drop to the floor from exhaustion.

He gently pulled out of you and carried you to the bathroom. He set you down on the counter as he went to turn on the shower, the sight of his broad back covered in scratch marks making you bask in the glow of your orgasm even more.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked guiltily, concerned eyes sweeping your body worriedly. You let out a half giggle/ half hiccup and shook your head.

“I love you Toshi.” You whispered, opening your arms so he could pick you up and carry you to the shower with him, which he contently did, his thick biceps flexing against your back as he held your body against him under the hot stream of water.

“I love you too. You are mine.” He said as he lathered shampoo into your hair. You smiled, shivering at the feeling of his fingers against your scalp and his words of love in your mind.

“I’m yours.” You said sweetly, before turning in his grasp to return the favor.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu 18+#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima

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