#the sheer amount of TIME it was in there i had to split the fucking shot in two)

[wistfulwatcher]

YELLOWJACKETS | 2.04 "OLD WOUNDS"

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

PART 2

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 (IN STOCK NOW!!) | PART 3 (coming soon!)

⋙ product description (summary): okay so you finally realized how badly you fucked up. but is it too late? will choso even talk to you now? has he moved on for good or is it that you now have to worry about someone else moving onto him? ⋙ side effects (tw): more drama. more angst. teasing. jealousy. thirsting. mentions of sex and oral sex. intoxication with drug & alcohol use. sending nudes. y/n is still a brat. bitchy sorority sisters. party culture. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 8.2k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. i appreciate y'all liking this sm hope you don't mind i split this up more, but the second part was getting too unruly in length lol

Plug!Choso who you thought forgetting about would be relatively easy. Overwhelmed with the sheer amount of new presidential duties, you had no shortage of various meetings to keep you occupied. Even so, Choso had a way of popping into your mind as the most routine things would remind you of him. 

Yet now you couldn’t even go get a fresh set of nails without expecting to see his tinted blacked-out sedan parked outside waiting for you. Scrolling socials had also become annoying as you’d see a post and immediately want to send it to Choso— your sorority sisters would think you were gross if you sent them mukbang videos. You couldn’t even bake anything anymore, especially anything chocolate, without reminding yourself of how much Yuji hated nuts in his chocolate chip cookies. 

Or even now when you had been walking across campus with your sisters and chatting about the massive proposal plan of next year’s activities. A daunting task on its own which you had to submit to your national chapter by the end of the month. In fact, there were a lot of tedious things you realized you’d now be responsible for as president. 

However, all of that flew out of your mind when a car sped by blasting a familiar rock song— one that Choso always played. 

Stopping in your tracks you whipped your head around but the music was coming from a completely different car. The disappointment in your chest felt like you were suffocating.

The song was the first one from Choso’s ‘stoner emo boy playlist’ that you’d actually admitted you liked so he made sure to play it whenever you came around. You didn’t think you were official enough to have a song, it felt like you did when you’d heard it just now. 

Although what pained you more in the moment was the fact Choso hadn’t even bothered to text you since the day of the brunch. Your pride and guilt kept you from texting him initially but after the first week you caved and did what you once thought was unthinkable— texting a guy first. 

You’d thought he’d answer instantly, happy you’d finally forgiven him for nearly ruining your brunch and you did want to apologize for missing Yuji’s game. But when 20 minutes turned into an hour and an hour turned into the entire day you realized he was ignoring you.

Choso was a dealer. 

He always had his phone on him. In fact, Choso used to respond to you so fast you wondered if he’d always kept your messages up on his screen.

The seriousness hits home when more of your texts go unanswered as the days go by. 

You huffed. 

Two weeks had passed since you first reached out and apparently Choso was still giving you the cold shoulder. Unconsciously chewing on your manicured french tips, your intrusive thoughts from painting the absolute worst scenarios. 

This was around the time of day he’d usually be on campus and you’d meet up in the empty garage. 

Would he be there now doing another deal? 

Or giving ‘discounts’ to another girl?

You shook your head. Choso wasn’t like that. 

You knew he wasn’t. Then again he had stuffed your guts in less than 10 minutes of knowing each other.

But you were the exception right? Choso wouldn’t move on just like that, would he? 

Rejection wasn’t something you had dealt with often in your life or well, ever. 

You’d gotten everything you wanted since you were little whether it was something you worked for or something given to you. 

So what if you didn’t have Choso?

You should be content with life. 

You had everything you’d ever wanted right now. 

You were pretty, got damn near perfect grades and now had the title of sorority president for fuckssake! 

Meeting someone like Choso was never part of your plans and didn’t fit into them either, so you had never really considered what the both of you were to be anything long-term. 

Nor did you ever stop to consider what he thought of your relationship. 

You thought he’d lick his wounds for a few days and forgive you. However with each passing day the thought he might really be done with you sinks in more and more.

Regardless of the legion of frat guys who would jump at the chance to date you, the only guy you really wanted right now apparently wanted fuck all to do with you. 

Ok so maybe you deserve the silent treatment. 

A lot. 

You never been that big of a bitch to him before. But you really had panicked when he showed up out of the blue with your parents on the way! Also if he didn’t go and threaten the DJ like he did???

You sighed. 

No, even under more peaceful circumstances the end result was you weren’t going to leave to go to Yuji’s game. You couldn’t blame him for being furious with you as you knew how protective he was of his younger brother but you at least wish he’d hear you out.

Just for one last time and maybe you could make it up to Yuji too? 

Get him a nice gift for missing his little league game and bake him chocolate chip cookies—without the nuts. You wanted to hear him adorably ramble on which would always be accompanied by animated hand movements while he gave you the rundown. Yuji often even roped in Choso, who would be all too happy to play whatever role or prop Yuji needed him for. 

Their identical grins, goofy and filled with joy never failed to put a smile on your face. A smile which came easy as there was never any demands put on you when you were with them. No pretending for the sake of appearances, no worrying about social standing and no expectations for favors. 

With them you were just you and they had accepted you.

But had you accepted them? 

Shit. 

Yeah you had fucked up big. 

You knew you needed to talk to Choso and If you weren’t all but certain Choso would slam the door in your face, you’d have half a mind to go pop up at his house. 

Although maybe if Yuji ans—

“—-Like HELLO!? Earth to Prez!”

Your train of thought abruptly comes to an end when one of your sorority sisters— Brianna— rudely snaps their fingers in your face. 

Bitch. 

She’d been bitter ever since she’d lost the presidency to you. 

Elections were over so you didn't have to worry about staying on everyone's good side like you had been doing for the last 3 years of being super sweet and non confrontational. Even so, snatching up a fellow sister certainly wouldn’t make a good impression for a newly appointed president.

“What IS it Brie!?” 

Turning to face her you had no choice but to keep your cool.

“Don’t give me attitude! You’re the one not paying attention, space case.”  

Brianna huffed accusingly. 

“Yeah, Brie’s kinda right Prez, you’ve been a little bit distracted lately.” 

Another one of your sisters chimed in—immediately looking down when your eyes narrowed on her.

“Don't tell me the pressure is already getting to ‘Little Miss Legacy'? Or—”

Brianna flips her hair with a sly smile before continuing.

“—is it just that you miss your burnout stalker boy?” 

“E-Excuse me!?”

Extremely disarmed by the allegation, you were not expecting in a million years the very person you were thinking of to be brought up like this by Brianna of all people. 

“You know—you’ve been acting off since the brunch a few weeks ago and we used to be practically swimming in za—way more o’s than we paid for. You must have been doing something to get all that from that future convict and he must be pretty pissed with you if you haven’t been able to get anymore since.”

The rest of your sisters were gagged at the accusations Brianna was tossing your way as it was  true that your supply had been dwindling. Their eyes darted between the two of you but mostly focused on you waiting for your response. 

You ignore them though as all your ire was on Brianna.

This whore had some fucking nerve speaking about Choso like that. 

The thought of knocking the smug look off Brianna’s face is almost too tempting —presidency be damned. 

Yet this time your own guilt stops you.

Too little, much too late for you to be standing up for Choso now the way you had dismissed him so harshly in front of Brianna and the rest of your sisters just a few weeks ago. You could only be mad at yourself, your own actions showed them how to treat Choso.

That didn’t mean you were going to let her get away with it without a proper lashing though. 

“Listen—Brie, Little Miss Legacy is busy juggling the presidency, a 3.8 gpa, volunteer work and planning every goddamn sorority event worth attending. As for you? Well I heard you’d been pretty busy these days juggling your creepy ass T.A. Noaya’s balls because you were going to fail Biology again for the third time—so do you really want to talk about pressure or whose fucking whom for what?”

Standing up for yourself wasn’t something you ever did in an effort to be likable and so Briana—as well as the rest of your sisters—were stunned into silence. 

Even if her fucking for grades had been no secret, it wasn’t something anyone talked about out loud and yet you’d gladly air her out again for insulting Choso.

“Urgh, whatever! Anyways while you were daydreaming we were planning Jeremy's birthday party on Saturday.”

You rolled your eyes at the inattention to some random frat guy’s bday being the reason for this whole confrontation.  

“Oookay and—?”

“—and we need you to get some more za from your stalk— er um, I mean your plug...” 

Brianna quickly corrects herself seeing your eyes flare.  

“Jermey wants a joint filled pinata and don’t have nearly enough right now to roll all those joints.”

You suck your teeth in annoyance. 

Of course it all had to come back around to Choso.

“I’m not talking to him right now. We’ll find someone else.” 

Well it was half true, more like he wasn’t talking to you. 

You tried not to pout and completely give yourself away at how much it really was affecting you you.

“Well start again, Prez! You know his stuff is the best!”

“We already promised everyone we’d have it!” 

“Please Prez!”

The rest of your sorority sisters chimed in.  

“Yeah Prez it shouldn’t be a problem. Send him an ass pic or something, I bet he would respond to that.” 

The rest of your sisters giggled in agreement. 

Little did they know you had already sent Choso nudes 8 days ago, which when you checked Snap last just 10 minutes ago he still hadn’t opened yet. 

You’d die before admitting that though.

“Fine. I’ll figure it out.” 

“Knew you would Prez!” 

Brianna tossed you a fake smile as she turned around and your sisters followed suit walking back towards the sorority house. The chatter now moves on to drink options as the previous conversation is instantly forgotten. 

You still flip the bitch off behind her back though before you catch up to join the conversation lest these dumb bitches skimp out on drinks for more decorations and have you all drinking Monarch vodka again—gross, much more so than a mukbang video.

Plug!Choso who later that night has you laying on your bed staring at your phone suspended over you, your finger hovering over the send button. 

What if he ignored you this time too? 

Worse—what if he had finally blocked you?

Well all your messages had gone through so far even though his read receipts were off. 

Choso hadn’t blocked you yet. 

Only two days had passed since you last texted him but scrolling through your history the wall of blue taking over the entire screen had you feeling vexed.

Hadn’t Choso punished you enough? 

Biting your lip in apprehension you hit send. 

You almost dropped your phone on your face. Sitting up in your bed you stare at his text incredulously as the sticker shock of Choso jacking up the price by $150 hits you.

You deserved that, you supposed. 

But fuck you knew you’d have to come up out of pocket yourself for the extra and you couldn’t admit to your sisters why the price had gone up so much again.

At least he was answering you though. 

You threw your phone across your bed. 

Well that went super. 

You’d hope you’d have the chance to talk about things while he was responding to you, maybe get him to video call you? You knew he still wouldn’t be thrilled with you but you didn’t expect his responses to be that short once he finally answered. 

Choso always over texted you if anything, sending paragraphs at times so these clipped messages were like tiny daggers pricking you with each one you received.  

You didn’t think you could handle him being mean to you like this for much longer. 

Getting a taste of your own medicine fucking sucked.

With a sigh you had decided to push it to the back of your mind. It was Tuesday and he wasn’t even coming until Friday.

That’s when you realized Choso implied he was coming to you. 

As in your sorority house. 

On Friday. 

The night of the Barbie’s Dreamhouse Kegger. 

Goddamnit.

Plug!Choso who shows up to your sorority house on Friday night just before midnight when the kegger is at its peak. Choso doesn’t give a single fuck this time around that he sticks out like a sore thumb with his dark tattered jeans, matching leather jacket, heavy eyeliner and metal piercings amongst all the colorful and peppy pastel attired party-goers. 

Choso waltzes right through the front door like he owns the place.

“Oh! It's you! Finally!” 

Flipping her hair behind her to show off her ample cleavage, your sorority sister Brianna bounces over to Choso who continues to look past her as his eyes scan the foyer.

To be honest he wasn’t even sure she was talking to him until she mentioned you.

“You’re the plug, right? Choso? Here for Prez, hmm?” 

Brianna appraised Choso with a flirty glance and a smile. 

“I’m Brianna, but everyone calls me Brie. She’s outside with her boys! I’ll take you there, kay?”

Her boys?

Brianna batts her eyes sweetly to complement her peppy demeanor. 

Choso simply nods, appearing unphased as Brianna grabs him by the arm of his jacket to lead him through the sea of people crowding the hall and out to the backyard. The very same backyard where you had rejected and humiliated him to save your own superficial social standing just a few weeks ago. 

Of course he hadn’t forgotten. 

Choso noted this time though the expansive yard had a completely different vibe from the pretentious scene he’d walked into before. The backyard was now filled with pink inflatable decorations and rose gold plastered party supplies, trading the expensive crystal for matching pink solo cups and decorative flower displays for shotskis. 

Yet Choso’s comparisons end once he finally spots you in the crowd. 

Playing beer pong with some frat fucks, carefree like you had zero concerns (or thoughts of him) in the world as you taunted your opponents. 

Choso’s eyes narrow when you—clad in a scandalously small pink sparkly tube top—brought a dainty manicured nail to your chest and seductively dragged it down your cleavage to tug at the hem of the fabric. The tops of your tits swell over the edge of the material provocatively as you tease the chance they might altogether spill out onto the table if you pulled any lower.

The plan worked and your opponents thoroughly distracted missed their shots much to your amused squeals and Choso’s growing irritation. His brow twitched as he noticed the rest of your outfit which barely provided any more coverage. 

The matching mini skirt you wore rested low enough on your curvy hips to show the very edges of your thong but high enough on your thighs that your cheeks were nearly peeking out just from the slight bend you took as you aimed to take your next shot. Your pink jeweled belly ring (that he’d bought you) and gem adorned nude fishnets lead down to chunky hot pink glitter pumps only calling more attention to your lower half as they were illuminated by the outdoor tiki lights.

Why were you dressed like such a slut and letting those greasy shitheads drool all over you? 

Your beer pong partner was clearly exaggerating his drunkenness for an excuse to feel you up as his hand rested dangerously close to the top of your ass as you took your next shot. 

Were you that clueless?

Choso’s jaw clenches as you allow yourself to be pulled in by the shoulder tits first into a celebratory hug after landing a cup off a bounce, thus removing two. The way you’d casually let those assholes gawk and grab at you when you wouldn’t even make eye contact with him in public pisses him off like none other and reminds him why he had decided to cut you off after all.

This time though Choso doesn’t march over, masking his resentment with nonchalance as he considers leaving altogether. 

Sure he needed the money—but it wouldn’t make or break him in the long run. 

Keeping the big picture in mind, Choso had Yuji to think of and he couldn’t afford to catch a case over your slutty ass in case he actually gave into the urge to knock some random frat fucker’s teeth out.

Yet Choso switches his attention back to Brianna when she returns with a beer filled cup for him and her sheer top unbuttoned even lower. 

Oh? 

Choso grins. 

Plug!Choso who you finally notice standing near the back door of your sorority house next to—Brianna?!…urgh! 

Her obnoxious high-pitched laughter loudly cut even through the music and party chatter to draw your attention over. 

What the hell was Choso even doing with her?! 

You grit your teeth as Choso takes the drink. You watch him as he reclines against the house and cheered cups together. Brianna is twirling her hair innocently as she flirts with him, giggling like an idiot. 

One without an ounce of shame at that. 

You seethe as she clutches onto his bicep pulling herself closer and resting her tits on his arm when she pretends to momentarily lose her balance. 

Stupid cunt ass bitch. 

You know it's just to spite you too. 

Of course Brianna still didn’t know of the true nature of your relationship with Choso for certain but a backstabbing whore like her would try to fuck him solely off an inkling. 

If anything just so she could say your ‘stalker’ was now hers.

She was just using him! Did Choso not see that?! 

Your beer pong partner slides his arm around you to tell you it’s your turn again but you don’t even spare him a backwards glance as you shrug him off. Abandoning the game and ignoring his puzzled calls after you. 

Truthfully it doesn’t even register as you are on your warpath with Choso and Brianna in your sights, stomping directly towards them like you were on a mission. You were too, as far as you were concerned, determined to break that shit up expeditiously. 

Especially now as you see Brianna airdropping her contact info to Choso.

Stopping directly in front of them you’re far too tipsy to prevent your souring mood from spreading all over your face when they both seem to not notice you right away.  

You loudly clear your throat.

“AHEM!”

Staring at Choso expectantly your lip curls when it's Brianna who greets you first instead.

“Oh Prez, my B girly! We didn’t notice you there!” 

“Whatever, Brie.”

You sneer at her. 

Although Brianna only giggles again, feigning innocence and leaning into Choso a bit more. 

The whore was still touching up on him.

“I was just keeping Cho here company until we found you.”

Bullshit, they were searching fo– Hol’ the fuck up—CHO?! 

Did this whore just call him Cho?! 

That was your fucking nickname for him! Only you and Yuji were allowed to call him that!

Oh Brianna was just begging for that ass whooping, dying for it even. 

Swaying on your feet, your buzz only intensifies your anger and folding your arms in front of you serves two purposes at the moment: 

To keep your balance as you try to prevent your heels from sinking into the grass— but more importantly— because the urge to yank a bitch was escalating to the point your hands were now twitching. 

You had drank way too much in your nervousness waiting for Choso.  

You thought a quick round of beer pong would settle your anxieties as you’d been hanging out near the front door all day and night not knowing when he’d show up. However time had slipped away from you and one game had turned into three. 

You didn’t even really know the guys you were playing with, just some random freshman!

Of course once you finally let your guard down Choso would not only show up but be hanging out with your biggest opp!

But what really had you about to crack—Choso was taking his sweet time in acknowledging you as he appeared to be more concerned with checking Brianna’s contact info than speaking to you right in front of him. “Ight, got it.” 

Choso confirmed and slid his phone back into his jacket before pulling out a joint as he finally made eye contact with you.

THE FUCK!? HE ACTUALLY SAVED IT?! 

Plug!Choso who stares at you with a condescending smirk as his eyes twinkled with sadistic amusement before exhaling smoke towards the sky.

You bite your cheek to hold back your angry tears, you weren’t about to give Brianna the satisfaction. She could fuck right the hell off as far as you were concerned, only wanting to speak to Choso who was currently looking at you like you were the one interrupting something.

“W-Why didn't you text me you were here?! I would have come outside!” 

Your words fumble out of you drunkenly, not sounding one bit as smooth and unbothered as you hoped.

“For why tho? Don’t you have me silenced anyway, Prez?”

You stiffened. 

Even if he wasn’t silenced right now you couldn’t deny you had previously silenced him before the last few weeks of trying to get him to talk to you. 

“Yea figured—so thought it’d be best to come inside…”

Choso exhales smoke through his nose this time, leering down at you as he passes the joint to Brianna who eagerly takes it.

“You really think I’m still tryna wait for you?”

Choso’s words are crushing as the double meaning behind them is not lost on you. Parting your glossed lips you couldn’t even form a sentence as your mouth had gone completely dry.

Brows raised Choso is practically daring you to challenge him. 

But you’re frozen. 

Ironic, because his eyes are all but intensely burning into yours as his accusingly cruel question penetrated you like a hot knife to butter. 

However, bringing you back, Brianna interrupts the moment—because of course she does—not being able to read the damn room nor handle the attention being away from her for 5 fucking seconds.

“You know Prez… You’re going to be pretty busy with all your responsibilities soon...”

Brianna taps her stiletto shaped nail to her lips in faux contemplation. Her smarmy expression gives away her true intentions resembling every bit of the evil bitch she is. 

“...Annnnnd it won’t look good for our lovely new president to put herself at risk by getting us drugs, right? Sooooo, I was telling Cho here how I’m going to be the one taking over for you now.”

Brianna coyly tucks a few loose strands of her long tawny locks behind her ear. 

“Who knows? I might be able to get a better discount than you too.”

Passing the blunt back to Choso she winks at him. Choso merely chuckles, shaking his head at the implications before taking another hit.

And yeah that’s what fucking did it alright.

More than ready to give Brianna exactly what the fuck she’d been asking for you wordlessly lunge forward to snatch her up by those raggedy ass microlink extensions she couldn’t stop touching.

However your trajectory is thrown when you feel Choso grab you by your wrist. Pulling you in towards him, the action confused both you and Brianna—who didn’t know how close she was to actually kissing dirt.

Choso passes the joint back to Brianna, telling her to keep it as a ‘sample’ he turns his attention back towards you.

“Come on Prez, I got places to be. Get me my money now before I charge your ass the full stack.”

You both leave Brianna standing there dumbfounded as Choso drags you back into the house. 

Plug!Choso guides you through the crowd of your sisters that are all now much too drunk and self-involved in their own good time to care about the pierced n’ scary dark haired man towing their president behind him. 

Reaching the staircase Choso motions for you to go ahead of him and you nod dumbly as you obediently climb the stairs trying not to trip. 

Urging you along, Choso is right on your tail— quite literally, as he tries to simultaneously avoid staring at your ass cheeks jiggling out from under your skirt—but more importantly tries to keep any other wandering eyes below from getting a peek as well. 

Choso places a hand on your waist, both to keep you from falling and to move you along quicker. Warm tingles radiate out from where his hands touch your bare skin yet he instantly releases you once you reach the top.

You can’t help but to pout at the loss of contact.

“Which one?”

Choso still feels all business though as he walks ahead of you like he can’t wait to wrap this up and get you the fuck out of his life again.

Plug!Choso who you usher into your room before closing the door. The party seems distant as only the faint sounds of the base bumping against the walls reach the sanctuary of your room. Still holding the knob you’re leaning with your back against the doorframe as your body is still pumping insane amounts of adrenaline through you. 

Nearly fighting Brianna, Choso finally touching you, on top of being drunk had your mind going into overdrive especially since it seemed like Choso would leave as soon as the deal was over.

Would he really take the money and go just like that?

Choso’s face is unreadable as he strolls deeper into your room and casually looks around. You had always come over to his place and he would have never in a million years dreamed of being able to see your room in your actual sorority house. 

It was so you though. 

Tidy and adorned in your favorite colors, your walls are decorated with pictures of celebrities, friends and various moodboards. Not to mention it smelled like you. The scent of your sugary perfume with notes of vanilla and saffron assaulted Choso's senses making it seem a bit warmer in the room than it actually was.

“Yo Prez, the money.” 

His patience for the situation is dwindling. He has to get out and fast. 

Choso doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t leave soon.

Yet you were plotting the exact opposite and you couldn’t let him leave so easily now that you finally had him alone after all this time. 

Armed with a plan you nod as you scoot by him and over to your vanity to retrieve the cash. Acting clueless as to which drawer you put it in, you search them all as you bend over to check one of the drawers at the very bottom. 

Choso swallows hard.

Your ass–with plenty of curves to spare–is on display for him as well as your sheer pink thong that teasingly pokes out between your crystal studded fishnets. 

You had to be doing this on purpose. 

Swishing side to side your skirt raises up a bit higher with every shift of your hips while your thong strains tighter across the print of your fat pussy lips threatening to snap altogether.

Akin to a seductive pendulum as you sway before Choso completely entrancing him. 

Only you could ever affect him in this way.

After what feels like years do you finally locate the money, a sizable stack of cash composed of 20 dollar bills.

“Found it! In the top drawer all along, imagine that!”

Smirking you plop down in your vanity chair crossing your legs not missing how Choso’s gaze lingered, even if just the tiniest moment, on your thighs.

“Took ya long enough…” 

Choso mumbles. There's no real bite to his words this time though. He’s holding his backpack close to hide his half chub while he removes 3 hefty bags of kush from his backpack to toss on the desk beside you.

Reaching for the cash his annoyance is evident on his face when you jerk away from him. Leaning back and fanning the bills across your chest, you wave them tauntingly in the air.

“Stop playin’ around. Not in the fuckin mood, I swear.”

“Playing?”

You question acting coy.

“This is just business right Choso?”

You sat up as if you were taking this seriously at all and Choso is unamused as he reaches for the money again. 

And you snatch it back yet again like a fucking brat. 

“I’m practically dropping a stack on this–thanks to your new “tax” and all. How do I know if it's any good?”

Clearly your plan is working as you continue to push Choso’s buttons pretending you aren’t excited from him towering over you now.

“Cut the games, Prez. Ya know my shit is always pressure.”

You act contemplative as your eyes lazily travel up his tense muscular form appreciating the view after not seeing him for so long.

“Hmmm, do I though?”

Choso scoffs, growing tired of your games. 

That’s all he ever was to you, a game.

“Like I said, just business. Or are you telling me you weren’t going to count the cash to make sure it's all there before you left?”

Damn. Well you got 'em there. 

Choso rubs the back of his neck before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Tch—let’s make this quick then, Prez.”

Plug!Choso who after grabbing one of the bags of weed off your vanity takes a seat on your bed. He shrugs off his jacket to retrieve a pipe from the inner pocket and impatiently extends his hand hurrying you with a quick beckoning gesture.

“Gimme your grinder.”

Rolling your eyes you haphazardly toss it over to him. However, unbeknownst to you, the top was loose and crumbles of kush spilled out of it and onto your bed when he failed to catch it.

“Nice looking out Cho, great catch.”

Even though the poor throw and loose top had been your fault, the fact he apparently couldn’t wait to fucking leave along with you still pissed with how he flirted with Brianna makes you lash out. 

“You fucking serious right now? I’m always lookin’ out for your ungrateful ass.”

Obnoxiously you huff, crossing your arms and turning your head away from him.

Ungrateful? For what!? 

He hadn’t been ‘looking out’ for the last month, he’d been completely ignoring you! 

“Heh, like I didn't just stop you from turning that gouda chick into actual cheese from the way you went at her?”

You press your lips together firmly to keep from cracking a smile at his play on Brianna’s nickname. You’re honestly still salty he had even been around her at all getting so chummy. He’d always talked about how stupid your sorority sisters were, it didn’t make sense why he let her flirt with him like that.

You’re also mad he didn’t at least let you pop her one good time.

“The bitches name is Brie. You should know, you were ‘oh so concerned’ about saving her number and giving her a discount.”

Choso looks at you like you’re an idiot as he shakes his head. He stops packing the bowl to throw you his phone.

“Whose number?”

Frowning, you already know the passcode so you unlock it right away. 

Sure enough there was no Brie nor Brianna in his contact lists. Not even her number showed up when you searched his phone for it in case it was under a completely different alias. 

He’d never even saved it. 

The smug smirk on Choso’s face tells you he knew what she was doing all along and got you all riled up on purpose.

In fact, Choso had recognized Brianna’s ploy immediately. You had previously mentioned something about an annoying n’ bitchy rival. 

Besides, there was no other plausible reason for a dumb sorority bitch like her to be talking to him at all—much less throwing herself at him so aggressively.

“Doesn’t feel good now does it, Prez?”

Your face is on fire and you turn away from Choso totally humiliated. You had played right into his hands.

“Hmph! Don’t get cocky, I wanted a reason to beat her ass anyway.”

You puff your cheeks into a pout that Choso can’t help but to chuckle at, shaking his head at you again. 

You were a huge brat that's for damn sure.

“Well, it certainly looks like you found one.”

You’re quiet finally as you rake over his words in your mind. 

‘I’ve always been looking out for you.’

Not only did he not save Brianna’s number there’s a high probability he just kept you from being kicked out of the entire sorority and maybe school too. Fighting was a huge no-no and you could have gotten expelled. Apparently jealous with rage you were ready to risk it all at that moment without even thinking of the consequences. 

Fuck.

Choso had in fact still been looking out for you—even when you didn’t deserve it. 

Plug!Choso who accepts your silence is a sign of your defeat and after a few minutes you move from your desk to sit next to him on your bed as he finishes grinding and packing the bowl. 

“Brats get greens this time.”

I’m paying a premium for all this shit, I better get greens. 

But you hold in that thought, not wanting to give him any more lip in the moment as you’re the one left licking your wounds this time.

Like a gentleman Choso holds the bowl for you and lights it as you take a hit. He tries not to notice how well your glossed lips are wrapping around the phallic mouthpiece as searingly thick smoke flows into your lungs. 

Damn, this shit was dank as hell. 

You’re doing your best to hold it in but your lungs are burning as you watch Choso take a hit himself. Not being able to keep in your coughs for a second more you’re left signaling at Choso to ‘wait a sec’ when he holds the pipe out back to you.

Fuck, it was even stronger than what you remembered.

“See Prez? True pressure.”

You shrug at him trying to save face although your eyes are watering, already tinting a bright shade of red.

“Uhh duh, I always cough Choso. I’ll still need a few more hits to know for certain.”

Choso rolls his eyes.

You take another hit—a smaller one this time—before slowly falling back onto your bed.  

Your eyes close as your high settles in and you debate on what to say next without fucking things up even more with your slick ass mouth. 

However your concentration is diminishing quickly as your buzz makes your senses overly aware of Choso’s intense body heat radiating off him, your thighs practically touching. 

The weed swirling together with the alcohol in your system makes you all the more sensitive. Your mind floats away as your gaze is hyper focused on how the lean muscles of Choso’s toned back and broad shoulders ripple under the thin black tee he wears.

God, Choso is so sexy. 

Your legs squeeze together to calm the burning in your core just from the thought. You want nothing more than to drag him down to bed with you and melt into his embrace—but there's an invisible force field around him that you can’t reach. 

You’re almost certain he would recoil from you if you tried now. 

There’s a conversation you needed to have first but you didn’t know how to start it without fucking things up even more. 

The result is an awkward silence that uncomfortably settles in the room as Choso finishes the bowl off himself. 

Never one to smoke too much of his own product he’s only indulging now to temper his mood. 

Choso doesn’t know why he’s still here, all good sense in him telling him to take the money and get the hell out. Yet he knows he’s hoping for something–anything–to show him you’ve changed even though all signs so far tonight have been showing him you haven’t.

You’re still cowering away from any accountability and he is determined not to give you an easy out this time. 

And it’s for that exact reason Choso can’t look over at you right now.

Otherwise he’s sure to see your tiny pink top that had started to roll up exposing the glitter adorned skin of your underboob. Or how your slow exhales cause your soft stomach to dip temptingly showing off the pink crystal belly button ring he gave you. 

The sight of your fishnets brushing against one another out of the corner of his eye alone is enough to know he wouldn’t be able resist grasping onto your supple thighs. God how he would relish the way his fingers would indent into them. He wanted to rip those slutty fishnets right off of you so his head could push your skirt up even further on your hips while he drowned himself in your wet cunt—not even stopping when you would cry from overstimulation.

Plug!Choso, who is thankful his distraction at long last comes in the form of the faded gray blue fabric by your pillow. 

“Yo!..Is that my shit?”

Eyes opening wide, you pale upon seeing Choso reach for the crumpled up shirt. Choso unravels the tee to confirm it is in fact his shirt—one of his favorite band tees at that. 

“Oh, is that yours?”

Choso deadpans.

“So you listen to RHCP now?”

“Maybe…” 

You grab it from him and toss it to the side less you break down and confess to him you had slept in it most nights. Not only have you slept in it but you do in fact listen to RHCP now, especially when you workout.

However with this Choso has hit his limit. 

To him you hadn’t changed. 

Could you not even own up to the tiniest of things?

He couldn’t let himself get sucked back into your toxic web, not anymore. The longer he stayed the more likely that was.

“S’all good, Prez. Keep it.”

Choso grabs his jacket.

“Listen, I gotta g–”

“—w-wait!” 

You grab the other end of his jacket. You still find it difficult to find the right words but you had to say something. 

It was now or never.

“W-Wait… ah, at least before you go…l-let me know how Yuji’s game went?”

You meekly ease into the question but see Choso go ridgid at the mention regardless. 

For now he relents and stays seated. Although a few minutes pass before he speaks.

“He won, of course. MVP of the season.”

You smile genuinely at that but Choso isn’t looking at you— too pained by the memories that began to bubble up again like bile in his throat.

“Awe, that's so great! I knew he would! I’m so happy for him.”

Choso grits his teeth as he turns back to you, his anger evident in his entire being as every muscle in him tenses.

“Are you? So that’s how you treat someone you’re happy for? Really?!”

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond.

“Yuji’s a strong kid— much stronger than me. Honestly, I didn’t even think he minded you weren’t there as he was all focus and excitement to play that day—”

You let out a quiet exhale in relief though any consolation you felt was instantly shattered as Choso continued. 

“But when I put him to bed that night. H-He..He’d asked why you weren’t there…He asked if you were gone now like our parents. Yuji wouldn’t believe you’d miss it otherwise.”

Choso struggles to say the last bit and maintain eye contact with you. 

Every moment you gaze into his eyes though was pure torture as you’re racked with even more guilt.

“Choso I–”

“I’m so fuckin’ tired of all your fuckin’ excuses!”

You’re silent. It’s so strange to see him this upset you don’t know what to say.

“I’d ask you if you’d even considered the abandonment issues that kid already carries but you don’t. You don’t fill that fuckin’ superficial lil’ head of yours with anything beyond yourself!”

Finishing what he had to say, Choso gathers up his jacket and backpack, stuffing it full with the stack of cash on the vanity—not even bothering to count it.

Momentarily dumbfounded, you're scrambling from the bed to block his path. 

“C-Come on, Choso! I didn’t want to abandon him or you! I tried to call you and I texted you so much these past few weeks to talk!”

Choso isn’t impressed.

“And not one text actually had the words ‘I’m sorry’ in it. Not that it would have cut it this time.”

You're reduced to silence for the umpteenth time tonight. 

You wreck your brain knowing most of your texts had been focused on baiting him to respond to you but fuck—did you really not even apologize? 

“But I am sorry!”

Choso’s gaze is cold and distant, so foreign in comparison to the warmth you’d taken for granted before.

“Whatever you say, Prez.”

There it is again. You’ve grown to resent the title, the job, everything about it.

“Just stop calling me that, okay?!”

You’re trying hard to fight back the tears that threateningly pool in the corners of your eyes.

“What Prez? Why, it aint all that they cracked it up to be?”

“N-No… it’s n-not… I actually hate it and I hate being here.”

Your voice is hardly above a whisper as you direct your words towards the ground. You didn't want Choso to see your glassy eyes even if he’d noticed the cracks in your voice. 

Plug!Choso who regards you with skepticism but curiosity nonetheless. So at long last you decided to be honest with both him and yourself aloud for the first time.

But it didn’t mean shit if you wouldn’t do something about it.

“Then quit.”

Choso says to you like it’s the most obvious answer in the world as your head snaps up incredulously.

“H-huh? W-What?!”

“You heard me princess— quit.”

Could you really just quit? 

Truthfully, you had never considered it an option. The expectations put on you by your sorority sisters, your parents and the plans you had made for yourself had all led you to the commitments and responsibilities you had now. 

How could you just let them all down by walking away from it all?  

“Choso— I heard you..b-but I can’t, you don’t understand I–”

“—No, I understand better than you do, princess. You spent so much time with me and Yuji because you hate this sorority bullshit, you can’t stand any of these bitches and now you just agreed to be president of your own goddamn misery!”

Reading you for filth, Choso stares at you expectantly but you avoid his gaze.

Your nails suddenly becoming all the more interesting as you fumble with them.  

“–Ight then.”

Choso doesn’t want to argue with you any longer. 

You’re still full of excuses to his disappointment. If you wanted to be something you weren't that badly, then that was your own prerogative he decided as he brushed past you.

“N-No! P-Please, don’t leave Cho!”

There's clear desperation in your voice. You cling to him, burying your head into the middle of his back as your shaky hands weave their way around his midsection. 

Choso is mid-twist on the doorknob. 

He had all intentions of leaving if you still weren't being honest with yourself about things.

Still does. 

Yet his determination is wavering from your hot tears begin to seep through his shirt and trickle down his spine. The warmth of your body—now flattened against his—causes your pert nipples to poke into his back while your delicate fingers wretchedly grasp onto his taunt abs like a lifeline. 

Like you actually needed him in your life.

Fucking hell, you didn’t play fair at all.

But he couldn’t forgive you just to hurt him again and especially not Yuji.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“I said let go!”

“NO!”

Choso easily pries you off of him, spinning you around as your back slams against the door pinning you in place. His hands encircle your arms and extend out fully so he could put some distance between the two of you. 

He couldn’t think straight when you were all over him. 

Your world is a blur and in your crossfaded state you are left with vertigo at the sudden shift of positions. Both you and Choso are left panting at the intensity of it all.

“You don’t listen to anyone do you?! You just do whatever the fuck you want…”

Choso’s face is red with anger and your eyes—already reddened from your high—take on a deeper shade as you are now openly bawling in front of him.

“Tch, why are you the one crying? This is how you want things, right?!”

You shake your head, unable to communicate beyond your pitiful sobs. 

Choso grows more and more frustrated as the guilt he is feeling battles with his more rational mind prompting him to still be angry with you despite your tears. Back and forth his mind races until it all bubbles over and—

“—You don’t think I know I’m not good enough for you!?”

Your teary eyes widen at the sudden admission. 

Choso even startles himself with his own confession he’d been holding in all this time. 

“But not Yuji...He’s already so much better than me! He’s gonna actually be something one day. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Your lip quivers and your pleas are almost unintelligible.

“I-I know…m’s-sorry…m-m’so sorry C-Choso!”

Choso exhales deeply and shoulders slump forward as he releases you, running a hand over his face and back through his raven locks.

You couldn't read his expression but you didn't want him to attempt to leave you again as you close the gap between you, arms encircling him once more.

Choso doesn’t push you away, yet to his credit he doesn't return your embrace either as he’s still torn.

“I-I missed y-you so m-much.”

Cursing the hold you have over him Choso can’t deny he still wants to be with you—but you both were at an impasse.

Nothing good would come from repeating the same cycle again. 

There is no resolution if you still want to keep up a front. 

“P-Please forgive me Cho—I-I love you.”

The sweet proclamation is accentuated by your pillowy lips spreading kisses over his chest while the tips of your fingers slip up his shirt to place feather light scratches at the small of his back. 

Love, eh?

An unexpected revelation dawns on Choso and he is now resolved in what he has to do. 

“Yeah princess, you really love me?” 

Oblivious to the danger edging in his voice, you nod as you continue to coo affectionate words and affirmations into his chest. One of your legs hitches around his as you mold yourself deeper into him thinking he’d finally forgiven you. 

Had he forgiven you though? 

Well, not exactly. 

A devious smirk appears across Choso’s features.

Choso had come to the conclusion that at the end of the day you were simply a terrible people pleaser. 

Your stuck up bratty nature was merely a front of false confidence. 

You tried so hard to become whatever anyone else wanted you to be, you'd lie to yourself and become utterly miserable in your efforts to appease those around you. 

However, Choso knew the version of you he’d gotten when you’d been with him and Yuji had been the real you. 

And he actually did believe you loved him— even if you had just forced yourself to say it in the moment so you could manipulate him into staying.

Sympathetic to your pitiful nature, Choso wouldn’t just abandon you. 

But if you couldn’t do what was best for you, he would make sure you would himself.

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ I'm about halfway through P3, its 5.5k already lol. stick with me though cause pt 3 is the nasty brat taming smut we all are waiting for! if i tagged you here i will tag you again for p3 but im still adding new people to tag list so lmk in comments or reblogs if you'd like to be added. trying to focus to finish this but my adhd might distract me into writing a quick gojo fic but if i do i will finish this right after!

⋙tags: (ps ty for all the sweet comments for those who joined my overall writing tag list yall legit had me in tears ilysm!) @nkogneatho @toji-girl-main @RoyaltyAndRoses @aydene @slowlyshycomputer @bontensbabygirl @yoonjinhusbands @anxious-chick @kashxyou @halosdiary @littlemochabunni @ryomens-vixen @buttercupblu @tonycries @lowkeyremi @strawberrygirl0 @crybaby-herbalist @rintcrous @bomboclakkk @anubisisthebomb @alwaysfreakingout @oeanonyme @chrys23 @spltbtch @uranometrias @officialsimpp @crispycatt @purple-obsidian my-jukebox @peachyharts111 @thedorklingqueen @sugurusprettygirl @scarasw1f3 @kgorethz @c1truswh4re @madaqueue

[risuola]

hi I hope you’ve been doing well <3 could you possibly write Gojo making female reader! cry during s^x and her using her safeword? basically the aftermath of that as well. tysm 🫶🫶

SAFE WORD — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Satoru got back home angry and that got him carried away. contains heat, regret and aftercare.

cw: smut, rough sex, usage of safe word and aftercare, reader discretion is advised — 1k words

a/n: hiii anon! thank you, i’m fine! could I possibly write for gojo? yes. no matter what, the answer most likely is yes, soooo without further ado-

Fucking cowards. The higher ups, with that rotting bastard Gakuganji included. Always so mouthy while hiding behind matted veils, always forcing their authority over everything Gojo does, always expecting something that stands against everything he believes in. The hell did they even mean when they tried to order him to hunt down a kid that they think might be a threat. A kid?

“Satoru, slow down-“

And they really thought that he, Satoru Gojo, will jump into action to execute a teenager that probably have no idea what is even happening to him? The boy was at most sixteen. Those assholes, they really fucked up his mood.

You noticed Satoru wasn’t exactly in the right space of mind when he came back home, later than usual, smashing the doors behind him and throwing his jacket off carelessly. It had to be a bad day, you knew him well enough to recognize it and with some amount of certainty, you could tell he got caught up with the higher ups. They had an unparalleled ability to make Gojo loose his cool and you really hated seeing your love so upset, so when he grumbled a little hi against your neck, you took him to bed in hopes to relieve some of the tension.

But Satoru’s mind was somewhere else when he was pounding into you ruthlessly, unloading his frustration with his hips colliding with yours time after time, each one harder, stronger, harsher. His mouth wandered all over your neck and chest, leaving bruises and bite marks and you tried to slow him down by tugging at his hair, pushing at his abdomen and scratching his back, but with no effect.

“Shh, you can take it, sweets,” he mumbled an auto-response, picking up the pace even more and pressing your wrists onto the mattress above your head, somewhat annoyed at the way you tried to push him away. Satoru sometimes forgets how strong he really is, how easily he can overpower you with his looming presence but usually, you can take his rough side with pleasure. You really can, and you also like the harsh attitude he sometimes gives you, so contrasting to his usual playful nature, but now he seemed to forget that if he wishes to be the bad guy he really has to put in effort to prepare you for that. This time, as he got up home so worked up and so in his head, he skipped all of the foreplay, cutting straight to the chase and it might have been still fine if he went slower. But he didn’t.

“Satoru, please, it hu- ah-“ you tried to bring him back from his mind but all it did was to push his buttons more. And when he squeezed your wrists harshly, you felt like your bones might just snap underneath the sheer force of his grip. A tear that rolled down your cheek went unnoticed, as his face was buried in the crook of your neck, leaving purple his marks all over the delicate skin over your racing pulse.

“Pikachu!”

Gojo’s mind snapped to place in a split of a second. Every picture he had in front of his brain dissolved into nothing, as suddenly he became painfully aware of his current position. An endless chain of apologies spilled from his mouth as he pulled out and wrapped both of his arms around your middle, rolling onto his back and cuddling you to his chest.

“I’m so, so, so sorry, baby,” he cooed tenderly, kissing your wrists profusely, then kissing your neck, going over every spot he had left there, surprised to even see all of the bruises and teeth marks showing on your skin, because he didn’t even register when he made them. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“It’s alright, Satoru,” you muttered, feeling yourself relaxing finally in his warmth. “I’m alright, don’t apologize.”

“I made you cry, my baby, I’m sorry,” he said again, pulling the covers over your bodies and tucking you carefully.

“Satoru, love, I’m okay,” you reassured, pressing your lips to his chest, trying to calm him down. It wasn’t often that Satoru was in the state of panic and you could feel him sliding into one as he caressed you, afraid that he’s hurt you.

In Gojo’s mind, all what just happened was nearly equal to him straight up beating you and that, he couldn’t forgive himself. How could he get so carried away to hurt you? It didn’t make sense, you didn’t deserve it and so, afraid you’ll leave him, he tightened his hold on you, whispering more and more sorrys into your hair, and you listened, allowing him to spill it because if he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t sleep for a month.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed finally, shifting slightly and resting your chin on his sternum, “what happened today? Did you talk to the elders?”

By the way he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, you could tell you hit the spot.

“Do you know what they ordered me to do?” he threw, smoothing his hand over your hair. “They wanted me to hunt down a teenager and kill him. A literal child.”

“Aaand, did you tell them to go fuck themselves?”

“Of course I did.”

“Good boy,” you praised, smiling softly and reaching up to cup his cheek. “So, we’re gonna need to find that kid and take care of him before they order someone else to kill him, huh?”

“I guess so,” he finally let his features soften enough to curve his lips up. The warm feeling of your palm against his face made all of his worries go away and he kissed your hand few times and your wrist also for good measure. “But I can’t believe they had the balls to ask me something like this knowing what I stand for. They even dared to argue with me, threatened to remove me, can you imagine?”

“Don’t worry baby,” you chuckled, moving up and hovering your mouth above his. “I’ll protect you from those old farts, you don’t need to be so tensed and afraid.”

“Ah, that’s a relief,” he lightened up, glancing at your lips with anticipation, but instead of kissing him, you rested your forehead against his, touching noses as your thumb softly brushed over his cheekbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[lieutnt]

I beg of thee when you have more ideas to keep up the trans Miguel agenda with the baby trapping if they contain it. Am also good without,your work is amazing. You have me hooked. 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

i wasn’t gonna do a part 2 but i had this idea so here we are

cw: baby trapping & monsterfucking

trans!miguel is all too aware of your animalistic tendencies when you transform - he’s observed you through his screens, watched as the lines between man and beast blur. he can’t help the way he rubs his thighs together, cunt growing slicker as you reign in the anomaly with such ferocity, sharp claws and even sharper teeth putting a quick end to the mission.

before you get back to hq you shift back (much to miguel’s chagrin), just finishing handing over the anomaly when miguel calls you to his office. you barely get through the doors before miguel’s on you, dragging and pushing you down on his seat so he can clamber on your lap, pushing your suits out of the way and sinking down on you. the adrenaline still coursing through your veins has you taking hold of his waist and bouncing him up and down, his tight wet heat sucking you in.

after pulling countless orgasms from miguel, despite his pleading, you pull out before your knot can lock you in place, instead cumming across his stomach. he collapses onto you feigning exhaustion, but he’s already planning in his head - if you won’t cum in him and give him what he wants, he knows someone who will.

it’s on another mission where your monster side is required. it’s over swiftly, and before you can transform back miguel joins you in the dimension, booting the anomaly through the portal and closing it. confusion and adrenaline make a dangerous mix, your body heaving as miguel stalks towards you. you can smell it, how soaked he is between his thighs, and when he pulls his suit down and bends over, all resistance snaps.

you’re on him like the animal you are, cock splitting him open as you fuck into him without hesitation, claws digging into his hips and teeth clamping where you can reach, staking your claim. by the time your knot starts to build miguel is desperately fucking himself back on you, begging you to breed him, knot him, fill his belly and it works, your hips snapping forward until your knot bullies its way into his slick cunt and locks you together, miguel’s eyes rolling back as he feels the sheer amount of cum that starts to fill him.

his dream comes true, as soon as your knot goes down you start fucking him again, mind completely overtaken by the need to breed the fertile little thing underneath you, more than happy to replace the cum that your thrusts push out of him. this time he really is exhausted, body trembling like a leaf when you pull out of him for the last time, skin already turning different shades of purple and blue from where you’ve gripped and bit him.

you aren’t happy with him when you transform back, you could’ve seriously hurt him, but miguel barely listens to any of your complaints, too busy floating through the clouds as you clean him up and take him back to hq, shuffling him to his private room where the second he hits the sheets he’s out like a light.

making your displeasure clear you avoid him the next few weeks. it's childish but it’s the only thing you can do to make sure you don’t snap at miguel. once he discovers he’s pregnant he finds you, giving you no choice but to speak to him when he hands over the positive pregnancy test. you’re sceptical but one deep inhale of his scent confirms it. anger curls in your gut but so does something else, a base instinct tucked away in your brain crawling its way to the front - the animal desire to show you can protect him and your growing brood, that you’re a suitable mate and can provide for him.

miguel’s never been more relieved when you reach forward to stroke across where his belly will eventually swell. you’ll forever be entwined with him now.

[catiuskaa]

audio creak file.mp3 [1:07]

PAIRING! pervy?Chan x roomate!reader

SUMMARY: Chan struggles to make music, and you, his friend and roommate, try to help him when you can. Say, Chan also struggles to keep his cool whenever you’re near… what will you do to help him feel better?

WC: 3.2k

CW: convenient minsung because I say so, angsty(?) (reader is just kinda dense and Minho screams the truth to her), smut: mentions of soft dom!chan, mentions of panty stealing, Chan’s a pervy simp (he’s just soooo down bad), and I just really got carried away writing on my notes thinking about when Channie smiles hearing the creaks in heyday...

A/N: basically, if being inocent was a crime, i’d be imprisioned for tax evasion, lmao. kinda perv!chan thoughts to soothe the iching that the mosquito bites give. have fun!

[☆☆★☆☆]

He let out a frustrated groan, fingers digging into his curly locks in a sign of desperation. He had listened to every single audio sample Changbin had found. Twice. But no, nothing screamed “This is it” to his perfectionist self. And it was getting him fucking desperate.

He wasn’t wearing headphones because of the company he had been with not too long ago since Changbin and Han tried to help him —keyword: try—, and also knowing that you wouldn’t be home for a while meant that there was no one he could disturb, the sounds coming from his laptop not nearly loud enough to reach to the neighbours. He scrolled down the same folders again, wondering when you would be home in the back of his mind.

You and Chan had been roommates for a bunch of years now. You two had met at Han’s birthday party thanks to Minho, as he introduced you, one of the first people he had ever danced with and even won competitions with to the leader of the Korean boyband.

You clicked almost instantly, sharing anecdotes from each side of the industry. He, a famous idol, and you, a backup dancer for many groups in different companies.

It was unknown to both of you that Han and his cat-like soulmate had tried to matchmake you that day, as you just stayed like close friends. Minho laughed at Jisung as they both returned from your shared apartment the day you moved in, like two years after. Now that you’d split the rent, considering neither of you spent that much time home to pay a large amount, you paired up.

“At least they like each other, silly,” he mentioned, his tone of voice sounding soft, a smug smile on his face. He was so winning the bet.

“Nooo!” Han whined, much like a toddler would when toys were taken away. “Those two are meant to be, Hyung. They are literally each other’s type!”

“Well, I don’t think they’ve noticed,” he chuckled, thinking about what he would buy with the ten bucks Han would owe him. And Minho would’ve been right.

But then, the sex dreams started.

“Chan, I’m back!”

He blushed, quickly shoving those thoughts into a bottomless pit in his mind.

“How you doin’?” You grinned, your head popping inside his room, leaving your bag on your own, next to his, before coming back and leaning on the door frame.

Your wet hair made the top of your summer dress fabric somewhat sheer, his eyes trailing your figure before clearing his throat.

“I’m stuck,” he admitted, dimples on display as he smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for a sample I thought existed, but maybe I just made it up in my head.”

“That does sound like shit,” you mentioned, leaning down just enough to rest your forearms on the back of his chair. He felt tiny droplets falling from your hair onto his shoulders and back, making goosebumps trail all over his body.

“But how… how was the… the swimming pool?” He quivered, trying to hide the flustered quiver in his voice. And failing, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“It was good! It felt sooo nice.” You stretched, whining as you extended your arms, making a mess in Chan’s head, who struggled to hide it. “I’ll go get changed, and then I can help you. Sounds ok?”

“Yeah.” He leaned into your touch when you ruffled his hair, leaving his room.

He sighed as he rested on the back of the chair, arms thrown over his eyes, and swallowed dry. He felt like such a perv, his insides churning and turning whenever you were near, making him feel like a horny teenager.

It all started one night when he woke up in a sweat, hard-on nearly hurting underneath his boxers. Pictures of you still reeling in his mind, legs wide open for him, eyes pleading, begging for release.

Then, two nights after, dreaming about your body pressed on top of him as you straddled him, clenching on him, fighting for dominance in a sloppy kiss.

Later that week, you in that cute summer dress you bought with him, letting him fuck you and manhandle you in his car, the apartment too far, and your bodies too horny that the drive home felt impossible.

Seeing you every day with those thoughts in mind was difficult, sometimes having to escape your sight so you wouldn’t see him getting hard just by you doing the slightest things that weirdly turned him on.

“The one you dream about is back,” you teased, now wearing an oversized shirt and a towel over your shoulders. He gulped as he looked at you, not only for what you had said unknowingly but also because of your shirt, long enough to cover your thighs, giving the illusion that you were almost naked. In his room. Sitting crisscrossed. On his bed.

He felt blood on his cheeks and some running down, headed south. He giggled halfheartedly, the sentence ‘don’t get hard’ echoing in his head.

After playing the samples again, tricking himself into thinking he might have skipped one just so he would keep searching, he started getting frustrated again. But nuh-uh. Nothing.

“Ok, this is trash,” you blurted out.

With a smile on your face, before he could even ask you what was wrong, you grabbed his chair from behind, pushing him far from the computer, saving the files and then closed it with a slap.

“Break time, Mr Producer. We both need a coffee.” He snickered, shaking his head sideways as you both went to the kitchen.

“Can’t say no to that, can I?”

You laughed. “No. Too late, anyways.”

He started getting the milk from the fridge, pouring it on the mugs you handed him, and settling them in the microwave, a small smile on his features accenting his dimples.

“Audio sample related, can’t you just make your own?” You asked Chan, not entirely curious, question directed to find a solution for his issue rather than learning that piece of info.

“I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s simpler this way,” he shrugged, eyes confused about where to look, not daring to stare at you for too long. “If not, I just have to keep recording random stuff, hoping to find something that sounds like what I want.”

“Isn’t that easier? Not like it’s something you can brag about, but there’s a ton of creaking shit in this place,” you pointed out thoughtfully. “Like… that!”

In the blink of an eye, you crossed your way until you were directly in front of Chan, and you turned around, leaning on the counter before you as you opened and closed the cabinet's door on the wall.

“See? It creaks,” you said from above your shoulder.

But just when you stood back on your feet, you realised how close you were to each other. And it hadn’t helped that when you leaned towards the cabinet, your shirt had followed along with your body, letting Chan see your lack of pyjama pants, instead being welcomed by some cute cotton panties. Ones he knew well because, uhm… he uh… may have used them for a wrong purpose.

Yeah, fuck, he had come on those.

You hadn’t realised how little space had been between him and the counter and attributed that to your head, not knowing that Chan had unconsciously moved towards you, like metal to a magnet. You wiggled on your place, your personal space suddenly far away from you, caged in Chan’s presence. He stopped your tiny motion by gripping your waist, letting out a gasp, blushing. He turned you around so you wouldn’t feel his hardening cock on your upper thighs.

When you both locked eyes on the contrary, the tense atmosphere shot up, turning even thicker when he rested his arms on the counter, at your sides, thumbs casually stroking short lines on your waist.

No words were said as you got lost in his brown eyes, deep chocolate-coloured orbs, not needing any kind of golden or honey stripes on them as they drew you in, gorgeous eyes so raven that it was hard to distinguish where the iris was. Then, your eyes trailed off at his mouth, your breath hitched, rose-coloured plush lips so enticing. He licked them, and you swore you heard him swallow dry.

You pressed your body on him, getting closer and closer, and suddenly, he let out a small whimper. The sound made you shiver, heat pooling in your lower belly. He blushed furiously, not daring to move from his place. You could feel it, feel him.

The sound of your phone chiming in your room made you both aware of the situation —and position— you were in. You got shy, quickly letting him have his personal space back, both of you missing the other’s warmth on your skin as you blurted out something that sounded like “gotta go walk my fish” as you run to your room, slamming the door close, frowning as soon as you were alone.

“Fuck.” Both of you said at the same time, having the same thoughts.

“I fucked up.” Chan stared at the hot mugs on the counter, both waiting for someone who had run away.

[☆☆★☆☆]

“He’s just scared, girl,” Han said through the phone after letting you ramble and blurt about what had happened barely twenty minutes ago. “I promise, if you make him feel safe, like he won’t lose you, he’ll melt on your hands.”

"...I don't think so," you mumbled, picking on your nails.

"You called me because he got hard," he sighed, not bringing his statement to a conclusion just because it was so painfully obvious. "I know you're the only one who thinks otherwise."

You were about to reply with a snarky comment about how he should just 'stick simping about Minho' when you started to hear said man speaking to Jisung, and then with all the calm in the world, ignored him when he went straight to the phone.

"...Minho?"

"Leave my boyfriend alone and go fetch yours," he replied as you heard Han groan in the back. It was almost as if you could feel him deadpanning from the other side of the phone.

You frowned even if you had a smile on your features, not taking the comment completely seriously. "Ok, rude. What a meanie."

"Jokes aside." You heard him breathe in from the other side of the phone. Oh boy. "The interminable teasing and bickering between you and Chan were amusing at first, but it's getting very stale and surprise, fucker, you live together!" He paused, clicking his tongue. "So, why don't you two cut the bullshit and admit your sexual and non-sexual feelings for each other?"

"My what?!"

"This is getting old really quick, goddamnit." You could feel him getting worked up, not just because of his tone but because he kept ignoring Han, whose comments echoed at the back of the phone call.

But Minho was serious. He was not gonna get cockblocked for ten bucks. Not tonight.

"You're getting kinda off-base, buddy!"

"Oh, it's almost one o'clock, fucking spare me!" He grumbled, getting slightly angrier. "Yeah, I get it. It's Chan. He can be a dick sometimes because of his severe self-esteem issues and how he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings all that well. But I kinda think he reminds you about that other guy you dated in our dance team, who was an absolute son of a bitch, and we can agree that you deserve to be with someone who's not that complicated or whatever, but still, you can't get Chan out of your head, can you? Don't answer. We know it." He interrupted you, unable to speak as you were just getting bombarded with facts you didn't want to deal with.

"But you? I've known you for years, yet you're still being a dumbass. You're behaving like a baby who'd rather act tough than show her true feelings 'cause last time, you got hurt! Owie," he cooed, tone still angrily mocking. "And now you're just dancing around the other in this pathetic act you're tryna put up to hide your pent-up feelings, SO, AGAIN, for my sake, either deal with it and stop bitching my man about it, or get over with it already!"

"Minho, I-!" You turned silent as you heard a beeping sound coming from your phone.

He hung up.

You stared at the screen, eyes almost out of place, as you muted the device, letting it vibrate with the unread texts Jisung sent, apologising in every way he knew.

"A baby?" You muttered, the word almost sickening in your mouth. "I am not a baby!"

You laid back down on your bed, rolling on your sides, Minho's words echoing in your mind as you cursed under your breath. Almost unconsciously, you stood up, left your room and approached Chan's as if wanting to enter just to get his confirmation regarding his allegedly existing feelings for you.

He startled you when he closed his door, meeting you in the hallway, his eyes glued to yours as soon as he saw you.

"Oh. Hey." You mentioned awkwardly.

"Hey," he said, tensed-up shoulders visible due to the lack of sleeves on his shirt. "I just... uh..."

"I... wanted to say that, uh..."

"I am sorry if I... uh..."

"It's ok... I uh... don't... I mean... I know that you can't really uh... control... it?"

You could almost hear Minho's laugh in your mind.

"Right," he sighed. You smiled reassuringly, and he did the same in an uneasy stance.

"Right. I mean, for all I know, it could happen for whatever reason."

"I uh, kinda, I guess."

"But never mind. I uh... 'm glad we feel the same way."

You both smiled sheepishly and headed to your respective rooms.

Chan sighed, hurriedly getting back to bed, wishing to get weird ideas out of his mind, not bothering to check his computer again. He rolled in bed, hand anxiously travelling through his hair so frequently that it was starting to get greasy.

He frowned, passing his hands through his face, the scene in the kitchen crossing his mind again, his already weak excuse for not being so clearly attracted to you crumbling when he remembered the eagerness he thought he had seen in your eyes.

He stood up again and went to open the door just to go check, because what if he hadn't just made it up in his mind?

But then, he met you right in front of his room.

Before you could escape or come up with anything, he approached you and pecked your lips, feeling his heart skip ten beats when you pushed him away.

His eyes locked into yours, a sight of contentment leaving his lips as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him back in, smiling in the kiss. It heated very quickly, a sloppy kiss with all tongues and teeth, both fighting for dominance. You went to get the edge of his shirt, but instead, he gave you a light smack on your thighs, and you jumped, legs crossing around his waist, arms around his neck as he guided both of you into his room, closing the door with a kick.

The two of you breathed heavily, the air thick with anticipation and lust. He pinned you up against the closed door and kissed hard, feeling the heat rising as your bodies tightened against one another. Your tongues met, mingling in an intense way that drove you wild. You let out soft sounds of pleasure, suddenly changing sides, pulling him away just enough so you could have access to his neck, your teeth trailing from his jaw, trying to find a sensitive spot.

He whined, barely moving away, trying to calm himself down, the sudden blow of emotions too intense for him. He then panted, and you quickly went back to that spot you had found, nibbling on it. "What are we- fuck- what are we doing?"

You set a finger on his lips, your face going back to his. "Shhh. Let's just... enjoy it," you whispered, leaving a small chaste kiss at the corner of his lips, tempting him. You then flinched, moving away "Unless you don't want..."

He let out a groan, deep and enticing, hungrily going back to your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, your lips pressing firmly against his.

"No... I want you."

"And I want you too, Chris." You admitted, doe eyes trailing down to his lips, licking your own. "Now."

[☆☆★☆☆]

Your schedule had gotten filled up to the brim, chances of meeting Chan reserved for the ungodly hours of the night, which were used to get some well deserved sleep. Rehearsing over and over left your body exhausted, your mind clouded in the remaining work you had left, only the most sinful parts of it replaying the encounter that had happened barely three nights ago.

It was obvious that he was awake, the light in his room shining from underneath the door, knowning that he’d probably be working on his samples.

And he had tried, looking for one of the files he had recorded that delicious night. But something felt wrong. He frowned, looking at how long the audio was.

He played it before using it, at first just hearing random noises he was recording. Then he heard himself groaning, the sound of the bed sheets moving with his body, and then, after some loud steps, the door creaked open.

And those voices were you and him, that was no doubt. He blushed, the sound of the door slamming close getting his mind back to three nights ago.

“Ah, fuck, Chan!” You moaned through his headphones.

The bed creaked under both of you in rythmic beats, matching each thrust, your moans decorating the purple-lit room.

As both an idol and a producer, Chan had listened to many voices and samples for a long time, ears used to the constant stimulation, but the sound of your needy whines as he slowed down in hopes of not coming too soon made the task even more difficult.

“Don’t- ugh, fuck-,” he whined, hearing the heavy breathing through the recording. “Let me hear you, baby, please.”

Chan tried to pause the recording, a flustered mess, but instead accidentally unplugged his headphones, the sound of creaks and moans filling his room once again.

He paused it, mortified. Where you home? Fuck, he didn’t want you to think he was recording you in secret.

He turned around slowly when the door creaked open.

“What's going on here?” You walked in with an oversized top on, the cut of the sleeves made so that your body could be seen through the sides of the tank top.

“I-i uh…”

“Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Chan? Are you listening?” Changbin questioned, frowning.

“Uh?”

He remembered that he wasn’t inside his room, like the night before, your thighs straddling his, but in the studio, showing his friends the audio he had put together. He couldn’t help but smile and get lost in his thoughts when certain creaks came out.

“We like it,” Han repeated. “We can get to writting lyrics soon enough.”

Chan’s phone chimed next to him, his eyes trailing it with no thoughts to it.

Let’s have fun again tonight.

He bit his lip, turning his phone off.

“I’ll call it Heyday,” he mentioned to his friends, renaming the new audio file.

He’d keep the other one a secret.

[☆☆★☆☆]

[hard hours]

~Kats, who came up with this idea on the beach and has had it stuck in her head since day one.

[kabie-whump]

♡ Day 15: “Who did this to you?” ♡

@febuwhump

Content: Hazbin whump fanfiction, Angel Dust whump, aftermath of violence, implied choking, overdose mention, very minor references to SA (it’s not much but it is angel dust so,,,)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The call comes late, late enough that Husk is getting ready to shut down the bar and go to bed. All the other hotel residents have been asleep for hours. Well, all of them except for Angel.

He still hasn’t come back. It’s not unusual for him to slink through the front doors in the small hours of the morning, makeup smeared and knees weak, and Husk has made a habit of being there behind the bar when he does.

But he’s still not back.

Husk’s phone rings. He considers not answering for a moment. At this hour the odds are it's just some drunk prank caller. But he checks the contact anyway, just in case.

It’s Angel.

When he answers he’s immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of background noise: loud voices and thumping music and squeaking leather.

“Kid? You there?”

There’s nothing for a moment, and Husk starts to think that maybe Angel had just butt-dialed him.

Then, “Husky…”

Angel doesn’t sound good. He never calls Husk that particular nickname unless he’s in a bad way (or flirting his ass off, but Husk considers those to be the same thing).

“I needya to come get me.”

Husk doesn’t waste any time. “Where are you?”

It’s a long walk but a short flight to a seedy club across town - closer to the studio than to the hotel. He lands outside and can already hear the music pouring from inside. Through the open door he can see a writhing mass of sweaty bodies, entirely too many for a place of this side. Husk takes a deep breath, steeling himself to shove his way inside.

He hates this sort of place, but he’ll do it for Angel. If the spider’s wasted enough to actually need help getting home… Can dead people overdose? Husk doesn’t want to find out.

“Husk.”

Angel is sitting against a nearby wall, knees tucked to his chest. Husk hadn’t even seen him at first; he’d managed to make himself so small and unassuming despite the way his white fur nearly glows against the dark backdrop. 

“Thank fuck,” Husk says as he goes over to Angel. “I really didn’t wanna go in there.”

And then Angel picks his head up to look at him and a stray beam of neon light illuminates the quickly forming bruise around his eye. 

Husk goes silent, rushing over to Angel and holding his face gently, not missing the flinch as he lifts his chin to get a better look at the damage. Blood streams from his nose down to his split lip and then down his chin where it’s started to dry on top of hand shaped bruises. He’s shaking and his eyes are wide and watery and more full of fear than Husk’s ever seen them.

His cheek is scraped and dirty, and an image comes to Husk’s mind without his permission: Angel, being shoved face first into a wall-

Husk isn’t in control of the wave of anger that crests over him. 

“Who did this to you?” he growls, shocking himself with the intensity in his voice. He hasn’t expressed anything but apathy and annoyance in so long, maybe not since his overlord days.

Angel blinks, surprise flashing across his face. “I-I don’t know. It was dark. I was wasted.”

Sinners have started to take notice of Angel’s presence, sending long looks their way as if trying to decide whether or not they’d get anything out of butting in. Husk subconsciously extends his wings, slielding Angel from view.

“Do you remember what they looked like? Are they still in there?”

Angel shakes his head. “I just wanna get outta here. Please, Husky.”

Husk breathes heavily, forcing himself to calm down. Angel doesn’t need a guard dog right now. He needs a bartender. 

“Alright.” He stands, offering his hand to Angel. “Let’s go home.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[sanemisstalker]

I descend from yuri heaven with a message from god, she says you need to be hornier on main about women, she also requested Fem!reader x Mitsuri, not me I'm just a humble messanger it's god's will

Listen!!! Listennnnnn, I struggle to write about women because I get like, pussy mind fog. I think about vag, and I become a dumb slut, and it's impacts my writing so all of it sounds like I have my hand down my pants :'p

(Also I may or may not have a multi part Shinobu cuck thing in the works, you never know XP )

Regardless, my boss gave me a Victoria's Secret gift card for my birthday, and I'm very excited to use it, but you know who I'd loveeee to go bra shopping with???

:)

NSFW CW// FEM/AFAB/BREASTED READER/ Public sex / Implied Flashing / Dom/Sub dynamics / Ownership

"I don't think they'll have it in my size." Mitsuri fretted, running her hands over the baby doll piece in search of a tag. "I mean, look! These are all so small!" She groaned as she rustled toward the back of the wall.

The item was lace and string, all pillowy and pink, and you'd desecrate the world to see your loving girlfriend in such an item. With a sheer pink fabric split by a thick line, you knew all she'd be able to talk about, the entire time, would be the way it rubbed her.

You were doing your best not to wear your thoughts on your face or verbalize them. This wasn't a date, Mitsuri had pointed out. It was a girl's night out, but fuck were you praying it'd end with her legs around your head because this was torture.

It was your third lingerie store, and she'd purchased something in every. Single. One. Insisting that you not only help her get into each item, but that you help her take it off. The last five hours of your life had been an edging game the likes of which Satan himself couldn't conceive.

It was very easy for Mitsuri to conceive, though. After all, it was a punishment of sorts. You'd gone out clubbing and slutting without her while she rotted away on an art project, an unforgivable betrayal. You swore you only kissed girls while you were out, but that gave Mitsuri no peace of mind. Especially not when she'd gotten a call a day later with a rather unsavory tone.

This was intentional torture, even if it was really hard when you looked so cute and pliant, Mitsuri had reserved herself. She had made her intentions clear (to herself) and was going to stick to them, no matter how hard you whined or begged.

"Ah!" Mitsuri bounced. You swore your eyes were going to pop out of your sockets, and your uterus with them. "Perfect!" She plucked from closer to the back, revealing the full expanse of the abysmal amount of fabric.

"That's really cute." You croaked, doing your best to be girl friend and not girl friend. You resorted to biting your fingers as Mitsuri turned back to the racks. "Under or over?"

"If I pair it with that pink sweater dress I have, it'll probably look really cute over, but it might give me a back ache if im trying to dance." She worried. "I wouldn't want to wear a bra underneath, and if I don't wear a bra, I can't just wear the matching panties-"

'Fuck, she knows what she's doing.' The thought finally donned on you, and you felt sweat begin to form.

Mitsuri wasn't very... dominate. She wasn't predisposed to it, and you found when you asked, she wasn't necessarily the most... capable. She was a very gentle lover, but occasionally, she'd get this... look on her face.

The last time you'd seen it, you were at a fourth of july party with her friends, not yours. You'd laid eyes on her 'friend' Tengen, or rather he laid eyes on you, and while Mitsuri caught up, you and the man discussed... Music, probably, you couldn't remember. It was platonically intentioned, all things considered.

Though you and Mitsuri were quite open, she was... prone to bouts of jealousy. Just here and there. Nothing extreme, but her measures she would take in response were.

The night had ended with you by the bonfire, Tengen watching with one of his, apparently three, girlfriends, as Mitsuri had knocked you on your ass and fingered you open. She'd began probing you about whether or not you wanted his dick- wanted to be in his supposed harem of women. Obviously, since you were having such a chummy time with the man, that was your desire.

She wouldn't let up until you began sobbing, only capable of sputtering out her name and well meaning apologies. She told you to recall who you belonged to- The gap was so stunting you couldn't help but heed the advice.

And she had that look there, and she had it here, and it made your knees weak with remembrance. A thin smile that made you feel like a deer in wait, pulled over, low cast eyes like that of a lynx, and then her motions. The typical Mitsuri motions filled with grace and leisure had become sultry- deliberately tempting you at every turn and flex.

Oh, you realized, you were a fucking moron. A fucked fucking moron.

You, of course, couldn't remember your blatant sins. So when she got that call from Tengen, his voice intentionally goading and laugh particularly grating, Mitsuri gathered herself and decided today wasn't going to be a very good day...

For you, that is. She'd been reeling at the way you were looking at her all day, basking in the almost dopey, lost look on your face, and that insatiable stare. She had to hold back her giggles everytime you clenched your thighs together in search of reprieve. Had to keep her mouth shut when she'd intentionally grazed your nipple while holding up a bra to your chest. You'd nearly whimpered.

She was having a whale of a time with her own antics.

"You know, we should get you something. I've always wanted to go to a rave- and dress like those rave girls! They look super cool, don't you think?"

"The like- the like string bikini ones?" You sounded like you were on your fifth day through the Sahara, this you knew. You couldn't help it. The realization had made you all the more desperate, and the image of your girlfriend in even less?

"I think I'd just wear pasties, I don't know though; I might get a little shy." She'd giggle.

"What for? You're... you have nothing to be shy about." You wanted her. You needed her. She was being deliberately cruel, how exciting.

"You don't either!" Mitsuri rushed, feeling the urge to let up on you rear its head. She stomped it out quickly, thinking about Tengen's daunting tone. "Y-You know what we should do- we should get matching pieces, don't you think?" She posed.

"Matching?" You returned.

"Yes!" Mitsuri didn't give you time to process, instead dragging you to the other side of the racks.

There was slutty, and then there was string. Mitsuri had done herself a favor in picking out something that, though it left little to the imagination, still required a bit of maneuvering to get by-

The item she pulled off the rack for you would be gone in a snip. You couldn't even fathom what it was at first-

Thin strings, all that gathered to thin even further at your pussy, each nipple only garnered with a bow akin to that on the front of a pair of panties- nowhere near enough to even cover a fraction of your nipple- anything and everything would spill in such an item.

An icey, silver tear drop dangled where your clit would sit.

You gaped.

"This is so cute!" Mitsuri flushed, doing another unnecessary bounce.

"O-on me?" You stuttered.

"Of course! Come on! Let's go try them on!"

Mitsuri had you corned in the changing room in seconds, her intentions all too clear in the rush of her motions. With the strings and lace still swaying on the hook, The top you'd been wearing had been essentially ripped off, the sudden rush of cold air hardening your already stiff nipples.

"M-Mits-"

"Hm?" She interrupted, already tugging down your jeans. As you went to step out of them, Mitsuri grabbed your leg with a steel grip. You froze in place.

"B-baby, are you- are you mad at me?" You whispered.

"Mad? Oh honey, I'm not mad." Mitsuri assured. "Well, maybe a little peeved, but I'm not mad."

"What'd I- what'd I do?" She just giggled in response, the daunting noise going right to your pussy. "Baby, please tell me what i-"

"You remember Tengen, right?"

"T- what does this have to do with Tengen?"

"You remember," Mitsuri said, spinning you around. Her hands caught in the waist band of your panties and gave them a violent, exposing, and all too audible rippppppp, "Him and his girlfriends? How he had three of them?"

"Yeah-? I remember, yes." You clarified, fearing your unsure tone would drive her actions further. Mitsuri ripped further through your panties, exposing your wet inner thighs and begging cunt to her unforgiving eye.

"You remember when you went out the other night while I was slaving away over some wax pieces?"

"Y-yes- I- I didn't even see Tengen there, if that's what you're asking- I- I told you I only kissed some girls-"

"Did you stop and question... their names by any chance?"

"No- no I didnt."

"Well, I got the funniest call, Y/N!" She reasoned, slipping a hand between your legs, "Tengen rang me, oh you're dripping, he called me, and I got told something so funny."

"F-funny?"

"You actually made out with his girlfriends! All three of them! Isn't that funny?" Her tone made it inherently unfunny. You knew she found no comedic value in such a thing.

"I-I didn't mean to do th-that."

The fitting room is silent as she ties on the sorry excuse for lingerie. It sits uncomfortably on your exposed nipples, clit now bedazzled and starring at you- almost like a target. Mitsuri stands behind you in the mirror, face presenting warm but feeling cold.

"So Tengen calls me-" Two fingers jam into your core. A pain rockets up your cunt that makes your legs threaten to give out. You can't stop the yelp, even with your hands flying up to your lips.

"He- he did?"

"He calls me, and starts saying how he's having all these indirect kisses with you, and, I don't know, Y/N-" Her fingers are brutal, complete negligence of your clit driving small whimpers from your throat with each push. "I just don't know why that makes me so upset!"

She knew exactly why it made her upset, but she wanted to hear you say it. You know she did, but talking was hard when she was practically fucking you open- and infront of yourself nonetheless.

"I-I shouldn--- ngh--- ah! I should- fuck, Mi-mitsuri p- princess, please-" Mitsuri's heart swelled at the name. She pouted a bit and slowed her assault. Even granting you the gentle graze of her thumb over your peaking clit. How kind.

"What was that? Say it again?"

"I shouldn't've- I should've stayed in with you! I'm sorry, I'm so sorr- ngh!" Mitsuri stood abruptly, her fingers still tucked in your clenching pussy. She hoisted one of your legs with her. You struggled for a moment, before she took to pining you to the mirror of the dressing room.

Her fingers began another rush, your legs jolting out in response... because this time she wasn't ignoring your clit. Every bit of muscle she had in her fingers was set on rubbing your nub and fucking you deep. The teardrop shuddered with each thrust.

You were losing vision- losing the sight of her behind you-

"You should apologize for being a complete slut." She added, voice becoming all stomach, no throat. Her cherry pink braids sat atop your shoulders, ends pressed between your tits and the mirror. Mitsuri's flesh was thick and consuming- plush yet intimidating.

It was times like this where you were reminded that Mitsuri could do whatever she wanted to you, whenever she so pleased. Times like this when you remembered that, no matter how many people you kissed, you belonged to somebody.

You were really happy about that, in a weird way. Your pussy was especially happy- Even if it was proving more than difficult to fill her requests at a socially acceptable noise level for a fitting room.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm a slu- nghh! I'm sorry I'm a slut!" You tried to whisper, failing tremendously and sounding so much like the thing you were apologizing for being. The position you'd be splayed in had completely freed your breasts from their miniscule confines. Your warm nipples rubbed against the cold glass-

The build bubbled in your stomach. Thin fingers threaded your hair. A quick spin of her wrist formed a leash. You were yanked back only far enough to see the full expanse of your face- of your pussy getting ruined by her fingers.

The sight of it pushed you over the edge. Mitsuri's fingers worked gushes of cum from your pussy. With one ankle still locked in your pants, you shivered as your cum ran down- wetting the fabric.

You twitched against the mirror. Mitsuri dropped your leg and moved to your waist.

You whimpered as she pulled your pants up over the lingerie. The fabric was drenched- you'd been insanely loud. Even as Mitsuri pulled your top back on, the bows were so present through the miniscule fabric of your shirt-

You were a slut.

As Mitsuri guided you to the cashier with her arm around your waist, you turned blood red.

"Princess, I c-"

"Hi! Did you all-" The cashiers words cut off immediately, seeing the state you're in. Her face paled, and she lost control of her eyes. She took in everything- From the way your nipples stood at high alert, to your deerish way of walking in your came on jeans-

"Everything is great! She'd going to wear it out if that's alright?" Mitsuri pushed you forward, the tag for the strings just barely hanging out the side of your jeans.

With hesitance, the cashier, who already held the scanner, scanned the item. Mitsuri handed her the lingerie she'd picked out for herself, and as the seond item rang up, her face dropped further.

"We-we're actually having a two for one s-sale. So you can- go and pick something else out for free, if you'd like."

You looked over to Mitsuri, whose eyes grew wide with a joy only predators could experience. You swore you felt your ovaries shake at the sight.

Her hand found perch on the band of your wet jeans-

"Oh! Do you have this one in pink?-"

[da-shrimping-station]

Cooking for the House of Lamentation

Let me start this post by saying that over the years I've had plenty of experience cooking for a lot of people. I'm no expert cook whatsoever, just a helping hand in the kitchen during festivals and occasions (which happens multiple times in a year). If you have more experience and insights, please feel free to share!

Let’s start this off by having some sort of baseline so we’re all on the same page.

MC /OC/you/us/we (and what have you) can:

follow a recipe well enough

be in the kitchen and not have it burn down

cook an edible meal at the end of it all

A fairly average cook if you will.

Now, time for chaos.

Cooking for a lot of people is…a lot. A feast for upwards of 10 people can take the whole day. Not to mention buying ingredients beforehand. How many dishes are you gonna cook? Do they go well/compliment each other? What’s the serving size? Are you gonna have desserts too? Do you have the right equipment? Are the ingredients available/accessible? Is there anyone who has a food-specific condition to look out for and make alternatives for? Are there ingredients that need to be marinated/prepped in advanced? Is everything within budget? (These are some questions at the top of my head)

Now the main concern here is volume/quantity. Beelzebub. Need I say more?

Actually, YES. It’s a house full of men. Men eat a lot. Oh, and they’re also demons. So let’s assume they eat/consume significantly more than humans. (You can pitch in your HCs for each brother regarding how much they eat) But let’s say the food has to be for 10-15 people at the very least.

GROCERY RUN!

There’s a whole ass booklet for the groceries, with each brother having their own page/section. Let’s assume there’s no budget constraints (Lucifer can bitch about the cost and budgeting but his brothers need to be fed). Groceries are bought in bulk. Multiple times a week. Emergency trips in the middle of the night or else they starve for breakfast. 

At some point they get their groceries delivered every 3 days or so. The runs are now for necessity/emergency.

But if a brother requests a certain dish, then it’s time to go to the market. Prepare your haggling skills.

THE BATTLEFIELD

Based off of the game (and referencing the floor plan from Wanderer’s Whereabouts), the kitchen is actually pretty spacious. Good. We need all the space we can get for this. I’d like to think Barbatos personally made sure the kitchen is fully kitted out with all the equipment and utensils one needs. (Thanks, Barbs. You’re the best!) No worries on that end.

I headcanon that the kitchen is split into 2 parts: the side where the stoves and appliances are and the side where the dirty kitchen is. That way you have access to stoves/ovens and the fancy appliances as well as being able to cook with coal or in a spit. Increases the capacity for cooking multiple dishes at once. (Please share your HCs for the kitchen!)

PREP TIME

Prepare your hands and arms. Washing, peeling, chopping, dicing, slicing, marinating. Any and every sort of ingredient prep. How many ingredients does this dish have? Are you gonna prep one dish only? Are you gonna prep for two in advance? Mis en place (or whatever the term is im no culinary shrimp)

Also think about the sheer amount of ingredients.

Say, according to the cookbook, this dish serves 5 people and it needs 1 whole onion. Pretty straight forward right? But you’re cooking for 7 demon brothers and one being the Avatar of Gluttony. Let’s go back to the 10-15 people approximation. That means you have to increase the amount (in this case that’ll be 2 or 3 whole onions). That goes for every fucking dish. 3 onions for dish #1. What about dish #2 and #3 and so on? (Honestly, your hands must be well marinated by the time you’re done with all the prep)

Measuring the ingredients too. 1 cup of this, a tablespoon of that, a pinch of this. Please please please let there be enough soy sauce for tonight’s cooking.

Another thing: you’re probably dealing with local Devildom ingredients (which you did not even know existed until then)

Veggies? Sliced

Meats? Washed and cut.

Condiments and seasonings? All measured.

Are we ready to cook? NO.

Please clean up the peels, excesses, undesirables, and packaging.

GET THE FIRE GOING

Finally! The actual cooking part! Take a deep breath and put that pot on the stove. Good luck cuz you’re gonna be juggling between multiple dishes just to be able to get ready for dinnertime.

One dish is boiling so the meat softens? Time to fry. Oh and have you checked the one you were marinating? Please add that to the veggies in dish #2. Don’t overcook the pasta for dish #1! Please adjust the heat, that pot is boiling over. Taste test for dish #3. Hhm needs more salt. Is the meat soft enough? Good, let's season it. Please mind the fire! You’re gonna char the one you’re frying. This one has marinated long enough, we can add it to dish #2. Take dish #1 off the heat. I think it’s done. Do you think this is fried well enough?

It’s hectic. It’s a mess and a half. You make sure nothing is overcooked or undercooked. Taste test to make sure everything tastes fine. (are the dishes safe for human consumption tho)

ALL DONE!(?)

You wish! Now you have to deal with the clean up!

Wash everything you used for cooking. Pots, pans, knives, measuring cups and spoons, plates and bowls you put the ingredients in, the tasting spoons you used, the ladles and spatulas, etc

Please clean the stoves, sinks, countertops/tabletops too.

Oh yea, put away the excess ingredients and return the condiments and seasonings.

You still there? Still got energy to study and do homework later?

Personally, i clean as i go whenever i have the time in between tending to the dishes. I hate hate hate a messy/dirty kitchen while i cook it makes me wanna rage

DINNERTIME

These fuckers better sit down and eat what you cooked. No. Who the fuck cares if someone is being rowdy or moody or being dramatic. NO ONE wastes your efforts in preparing the food. Sit down and EAT.

I mean alright, maybe you can tag team dinner prep but it’s still a lot in terms of quantity and sheer volume. Will that brother be of actual help in the kitchen?

To sum it all up,

May the Universe have mercy on MC when they’re on cooking duty.

[soraviie]

subject: write to me.oneshot

━ type: Jungkook x gn! reader              ━ masterlist ━ word count: 6k

━ summary: Jungkook is certain of it — you have disabled your work email and as such what's the harm in finally spilling everything that he's ever felt for you? You certainly won't read them...right?

━  connected to: "you think it's unrequited"

━ genre: pining!!! extreme pining!! angst, barely any fluff

━  c/w: Jungkook goes through a depressive episode 

━ leave a comment otherwise I’ll feed you mouldy cheese, don't test me. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

Seoul in particular is the kind of city that never sleeps. Jungkook is once again made aware of it when he arrives late at night, kicks open the doors to his apartment and goes to lay down on the bed. Traffic, endless traffic and long strings of people trembling the air with an incessant series of enraged horns. Half-heartedly he greets Bam, plucking the squeaking toy out of the dog's mouth and flinging it to the far side of the room.

Fuck, he thinks, these are outside clothes; I should probably change.

He doesn’t.

Eagerly, Bam noses at his owner's arm, trying to get the man to play with him but at most Jungkook lazily pats his head. Lately, the only sound in his home had been the scratch of Doberman's nails against the glossy tiles. As he gets up Jungkook finds his head slightly spinning.

Eat, you should eat, he reminds himself. He has to do it himself now.

You didn't care for him and left, and he had to do this stupid thing all by himself. Immediately he shakes his head, chasing the resentment away. It wasn't your fault, none of it was your fault. And maybe it wasn't even his. It was just...not meant to be.

For the first time in weeks he actually manages to put forth some effort. Brushing back the hair from his face, the headphones squeeze tightly on his ears, preventing any sort of noise of traffic or ambulatory sirens. He cringes when seeing the biochemical weapon that is a half-finished bowl of ramen sitting next to the sink. There's even an egg there. Some days had gone by good but lately….it all grew to be very bad.

"When did I...? When did I even have this?" he mutters to himself but Jungkook lives alone. There's no one to answer.

The trash that veers dangerously over the side of the bin has to be split into two separate trips. The plastic bag is thin and it rips easily from the strength that Jungkook has to grab it with. Hence, two trips.

The floor needs cleaning, he does so. Laundry...he takes a disgust ridden glance at the array of dirty socks and underwear littered all over the bathroom floor that cannot even be seen from the sheer scale of used clothes piling on top of it. Yeah, laundry definitely needs doing.

As the washing machine goes off in the distance, with no small amount of guilt Jungkook looks at Bam. The dog's eyes are wide and glistening, holding no grudge towards his depressed owner. His tail wags expectantly the longer Jungkook keeps staring.

"Who's a good boy?" his voice though betrays him and cracks, failing to at least simulate the same joy Bam exudes. Jungkook reaches for the snacks — the empty paper crumbles between his fingers. He should go out and buy them. Thank god for Young-mi; had she not volunteered, Bam would have probably not been going out for his much needed walks. He should go out...not just for Bam. The dog has probably seen more sun than Jungkook has, but the mere thought of leaving his house kills a small part within him. It takes all of his strength to even make this empty home of his a somewhat habitable environment.

When he's done, hours into cleaning, there's almost a sense of accomplishment washing over him but before the pleasant feeling can fully settle into Jungkook's bones, finally turning his life back into somewhat normal form, the realization hits him. You won't know that he deep cleaned his apartment, you won't know that he cut his finger washing the knife and neither will you point out the choice of his band-aid (green sharks) with that distantly curious gleam in the eye because Jungkook himself won't be able to tell you any of this. Because you won't be here. Sometimes it hits him too hard and he cannot find his way back to the surface anymore.

Bam comes up to his leg, poking his wet nose into Jungkook's knee. Numbly he turns to look down.

"Sorry, boy, no walks tonight."

Bam's head droops lower and it isn't long before he waddles sadly away, settling in the corner to disinterestedly chew on his favourite toy. Whatever scraps of seaweed and rice Jungkook can scrounge up from the deserted fridge, he eats quickly and with little interest. The bed and his subsequent need to rot in it is begging for his attention but the glint of his laptop — open and left behind on the coffee table — catches his attention at the very last second.

He won't be able to tell you...in person that is. It's been a week since he last wrote to you. He misses you.

Grabbing the laptop, he digs himself underneath the covers, waiting for the email to load.

How many messages has he written to you? 100? 200? By now he's stopped counting. What's the point?

Clicking on a new message, he gathers himself. Despite knowing that you've certainly deactivated your email by now, knowing that you won't ever read this he still feels some semblance of anxiety ripple through his body. Gasping in a deep breath, he relaxes himself, finding strength in the newfound mantra.

They don't care about you. They won't read any of this. It's like talking to yourself.

Hey, no one said mantras had to be happy, right?

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: btw I did a deep clean :D

Hi!

It's been a week since I last wrote to you. Can't say it's been fun. How are you? Are you fine? Are you still liking life back home? You used to complain that you couldn't get the proper ingredients here in Korea...

"Still" liking the life back home...Jungkook scoffs at the choice of his own words, aggressively bringing his finger of wrath upon the backspace button. "Still"...as if you had liked it here. As if you had liked him! He shakes his head once more. For all the supposed numbness that he felt instead of pain, there was a surprising amount of bitterness breaking ever so often through the flimsy pretense he had constructed ever since you left.

“You need any help?” 

He didn’t even particularly want to help you. It was 2:30 in the morning and only now he could go home. He was drenched in sweat and undoubtedly stinky, the strands of hair clung disquietingly to the back of his neck and he just wanted to go home. But you looked so damn…confused. Frankly, if he wouldn’t help you it most likely would be a violation of the civil law. 

Your tired eyes travelled from the dimly lit phone in your hand to his face and as you scrutinised him from head to toe, he unwittingly shivered. 

There’s no such thing as ghosts, Jungkook told himself, ghosts don’t use phones. 

The blankness of your stare disturbed him and after hearing a quiet, barely audible “no” fall out your lips, he bolted, jumping into an elevator without a single glance backwards.

So much for a meet-cute. 

He blinks out of the frayed memory, taking in the newly reviewed mail

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: btw I did a deep clean (of my house) :D

It's been a week since I last wrote to you. Can't say it's been fun. I hope you like being back home. 

I like you.

He reads it with a heavy sigh but proceeds to send it anyway tossing then his computer aside with an easy flick of the wrist. Not like you’ll ever read it. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com 

subject: where did you go? :0

Hello, _____________. This is Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Of BTS… but I’m sure you probably know that.

I got this email address from one of my managers, well, I may have bullied them a little bit (ヾ;￣▽￣)ヾ but it was for a good cause! 

Anyways I was wondering about next week’s show. You promised me to help with the speech, you know my English is not good╥﹏╥ but I’ve been trying to find you for the whole week and it’s like you disappeared! Even my managers were all incredibly tight lipped about it. Just let me know if you’re still up to helping me. If not, it’s fine. 

I hope you’re not sick, health is important you know!

Whichever it is — whether you’re sick, out of Seoul or just don’t want to see me, please, write to me so I’d know (⌒_⌒;)

Sincerely,

Jeon Jungkook.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: are you okay?

So uhh…the show is over and I haven’t seen or heard from you. The speech didn’t go so well since I was so worried about you my head was fuzzy but it’s whatever. Life goes on hahaha. I am starting to get a bit worried haha don’t scare me haha. I asked even other members about you but no one knows. The staff is telling me you didn’t have a desk to begin with so it’s not like I could just wait for you there…not that I would do that. I wouldn't….haha. Well, you were our jack—of—all—trades little helper, right? You always helped me with my jewelry and mic, and papers so it makes sense, doesn’t it? That you didn’t have a desk? Idk idk I’m suddenly shy (,,>﹏<,,)

Maybe you’re on vacation? I just thought of that lol it’s probably that. Sorry for bothering you, I hope you rest well! You deserve it, our little fairy! 

Still if you could be so kind as to answer this message when you receive it, I’d be forever in your debt if you would! 

Sincerely, 

Jeon Jungkook. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: 

You’re not on vacation. It’s been a month. HR hasn’t approved of you going away and you’re not on a sick leave. 

Yes! Yes! I went to them! You’re not answering and I’m worried, and angry!

I thought we were friends! If you’re going through something then, please, let me know! How can I help? What can I do so you come back to us?

Sincerely, 

a very pissed Jeon Jungkook.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: you left

The truth is out. I already said it in the subject but I’ll repeat it again, maybe to make it real. Maybe so that I would believe it. 

You left. Wrote a resignation, packed up your shit and left. Just fucked off without saying why, without saying goodbye. 

That’s what hurts the most. I wasn’t even worth enough to say goodbye to.

I really hate you.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: i don’t know, something

….hi.

It’s been a month. 

How have you been?

I’m…not too good. I’m still here but…eh, I don’t know. The members say I’m sulking and I am in a way but more than anything I’m missing you. I’m missing the chances I had but didn’t take.

You know it took me a while to even like you. I thought you were so cold, in fact, I thought you despised me, hehe, well, maybe you do but I won’t know now, will I? I can’t exactly ask you, can I? Not to you who would answer as I’m fairly certain this email has been deactivated.

It’s the possibilities that hurt the most, you know. I don’t really know you, do I? I’ve never been at your home, never met your family, friends. I don’t know what type of water you like and I don’t know how soft your blanket is. Whether you use mouthwash or whether you shower in the morning or night. I don’t know these things but…I could have. Why didn’t I just ask? Why didn’t you for that matter? Was I…not the one for you? 

Did you think the same as I did?

I remember when that first thought of you crossed my mind, of us being something…different.  It was in the middle of a concert, remember? After the one we had in Seoul. You were maybe 6 months in, still awkward around everyone. You didn’t speak much I remember that. In those days whenever I asked anyone about you, they would say “real quiet but reliable”. I was sitting on the sofa, trying to catch my breath. It was Jimin’s solo so I could have some few seconds of peace and you were there, right in the centre of the pandemonium, absolutely calm. I remember how I wondered: "How can they be so collected? Do they not care?” but you did care. You were working on Namjoon’s jacket, weren’t you? Wardrobe malfunction. You weren’t even supposed to. Little helper is one thing but you’re not a stylist. Still you stepped in and calmly, diligently you made it whole again.

You probably don't know but you did the same thing to me. Only, of course, you undid me as well.

The decorations on top of that stupid jacket broke, just after we were finished but you didn’t mind. Namjoon showed it to you and you laughed. That was the first time I ever saw you happy. You said that it has fulfilled its duty and there’s no reason to worry anymore — it was all fine. 

You never knew it but as I watched you from the sidelines I thought what if I would join you, offer a joke, make your smile last longer. I really wanted to but…

…but I didn’t. I wasn’t blind — you found it hard to fit and I didn’t want to intrude. You didn’t seem to enjoy my presence and if some people would see me with you, they’d give you a hard time and I didn’t want to burden you. You were just blooming open, my touch no matter how well-intended would just damage your petals so I didn’t. I packed up my things and I walked past you without saying anything. 

What if I had? Would you have stayed then? Or would you have left all the same? Neither of us know the answer. 

I don’t hate you, I’m sorry for writing so in the last letter. I didn’t mean it. I would never mean it. All I can hope for now is that you’re happy wherever you are.

Sincerely apologetic, 

Jeon Jungkook. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: april again

Hello! 

It’s April and you know what that means, I get saddled with a new tutor yey (⋟﹏⋞) It’s strictly formal now and honestly kind of boring. I know you weren’t really my tutor back in the day, just helping me on the side hehe but I still appreciate you. It was also April then, April 28th, that we finally spoke like two human beings. Your voice was so tired but you seemed curious—

Jungkook lifted his head from the laptop of his home, suddenly feeling the betraying sting bite at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Don’t cry!” he scolded himself. “What’s the use of crying now that everything's done?”

Sensing his owner’s distress, Bam cautiously approached the crouched man and pressed his nose into Jungkook’s shin. He stared down at the dog, surprise in his expression hinting at the fact that for a second he’d forgotten Bam existed. For a second he was back with you. 

April 28th

“What are you doing?” the voice sounding near him was quiet. Somewhat curious but even more so perturbed. Jungkook detached himself from the table he’d slouched upon in the throes of his utter defeat. 

Seeing you though, the sleepy disquiet within him frayed and he swallowed nervously, trying his hardest to appear at complete ease. 

“Regretting life choices,” he groaned conversationally. “You?” 

“Just getting a soda,” you tossed your head towards the vending machine. It had an indent at the side. Rumour had it that one night Jin kicked it because he didn’t have enough money on him to buy a candy bar. It was, of course, just a rumour and Junkook knew it because he was the one who kicked the machine. 

He did sort of feel bad about it but he had been hungry. 

“Nothing nearly as dramatic.”

An awkward quiet settled between them. What are you thinking, Jungkook thought. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, a touch too long to be absolutely casual, and then quickly averted away as your lips pursed into a straight line, almost like you were reprimanding yourself. 

Maybe because you were prohibited from talking to him? It wouldn’t be the first time such an order took place as much as Jungkook hated it. 

“Do you need help?” your voice had been low, so deadpan he entirely missed that you’d spoken at all but when the realization hit, he had to force himself to not be too happy.

“It’d be nice if you did,” he gave a small smile, shuffling to make space for you on the couch. You stared at the newly liberated spot for a second but ultimately sat down if a bit stiffly. 

Peering into his notebook, you asked him:

“What do you have to do?” 

“Answer these questions using 10 words or less.”

You leaned your head to the side and as he took the next, shuddering breath, the scent of your shampoo filled him whole. It fit you like a glove. Immediately, he wanted more of it. 

“That’s a strange exercise,” you muttered and as Jungkook’s throat grew dry, he only shrugged in response. You’d given him details, solid answers and explanations but he still failed miserably. He hadn’t heard a thing you said over the sound of his heart rushing. 

Only the wet cold of Bam’s nose roused him from the memory. With a sad smile, he patted the dog’s head, feeling suddenly guilty to be looked at with such adoring eyes. 

“Good boy,” he whispered as Bam’s tail thwacked against the floor of his empty and quiet apartment. “Good boy, Bam.”

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: what’s next

Hello!

Have you been eating well? Have you been meeting up with friends? I remember you told me once, probably thinking I’ll forget it, that they’ve been missing you and you’ve been missing them. I didn’t forget — I remember. I hope you’ve gone out with them and that your cheeks glow the way they do when you’re really, really happy. I haven’t forgotten that either. I don’t want to. 

I…uh…I’ve stopped crying. I don’t why that’s so awkward to say, I mean you’re not even here. If anything I’m talking to myself. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it hehe. Don’t judge me, please.

Anyways I’ve stopped tearing up at random times. Now I’m just…I don’t know — numb? Unmotivated? In those few rare free days I don’t do much — just lie in my bed. I don’t have the strength to get out of it. Though some days it’s not so bad — I’m almost the way I was before. I go out, I eat ice-cream, take Bam out for good long walks — it’s almost normal but then inevitably I crash and I don’t want to move or go anywhere, or even speak with anyone. 

In fact, for the last week this is the most speaking I’ve done — writing this to you. I don’t why I keep it up but it helps. I myself don’t quite understand haha. I hope that tomorrow it’ll be a good day. My house has been a mess, my hair is kind of dirty and I think Bam is getting antsy cramped inside for extended periods of time. I have been declining my mom’s calls cause I don’t want to hear me like this. She’ll only worry and it’ll make the whole situation worse. I need to move but today I’ve sat here all day and thought of you. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: why?

wh do i =kep writinng to u? u;re nhot here whats the point?? whats the goodammn point> 

jimin found ou t about the leterc 

he didnt saay nuthign but the way he lookred at me…

pity

is ti a crime?????? to lvoe someone?? to want to tlak to them?? everyien else is lucjkf they cqan talk to thei r loved cnes but em?? im aloen so yesh i write yo you!! i wan t to be delusionalf i dont care fwha anyer says! youre my friend!  iw ill talk to you aven if tis patheti c even if tish thoguht lettters youll nevar read! i dont caare1

jminn thiggks im crayz

an I? 

have u maed me crazy?

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: I’m sorry

So…I got really drunk yesterday  (≡ε≡；) I can hold my liquor, don't get me wrong, but Jiminie drinks like he’s got a new liver lined up °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° But reading it over this morning (barely, my eyes are swollen) I recalled the fight that we had and that I never did apologize. I’m sorry that I took my anger out on you that one time. I should have said sorry already then. I didn’t but I was. Still am. 

May, 22nd

“You were supposed to go home hours ago.”

By now, he was well familiar with the voice and its disinterested tembre. You always sounded so…bored and for some reason today of all days Jungkook got pissed off because of it. 

You were always…looking down at him. Just like the others. You were judging him, weren’t you? Why else were you so distant? Why else did your face not change expressions as he got near you? You couldn’t stand him. You could see what he was behind the carefully curated smokescreen of what Jeon Jungkook was supposed to be. You saw him. Those weary, disturbingly observant eyes drilled right through what was supposed to be a charming, yet impenetrable wall. He didn’t truly know anyone and no one was supposed to truly know him. Yet in front of you he suddenly found himself bare.

“Why? Because you say so?” he spat from where he’d fallen on the floor. His ankle had given out and one point and when you came in he was panting from the pain. Of course, you’d see him in such a humiliating state. 

You blinked mutely at his sudden harshness. You weren’t friends, you weren’t allowed to be friends but still the relationship was amicable. For coworkers. Barely.

“You’re upset,” flatly you stated, one hand gripping the door handle far too tightly. 

“Yeah, no shit,” he grumbled. Why were you looking at him like that? Like you saw him?! Who even were you?!

“You’re upset but  that’s no reason for you to talk to me like this.”

As cold as a bucket of winter river. Your voice washed over him and Jungkook found himself not an injured wolf baring his teeth and protecting his den but a puppy, sopping wet and scrambling uselessly against the palm that had seized him by the scruff. 

“I’m a grown man.”

“Not right now.” 

You both came to standstill, glaring obstinately at each other. 

It had been the longest eye-contact Jungkook had with you. Shame it was out of anger. 

You drew an exhausted sigh as Jungkook brittled.  

“I understand you’re in pain and wanting perfection but be nicer to yourself.”

He scoffed harshly. 

“I don’t need your pity.”

Something in your gaze grew utterly frigid and all at once he was rendered deeply afraid. 

“And I’m not offering it to you.”

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: I’m sorry

So…I got really drunk yesterday  (≡ε≡；) I can hold my liquor but Jiminie drinks like he’s got a new liver lined up °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° Reading over that garbage this morning (barely, my eyes are swollen) I recalled the fight that we had and that I never did apologize. I’m sorry that I took my anger out on you that one time. I should have said sorry already then. I didn’t but I was. Still am.

For these last few days I keep thinking about what you said afterwards — when I finally mustered up the courage to grovel three days later. That I’m not someone you would pity and that I need not to apologize just change. You were so different then. You were strong. Stern. You didn’t take any of my shit and for that — thank you. I don’t know why but it made me love you more. 

Huh. I just said it. 

It’s kind of sad that you’ll never hear it.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: catching up! :D

HELLO!

It’s been two whole weeks since I last wrote to  you. We’ve been so busy, I’ve barely had the time to sit down >⌓<｡

How are you? How is life back home? Did you meet up with those friends of yours? Did you find a new job? Did you find someone…new?

Maybe don’t tell me that last one haha

I’ve been…good. It’s a surprise really. I don’t miss you any less than I did yesterday or I will tomorrow but there’s not that horridly heavy sense in my chest today. I don’t know what happened in the moments before I wrote to you last and now. Maybe because I remembered how miserable you were here. You ate alone, no one really spoke to you. They liked you! They really did! I just guess…it’s too different here. It couldn’t have been easy to always think about what to say, how to say it and how people will perceive you. I pondered how I feel when overseas and I…I understand now why you were so closed off. You must have been protecting yourself, weren’t you? Like I was that day when my ankle was twisted. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you came here at all, that we met but…I don’t want you here at the cost of your happiness. I think I’ve finally come to terms with that you left. Better you’re happy somewhere else, at your home with the people and things you know rather than you’re miserable here with me. I was not much of a help to you, wasn’t I? Always so scared of my own feelings and possibilities of future failings that I never even considered the present and how lonely you must have felt. I’m sorry that I wasn’t better for you.

I hope you’re among better people now. You deserve the world. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: something weird happened 

So as I said in the subject, something weird happened?? Do you remember Eun-joo? She came to the studio one day and you asked me whether she was my lover. I blushed so hard then (>\\\\\\<) I don’t even know why. Just hearing you say the word “lover” aaaah it sounded so scandalous hehehe I must be crazy

Anyway, back then I said no, well, I yelled it and your face scrunched up in that adorable way it does when you’re both surprised and confused but yesterday she…uh…asked me out? On a date? 

You never knew this but uhm…I kind of had a crush on her before you came along. I never asked her out because our schedules conflicted so much we barely spoke and I’ve always liked better to ask someone out in person, you know. And then well you arrived and uh…

I think you get it. 

But now you’re gone and I said yes to Eun-joo.  

Uh…was I allowed to do that? Why am I asking you? 「(°ヘ°)

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: hah 

So….I went on a date and uhm…

I rejected her. 

Well, somewhat. By the end of the evening, she was asking me about whom I was thinking about so much and well…it is true. I spent the entire night thinking about what you would have done, what you would have said instead of her. Unwittingly I found myself yearning not for her enthusiastic compliments but for your dry ass remarks. 

We’ve decided to stay as friends. 

I don’t think I’ll be dating anytime soon.

I’d say that I’m absolutely okay with you seeing someone but you know me — I’m jealous as all hell just thinking about it (￣ε￣)

Seoul in particular is the kind of city that never sleeps. Jungkook is once again made sure of that when he tries to sleep but cannot. Bam’s snores fill up the otherwise quiet room as he tosses to and fro. This last letter, about the deep clean,  is not giving him rest. He keeps recalling that rainy day in the park, not even wishing he’d done things differently but just wishing he could still see you. That this…hope, twisting around his neck like a noose, would end. If he would bear no hope he wouldn’t still dream, would he? He would be able to rest, wouldn’t he?

God, he needs to rest. He’s given you his mind and soul and if you were his sun, you could spare him at least some clarity. He didn’t care anymore — be it cold or cruel. He needed to be let go even if he probably won’t let you go himself. 

Jumping out the bed, he makes a quick beeline to the still running laptop. Bam rattles in his cage, disturbed by the sudden movement but his eyes fall too heavily to muster up a bark. Seconds later, he’s already slumbering. While Jungkook is wide awake, fingers clattering noisily against the keyboard.

June 16th

The small bottle of milk flowed just underneath his nose as heartless rain continued to pelt the ground below. Thick smell of petrichor swirled the air around. Stunned, Jungkook lifted his head and traced the hand that held the milk for him. 

Seeing you he gave a feeble smile. 

Of course you would be here when he thought he was alone. 

“How did you find me?” he rasped, accepting the bottle though not moving to puncture the small foliage. 

With a sigh, you settled on the swing next to his — it produced a horribly dragged out screech. 

“I didn’t,” you shrugged. “I just walked by and saw you.” 

“And just so happened to have my favourite brand of milk?” he arched an eyebrow and because the rain made his eyes blurry, he thought, he deluded himself for a second that you blushed. Blushed and darted your gaze guiltily away to settle upon the crowded Seoul horizon. 

“I’ve noticed you drinking it so I bought it…to try,” you coughed and silence fell upon the world. 

The day was hot, extremely humid, even the falling rain did not help in the matter. Why did he come here, to this empty park on the far side of the city Jungkook did not know. Could it be….no, that was impossible. Nothing so childishly romantic could not take root in a cruel, unforgiving reality. 

“You’re feeling down again?” you inquired, swinging back and forth, the plastic bag swinging next to  you. He wondered what you bought, what you ate to feel good and full. 

“Yeah, just a bit,” he lied, scuffing the soles of his shoes against the ground. 

“A bit,” you repeated in a barely audible mutter. “Are you sure it’s a bit?”

“Do you think I’m lying?” 

But despite the shortness of time, Jungkook had changed. His voice held neither malice, nor challenge. In fact the irony was all but obvious in the lilt of his tone. He was lying and you knew that he was. 

“Yes,” easily, you replied, pulling a snort of amusement from the depths of his chest. “You’re mostly a terrible liar but also surprisingly good when it comes to hiding yourself.”

“And are you?” Jungkook asked, daring for the first time to take a proper look at you. It was so…difficult. For him it was like staring at the sun. It was oftentimes easier to not look lest he dreamt too much. “Are you a good liar?”

You stared at the ground, closing your eyes for a brief second of what seemed to be utter heartbreak. 

“I’m an excellent liar,” you murmured. When you opened your eyes once more, the bout of sudden vulnerability was gone. You shuck it off like dogs did water and once again Jungkook sat absolutely mesmerized at how you were able to do it. 

“But it can’t be helped,” you concluded firmly. 

“Why are you an excellent liar?” Jungkook teased you further, feeling the beat of his heart stumble and clamber. Maybe…

“I’m in love with someone but…it’s not reciprocated,” you swung back and forth, purposefully avoiding his gaze. 

The excited dash of his heart came crashing down, punching up arid bile at the back of Jungkook’s throat. In love with another, huh. 

“Why do you think it’s not reciprocated?” gently, he questioned, gripping the milk between his trembling fingers.  

“It just can’t be,” you refuted stubbornly. “I think he sees me in the same way people do…desks. Or notebooks.”

“Notebooks?” 

“Yeah, you know,” you pursed your lips and the sheer amount of grief that passed your features made Jungkook sick. Whoever this son of a bitch was that made you this said deserved a motorbike in the face.  “People can genuinely like their stuff until they’re in good use but once that use runs out,” you sucked a breath through your gritted teeth. “They replace it and forget all about them in the end. It’s that sort of like.”

“That smooth-brained son of a bitch,” he cried out angrily. “Damn, I should beat that foul smelling dickwad to the last inch of his life. How dare he treat our fairy like that?!”

Tearily you laughed and more than anything Jungkook wanted to hold your hand and lull the pain. But he couldn’t. He had no place in your life. Not really. So he held the milk instead — the bottle popping up from the pressure underneath his palm. 

Dumbly, you both looked as it leaked down onto the ground. 

“Smooth-brained,” you chuckled to yourself. “Perhaps. But he smells nice.”

Jungkook tried not to sulk at this new piece of information. Too many nice-smelling but dumb people rolled around the circles of his acquaintances  — he couldn’t track the son of a bitch down even if he tried. He had no idea how lucky he was. Jungkook’s sun was giving him warmth and he dared not to care for it. 

“What’s got you looking so dour yourself?” 

“Oh,” he swallowed nervously, his gaze rapidly growing so hazy, even when staying still, he could swear the world was trembling. “I like someone myself. They’re kind to me, strict albeit kind, however…” he sat, transfixed somberly on the ground. One glimpse at you and he’d break. One glimpse and he’d force this ocean of his feelings upon you. He’d make you feel bad — it was always awkward to hear a love confession from someone whom you did not like. So he had to be strong. Had to be strong for you, as strange as it sounded. “I’m not good enough for them.”

“That’s nonsense,” you scoffed, beginning to swing back and forth. The ends of your shoes grew wet as briefly you found yourself amidst the rain. 

“I meant me, just Jeon Jungkook, is not good enough,” he clarified with an eye roll. “I didn’t mean Jungkook the idol.”

“Neither did I."

The rain kept pouring the entire afternoon and it was one of the happiest days Jungkook had ever lived through. 

Shame you left soon after. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: please

Even if...even if the year we spent together meant nothing to you, that the kindness you extended towards me, that the help you sent my way unknowingly pulling me from a pit of inescapable darkness is nothing but an empty void, no more deserving of your attention than the dirt on the side of the road, I beg of you to be gracious once more. Just write to me. Just one letter is all I ask for. No matter what you have to say, should it be something as little as one singular "bye", please, write to me. I'll keep you in my thoughts, forever most likely as you've made your home in them.

Sincerely, 

Jeon Jungkook.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms;

 © soraviie, 2023

[system-of-a-feather]

I say this to some of my closer friends, but when it comes to DID I really really really think the number one most helpful perspective things / concepts (that took a lot of work and trust building within the system and a long while to fully understand and internalize) is to look at a lot of the bullshit DID throws at you with a very absurdist view.

Take all the changes and shifts in the system as a "sure why not" or as I echo the improv slogan "yes and". DID and how it works and all the changes and trauma bombs and fusions and splits and structure and and and and... it all gets SUPER confusing and overwhelming and there is a large drive to try to understand what every change means, what every thing a part says and does mean, and all that

But in my experience 9/10 times, it just doesn't really make sense, it seems inefficient, random, unlikely, weird, fake, disproportionate, and/or you just never find it and to find that "correct answer and explanation" you often have to do a shit ton of digging which can be both emotionally and mentally time consuming and often times painful / harmful due to trauma and shit.

9/10 times an explanation you have to dig for won't provide that much more understanding and even less often will it provide something that will actually be applicable to helping your situation.

So largely I take what my brain gives me and look at it at a skin deep level and do what I call "Channel the Himbo" energy and just go through life (in regards to DID) like a dense but free lovable himbo.

Kill (not really) all the overthinking brain cells and just go "Okay sure."

Ever since I picked that up as a core mantra, the sheer amount of stress I - and the system as a whole - had just TANKED cause "DID just be like that" and "it works in wild ways"

And to tie it back to absurdism as a philosophical view, the statement I say is that DID is inherently absurd and it absolutely does not care to make things make sense cause its not a rational and planned coping mechanism - its like a little scared cat scratching at paper and trying to burry it in the litter box and what is left of the page is what we see.

Of course its crazy and weird and makes no sense, why the fuck would it? XD Like genuinely, its a strongly reinforced and maintained coping mechanism subconsciously devised by a like severely traumatized, scared, and confused 4 year old.

[hopeymchope]

Just me loving all over Fire Emblem: Engage

Years after being so thoroughly disappointed and even angered by Fire Emblem: Three Houses — which, it must be said, is deeply popular and incredibly successful because that's how it goes for me — I've found myself loving Fire Emblem: Engage. I put off playing it because the online reception was so "meh," but I needn't have been so worried. My deep affection for the series is back.

Play as Aquafresh OR Pepsi!

The two biggest reasons I'm happy? Well, FIRST, my biggest complaint about Three Houses has been... not cured, unfortunately, but still significantly alleviated. If you want to remain adequately leveled/competitive in taking on strategic battles, you still need to do a bunch of side chores that amount to "running around your home base doing boring shit" between each fight. BUT. 1) The sheer amount of those chores is significantly less now, and 2) all the blind guesswork has been removed from increasing Support levels. You'll never be trying to helplessly guess what to say at some fucking teatime or in some classroom conversation where every response seems valid, nor will be you making your best guess on what food to serve people. Because the game just fucking tells you the kind of gifts or food each person likes! (And tea events/random interstitial convos are blessedly absent.)

SECOND, however? It's the quality of the writing. Yes, I know people have complained a ton about the writing in "Engage," but in my experience, they're primarily complaining because they felt the story is so simplistic. And, sure — I get that. There's so much emotional drama built into the setups of the last three games (Three Houses, Echoes, and Fates) that this tale seems rather bog-standard by comparison. The overarching story of Engage can be boiled down to a tale as old as the franchise itself — essentially "Evil Dragon gonna Do Evil." There are also some aspects of the worldbuilding/subtextual implications that don't quite make sense. But I'm not talking about the overarching plot when I praise the writing here — I'm talking about how the characters possess more detail/facets than usual, and the dialogue/banter between characters is so damn fun.

A woman I feel completely normal about.

I don't even quite know how to explain it. Maybe the humor is just more to my taste, but I've laughed so much more at this one. And by the same token, maybe I'm just digging deeper into these characters because their dialogue is endearing them to me. But after playing the past four games before this one (yes, I started with "Awakening" like some Filthy Casual, I'M SORRY), I don't recall any other game featuring characters with so much detail to them. In Engage, many chracters possess more than the usual "two noteworthy personality traits/talents" that are typically found in FE's enormous casts. I'm talking about people like Citrinne, Lindon, Yunaka, Clanne, Ivy, Gregory... I can easily say like FIVE things about each of them. And yes, I consider this to be an important step forward.

Okay, so: I like the dialogue, I like the characters, I don't like all the side busywork, the overall story is bland. (The Fell Xenalogue's story is kinda sick though?) But hold up, what about the actual MEAT of the game — the core gameplay of having strategic battles? That's not usually a problem, mind you. But how'd it go this time around?

WELL. I'd argue we've got some of the best maps and best ways to optimize characters that we've ever had. There are still some lame straightforward corridors in here, but by and large? You get a lot more freedom in how you lure enemies to you, how you can split up and flank them while simultaneously attacking from the front, how you can now disarm (or "Break") them during one turn so other allies can attack more easily/do more damage — it's pretty rad!

One of the earliest maps to make me go "Oh cool."

There's even a main theme with lyrics, and although it's never gonna be the inescapable earworm that "You are the ocean's gray waves" became, it's not shabby either.

I've put over 80 hours into Engage so far, and although I'm finished with the main story, I'm not yet finished unlocking stuff. There's a lot to love here. I'm just happy to be back.

[orfeoarte]

Tower of Three

Chapter 1: Scorched surroundings

Read on Ao3

"Times are changing, pendahn. I don't like those clouds, the way they stir on the summit," he hesitated, voice dropping in secret shared with the underbrush, lit only by the flickering wick of a lard candle. "I- I'll follow you, but please don't do anything stupid, will you?"

"Fancy yourself the voice of reason? I'm climbin'. If you don't like it, you can well stay behind."

The Wolf, and the Bosmer are forced to unite on an Odyssey under the Dragonborn's command. To break the mark of a world in disarray, they must make an accord: after all, what use is a hero if her thread is split in three?

Riverwood. a tranquil place, with little to write home about. Saathel thought of it as a slight downgrade from her previous life in the depths of a wooded area most certainly ruled over by the postulates of serious Nordsmen and their grave voices. She, in all certainty, lacked the will to perceive them as anything other than the sad attempts they made to rule over sacred wilderness rather than form a covenant with it, as she knew Holy, so she hunted and assembled her shelter and supplies out of those carcasses. Bone, sinew and skin were all she needed to survive the inclemencies of Skyrim’s weather. That unforgiving cold that seeped into one’s very insides— when near claimed by it Saathel liked to remind herself why it was that she was there. Sometimes, that was all that kept her going.

Though close to the town, Saathel liked to keep herself unseen, trading only when necessity brought her to dire bartering, known only by a merchant and his mule. It was a quiet life. Lonely.

She hadn’t been expecting plumes of smoke to rise from Helgen, a morning during her earliest hunts. Like most things unexpected, it beckoned to the part of her mind that didn’t know better. In retrospect, perhaps she should have stayed put, ignored the fires, ignored the obvious silhouette of a dragon, rising from the settlement and slicing clouds with its wings.

A dragon. A tale as impossible could bore its most faithful reader by overstating the incredulousness of its witnesses, but in this situation truth was present: Saathel dropped her bow, mouth ajar. She stood there frozen, the only sign that she lived still in the miniscule droplets of condensed warmth that hung in the cold air as she breathed.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

The thick blanket of cumulonimbus above spoke both of cold weather and a chance of precipitation— and a perfect hideaway for the embodiment of death and fire, whose getaway Saathel could no longer track.

After watching for a good handful of minutes, ears twitching from her over-excited senses trained keenly on Helgen's rising smoke, she resolved that action was the only choice.

The dragon had left, there seemed to be no more unrest in the vaulted sky above the town. Ensuring that it had not made for her portion of wooded sanctuary was a task Saathel performed hastily, feverish, eyes darting to and fro. She discovered soon enough that there was simply no trace of the beast, the ground's twigs and pebbles did not rattle from an impact nearby, and her path was clear from her campsite to the rubble.

With a backpack put together by shaking hands and slung over her shoulders, she set out quickly on her feet.

Accompanying Saathel were her hunting bow and quiver, and a lumber-axe she had taken up for survival in the cold climate when much to her chagrin, no amount of furs could tide over the damp bite of winter. Her weapons would soon prove useful, as she was surprised by a half-singed mare fleeing the town, questing in pain and barrelling towards her.

In a single act the beast had an arrow protruding from its eye socket, Saathel's drawing hand as quick as the projectile itself. She leapt out of the way as the horse keeled over from the sheer impact strength; piercing through eyeball and nerve, in a diagonal straight into the brain, it was dead within seconds. Mercy was written all over the shaft of the arrow as she pulled it out, a boot holding down the mare's heavy skull. Its flank was burned, flesh melted together, the skin connecting its thigh to the trunk a mass of reddish pink wrinkles and blackened splotches. The scent of ruined meat made Saathel retch.

"Y'ffre keep you," she sighed, wiping the arrow down on a piece of leather and slipping it back into the quiver. She knew the spot. Though burned horses weren't her choice of food, no child of the Green could leave such a bounty unused. Sharing with the wolves and foxes was not an issue, the beasts were to her as brothers. Her people knew their song and story as Y’ffre had told it even this far in the North, cold ice Skyrim housed but a different part of Y’ffre’s creation, the one where mountains walked the skyway to meet with the stars, instead of tamarinds, soursops and magnolias.

Her boots slanted in a diagonal across the slippery slope leading towards the valley to ease the mer’s descent down the scene of havoc, the footprint of a passed dragon whose return she still feared enough to cause nervous glances back and forth, and to the sides. Saathel crouched to receive the encroaching scent of fiery substrate, ember and char. It awakened a form of primal unease in her to smell the remains of timber houses and thatched roofs engulfed by flames. Spewing smoke. Those threads of blistering heat weren’t the product of a single uncaring mortal, but spun by an unworldly demiurge against which she was powerless.

Calm, Saathel, she reasoned with herself. You’re thinking in the language of prey. But her own thoughts offered little in the way of solace when she ducked under a tree’s branches and saw the thawing drip, heat from the initial blast melting away at what was supposed to be a mountainous morning frost, impassive and perennial. Her encasing of fur, too, felt heavy instead of comforting.

Yet as she approached poor Helgen the heat became a part of her surroundings, and hardly more than in the Valenwood. Out came her thick gloves, aided by a tug with her teeth and stuffed inside her side-pouch. Huffing and puffing her way through pylons of still-rising smoke, stepping carefully about corpses made into coal, smelling as that horse had, she was dry-heaving by the time she set foot within Helgen proper. The first thing she noticed was the scene of an execution in the heart of the city. Some poor fool had given their neck; presumably more had been queued when the dragon struck, the unlucky bastards.

There was nothing in Helgen left to salvage. Trails ran cold out of the village where some survived, yet two similar paths caught her eye before waning. Inside a building that somehow still stood whole those trails continued. Saathel opened the door. She looked around, coughing into the inside of her softened pelt scarf and lowered it to take a deep breath allowing the scents to flow into the back of her palate. The scents then spoke to her. The place was as a prison once she delved deeper in pursuit of the still-hot trails of possible survivors. Skeletons. Dead Nords and dead Imperials alike flanking the cages holding excarnated corpses of prisoners who never knew of the dragon attack. Sometimes, to be dead is a luxury.

Too far in to turn back and give in to the nagging thoughts of living a life of minding her own business, she descended into a collapsed series of tunnels dug underground.

“Mole-folk, these Northerners. Just how far have they dug into the—”

A faint sound stopped her. It was only for her ears, and came from far down and out. She paused, tilting face and ears to better catch the cry in their shell, as her eyes grew wide and her pupils dilated from adrenaline.

“Help!”

Survivors, at least one of them. Saathel threw herself forward in a frantic scrambling run, abandoning all of her aboveground elegance in favor of speed. Unknown ground as her enemy, eventually she made it to where the tunnels merged with a cave system. Spider corpses littered the floor. Those were Frostbite spiders, hunters endowed with a paralyzing venom that left their pray sluggish or, in worse cases, surrendered to a thick stupor. Frustration grew in her, there was no time for harvesting their venom sacs when someone might be dying further down. Guano covered the roof and walls, nitric acid impregnated her every breath, and Saathel cursed her heroic streak for deciding to play rescue brigade and woodland patrol.

Soon she was at the mouth of a large chamber within the cave. A colossal spider curled its dead limbs in on itself, and nearby were two paralyzed men. Nords, the both of them, she could smell their poisoned blood oozing from puncture wounds. One of them blearily opened his eyes and his hand shook as he stretched his arm out towards her. “Help us, please.”

Saathel knocked both men out with a precise blow to the back of their heads.

[findingnemosworld]

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬. ( 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬 𝐟𝐢�� 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 "𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?" 𝐛𝐲 𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨? )

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞.

[ 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ]

Her cellphone rings, she knows who it was without even looking.

She was out with her friends, inebriated by the amount of alcohol she had with her friends, she'd lost all rationality - she didn't answer the first time, mostly because she was too caught up in the celebrations, to notice, the second time it was a text message.

come over

There it was, two singular words which were ponderous enough to draw her back into his arms despite them splitting up seven months ago after a tumultuous relationship, a relationship that admittedly drained her yet she couldn't release herself from his grasp, akin to an addict, he was the fix that she gladly went back to inhale every single time.

She didn't answer, the sheer hesitance evident throughout her face as her friends noticed, then looked at her phone before giving her a stern look. " Babe, don't " one of them said before her phone vibrates once again, this time it was text of his new address.

" Seeing him tonight, it's a .... " She trails off, slurring in her words.

" Bad idea, bad idea " Her friend echoes.

And before any one could really react, she excuses herself - silently making her way out of the club to order a taxi, and when she got into the vehicle, she gave him the address, the new address he lived in.

It wouldn't hurt, to see him - they were after all, friends before lovers and while she hated him, not one single man she'd spoken to after him could compare.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the taxi stopped in front of the mansion he lived in, she hands the driver money and steps out, stumbling her way to the gate before she pulls out her phone and dials his number, waiting until the line connected. " I'm here " was all she could say, it's a bad idea, but god did she love the bad ideas.

It's easy to blame the alcohol for her current state, naked and bare of any clothing, standing in front of the mirror, his inked hand wrapped around her throat with the right amount of pressure while his other arm was tightly wrapped around her waist to match the pace of his thrusts; the mere sight of her, breasts bouncing up and down, her walls clenching around his cock that speared through her, hitting the exact spots that former lovers were too lazy to find.

" Look at yourself " He whispers, tugging on her ear. " Keep your eyes open and look at how fucked you are by me, how you're taking my cock in that tight pussy so good " he groans.

All sense of comprehension vanishes out the window, she cannot for the life of her formulate a coherent sentence, to speak her mind and say that while it killed her, being with him made sense.

" I know that no one single man " He grunts, thrusting his cock in and out of her walls, " None of them can please you like I do, it's why you fall back into my arms every time, because those pathetic fuckers don't understand what you want "

" Oh yeah " she struggles to mutter, " What do you think I want? "

He chuckles darkly, the hand that was wrapped around her waist climbs up to tug on her nipples, grinning when she squirmed in his arms. " You want someone that can ignite that fire in you, the kind of fire that only I can ignite "

His thrusts turn wild, sloppy yet still effective enough to have crying from the intense pleasure that consumed her as she rides out the euphoric orgasm, " See " he cooed, nibbling on her skin. " I'm the only that can fuck you like this "

Indeed, he was the only and she hated it so much that she kept coming back, over and over.

His touch is the reason why she comes back like a fool, why her rationality vanishes each time he texts her, she might call him a friend but the truth is, he's the personification of terrible ideas.

He's a bad idea, but one that she loves more than she can admit.

[a-slut-for-smut]

Broken

“Gojo…?  Utahime croaked out weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.  “Ugh…I was so….stupid. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.”  She whimpered so pitifully, wretched with despair and shame.

If seeing her in this condition broke his heart, the sheer agonizing disappointment in herself he heard from her cracked voice threatened to shatter his very soul.  

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay.  I’m here now.”  He whispered reassuringly, struggling to steady his trembling lip as he stroked her blood stained cheek.  He lifts her carefully, cradling her against his chest.  “Just hold on.”

@goutaweek2023 Day 2, July 18 - “Rescue”

************************

9 years ago…

The day Gojo finds her bruised and bloody body was the day that nearly broke him.  

He had been away on a nonsensical mission in Okinawa; a complete waste of his time.  When he returned, the Tokyo administration was in disarray.  Apparently there was a cursed spirit incident in the early morning that caught them by surprise.  Gojo rolled his eyes, the elders were utterly useless- sending the young to sort their problems while they sat on their useless, old asses.  It is only when word reaches him that the higher ups sent Mei Mei and Utahime to investigate and Utahime was missing for hours that he took the situation very, very seriously.

Mei Mei had returned from scouting, explaining to the elders they split up to save time before more people got hurt- her crows hot on the trail before it suddenly turned cold; the cursed energy completely vanished.  She thought perhaps Utahime defeated the spirit on her own, returning to the grounds to find that was not the case at all- that she was missing and no one had heard from her in hours.  Mei Mei went back to search and had not returned since.  But even with all her crows, they were no match for the Six Eyes.

He recklessly teleports all across the area, all his eyes searching until finally they land upon a stationary splash of white and red in a small forest clearing.  His heart skips a beat before teleporting directly to it.  What he discovers stops him in his tracks and turns his blood cold.

It’s her.  Her body in a fetal position with her back to him, lying in a large pool of blood, hair strewn over her face.  She isn’t moving.

His feet are frozen, his mouth parted to call out her name but his throat immediately closed in on itself.  After a deep inhale and sheer will, he lowers himself, reaching for her shoulder. 

A low moan emits from her lips- making his heart leap into his throat.  She’s alive, thank f*ucking god she’s alive.   Slowly he turns her so she’s cradled in his lap, brushing away the matted hair across her face and winces painfully at what he sees.

Her face, her lovely face is covered in blood, a deep, long gash streaked across it rimmed by what looked like burns from cursed energy.  Blood had run down her neck and chest, the front of her kimono torn in places, the white cloth dyed red.  She groans, slowly opening her eyes and looking up.

“Gojo…?  She croaked out weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.  “Ugh…I was so….stupid. I f*ucked up. I f*ucked up so bad.”  She whimpered so pitifully, wretched with despair and shame.

If seeing her in this condition broke his heart, the sheer agonizing disappointment in herself he heard from her cracked voice threatened to shatter his very soul.  

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay.  I’m here now.”  He whispered reassuringly, struggling to steady his trembling lip as he stroked her blood stained cheek.  He lifts her carefully, cradling her against his chest.  “Just hold on.”

Concentrating a massive amount of cursed energy, he teleports them directly outside the medical ward of the Tokyo school grounds when suddenly Utahime breaks into a severe coughing fit, choking on and coughing up blood violently; splattering all over his face.  

“Utahime!!! I….I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!!!’  He cries out frantically, looking around helplessly before sprinting inside, screaming for help and Shoko; the sheer panic shrill in his voice.  Utahime doesn’t stop coughing up blood, gasping for breath, her throat sounding like it was getting torn to shreds from the inside out.

Medical technicians run up with a stretcher,  Shoko taking one concerned look before her game face set in, taking charge.  “Get her to the operating room and stabilized, NOW!”  

Gojo moves to follow but she blocks his path- “Gojo. Thank god you found her, but she's in my hands now.  I can’t afford any distractions- I need you to leave.” She orders firmly, face hard at first but momentarily softens.  

“When I have an update on her condition, you’ll be the first to know.  You should go and clean yourself up.”  She turns and makes a dash into the operating room, leaving Gojo standing alone in the hallway.  

He’s in a daze, his body is moving on its own accord as it makes its way to the washroom.  Turning on the faucet, he dips his hands- the water running a deep red as her blood washes down the sink.  He grimaces, looking up and notices his reflection in the mirror.  

His ice blue eyes are a stark contrast to the red splattered all over his face.  His stare intensifies into a twisted glare; the glint in his eyes crystalizing with a cold hardness.  His ears start to ring as his blood boils across his body when finally he blinks- the mirror shattering like a spider web then violently exploding into a cloud of sparkling dust. 

****************

eek another snippet from my ongoing gojohime fic, cant help myself the topic was too perfect! 🫣

[queenimmadolla]

the worst thing about all this is that you're right. I've seen people post stuff where the reader is white coded and someone points it out but people jump to their defense instead of just letting the author fix it or something. it's like they'll brush it under the rug to keep the fic up and it makes me feel really bad about myself. why didn't they want me to see myself in it? I know they might have had to tweak what they wrote, but why didn't they want to?

ah man, this one hurts my heart so bad because i know you know why. we all do.

i have been in so many freaking fandoms and when i tell you people will bend over backwards to excuse exclusion and sometimes be racist to do so, just to keep a fic up, like it's insane. so disappointing. they'd say just about anything to excuse that white coded reader if it meant the author doesn't alter it or delete it. they'd encourage the author, too. i've seen it happen most with smut, sometimes with fluff, but with smut its the worst. i don't know what it is about it, but a lot of white users will prioritize imagining themselves getting f*cked over being a decent human being. we are the minorities so if a bunch of white people try to excuse a white coded reader (and sometimes the reader is just straight up white, not even coded), obviously the writer is gonna side with the support they're receiving, even when they were aware─for even a split second─that what they did was wrong. sometimes it was unintentional, but it was wrong. they'd be like oh my god, you're right, my bad i am so sorry let me fix it or take it down and the sheer amount of white users who had the unmitigated gaul to be like NOOOOO you didn't mean to do that its okay, just leave it everyone knows you didnt mean any harm ♡ was fucking baffling. like they'd say stuff like that with their whole chest, when the writer had already responded, had that moment of realization and when they were about to make it inclusive. i've stressed this before but unconditional support is very dangerous. tell your friends and people you admire when they are wrong so they can correct whatever it is. don't encourage it. i've seen this happen so many times, the encouragement of exclusion and passive racism all just so hundreds or even thousands of white users get to keep the fic they want to f!nger f*ck themselves to. its discouraging. if you ever encounter that anon, speak up, unfollow, or block them. but dont watch and let them spit on you, baby. it hurts my heart.

white creators, i know the support is nice when stuff like this occurs because it's really terrifying to realize you've unintentionally (hopefully not intentionally) hurt and left out a lot of people, but please think about the damage you're doing when you prioritize a fic about a fictional character over the feelings of multiple races and cultures. mistakes are going to be made, that's life. what we choose to do when we make those mistakes, and where go from there is what's really, really important and really telling.

[jbbarnes]

@brooklynsoul : [ ONE ] for sender to take a bullet for receiver.

His hands were steady on the rifle, familiar now, pressed firmly against his shoulder, ready for the recoil. The scope wasn't the best, but it did the job, and he swept his gaze over the area, once a bureaucratic building of some type if the sheer amount of paper fluttering around was anything to go by. A movement at Jones' ten o'clock drew his attention, his finger tightening ever-so-slightly on the trigger, ready to defend when he felt like he'd been deafened.

Dazed, Bucky fell back from his position, landing on his ass, ears ringing in a way they normally didn't when he fired himself. He looked down at his gun as if it had somehow mysteriously pulled it's own trigger before looking up and seeing exactly what had happened as Steve slid down the rubble, away from the protective stance he'd obviously been in.

Steve's name was ripped from Bucky's throat as he watched the crimson bloom through the uniform, his eyes leaving the sight for only the split second it took to pull out his handgun and empty his clip into the fucker who had dared. As he fired, Bucky scrambled down from his perch, rubble sliding under his boots, but he didn't care, he couldn't give less of a fuck about his own safety right now, because Steve was down, Steve had been shot trying to protect him–

Voices were all sounding off around him, but Bucky couldn't get himself to pay attention to what they were saying, falling to his knees at Steve's side. He trusted their team enough to keep them safe for the time being. His hands fluttered uselessly over his form for a moment, before he grit his teeth and pressed down, hard, on the gunshot wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Bile rose in his throat as he felt the warmth under his palms, blood quickly flowing through his fingers. Swallowing, he pressed harder.

"Steve?" he tried, looking panicked up at his face. "Stevie, I need you to answer me, c'mon. You can't do that stupid shit and then check out on me, please, please, Steve."