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peppertoastuniverse · 5 months ago

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something good – gojo satoru x reader

contents: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru mention, ieri shoko mention, light angst with LOTS OF FLUFF, mentally strugging softboy!satoru gojo, lots of yearning, 2 pages of making out, slightly suggestive summary: gojo uncovers hidden memories and realises that all he needs is you wc: 3.6k a/n: thank you to the anon who sent this sweet request!

spring time, second year. “.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before. even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you.

“satoru?” still concentrating on his nintendo DS, he sighs. he recognizes suguru’s tone, it either going to be a deep question or a fucking stupid one. he rolls over with a groan on suguru’s bed to face his best friend, his book that he was reading lay forgotten on his desk. “yeah?” satoru asks lazily, eyes darting back to his flashing screen. “who do you see yourself as in the future?” oh, here we go. satoru fights the need to roll his eyes. “what do you want for your life?” “pff, I want to just fucking beat this level.” he says aggravatingly, groaning dramatically as his character dies again. suguru laughs seeing his flashing screen, previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked suguru’s laugh.

“...don’t you ever think about it though? the future?” the future?

he blinks. blessed with great strength and power, he knew from a young age that that choice wasn’t something that he was lucky enough to have. satoru never had to worry about the future, he had his whole life planned out for him. the thought never saddened him, and why should it? he wasn’t a fool and believed that all things were equal in this world. he was the chosen one, the future of jujutsu society – that was just how life was – another consequence of being the honoured he supposed. but glancing at suguru’s thoughtful expression, the flicker of hope and despair in his violet eyes, his rough hands winding through his dark hair, it was clear to see that this obviously mattered to suguru. satoru didn’t understand where suguru was going with this but it was just like him to worry about things that didn’t matter. satoru sighs, attention back to his game, “i dunno, it’s hard to say when we’re already the strongest. what else could you want?” suguru scoffs, shaking his head “you won’t be a teenager forever – you’d better wake up sooner or later, satoru.” satoru jolts awake, moving his blindfold up to rub his eyes irritatedly.

shit, for once he didnt mean to fall asleep.

still feeling slightly disoriented, he hastily slides off of the couch, moving quickly to his room down the hall. groaning as he glances at the clock in the hall, he sighs hoping to ignore his slightly teary eyes. he was going to be late – you were going to kill him.

satoru hasn’t been sleeping well lately – not that it was from a lack of effort. he’s tried melatonin pills, exercising before bed, even those sleepy girlie time party mocktails – or whatever you called them – but nothing helped. it definitely wasn’t the endless missions that the irritating higher ups were making him go on, he was used to the workload. maybe he was worried about something. walking quickly through his room, satoru wondered if you were getting enough sleep. did you have dreams too? sleep never seemed to be there when he wanted it. rubbing his face, to fully pull himself into reality, satoru could still feel the remnants of the quiet comfort produced by his unexpected dream. he felt shame at the feeling. guilt in the comfort.

satoru didnt get a lot of sleep to begin with, but there were times where the extra hours awake weren’t all bad. he might as well be useful, which is how satoru started learning how to cook in the early hours of the morning, proudly surprising tsumiki and megumi with cute bento boxes. he would binge watch a whole tv series at once, determined to tell nanami all about it at jujutsu tech. but he thinks the best use of his time awake was when he was simply seated on the couch with you, listening to you talk about your day until the drowsiness would overtake you and he could just hold you for a little bit. he liked when you came over, tsumiki and megumi liked it too. just last week, when he saw your expression melt when tsumiki begged you to stay for dinner, giving into her like you always have. satoru remembers your grin as you sat next to silently pleased megumi, picking out the tender pieces of chicken from your plate to give him more of his favourite. when you were around satoru noticed that fushiguros were more at ease, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe it would be better if you moved in. but this was uncharted territory – a necessary boundary– protecting you from the rise and fall of his storm. his greed would have to lay dormant in his dreams.

but the lines were getting blurrier throughout the years. satoru couldnt deny how his face would light up when you’d call him while he was on a lengthy overnight mission. concern smothering the delight in your voice that he was still awake (“satoru! what the fuck, did you even sleep today?”), he’d easy dodge your concerns, covering the fatigue in his voice with teasing remarks and crude jokes to your obvious frown. “tell me something good, satoru” you’d say, seeing right through him like you always did, voice still laced with sweetness, wanting nothing more than to listen to him talk.

taking wide strides across his room to throw something on, satoru rustles quickly into his closet grabbing whatever looked clean and appropriate. if he showed up in his crinkled pajamas again to a meeting again, you’d surely cuss him out. his eyebrows crease at the thought of disappointing you, he was supposed to make you smile not stress you out – he made a promise to himself to always look out for you and there you go again worrying about him.

hastily grabbing the folded dark blue sweater at the back of his closet, blue eyes widen at a box toppling to the floor. its contents dramatically spilling across the cold hardwood floors.

great. he didn’t have time for this. groaning, he quickly kneels down to right the box, his breathing hitches.

strewn across his floor, he sees scenes of his missing dreams. photographs of his time at jujutsu tech as a student, his eyes taking in the many photographs that shoko had taken, moments of a simpler past. gathering the pile of photos, he slowly rifles through them – a photo of shoko and him with matching peace signs, a photo of you doing shoko’s hair, blurry photos of suguru chasing after you when you’d steal his cigarettes, snickering photos of him trying to climb suguru like a tree, a photo of you and kento sharing sandwiches.

another lifetime ago. he picks up the slightly faded photo of himself and you, a reminder of a well loved memory. satoru shakes his head softly at the way you sat on his back while he was sprawled out on the gym mats, his glasses perched at the top of your head acting as a crown on your shit eating face. satoru cant help but grin at his own small pout in the grainy photo. shoko always had the best timing. you had a bet with suguru that if you could get gojo’s glasses, he would treat you to unlimited free ramen from that nice place in shibuya with the fresh noodles for two months.

satoru remembered how you’d excitedly roll off him ignoring his grumbling, “toru, you know i had to win! it’s suguru! have you seen how much sugu eats? that fucker would run me dry! but don’t worry, i’ll get him to pay for you too.”

he never told you that he had let you win of course, not putting up much of a fight, distracted by the smile on your face – so bright that he couldn’t bear to diminish it. you must have had some sort of curse in your smile, even convincing a begrudging suguru into paying for satoru everytime, “sugu, you have to! he’s going to whine and cry, do you really want to deal with that?”

after that month, satoru never went to back that ramen place again– too sick of it to go back. he could hear the creaking floors when the three of you would arrive, the smell of the rich broth and the sound of suguru’s laughter when he teased you. satoru knows you havent had shio ramen since then – you insisted on have ramen for every meal for a month to suguru’s annoyance. perhaps he’d invite you to go eat there again if it was still there.

somewhere in his mind he thinks he hears the warm sound of your arrival, the jingling of the key that he gave you when the fushiguros first moved in. your usual light steps, heavy now with annoyance.

“really, satoru?” you yell, annoyance dripping from your sharp tongue. “i’ve been calling you a billion times, this is an important meeting – we can’t be late again. you fucking said you’d be ready by the time i –” you see his still figure hunched at his closet. your eyes narrow in confusion, your tightened fist unclenching at the sight of his still broad back.

“... satoru?” you call, voice softening as you notice the tension in his shoulders and the unnatural stillness of his too tall body. curiously you creep up behind him, your slow hands feel his shoulders, the tension cold and heavy in his muscles, your hesitant hands leaving a trail of fire behind them. arms weaving their way around his slender neck, a place that you’ve been before. your eyes take in the photos strewn on the floor, visions of a past life swirling in his cluttered mind. your eyes widen.

“..’toru?” you try again – more gently – calling him from the abyss, a light in a rough storm. eventually, you feel his large cold hand reach up to gently hold your right hand in response, his blue eyes tear away from the photographs, tousled white hair leaning against your abdomen, his tired eyes looking up at your concerned face.

“hey.” he greets you, trying to mask his fallen expression with a hollow smile, a carefully practiced defense, something that he developed in childhood but perfected in suguru’s absence. but you knew him well. you knew how his eyebrows would crease or how his lip twitched when he was on the verge of crying.

the dark rings around his eyes echoes you concern – were they darker than usual? you sigh as you take into account his far away stare, his icy watery eyes. crouching down, all anger forgotten, you look over his shoulder to take a closer look at the photo he’s holding. apologetically you let go of his hand in exchange for the photograph, sitting down beside him instead. you miss his eyebrows furrow slightly missing the comforting squeeze of your hand. a bittersweet smile dancing on your face, you stare at the photo, all words dying on your suddenly too heavy tongue. a photo of a past life, a happier time: suguru’s exasperated expression contrasting his bright amethyst eyes, face fashioned in a pout as he was sandwiched obnoxiously in between you and satoru. a wild grin decorating your face, mischievous eyes closed in mid laughter at suguru’s grumbling, while satoru pulled bunny ears behind suguru.

“oh god, look at him.” you whisper pointing out suguru’s dark shorter hair when he first arrived at jujutsu tech. you almost forgot what he looked like before he –

your eyes blink, you didn’t want to think about it.

satoru scoffs, “i know, doesn’t he look like an idiot?”

“remember how you’d make fun of him all the time? you were such a bully to him – he really hated you when we started.” you laugh sadly.

“that’s not my fault, he was fucking asking for it! he kept calling me q-tip! or nepobaby!” he counters, betraying tenderness in his tone. “shut up, i know you liked it when he called you anything close to baby!” you quip back, face denouncing you in a soft grin. a heavy silence invades the intimate space between you two, his absence sitting in between you, his rightful spot now vacant. suguru. you lean your head on satoru’s shoulder, his arm moving around you to settle at your waist instinctively. you look into his eyes reading him easily: i miss him too.

suguru’s defection was still a sore spot in your mind. satoru still hasnt been able to say his name out loud, suguru’s name carrying too much weight. you suspected that satoru wanted to carry his best friend with him despite the heaviness, a sense of masochistic comfort. you hoped that he knew that you were always there for him when the time came, you still felt the hurt too.

but there was a strange sort of solace that still lingered in his name. suguru’s memory was still soft if you focused but the pain caused by his name was still sharp and rough around the edges. when was the last time you and satoru spoke this openly about him?

the memory still hurt. a wound that would reopen at any given movement, unable to heal, cutting deeper as time went by.

mercifully sensing the pounding of your heavy heart, satoru clears his throat and fishes out another photo in the messy pile. a photo of shoko and himself, a cigarette dancing on shoko’s lips, gojo looking at her in mid conversation.

“ewww – look at you here.” you point out, wrinkling your nose, “this really wasnt your best haircut...”

he scoffs, the twinkle in his eyes showing you his amusement. “you’re the one who did it – ”

“oh fuck, right!” you laugh, thinking about the very first time satoru begged you to cut his hair – shoko was away on a rare mission– yelping at you when you closed your eyes in nervousness, resulting in an uneven cut. you both remembered how shoko laughed so hard she cried when she saw him. you definitely didn’t cut his hair this time, admiring his soft locks and even trim. you move your generous hands to comb through his soft hair gently, enjoying the feeling of his undercut under your slow hands. he closes his eyes, a please sigh escaping his lips, tension immediately easing from his body.

“it’s better now though, hey? makes me even more handsome,” he teases, his eyes still closed.

“nah, still ugly. brings out your buggy eyes. ‘m so glad you started wearing the blind fold.” you mutter, still playing with his hair absentmindedly.

ignoring his whine, you laugh, “wow, shoko still looks amazing though.. look at her cute little cheeks! I forgot how she used to put pins in her hair like that.” previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked your laugh.

he watches while a strange far away expression infiltrates your face, picking up a photo, edges creased contrasting the vividness of his memory. shoko and suguru smiling at the camera, while you and satoru were in mid conversation smiling at each other. spring time, second year.

“.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.

even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you. your presence somehow simultaneously exciting him and putting him at ease. maybe it started when you stole his glasses in first year, or the countless detentions you both got in. surely, it must have been the night that suguru left. in the darkness he wasn’t sure who was holding who, your tears mixing with his as you clung to him in your sleep.

maybe it was when you showed up at megumi’s school when he first got into a fight even though you were in the middle of a mission last month, a fire in your eyes. or maybe it was when you comforted tsumiki when she came home upset over a fight with one of her friends. maybe it was in the way you talked her through it, rubbing her back gently while you listened to her through her teary words. or when you ate all his mochi yesterday, cheekily claiming “you said you’d share, satoru!” whenever it started, he knew that something different was blossoming into maturity in the past few months – something that he never knew could be a possibility – let alone for someone like him.

“we should take an updated photo, we never have photos of just us,” you decide, turning to face him fully. “my phone or yours?” he asks, eyes still the photo, breathing in the way you smiled at him all those years ago. unchanged.

“mhm, yours.” you say as he digs his phone out of his back pocket. “i want a good one, ‘kay toru?? i dont need any more photos of you sticking your tongue out..” you mutter, scooching closer to him. “oy, come closer – you’re so far,” you whine, grabbing his forearm urging him to get closer for a better photo.

“c’mere then..” he mutters, gently shuffling you so that you’re sitting in his lap, as you hum in content at the warmth of his skin against yours. he easily drowned you, this familiar place, his familiar embrace. yet this time you felt the tide shift, something softer, vulnerable – the calm waters after a storm. you lean your head to his as you both smile for the camera as the shutter echoes through the room.

moving impossibly closer to you, he turns his head towards you, his phone lay forgotten on the floor. sensing his stare you turn your head to his, eyes questioning his soft gaze. as the air grows thicker bursting with the weight of years of fondness and poorly hidden desires, your eyes flicker to the curve of his lips. breathing the same air as him, you feel light headed, drunk off the very presence of him.

inching closer he feels his soft lips meet yours, a fluttering feeling, hesitant and foreign but firm and sure. you easily wind your arms around his neck, sighing as you pull him closer, jumping into the deep end when you’ve been wading in the shallows for years. he effortlessly maneuvers you to straddle his lap, large hands pressing against your back, pulling you closer to meld his heart to yours, his hands begging to memorize the feeling of you.

too preoccupied drowning in him, you hesitantly break away from him to breathe, only to rest your forehead on his. grounding yourself in the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek, uneven and heavy, your erratic heartbeat threatens to break the fragile silence. the air grew hot and heavy, buzzing with anticipation and nerves. satoru bumps his slender nose with your playfully, causing you to grin. a relieved smile dancing on his face in reply, a silent conversation dancing in his eyes, a celebration of his love, a proclamation of his devotion to you, an apology for waiting this long, an admission of forever.

needing to feel more of him, you move your hand to cup his flushed cheek, the sweetness in his skin grounds you once more – satoru was always the question and the solution wound tightly into one. confessions of the past and future swirling in his blue, you meet the weight of his tender gaze like you were carrying the strongest’s life in your very hands. his skin burning with your touch, you greedily move to kiss him to soothe the ache, swallowing his smile in your greed.

melting with the reassurance of his lips to yours like a signature on a previously forgotten love letter, you wonder how you lasted this long without his lips on yours. you bite back a pleased smile as he reciprocates eagerly, deepening the kiss, tongues dancing, his soft lips moving in tandem with a bruising promise to always be yours if you let him. when your hands weave through his hair, a dark purr escaping his throat, reverberating through your core. his arm grips you tightly as his other hand moves to settle at the nape of your neck, feeling your heart beat in sync through his flushed skin.

breathlessly, with great effort two magnets part, your hands loosening your grip on his soft t shirt. breaths tangling together, drinking in each other.

still intoxicated by the feeling of you, satoru can’t help but nuzzle into your warmth, his forehead finding yours once more. his eyes still on your swollen lips, evidence of his want, his mind already on the thought of kissing you again, like he would die without the feeling. “y’okay?” you mumble, heaving chest enjoying his touch.

he chuckles at the absurdity of your question, you should know by now that he was always okay as long as you were with him – the only time that he feels he would get better is when you were there.

“hey – don’t laugh…” you mutter suddenly embarrassed by his stare, a deeper blush finding a way onto your cheeks emphasizing your growing pout. laughing fully now, his strong arms bring you closer as they wind around your waist sweetly.

unable to resist, you lightly kiss his jawline as his wandering hands brush some hair out of your face. “hmph, you’re such a dick and after everything i do for you too…” you playfully whisper without malice, leaning into his broad chest, rolling your eyes.

“mm.. how should i make it up to you?” he mumbles, slender hand tilting your chin up to force your gaze to look at him. as you bravely meet his tender gaze, you notice that something different was in his eyes.

“damn, i gotta help you with that one too?” you tease, giggle blooming in your throat as he kisses your nose gently. “well… i have a few ideas.” he hums, moving to kiss you fully, slow and sweet savouring you. “you always do…” you mutter, eyes on his grinning lips.

perhaps now he could answer suguru’s question he thought as you move to rest your head on his shoulder. satoru knew he wanted you. holding you in his arms now, feeling your shy smile on his neck – he knew that you were something good.

requests are open a/n: they did not make it to the meeting lol ngl this request was tough, but i loved the challenge of writing my first smoochie smoochie scene. reposting this as a stand alone piece for maintenance.

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

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jazzyoranges · 1 year ago

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Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”

“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way

“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”

“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed

You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.

The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile

The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear

“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage

“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”

“Writers block?”

“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”

“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”

“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”

“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed

“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”

You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull

“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going

“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you

“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer

You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you

For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod

The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow

You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put

As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her

And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements

Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.

But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations

With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022)#wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #thing addams #enid sinclair

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o-sachi · 9 months ago

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Nose Boops - Drabble for WinBre Week!

ᯓ something's suspicious about sakura... time to find out why ᯓ character; sakura haruka (wind breaker) ᯓ tags; fluff, tsundere sakura, afab reader, no y/n

[🐟]: for day 4 - accidental pet acquisition prompt! @windbreakerweek

Sakura's been acting strange.

Like reaaaaaally strange.

He was supposed to walk with you back home today, but somehow he suddenly has to patrol at that exact time. You knew his patrol schedule like the back of your own hand and you were certain that he didn't have to patrol. Besides, you knew Hiragi wasn't the type of guy to stray from fixed routines.

Anyway, you didn't like doubting him, so you asked Nirei. One text message and you confirmed that... Sakura was lying to you.

At first, you didn't know what to feel. Sakura was the most honest person that you knew and even if he did lie—he was way too obvious. But then again, it's always the person that you least expect to do you wrong.

Instead of walking straight back home later that day, you decided to investigate a bit. You checked out the usual streets that their team would roam around in. But nothing. You saw a couple of Furin boys, but none of them were familiar to you.

You even checked the cafe and asked Kotoha if he had been there. But still no luck. It was then you figured that maybe he was already at home. If he wasn't there either... well, that's definitely a cause for concern.

Part of you was incredibly nervous with what was waiting for you at his place, but all that worry dissipated in an instant at the sight that greeted you: Sakura walking the little puppy that you two found on the side of the street a week ago.

He had a small smile on his face, one that he reserved only for you (sometimes for his friends too, but he won't admit it). Sakura even bought the little thing a new collar and leash. You weren't exaggerating when you thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

Soon enough, he noticed your presence. His smile shifted into a flustered frown. "W-what are you doing here?" he asks, pointing at you.

You walk over to them, a toothy grin on your face. "Oh, I dunno... maybe I just wanted to see what my boyfriend was so busy with. But it's definitely not because of patrolling."

"Shaddap..."

He turns to look away, hoping to hide the rosiness of his cheeks. But as he looks away, the puppy takes notice of you and rubs her tiny head against your leg.

Crouching down, you pat her softly. "Aww, hey there. Is he taking good care of you hm?"

The dog can't really speak, but with the way it's wagging its tail—tells you that she loves her new owner.

"He can be a bit scary sometimes, but he's the biggest sweetheart. Don't you think so?"

Sakura clicks his tongue. "Stop talking about me with Momo."

"Momo?"

His cheeks turn into a deeper shade of scarlet. He was biting down on his lower lip so hard that you wouldn't be surprised if it just started bleeding.

"T-the dog... Momo," he replies. As much as he tried to keep his cool, he was certainly failing at it. Even though you two have been going out for a few months now, it still wasn't that difficult to render him into a blushing mess.

"You named her?"

"How would I talk to her if I didn't?"

Point. You turned to look back at the dog, smiling warmly at her. "Your name's Momo huh? That's cute," you say before booping her nose.

You stand back up and face Sakura who was struggling to look you in the eye. He opens his mouth to speak only to stop. But he tries again.

"Don't even start and tease m—"

Boop. You just booped his nose—the same way you did with Momo.

It left his jaw hanging, unsure if you really just did what you did. With his brows furrowed, he picks up the dog in his arms. You wanted to be serious just like him, but you found it hard to maintain your composure at such an unusual (but lovely) sight.

"Keep teasing me and I won't let you go near her. No petting... defintiely no booping."

He says all that with a straight face. And off he goes—back inside his humble abode with his little friend in his clutches.

For a guy that refused to take in that dog a week ago... he sure has taken quite a liking for her.

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #sakura haruka #sakura x reader #sakura haruka x reader #wind breaker week #fish does winbre week

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cautious-soup · 19 days ago

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Ex-Bully!Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sequel to my Bully!Satoru Gojo story.

You and Satoru spend time together, all the while pretending the two of you together aren't a disaster.

CW// discussion of non-con

A/N: READ ME!! This is an experimental chapter, I'm dubious on whether or not this is a good direction to take the story. Please vote in the polls at the end of you like this direction!!!

ALSO please vote after reading on which JJK character I should write about next!! Tysm, and please enjoy this new chapter :)

✿❀✿❀✿

2 months. That was how long Satoru had gone without touching you. That time was part of an eternity to him, an eternity where he never got to see you again. It was endless at best, and maddening at worst.

The world really was on the side of awful people. That he was able to see you again at all, hold you, kiss you—what right did he have?

"I don't completely forgive you, it just isn't possible," you'd said, and he understood.

He told you he was sorry, but not for hurting you. No, if he could go back to when you both first met, he'd do it all over again—nothing felt as good as taking from you.

He was sorry for wanting to hurt you, for reveling in it, craving it.

It wasn't his secret to keep, so he told you as much.

"…that's fucked up," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "You say all of that while I'm alone with you?"

Satoru looks down and wrings his hands. It was the day after the cafe, and Satoru invited you to the hotel he was staying at. You obliged his invitation, against your better judgement. Every interaction you had with this man was against your better judgement really. Now, you were both sitting on the couch in his hotel room, trying and failing to have a productive, adult conversation.

"Have you…been to therapy at all?" He asks carefully.

"What good would that do when I still…" you sigh, "Every part of my being is screaming at me to get away from you…and every part of my being is pleading for me to stay with you."

Madness.

"I can't," Satoru looks at you, "I can't promise I won't end up doing something selfish—something that'll hurt you."

"Well yeah, you clearly can't control your impulses," you snort.

"I can control them I—Y/N, I've never been this way about anyone but you. I beat up a guy at a party for cornering a chick once,"

"So you're a hypocrite?"

"…at best."

More silence.

Nothing about this was safe or sane. You were a rabbit twining itself with a wolf who was never satisfied. How long before he devoured you whole?

Maybe you were a masochist.

"I don't know what it is about you," Satoru said lowly, gazing at you, unblinking, "I get things from you that I can't from anyone—anything else."

Satoru is closing the space between you, clutching your shoulders, "Y/N, you have to get away from me. I know you said you'd give me a second chance but I don't deserve it. Whatever you choose to give me won't ever be enough…"

You know that. You know that, and yet.

"You are so mentally unwell," you sigh.

"I learn from the best," Satoru joked, letting go of you.

"Hey, you went crazy way before I did," you say, and Satoru shrugs, "I dunno, you definitely could've called the campus police on me or something."

"Oh so we're victim blaming now?"

"No of course not I'm just saying th—ow!"

Satoru rubs his shoulder, "Ok ok, sorry. My fault."

"Yep."

"…"

"…can we please make out now?"

"You finally learned how to ask for things?" You ask, shuffling over the couch cushions toward him.

"Yeah, I studied for years," Satoru hummed, laying his hands on your waist and pulling you forward.

Your lips come together, and the most agonizing bliss washes over you.

Nothing else feels like this. Nothing.

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Recent Search History:

Whats codependantcy

(Did you mean codependency?)

Is codependantcy bad?

(Did you mean codependency?)

Codependent relationships example

Am I a bad person?

I'm in love and it hurts

I feel insane

Does she think about me as much as I think about her?

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"Oh my god, stop asking,"

"I thought consent was a good thing—"

"Yes but not every two minutes," you whimper, wrapping your legs tighter around Satoru's waist, "Please just," you can't finish. You've never wanted him this bad. It's embarassing.

But Satoru is flushed too, mouth wet and half open, eyes lidded and entranced with you.

"Before…" you start, and Satoru dazedly meets your eyes. You feel yourself getting flustered—his looks really were unfair.

"A-ah um, before you always said I wasn't your type, um…" you don't let on how much it got to you, all of the comments about you being "plain" and "a 6 at best".

But you were only human.

Satoru's brows bunch together, and he sighs, letting his forhead fall against your shoulder.

"I was just being a dick…" he murmured, "Um…fuck I really am the worst,"

"No," you sit up slightly, "No, you don't get to sulk. You made your bed, now lie in it."

"…well I'm lying in a bed now," he says, pulling away from your shoulder just enough to look at you.

"You're annoying," you sigh, pulling Satoru's face towards yours and kissing him again.

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How do you want it?

I don't know.

Please—tell me.

I don't know just…stop asking. Do what you've always done.

…ok

✿❀✿❀✿

"Whatever I want?" You ask, glancing up at him.

"Anything," he says, "Please, get anything you want. Even if it feels impulsive."

Earlier in the hotel room, Satoru laid panting beside you and asked, "What do you, haah, what do you like to do around here anyway?"

You'd shrugged, "Eh, there's nothing to do around here besides eat and shop. I like the movies best. The malls are nice too, especially the more expensive one, though I mostly just do window shopping there…"

"…window shopping?" He'd asked. You realize it must be an unfamiliar concept for someone like him, seeing something you want and not having it immediately.

He looked at you strangely after you explained. The next thing you knew, you were at said expensive shopping center, with Satoru encouraging you to pick out everything you wanted.

"Well," you say, sipping a 10 dollar pistichio latte, "This is definitely a start."

Satoru smiles indulgently at you. He's been looking at you the whole time, actually, watching you flit about every store, urging you towards the most expensive items and laughing at your reactions to the prices.

He kept steering you towards clothing stores too, and picking out clothes for you like a fussy parent. He did have good taste to be fair.

You were still flustered though— Satoru didn't do anything to hide the dark satisfaction that crossed his features whenever you emerged from a dressing, room covered head to toe in obscenely expensive clothes he'd chosen for you.

"Anywhere else you wanna go?" He asks, watching as you finish your coffee.

"Hm," you look down at the floor surrounding your table. An army of bags were at both of your feet. Satoru insisted on carrying everything, but after a while he just looked like a walking pile of bags himself. So you took as many as you could carry. Even between the two of you, it was still overwhelming.

"…maybe we should head to the car and uh, put these away,"

Satoru looked down at the bags, laughing, "Sheesh, did we really get this much?"

"I guess so," you say.

"Then, let's go see a movie,"

"Which one?"

"Whichever one is most popular at the time of reading," Satoru says.

You both go see a movie that's very relevant. You let yourself order items off the theater menu you didn't know existed.

"Why's this place have waffles?" Satoru snickered.

"Why're you soaking yours in so much syrup?" You ask, watching as the waffle practically drowns.

"The more sugar the better," he says simply.

The person in front of you turns and scowls, and you smile apologetically.

But Satoru wouldn't stop talking during the movie and making you laugh, and his hand somehow made its way up your thigh.

Some part of you wanted to recoil, but another part of you wanted to lean into the tough tenfold.

This isn't normal you think, lacing yours and Satoru's fingers together.

✿❀✿❀✿

"How's your head, by the way?"

Satoru glances away from the road at you, confused. You hesitate, then clarify, "When I slugged you with my graduation mug."

"Oh!" He says, "Yeah I'm fine. You should've hit me harder to be honest."

"Yeah I get it, you're the worst. God, how do you still manage to keep the conversation about you?" You ask, exasperated.

"Hey you asked me this time," he says.

"Ah, this is it," you say after a few minutes. Satoru nods, pulling in front of your house.

"I'll help you bring the bags in," he says, and you nod.

Your parents were the type to have the garage door closed even when they were home. You never had any way of knowing if they were gone until you went inside.

And alas, they were home.

Your mom stares at you and Satoru from the kitchen. You watch her work through everything in her head, watch her eyes dart from him, to you, to the host of shopping bags you're both carrying, to the red spot on your neck that you didn't bother covering up.

"Oh my," she whispers.

✿❀✿❀✿

A/N: HERE ARE THE POLLS PLEASE VOTE THANKS

Just realized you can't have two polls in one post so here's the other one

Thanks for reading sorry for all the chaos lol

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starrylayle · 3 months ago

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women (of colour) in severance

an incoherent rambling about the female characters in severance, specifically focusing on Gemma and Helly. Mostly Gemma. A bit of Alexa too. Spoilers under the cut.

Ok so to start off, I absolutely adore all the women characters in severance they're all soo spectacularly written.

I remember when I first started the show, I thought that Helly was going to be the stereotypical, fiery and the only female protagonist whose story started off interesting but in the end her only character purpose was to be Mark's love interest. Boy, was I wrong. First the elevator suicide scene and then the Helena reveal, I knew this show knew how to write women.

Similarly, when Ms. Casey was first revealed, I remember rolling my eyes, thinking, oh look another stereotypical robot-like Asian lady who has no greater character purpose. Then, it was revealed that Ms Casey was (partially?) severed and not a part of the staff like I'd initially assumed. Of course, then the Ms Casey = Gemma reveal happened and I was SHOOK. Like,, you mean to tell me that she is actually an important character with narrative purpose? And Mark's wife -- I had assumed she was a -- white woman -- who would never actually have a character arc and would only be shown in dead-wife-john-wick-style flashbacks to further the plot.

I became so hyped. Two characters, the 'dead' wife and wellness lady, were actually one which meant they (she) would actually have character arcs!! And she's a woman of color!! Woohoo!!

But now that season 2 is progressing, as much as i absolutely adore it, I'm just worried that Gemma/Ms Casey will not have the caharcter arcs I wanted. Especially the theory that Casey is secretly a clone and not actually Gemma,,, or that she's brain dead,, or that she'll die again,, or whatever else. I know that it narratively works, but I just wish there was some way that Gemma/Ms Casey could have a proper character/character arc, even if it resulted in death at the end. I hear a lot of Mark/Gemma and Orpheus/Eurydice parallels which gives me hope because Eurydice is still a fully formed character (at least in the musical Hadestown llolol). I've seen some people theorise that Mark may have romantacised his marriage with Gemma and maybe they weren't as happy as they seemed?? Which I highly doubt, considering the info we were given in 'The You You Are'. Or maybe she secretly worked for Lumon beforehand?? I dunno how I feel about these theories but they would definitely make for an interesting plotline and character arc.

I guess what I've realised is that the show writes white women very well (Helly/helena, Ms Cobelvig and Devon) and their woc counterparts,,, not so much. Still holding out hope for Miss Huang, Reghabi (what is her deal btw?? I must know!!), Natalie and Gemma/Ms Casey, and that they will have fleshed out characters by the end, but who knows.

This may be an unpopular opinion, but Alexa, the woman mark went on a date with, was actually a favourite of mine. I was convinced she was gonna be relevant to the plot lmao. but eh she feels more of the 'disposable Black gf trope' :( tbh I'm still delusional enough to believe she will come back. Maybe if Ricken beomes a sell-out Devon will leave him date Alexa?? Yes I sound like a delusional lesbian but cmon Devon clearly liked her enough to recommend her to Mark?? maybee?/ Anyways this was a tangent. Maybe if they decide to go the Helly got pregnant route (which I hope they don't unless it ends in miscarriage) Alexa will be there coz she's a midwife (or doula?? I hear different ppl say different things??)

Anyways, I know this is all very far from the main narrative so I don't mind too much, I'm just hoping that they fully flesh out Gemma because she, along with Mark and Helly, are at the core of the story.

#severance #severance spoilers #ms casey #gemma scout #helly r #helena eagan #severance season 2 #plsss al I want is a fully fleshed Gemma character arc #A Gemma that exists outside of mark #also PLEASEEEE don't let her be a robot or clone or smth #ugh i hate when that happens

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la-gotica-fantasma · 2 months ago

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8 realistic situations to add to your writing -

Disclaimers: I cannot stress enough that I am not at all trying to tell you what to write, these are just some concepts / prompts. - My title does not mean that your more lovey-dovey scenes are unrealistic, I just couldn't think of how to title this - Some of these are scenes that have been used in my writing, so if by the off chance you are using any of these, please don’t copy the dialogue word for word. :}

ROMANTIC -

1) When both of them are cuddling / holding hands and one of them starts sweating.

★ “Ugh! I love you, but I don’t love all this sweat you produce!” “But it’s my love for you seeping out of my pores!” “I couldn't care less what it is. Off!” “Fine, your majesty.”

2) Each character hating their mother in law / partners mother

★ “Mom is asking to visit.” “And do what?” “I’m not sure, check up on everyone?” “She can check up her own ass for the stick I know she’s lost up there.”

★ “Well, your mother is no saint.” “She never claimed to be!” “Uh-huh, and when has mine?” “Circa-” “Okay! Truce?” “Truce.”

3) Character X bringing up a pet peeve they have with Character Y at a family gathering.

★ “Character Y does this one thing when they eat- they never scoop up their food with their fork, they’ll just attack it! Sometimes I can’t stand it.” “You never told me that bothered you?” “It didn’t bother me enough to mention it.” “Not until a family dinner?” “I didn’t mean anything negative by it-” **cue Character Y aggressively attacking their food with their fork** “Okay, I get it! We’ll talk later.”

4) Character X and Character Y bake with each other, except realistically.

★ “Character X, why are your arms wrapped around me?” “Because I love you.” “I love you too but I also love being able to actually mix the ingredients together.”

★ “Get the eggs!” “You told me to stop buying eggs because ‘inflation will kill us all’.” “I wasn’t wrong but, UGH-! I need eggs!” “Well I got them anyway, but still.”

★ “Stop touching things!” “How am I supposed to bake without touching anything?!” “You aren’t!”

5) Planning lies they'll tell in 5 years when people ask how they met.

★ "What if we say that we were playing bumper cars and I hit you so hard I fell into your car?" "Hmm.. how about we say that I was going to my best friends wedding and I was all down and glum, but a friend of mine told me to 'have some fun' and that maybe I'd meet someone special at the wedding, and that's when I saw you. You and a little yellow umbrella that I've seen in so many places before, and we just talked about our past together?" "I think that's been done before." "By who?" "One of the most popular rom-coms ever aired."

★ "We could say I saved you from-" "I'm gonna stop you right there." "Fine. What's your idea then, if you're so smart?" "We tell them we met in a psychiatric ward." "Wow. Exquisite thinking." "Just imagine the looks on their faces!"

PLATONIC / ROMANTIC -

6) Those moments where neither party can decide on something so they do nothing, only for them both to yell out what they want and it coincidentally be an agreement.

★ “What do you want for dinner?” “I’m not sure, what do you want?” “I dunno.” **cue them both lazing around, doing nothing for minutes** “Spaghetti.” “It’s like you can read my mind.”

7) Character X asking Character Y how their day went, and Character Y just breaks down in tears- not because their day was bad, but just because Character X asked.

★ “Hi, how was work?” **cue ‘ugly’ sobbing** “Oh no, was it really that bad?” “No- It just- It was just- sweet to- ask-”

8) Stuff that should be awkward really not being awkward at all.

★ “Did you just fart?” “Yeah.” “Okay, good.” “‘Good’?” “Good that it’s not a gas leak.” “Yeah, I had to force it out a little bit.” "So definitely not a leak." "Definitely not."

p.s. Your writing is captivating as always suga, and I am abidingly proud of you and your work. <3

Morbid affection,

- Tipsy ᓚᘏᗢ

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makingfanfictionstosleep · 5 days ago

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theirs to share

a/n : jjk characters not mine. contains heavy lemons / mature scenes as the story progresses. reverse harem. femoc x nanami/geto/gojo. jjk alternate au.

Wattpad Link : Theirs to Share

status : 𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔

<…previous ... next…>

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

NINETEEN

DARE OR DRINK

The low amber glow of a paper lantern flickers over the table, casting warm shadows across the half-drained sake bottles, forgotten shot glasses, and a sinister little bowl of folded dares.

You’re sprawled comfortably between Satoru and Suguru on one side, while Nanami sits across from you, sleeves rolled up, collar loosened just enough to hint at trouble.

You’re tipsy now, not enough to ensure a hangover. Not yet anyway.

Satoru grins, his blindfold nowhere in sight, blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Okay, okay—next round. But this time, let’s spice it up. You draw a dare, or you drink and answer a truth question chosen by us.”

“I like this version already,” Suguru murmurs, voice like silk dipped in something sinful. He leans his shoulder into yours, his fingers brushing your thigh like it’s a casual thing. It’s not.

Nanami sighs, sipping his whiskey like he regrets every life choice that brought him to this moment. But his eyes flick to you. He’s watching closely—too closely.

You smirk and reach for the dare bowl. You draw:

“Lick whipped cream off the person with blonde hair color… blindfolded.”

Satoru howls with laughter, already summoning a blindfold and a can of whipped cream from a mysterious bag that should absolutely not exist. “Who writes these?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Dunno. Mei Mei gave it to us, remember?” Satoru and Suguru say in unison.

You and Nanami groaned. Right, it had to be Mei Mei.

“Well then,” you purr, snatching the blindfold from Satoru’s hand, “There’s only one blonde man in here…”

To your surprise, he sighs—but stands, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt and sitting back down, arm outstretched. “Fine. But make it quick.”

Suguru’s leaning in, eyes dancing. “Oh, he’s definitely going to regret that.”

Blindfolded, you feel for his arm—broad, warm, the muscle twitching under your fingers. Then the sweet sound of whipped cream hissing into your hand. You smear a dollop against his forearm, then slowly, slowly, drag your tongue across his skin.

Nanami’s breath catches.

The room is dead silent.

Then Suguru exhales, low and hoarse. “That was… indecent.”

Satoru whistles, fanning himself dramatically. “Holy shit.”

You pull off the blindfold with a wink. “Next.”

Satoru’s turn. He draws:

“Remove an article of clothing every time you dodge a dare.”

He immediately chugs his drink. “I love this game.”

Hours pass. Dares escalate. Suguru dares you to whisper the filthiest thing you’ve thought about him while on a mission (you do, right into his ear—he chokes on his drink).

Nanami is dared to let you straddle him for one full minute while everyone watches (he handles it like a soldier, jaw clenched, hands refusing to move—until the minute is over and he murmurs, “We’ll talk about this later”).

Satoru ends up shirtless, his white tee somewhere on the ceiling fan, and he dares you to kiss the one you think is the best kisser.

You pause, looking between all three.

Suguru leans forward. “Choose wisely.”

Nanami watches, impassive—but his ears are turning red.

Satoru smirks, arms wide. “Come on, babe. You know it’s me.”

You rise slowly. The air is charged.

Then you walk right over to Suguru, grab him by the collar, and kiss him deep—slow, sinful, like you’re claiming him in front of the gods.

Then you turn toward Satoru with that look in your eye—the one that makes time stop.

“You’re all the best kissers.”

Satoru blinks. Then grins, sharp and bright like a blade unsheathed.

“Now that’s the correct answer.”

You close the space between you and him in a blink, fisting a hand in the front of his open shirt as you crush your mouth to his. He responds instantly—hungrily—tilting his head to deepen the kiss, one hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist like he’s trying not to lose himself entirely.

Kissing Satoru is like falling through the sky: reckless, weightless, a little dangerous. He tastes like sake and something sweet, and when he pulls back, his lips are kiss-bruised and his breath is ragged.

“I’m gonna need a minute,” he mutters, licking his lips like he already misses you.

You don’t give him one.

You turn toward Nanami, who has not moved a muscle. He’s watching, eyes dark behind his glasses, jaw tense. When you step in front of him, he exhales slowly, as though bracing for impact.

You don’t ask permission.

You climb into his lap.

Your hands frame his face as you kiss him—slowly this time, a contrast to the others. You feel the way his hands grip your hips, not hard, but firm, as if he's been waiting for this but didn’t think it would actually happen.

And gods, Nanami kisses like he means it. Like he doesn’t waste time on anything unintentional. It's controlled, deep, reverent. He kisses you like you’re the last thing he’ll ever hold.

When you finally pull back, his voice is low, rough. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You brush your nose against his, lips still barely apart. “I think we all are.”

You glance to the side. Suguru is watching with something feral behind his gaze, like he wants to throw the table aside and claim you right then. Satoru has his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his palms, utterly wrecked and loving every second.

And you?

You sit, smug, in Nanami’s lap, looking at the three most dangerous sorcerers you’ve ever known—your heart pounding, your lips tingling, your pulse racing.

Suguru is the next to draw.

He flicks the bowl with a finger, eyes never leaving yours as he plucks a slip of paper and unfolds it with dramatic flair.

“Choose someone to feed you something using only their mouth. No hands.”

A beat of silence.

Then Suguru smiles. Slow. Dangerous. Lethal.

“Feed me, baby girl.”

Satoru’s already cackling. “What do you want, a strawberry? Ice? A shot glass?” He’s rummaging through his bag like a feral raccoon until he pulls out a cherry, grinning like he’s won the lottery.

You take it from him—and turn to Suguru.

“I’ll feed you,” you say, voice steady, sultry, unflinching.

Suguru sits back, arms spread along the back of the couch like a king awaiting tribute. “Be gentle.”

You hold the cherry between your teeth, its stem dangling, then lean in—knees straddling his lap without warning. His smirk twitches, barely suppressed, as your lips meet his in a kiss that’s slow and teasing. His mouth parts just enough for the cherry, but not enough to keep him from tasting you, too.

The cherry disappears. So does any semblance of sanity.

The kicker?

You pull back, the cherry stem dangling from your lips. You bite it, your tongue working deftly to tie it into a knot. You hold it up, a smug smile on your face, showing off your little trick. Suguru's eyes widen, a low whistle escaping his lips, "Fuck," he mutters, his voice filled with admiration and desire.

“Shit,” Satoru mutters under his breath.

Nanami downs his entire drink.

Your turn again.

You draw, and your breath hitches.

“Describe your last dream about one of us—in explicit detail. Or drink and take a body shot off the person to your left.”

You glance to your left.

Satoru.

His smirk grows so sharp it could cut steel. “Aw, poor princess. Gonna tell us who you were dreaming about? Or take your punishment?”

You don't flinch. You reach for the salt, lime, and a shot of tequila.

Satoru stretches out on the couch, one arm behind his head. “Be gentle, princess,” he says, voice like sin wrapped in cotton candy.

You sprinkle salt along his toned abs, shoot him a look that says payback’s coming, and dip your head.

The salt melts on your tongue, warm skin beneath it, and when you chase it with the tequila and the lime between Satoru’s teeth, he moans softly into your mouth like it physically pains him not to pull you on top of him right then and there.

Suguru looks ready to kill. Or join in.

Nanami’s fist is clenched so tight his knuckles are white.

You lick your lips, exhale slowly, and say, “Next.”

Nanami draws:

“Let the person across from you make a hickey somewhere visible—or drink and let them whisper what they’d do to you if they had you alone for five minutes.”

You’re across from him.

He freezes. He knows this is a trap. But he also doesn’t look away.

Finally, he leans forward, unfastens the first few buttons of his shirt, and tilts his neck toward you. “Do your worst.”

You don’t hesitate. You lean in, slowly, brushing your lips against his skin just once before you bite—gentle at first, then deeper, enough to leave your mark. His breath hitches. His hand slides instinctively to your hip, fingers digging in.

When you pull back, the red bloom on his neck is damning. And gorgeous.

“I’ll wear a scarf tomorrow,” he mutters, voice wrecked.

“Wear nothing,” Suguru says under his breath, staring at you like you’ve undone his very soul.

“Next round,” you whisper.

Satoru reaches into the bowl again, slow and deliberate, like he’s already decided the game belongs to him now.

He unfolds the slip, reads it silently, then grins.

“Remove an article of clothing from the person of your choice... using only your teeth.”

“Oh absolutely,” he purrs, eyes locking on you like you're dessert.

He stalks toward you on his knees, hand brushing your thigh. “May I?”

You tilt your head, biting your lip. “Let’s see what those lips can really do, Toru.”

He hums against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing as he ducks beneath your skirt. You feel the gentle scrape of his teeth against your stomach as he tugs at the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it upward with deliberate, teasing precision.

His nose brushes against your abdomen, his lips grazing the sensitive flesh as he continues his ascent. You gasp softly, your body tensing in anticipation as he finally reaches your bra, his mouth tugging at the fabric, his breath hot on your skin.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he makes a show of peeling the shirt over your head, his fingers brushing against your sides, your arms, your shoulders. He tosses the garment aside carelessly, his gaze roaming over your exposed torso, his pupils dilating with desire.

You're left in just your bra and skirt, your chest heaving, your skin flushed, your body aching for his touch

Satoru leans back to admire his handiwork.

“I deserve a prize,” he says, eyes dark.

“You’ll get a kiss if you’re good.”

So naturally, he grabs your face and kisses you senseless. It's all teeth and tongue, your fingers tangling in his hair, his hands roaming your waist, cupping your ass like he’s mapping the edge of his sanity.

When you part, dazed and panting, you don’t even get a moment to recover before—

Suguru pulls the next dare.

“Kiss someone anywhere but their lips. And don’t stop until they say your name.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

He stands, grabs your wrist, and pulls you gently into his lap, facing him.

Then his lips find your throat.

Soft at first. Then lower.

Your collarbone. Your shoulder. The swell of your chest above your bra. His hands hold you firm as his mouth devours—a path of kisses and barely-there grazes with his teeth that make your breath catch.

But you’re stubborn. You don’t say his name.

So he kisses lower, across your ribs, dangerously close to where the fabric hugs you. One of his hands slips beneath the band of your skirt, not indecent—yet—but possessive. His teeth scrape your waist.

Still, you don’t break.

He growls softly against your skin, and then—he bites gently, but with intention.

You gasp.

“Suguru.”

Victory.

His smirk is almost cruel as he pulls back. “Good girl.”

You’re dizzy. You barely realize Nanami is drawing next.

“Kiss three places on someone that aren’t usually kissed.”

You raise a brow at him, chest still heaving.

He takes a sip of his drink.

Then he reaches for your hand.

He kisses the inside of your wrist first—soft and lingering.

Then your ankle, after gently removing your boot, sliding his hand along your calf with reverence.

And finally... he kisses the center of your back.

He leans in close after. “You deserve more than lips can give.”

You swallow thickly.

Then the bowl is in front of you again.

“Have a make-out session with your love interest/s. No breaks.”

You smirk. “Oh, gladly.”

You grab Satoru, pulling him towards you with a fierce desperation. Your lips crash against his in a kiss that's hungry, urgent, like you're trying to devour him whole. He responds instantly, his hands roaming your body with a feverish intensity. He grips your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth, claiming you.

He trails his fingers down your spine, arching you into him, his other hand gripping your thigh with a desperation that makes your breath hitch. His touch is possessive, eager, like he's trying to brand you, to mark you as his. He squeezes your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, pressing you against the hard length of him. You can feel his desire, hot and insistent, and it fuels your own, your body aching for more, for everything he can give you.

Suguru doesn't hesitate, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that steals your breath. His tongue demands entrance, plunging into your mouth, dominating, claiming. His hands bury themselves in your hair, gripping tightly, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply, dangerously.

He pulls you flush against him, your bodies melding together, his heart pounding wildly against your chest. You moan into his mouth, the sound muffled by his kiss, fueling his passion. His hands slide down your back, gripping your ass possessively.

He squeezes hard, spreading your cheeks, his fingers digging into your flesh. You gasp as you feel your folds part, your arousal growing with each passing second. Unable to resist, you grind yourself against his crotch, feeling his hardness, thick and insistent, pressing against your core. He groans, his hips bucking forward, seeking more friction, more heat, more of you.

Nanami's kiss is a study in control, a man who has imagined this moment countless times and refuses to rush it. He grips your chin, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he stares into your eyes. Then he kisses you, his lips soft at first, a gentle exploration, before pressing harder, deeper, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you.

His hands roam your back, his touch firm and possessive, mapping every curve, every dip. He tugs at your hair, a sharp, delicious pain that makes you moan into his mouth. You grind against him, feeling his hardness, massive and insistent, pressing against your core. He groans, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his fingers finding your nipples beneath your bra. He pinches them, rolls them between his fingers, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

By the end of it, your lips are swollen, your body is trembling, and all three men are breathing like they’ve just finished a fight.

You're shirtless, flushed, draped over Satoru’s lap with Suguru behind you and Nanami watching from the other end of the couch, fists clenched in his lap to keep from grabbing you again.

And yet… no one’s made the next move.

The tension is unbearable.

Satoru licks his lips. “Should we keep going?”

Suguru hums behind your ear. “She hasn’t begged yet.”

Nanami removes his glasses and says in that voice, “I’m not touching her again until she says she wants it.”

And you?

You just smile.

“Then let’s raise the stakes.”

You draw the next dare.

You peek at it, and your breath catches—because fate clearly wants war.

“Let your love interest/s remove one article of your clothing with their mouth, and kiss an intimate spot of their choice. No hands allowed.”

The silence that follows is thick. Eyes darken. Jaws clench. Chests rise.

And you?

You lean back, arms behind you, skirt still on, bra barely hanging on for dear life.

You look up at them through your lashes.

“Well?” you ask. “Who’s first?”

Satoru, of course.

He moves like sin itself, slinking toward you on all fours, pale hair glowing in the low light. He hums as he brushes his nose against your shoulder, then dips lower, down your breasts, until he can tug your bra strap gently with his teeth.

It slips off your shoulder. He chases it with his mouth, nipping and kissing until the strap falls uselessly to your arm.

“Mm, not done,” he whispers, nudging the fabric of your bra just enough to press a kiss just above your breast. Teasing. Taunting.

And then, he slides down your body, pushes up your skirt with his cheek—and presses a slow, hot kiss just above the waistband of your underwear.

Your hips jump. He smiles.

“One down.”

Suguru is next.

Where Satoru was playful, Suguru is hungry.

He kneels behind you, fingers brushing your hair aside as he kisses down the nape of your neck. He reaches your other bra strap with his teeth, tugging it down your arm with a growl deep in his chest.

Your bra hangs loosely, barely covering your breasts, your nipples straining against the thin fabric.

He takes that as permission to lower his mouth to your back, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades... then another, lower, right at the center of your spine.

Then his mouth grazes the side of your waist, just beneath the hem of your skirt.

It’s not graphic—but it’s intimate. Worshipful. His lips linger like he’s tasting something sacred.

You exhale shakily. Your skin is on fire.

Nanami is last.

And you swear—he looks at you like he’s about to ruin you.

No words. Just action.

He comes forward, eyes locked on yours, and presses a kiss to your knee first, soft and reverent.

Then he runs his mouth up your thigh. Up.

You twitch, breathless, as his teeth hook into the waistband of your underwear from the side, tugging it all the way down—then pockets it after.

Then his mouth presses there.

Right against your pussy.

Deliberate. Hot. Claiming.

You gasp his name—quiet, wrecked.

He doesn’t say a word.

Just straightens, licks his lips, and steps back with control that makes you ache.

And now you’re nearly bare.

Half-dressed. Touched everywhere but the places you need.

Each of them is still have clothes on (well somewhat) and the fire in their eyes? Unforgiving.

“I think the next dare,” Satoru says, voice low, “should be us.”

Suguru leans in close, brushing your hair back from your face. “You’re shaking.”

“Cold?” Nanami asks quietly, tilting your chin up.

You shake your head.

“Want more?” Suguru murmurs at your ear.

You swallow. And nod.

The night went on and it led to more dares that led you to touch more skin, be sandwiched by them, more drunk and Satoru’s pants were flung somewhere in the room.

At some point, you had Nanami pinned beneath you while you licked the trail of salt from his abs.

None of you seem to want to stop and the next 8 dares that you have drawn were pretty much where each of you started to lose restraint.

The bowl is passed to you again, your skin still tingling from kisses and touches that left you breathless.

The room falls silent. The air thickens. Someone curses softly under their breath.

And you?

You smile like a devil in silk and sin.

First: Kissed at your most intimate by the person on your left until you say their name.

You lie back, breathing steady but shallow, thighs parting just slightly in invitation.

Satoru crawls between them, pupils blown wide.

“Permission?” he whispers, voice rough.

“Yes.”

Satoru's mouth descends, his tongue a velvet inferno as it licks and kisses your inner thighs, trailing towards where you want his mouth to be. He takes his time, savoring the taste of you, the scent of your arousal.

He flattens his tongue against your slit, licking slowly, deliberately, from bottom to top. He focuses on your clit, using just his lips, no hands, building pressure, releasing, building again, his rhythm maddening, exquisite.

He flickers his tongue over the sensitive bud, again and again, each touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your back arches, your breath hitching in your throat as you try to hold on, to prolong this delicious torment. But it's too much, too intense.

But you break with a gasp. "Satoru!"

His smile is cocky, pupils blown. “Thought so.”

Second: Flash the person on your right.

That would be Suguru.

You sit up, your bra hanging precariously by a single clasp. You lock eyes with Suguru, a teasing smile playing on your lips. Your fingers slip behind your back, toying with the clasp.

"Want a peek?" you ask, your voice low, inviting. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing, his face an unreadable mask. But his eyes...his eyes are glued to your hands, to the slow, deliberate movements as you undo the clasp. You let the bra fall away, revealing your breasts in all their glory.

They're large, heavy, your pink nipples hardened into tight peaks. Suguru inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring, his pupils dilating as he takes in the sight. He doesn't blink, doesn't look away, his gaze drinking in every inch of your exposed flesh. His voice is low, husky with desire when he speaks, "Fuck, you're beautiful."

Third: Spanked by the person across from you.

Nanami.

You crawl onto Nanami's lap, your movements slow, deliberate, a dance of seduction. He watches you, his eyes dark, intense, his jaw clenched. You settle against him, feeling the hard length of him pressing against your backside. He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh possessively.

His breath hitches, his grip tightening. Without a word, he hikes your skirt to your waist, baring your bottom to everyone’s gaze. He lifts his hand, bringing it down with a sharp smack on your right cheek. You gasp, the sting morphing into pleasure. He spanks you again, then again, his hand moving from cheek to cheek in a relentless rhythm.

“This is only a dare,” he murmurs while he soothes your stinging cheeks and dipping the tip of his fingers in your wet pussy, “but if you want more…”

“Kento,” you moaned.

And then—crack.

It’s not cruel. But it’s firm, deliberate. You moan.

He soothes the spot with a gentle palm. Then again—crack.

“Say when.”

You don’t. You don’t want him to stop.

Fourth: Dry hump the person to your right.

Back to Suguru.

You straddle Suguru, your bare breasts pressing against his chest, your lips brushing his jaw teasingly. He flips up his shirt, exposing his toned abdomen, the muscles rippling as he takes a sharp breath. He grins darkly, his eyes gleaming with desire.

"Ride me then, pretty girl. I'll behave... maybe." You start slow, rolling your hips over his, grinding your heat against the hard bulge in his pants. Your slick folds rub against the fabric, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your core. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, but he doesn't guide you, letting you set the pace. You rock against him, your breasts swaying with each movement, your nipples grazing his chest. His breath comes harder, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours, seeking more contact.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growls into your neck.

“Good,” you whisper, biting your lip. “Wait for heaven.”

Fifth: 7 Minutes in Heaven with the person picked by the bottle.

Satoru and Suguru groaned in frustration when the bottle landed on Nanami.

You stand. Extend your hand.

He takes it without hesitation, jaw clenched, eyes stormy. The others groan as you both disappear behind a nearby door—knowing full well what kind of restraint Nanami’s been holding back.

The door shuts.

He pins you to it.

The room is cramped, the air thick with tension and the scent of your arousal. Nanami's mouth crashes onto yours, his kiss fierce and demanding. His teeth nip at your lips, his tongue invading, dominating. He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist, your back pressing against the cool wall.

His hands grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he grinds his hardness against your core. You can feel every inch of him, hot and huge. He slid his hand down your bare crotch, his fingers sliding through your wet folds. He circles your clit, teasing, before plunging two fingers deep inside you. He fucks you with his hand, his thumb pressing against your clit, his movements fast and furious. Your orgasm builds quickly, crashing over you in a matter of minutes. But Nanami's not done.

He drops to his knees, his face level with your dripping core. He spreads your folds with his fingers, exposing your sensitive flesh to his hungry gaze. He traces your slit with his tongue, savoring your taste. He focuses on your clit, sucking, flicking, his movements precise, calculated to drive you wild. He fucks you with his tongue, plunging it deep inside you, curling it to hit that spot that makes your eyes roll back. He adds a finger, then two, pumping in time with his tongue, the dual stimulation overwhelming. Your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, your juices flooding his mouth, your legs shaking uncontrollably. He laps at you, swallowing every drop, his touch gentling as he brings you down from your high.

“You think I can handle 7 minutes with you in my arms and not lose control?” he rasps, forehead pressed to yours.

His laugh is low. Dangerous.

You took a break and headed to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror – lips swollen, kiss and bite marks, the only clothing you have is your skimpy skirt. You bit your lip and relieved yourself and washed your face and some parts that feel sticky.

Once back, the bowl is passed to you again, your lips still kiss-swollen, your skin marked with every touch, every whisper. You reach in with trembling fingers, heart thudding in anticipation.

Another round of dares. Another spiral deeper into temptation.

Suguru lost his shirt.

Satoru’s hard cock is outlined fully on the thin fabric of his boxers.

All the buttons of Nanami’s shirt are unfastened.

And you are only a skirt away from being fully naked.

Sixth: Give a blowjob to the most chill person in the room..

You crawl toward Suguru, who’s leaning back, serene as ever, but there’s hunger in his gaze—heat he doesn’t bother hiding anymore.

You settle between his knees, your hands on his thighs.

"Still relaxed?" you purr.

He chuckles, brushing your cheek with his knuckles. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

You take your time, savoring every moment of Suguru's unraveling. Your hands roam his chest, his abs, tracing the lines of his muscles. You lean in, pressing soft kisses to his abs. Your fingers dance along the waistband of his pants, dipping beneath to stroke the hot, hard flesh beneath. He inhales sharply, his hips jerking forward. You unzip his pants, freeing his erection. It's massive, thick, the head already glistening with pre-cum. You wrap your tiny hands around it, stroking slowly, marveling at the silky skin over steel. You lean down, your tongue darting out to taste him, swirling around the tip, savoring his unique flavor. Then you take him into your mouth, inch by inch, until he hits the back of your throat.

Still chill? Not anymore.

Seventh: Let the one with the longest legs fuck you using their fingers

All eyes turn to Satoru, who just grins and pats his lap.

You straddle Satoru, your thighs spread wide, his fingers already trailing up the insides with shameless confidence. He looks up at you, his eyes gleaming mischievously behind his snowy lashes.

"You sure you want this?" he teases, his voice low and husky. You nod, your breath catching in your throat, your body already aching for his touch. "Please," you whisper, the word a plea and a prayer.

He smirks, his fingers finding your center, sliding through your slick folds with ease. He explores you like a man possessed, his touch precise, practiced, devastating. He circles your clit, presses, rolls, each movement calculated to drive you wild. His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as your body starts to tremble, your pleasure building with each stroke. He watches you, his gaze intense, hungry, as you came in his lap.

You cling to his shoulders, your moans stifled against his neck—until you shatter, body trembling, voice raw as you whisper, "Satoru…"

His smile? Victorious.

Finally: Let the one with the most muscle suck your tits.”

That would be Nanami—broad, solid, quietly seething with restraint.

You press against Nanami, your bare breasts crushed to his chest, your body still trembling from the intense orgasm Satoru just gave you. Nanami 's hands span your waist, his touch gentle, reverent, as if you're something precious. He dips his head, his mouth finding your nipples, hot and open and devouring. He sucks gently, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peaks, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he takes his time, savoring every inch of your breasts like they're the only thing that matters. He groans against your skin, the vibrations making your hips buck, a whimper escaping your lips. His grip on your hips tightens, grounding you to his lap, his erection pressing insistently against your core.

"Kento," you breathe, your voice husky with need, "Please—"

You're on fire.

When the dare is over, you’re a vision—body flushed, lips parted, barely able to sit upright.

The three men around you are wrecked in their own ways. Eyes dark. Breathing hard. Restraint dangling by a thread.

And there are still more dares left in the bowl.

“Who's next?” you murmur, voice low and trembling.

Suguru chuckles. “You really want to keep playing?”

Satoru leans in. “Or should we make our own rules now?”

Nanami's hands tighten at your waist. “Your call.”

So… what’s it gonna be, sweetheart?

Draw another dare?

The bowl sits untouched now—forgotten.

What began as a playful game has become something else. Something deeper. No more teasing dares or spun bottles—just you, sprawled on silken sheets, flushed and trembling, wrapped in the heat of three men who are completely obsessed with making you fall apart.

No one speaks a word.

They move as if in silent agreement.

Tonight is about you.

Only you.

Suguru is the first to sink down between your thighs, his long hair brushing against your skin as his lips kiss a path inward—slow and maddening.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, and when his mouth finds your clit, you cry out.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t rush. His tongue moves with deep, sensual strokes that make your hips jerk, that draw wave after wave from you until you're gasping his name and gripping his hair like your life depends on it.

Your first climax leaves you trembling—but he doesn’t stop.

Neither do the others.

Nanami shifts behind you, strong arms pulling you back against his chest. His mouth descends to your breasts—devouring them, kissing, sucking, dragging his tongue over sensitive peaks until you’re writhing, arching into him with every panting breath.

One hand cups your chest. The other slides down your belly, finding its way between your legs, slipping inside as Suguru's mouth keeps working you from below.

The combination of lips, fingers, mouths—each man tuned to your body, syncing with each other to push you further—is intoxicating.

You come again, voice breaking.

Then again.

You're not sure how many times.

Satoru, not to be outdone, replaces Suguru at your thighs, flashing you a wicked grin as he licks his lips.

“My turn, princess.”

And he devours you.

No pretense. No patience. Just raw hunger and unrelenting skill. His fingers slide inside with perfect rhythm, curling, stroking. His mouth joins them, tongue working in devastating harmony until you're thrashing against Nanami’s chest, your voice hoarse with moans, every muscle in your body clenching again and again.

By the time they’re done, your legs refuse to move.

You’re a trembling, blissed-out mess in their arms—your body glistening with sweat, lips kiss-swollen, eyes glazed with pleasure.

A soft kiss lands on your temple.

Someone brushes hair from your face.

“I think we broke her,” Suguru murmurs, proud.

Satoru snickers. “She looks satisfied.”

Nanami simply wraps you in his arms, grounding you, stroking your back. “You’re not allowed to move until you can speak in full sentences again.”

You’re soft. You’re warm. You’re worshipped.

And as you melt into their embrace, one thought flutters through your hazy, pleasure-drunk mind:

They haven’t even made love to you yet.

And you’re already ruined—in the best way.

[ Flashback – Shoko’s Lab a Week Prior ]

The fluorescent hum of Shoko’s lab was the only sound in the sterile room as Mei Mei lounged casually on one of the counters, legs crossed, hair perfectly sleek, a delicate smirk playing on her lips. In her gloved hands, she held a simple wooden bowl—ornate carvings along its edge, filled with thick cards sealed in lacquered envelopes.

“Let me get this straight,” Shoko said, not looking up from her paperwork as she signed off on a patient release. “You created a cursed object just to trap those four in a game together?”

“It’s not cursed,” Mei Mei corrected, voice smooth. “It’s... enchantingly suggestive. Classy.”

Shoko blinked. Slowly.

Mei Mei twirled one of the envelopes between her fingers. “The bowl responds to desire. The kind people are too proud or too afraid to speak aloud. I merely give it a little push.”

“Uh-huh.”

Mei Mei slid off the counter and placed the bowl gently onto Shoko’s desk. “They’ll thank me, eventually. All four of them—so tense, so repressed, so desperate for each other they’re practically vibrating.”

“You just want to watch them squirm.”

“I want them to feel,” Mei Mei corrected, with faux innocence. “And if they agree to play, the rules become binding. The game continues until one of them reaches... satisfaction.”

Shoko finally looked up, brows raised slightly. “What kind of satisfaction?”

Mei Mei smiled with teeth.

“I never specified.”

Shoko stared for a long beat, then dragged her cigarette from the edge of her ashtray and lit it with a snap of her fingers. After the first drag, she exhaled smoke like a judgment.

“You’re a genius,” she said flatly.

Mei Mei’s smile widened.

“I know.”

[ END OF FLASHBACK ]

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suzukiblu · 2 years ago

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👉👈 do you have any more of the dubcon ( ;3c dubKON lol) tim//kon thing with the pining kon?

. . . I actually am not even sure what fic you're referencing so maaaaaybe I have written too many fics, lol.

But like, here's an excerpt from something that at least fits that definition?

Superboy fucking hates Gotham.

Well, not necessarily Gotham, but definitely the Riddler and probably Poison Ivy and, like . . . whoever the fuck else decided to set up a goddamn murder-box puzzle room and lock him in it with a drugged-out-of-his-mind Robin and the worst set of instructions ever.

And especially he hates the fact that apparently the whole damn mess was fucking livestreamed.

"This sucks," he mutters under his breath. Robin stares at him from the other side of the briefing table in the middle of the Batcave, because of course Superboy's first time in the Batcave would only happen because he'd fucked up. Like–of course it would.

"I sexually assaulted you in a supervillain deathtrap in front of the entire internet," Robin says very, very carefully. "And we only survived the experience because said deathtrap had faulty wiring. And that . . . 'sucks'?"

"I mean, very much so, yes," Superboy says. Honestly he's more annoyed about the deathtrap than anything else. Like, he tried really hard to solve that stupid puzzle of Riddler's and it's really annoying that he apparently got it wrong. Which–okay, he was pretty distracted at the time because drugged-up Robin had refused to settle for a handy and had basically bullied him into going down on him, but still. That asshole Riddler and his lame-ass bowler hat had been very fucking clear about how said drugs weren't gonna wear off without Robin getting off and how they'd had very limited time to solve his stupid puzzle in, so Superboy had just kinda tried to . . . multitask it, basically. He'd let out-of-his-mind Robin shove him down and fuck his mouth and just kept his hands on the floor so he could use his TTK a little easier and tried to solve the stupid puzzle with it, just in case Robin wasn't gonna snap out of it fast enough.

It'd very literally been a puzzle, for whatever reason–like one of those weird abstract-looking 3D ones–and probably would've been a lot easier to figure out if he'd actually been able to see it as opposed to having to rely on his TTK feeling it out while the whole thing was all wired up to the table on the opposite side of the deathtrap room, but apparently it hadn't even fucking mattered anyway because of whatever that one fucked up bit in the wiring had been. So like . . . Superboy basically violated a guy he barely knows and already had weird feelings about for no fucking reason whatsoever.

So yeah. This definitely sucks.

"I called you a whore," Robin says, his face absolutely expressionless. Superboy makes a face at him more to be contrary than anything else. "Multiple times. You asked me to stop yanking your hair so hard and I called you a mouthy bitch. And then I yanked your hair harder."

"I mean, I know, I was there," Superboy says, raising an eyebrow at him. And also, like, those are accurate assessments of his character, so . . .

"I made you get down on your knees and shoved my dick in your mouth," Robin stresses, his jaw going tight. "Which was livestreamed and is now on the internet. Where it will never go away. Ever. And anyone who feels like it can just go and google it."

"They probably shouldn't, I'm assuming that'd count as underage porn," Superboy says with a shrug. "At least, I'm not eighteen yet, dunno about you. Actually I'm like . . . two, max. Probably not even that. Although I dunno, I was sixteen-ish when I got out of Cadmus, maybe I do count as eighteen by now? Technically?"

Robin gets up and goes over to the trash can by the computer and throws up in it. Superboy . . . blinks.

"Uh," he says. "You okay, man?"

"No," Robin says. Then he throws up in the trash can again.

Awkward, Superboy thinks, trying not to wince.

#kon el #superboy #tim drake #dc robin #timkon #dubious consent #anonymous #not sfw #wip: the puzzle trap sex-room

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lakemojave · 4 months ago

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Mojave reads X-Men: X-Men #1, X-Men #2, and Tales of Suspense #49

That's right gang, I'm finally sitting down and reading some comics. Now I've attempted to read a manga or two in my life, I've read some tintin comics in the library as a little kid, I've read an Alan Moore graphic novel in my day, but never have I actually read a serialized, long running comic series like this. I have very limited vocabulary for talking about comic books, and my experience with superhero media is pretty much limited to movies and shows. I have never read or critiqued a comic book of any kind.

Now I should say that even though I don't really give a shit or fuck about superheros, I do have a favorite superhero, and it's none of the X-Men. I do have a place in my heart for the caped crusader, so why am I not reading every single batman comic ever written? Well you see, the reason is simple. If I read a batman comic, even if it's a bad one, I will be distracted by how much i already like batman. I will probably learn a thing or two about batman, but I won't really be properly immersed in the comic-reading experience if i start with somebody I already enjoy.

So I'm excited for this! I'm basically going in blind, except for some passing knowledge about the over-arching themes of these characters and season one of X-Men '97 (a fantastic show that you all gotta watch). Now I know some reading guides online will recommend that you skip some stuff, but I wanna challenge myself to do a completionist review of this whole series. For an artistic medium that I don't know shit or fuck about, this may be a long commitment, but this is gonna be a fun way to do it.

If you wanna follow along with me, I'll be basing my order based on the reading guide from this website here:

Now for the review!

X-Men #1

This one is really fucking stupid.

In this first issue, we meet our X-Men and learn their powers through a goofy ass training scene, Jean Grey arrives, then they defend a military base from Magneto, and that's about it. It doesn't do enough to establish what exactly a mutant is, but it does establish the X academy as a safe haven for mutants where they can learn to be superheros, and how Magneto wants mutants to rule the world. There isn't much nuance here yet, but these motivations will echo down throughout the entire X-Men saga.

The designs here are particularly undercooked compared to the more modern iterations, but I do like that Professor X has always been a bald dude stuck in a chair. Magneto's imperious personality is established here as well, but the X-Men themselves are mostly just rough sketches of the idea of people. We're not gonna get into the family drama soap opera nonsense for a little while I think.

(Also my favorite part of this panel is how you can't tell cyclops has a visor and it looks like it's just a guy. With two eyes. Which is, by definition, not a cyclops.)

I also adore how whimsical this first issue is. The fighting is very cartoonish and everyone says what they're thinking out loud. I dunno if that's just how comics tend to be or if this is a product of the age, but I actually find it really endearing! I have a fondness for this era of comics where you could pick up a batman off the shelves and see a panel of him shooting and killing his enemies with a mosin nagant, or that infamous panel of superman melting a dagger with his heat vision and slurping up the molten metal.

Also, poor Jack Kirby. You can tell by the homogenous designs and Magneto's crooked ass eyeballs that he was very overworked in this period. The superhero team composition here is definitely less creative than the Fantastic Four for instance, which was running at the same time and will crossover with our reading list a few times.

Though my favorite panels from this issue are right here:

I'm sorry if the difference in time between your two panels is "Exactly fifteen seconds" then you don't need a text box explaining it.

Either way, while this first one isn't very good, I was really entertained. I'm really looking forward to immersing myself in this period of the art form and learning a thing or two about this franchise!

X-Men #2

That's right baby. We're gonna be in stupid town for a few weeks.

In this issue, a new evil mutant attempts to take on the X-Men and realize his loosely sketched evil plan for world domination and such. This guy, The Vanisher, has teleportation powers so fast that none of them can lay a finger on him. With his X-Men's reputation on the line, Professor X himself has to step in and use his psychic powers to vanquish The Vanisher and his army of goons on the White House lawn.

We learn a lot of new things about the X-Men in this issue; one, that Charles is a snitch for the FBI; two, sometimes the X-Men will just randomly start fighting each other almost completely unprompted.

Oh yeah also they call Jean Grey "Marvel Girl" in this run. I don't know why, ya just gotta deal with it.

The Vanisher basically has Goku instant transmission, allowing him to teleport literally anywhere he wants in an instant. In his master plan to steal US Army secrets and rule over humanity, a bunch of random low level goons just start worshiping him cause he's just that awesome. Like they're not even getting anything out of serving him, they just love this freak.

God could you imagine the alternate timeline where The Vanisher is the X-Men's arch enemy instead of Magneto? I think I would've canceled this series early if that happened.

Needless to say, this one is also insane. Like whenever the X-Men need to go anywhere, they rely on the goofiest modes of flying transportation that I've ever seen.

This one is also pretty dumb, but I can't say I had a bad time reading this one too! I think the first one was more interesting, seeing the prototype for such an all time comic villain, but this fight against the Vanisher is just a straight forward good time.

Tales of Suspense #49

Here we have our first ever crossover! In this comic, Angel accidentally gets nuked by Iron Man during a weapons test. The radiation makes him turn evil. Iron Man has to stop him.

This is the goofy bullshit I crave. There is no explanation for why any of this happens. Angel suddenly swears his life against all crime fighters and tries to make friends with the evil mutants. Iron Man talks completely different than I'm used to in this modern MCU era (plus his identity actually is secret!) Although the other X-Men do show up in this one, It is so strange to me that the first X-Man to make it into another series is one of the most forgotten characters of them all.

Oh man they just. They just don't make em like this anymore.

I do like that the X-Men as characters are starting to settle into their personalities. Angel's the boyscout, (normally,) Iceman is a little shit, Beast is a funnyguy, and Jean is a woman. Cyclops is still a little undercooked, but in terms of actual art I think I like how he looks in this style better than anybody. It helps that the art is getting ever so slightly better issue by issue.

But I also love that there's like. No backgrounds. It's crazy that in these early comics they just frame characters in a blank, colored void. I have no idea where these guys are right now.

The writing is still hilarious. Like everyone in these comics just says whatever they're thinking out loud. If these comics weren't written for little kids I'd make a big stink about it, but I just find this so endearing.

Eventually Iron Man does the thing where his power runs out and he falls to the earth in the middle of the fight, then Angel comes back to his senses, possessed by the instinct to save him. As he flies away, good ol' Anthony Edward Stark gets a call from Professor X saying that some day he hopes that the Avengers and the X-Men will one day fight alongside each other...as allies! And from this day forward, they'll never fight again!

Um. Ignore that.

See y'all with more soon!

#x men #x men comics #marvel #mojave reads x men

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

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Would you mind talking more about Ghost? I dig your interpretation on him so i'm curious if you'd share your thoughts; since i know how COD in general writes these characters and we know romance isn't on the table for them, ESP for someone like Ghost (even confimred by his voice actor too!)

So all that aside, in your opinion, what would it take to win Ghost's heart (or well, Simon's)? :)

It's great to hear you like my interpretation of Ghost! I'll gladly share my thoughts on this, the supposed love life of Simon Riley is one of my favorite subjects 🧐

Thoughts on what would it take to win Simon's heart under the cut ->

To be honest I see it highly unlikely that Ghost would date. I think Samuel Roukin's opinion on this matter was spot on. Simon's traumatic background, trust issues, the need to stay anonymous and his profession as a special ops soldier is just too heavy a combo. His family's murder and multiple betrayals have pushed him on a path of extreme independence and made him evade any kind of attachment.

That being said... I'm a hopeless romantic and love to imagine scenarios just like every other little simp here 🩷💋, and I've pictured (and occasionally written) him to be drawn to someone who is principally the opposite of himself, but who also has a dash of angst in their heart and firsthand experience or at least some basic understanding of complex trauma.

A positive vibes only/sunshine type of person would not resonate well with his darkness, and a carefree joker would only annoy him. Then again, there's Soap – but the thing with John MacTavish is that he shares the same profession and in that way, is not a stranger to the Underworld. Their banter is also evidence enough that Soap is not afraid of Ghost's madness and even looks up to him – actually a perfect way to make someone like Ghost enjoy your company. This man has a terrible praise kink but he can't stand spineless bootlickers. So the adoration should happen in a "I trust you and would follow you to hell & back" kind of way.

However, due to the shit he's been through, I'd say (contrary to popular headcanon, I dunno?) that Simon would likely fall for someone outside the military world. First of all, he's very uncomfortable with the fact that his partner has to fear for his safety. But the fear of losing his partner to the dangers of this profession would be a little too much. It would only trigger a shitload of PTSD stuff. The fear of losing a loved one again would override the mutual experience and bonding through warfare, all the elements which otherwise might be pull factors in a military love interest. On the other hand, people with traumatic backgrounds tend to repeat the pattern, no matter how horrific or unsafe, simply because it's familiar. Still, I'd say someone from the base personnel would be a more alluring option for him. The shared hell, so to say, could make the foundations of this relationship quite dark. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing!

Deep down, Simon would be attracted to softness. Not innocence, per se, just something different from the realm in which he operates. This is why I think he could definitely fall for "a normie". He would appreciate dark humor and a certain kind of fearlessness, however. What ultimately would win his heart is someone who can stand, even cherish, his melancholy and cynicism and life choices and who is not on a quest to change or "fix" him.

I think Simon's ultimate wish is to find a home because he has lost it (or hasn't really had one in the first place). He's a leader and has to provide safety and support on a daily basis to the people under his command. But who offers support and safety to him? He knows how to protect people but doesn't know how to create a safe space, so he would appreciate someone who makes him feel he's finally found his way home. I think he yearns for a small measure of peace and a slice of normal life to wash away the adrenaline and blood and filth, he wants a small corner free from the demons that haunt him, even if he would reluctantly (if ever) admit that he does.

#answered #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons

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kopivie · 2 years ago

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trick-or-treat.

# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha

# — warnings: a little suggestive.

# — tags: fluff, kisses (bc who am i if not a madman for kisses), mild hurt/comfort, BANTER YIPPEE!!, this is zuzu's way of making up for the fact that he all but forgot kazuha's birthday, apology fic

# — notes: (PLEASE READ!!) this is... not at all what i intended to do. it's 1:30 am and i just came down from a much needed high. as my head cleared, i noticed that this fic was like, riddled with flaws, but i feel too good about this to second guess it and feel bad. anyways, this is heavily inspired by this fic that 🎻 anon sent in my asks, as well as a follow-up to this fic i wrote on @awlumii last year on kazuha's birthday. i hope you enjoy and please do let me know what you think! i could really use some feedback.

✦ — 🎃 — ✦

There's a knock on your door. You stare at the entry to your apartment and think: "How mean would it be if I ignored them right now?"

In your defense, you've been giving out candy all day. All. Day. You figured that there would at least have been a lull in the early afternoon since children had school to attend, but no — you've been giving out candy to all ages from as early as 10:30 this morning. It's a good thing you stocked up on candy late last month, otherwise you would've had to ruin the days of some very enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. So after setting aside a bucket full of your favorites and giving out the leftovers until about 10 at night, you finally thought yourself ready to curl up on your bed with your softest blanket. You were halfway to dreamland when some monster started pounding on your door.

(So maybe you're exaggerating a little. But who could blame you? You're tired and you want to sleep.)

And so, here you sit, your legs half-tangled in your weighted fleece blanket as you glare at your door and hope that your unwanted visitor is telepathic and gets the message that you want them to leave. Scram! you think. You raise your voice in your head. Get out of here. Shoo! Begone!

…They knock again. (Kind of a dick move if they can read minds.)

The groan you let out is obnoxiously loud and is most definitely heard by whoever is on the other side of the door. You hoist yourself to your feet and trudge to the door, but you don't open it quite yet. Judging by the fact that this person has yet to say anything, you figure that they're old enough to know when their presence is not welcome and left.

Wrong. You're too optimistic. They knock again.

You sigh and once again, hope that the sound carries through the door. "Who is it?" You try to make yourself sound as unfriendly as possible. Considering how cranky you are, you don't have to try very hard.

"Trick-or-treat..?" The voice on the other side is muffled by the door, but also by something else. Fabric, probably. All you know is that their voice is deep enough to be an adult's.

You click your tongue. "Trick." You almost snicker. It's a little refreshing not doling out treats for once. "Go home."

"Can I at least give you a treat?" The person asks.

You blink. They didn't leave? "Pretty sure that's not how it works," you reply. "I give you treats and you… I dunno, TP my house or something."

"Yeah, well," the person at the door chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say 'trick', either. Since you're breaking the rules, it's only fair that it's my turn, right?"

Well… Shit. They have a point.

Impressed by the stranger's reasoning, you hum. "Fine. Let me find my costume." You turn to gather your costume and notice that you can't find the full thing. You were so eager to get to bed that you didn't hesitate to drop the thing in the wash. Not wanting to make the stranger wait too long, you improvise. You blindly grab the mask and the blue throw blanket you have folded up on your couch and tie it around your shoulder like a cape. It's a shitty excuse for a costume, but you reason that your exhaustion is a good excuse. You swing open the door and cross your arms over your chest. "Alright, what do you got for-- Oh."

Standing on the other side of your door is none other than Spider-Man himself. The two of you stand in silence as you take in each other's appearances. Then, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "So… a cape, huh?"

You don't hesitate — you grab your door and swing the thing shut as fast as you can, but Spider-Man is faster, catching the door in his gloved hand. You turn your back to him. The mask is obscuring his face, but you already know what expression he has underneath. "Don't say a word." You warn him.

Spider-Man pays you no mind. You can feel him lifting your 'cape' as he inspects it. "Hmm… capes are kinda aerodynamic, but considering how dirty my enemies fight, I don't think that's a very good design choice." You can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "I'll give it a five out of ten."

"I said shut it!" You snatch your blanket out of his hands and march further into your apartment with Spider-Man's laughter following at your back. He walks inside and the door shuts behind the two of you. "Get the fuck out, webhead," you seethe. Your voice trembles with shame. "I didn't invite you in."

Spider-Man just walks around you to look you in the eye. "Come now, lovebug," he tilts your chin up with a finger, "you look cute wearing my mask."

You grumble and push his hand away as you struggle for words. You want to say something like, "this isn't what it looks like!" to try and save face, but there's no point in trying. This is exactly what it looks like.

Because the mask you'd been wearing for Halloween -- and the mask you haphazardly thrown on moments ago -- was none other than Spider-Man's mask.

To be fair, these things were a dime a dozen. The people of this city adore the vigilante. It was only natural that kids and adults alike would want to pretend to be him for a day, even if they had no powers like him. You're not exactly one of those people — you've seen firsthand just how brutal Spider-Man's job can be. You wouldn't trade your life for his even if you were offered money. But as you stared at the costume while shopping, you couldn't help yourself. There were obviously cooler, much more interesting costumes to choose from but this one just… called to you.

Hindsight is 20/20, after all. You should've ignored that calling.

Spider-Man takes your chin in his fingers and shakes your head side to side. "I never knew you liked me so much, lovebug. I'm touched."

You scoff. "Don't be."

"Y'know, if you wanted to wear my mask so badly, you could've just asked." Spider-Man leans in and presses a clothed kiss to your cheek. You consider yourself lucky; he can't possibly feel the burn of your cheeks through all that fabric.

You stammer. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

"What? I'm sure I have a back up somewhere." He eyes you for a moment. "You'd look good in it."

Against your will, you wonder if he's saying that he wants you to wear his clothes. Would he ever actually loan you clothes that he's worn? The thought makes your face burn hotter. "Why are you here?" You ask. Anything to change the topic.

Spider-Man chuckles, but plays along. "I haven't swung by in a few days," he says, "so I figured I'd try and surprise you as a trick-or-treater." He shrugs. "I wanted to do some reverse psychology thing where I could trick you into thinking I was just some guy in a costume so you would give me candy."

You process his words for a second. "Okay, first of all, you already are a guy in a costume."

He visibly deflates and places a hand over his chest. "Ouch, lovebug. What if you hurt my feelings?"

"Second of all," you continue, "do you have any idea how many Spider-Men I've seen today?"

"...Is that a serious question?"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess twelve."

You pause. You actually aren't even sure if that's the right number or not. You lost count after three hours of giving out candy to cute kids.

"Am I right?" He asks.

"Who knows?"

Spider-Man huffs. "If there's that many of us around, then what am I even here for?" You giggle at his petulant behavior, and he makes another breathy sound, reminiscent of a stifled laugh. "Did you treat them the same way you treat me?"

"What?" His question takes you off-guard for a moment. You chortle. "Oh, definitely."

"You gave them band-aids and kicked them out, too?"

"Mhm." You cross your arms. "Just slapped a few on some pretend wounds and told them to get the fuck off my property."

The two of you laugh together for a moment. Once the laughter dies down, Spider-Man tugs at your cheek for a brief second. You let him get away with it for now. "You're so cute." He sighs and you can hear something somber enter his tone. "I was worried about you. It's been a week since I've seen you."

It has been a week, hasn't it? You may have been swamped with work at the hospital, but there was never a night that you didn't find yourself waiting on your balcony like an idiot in this chilly weather. You had faith that he was okay — the Daily Bugle printed something new about the "masked menace" every day this past week — but that didn't stop you from longing for his presence. Stories can't compare to the real thing, after all. You're far more taken with the masked vigilante than you'd care to admit to yourself.

You hum. "About time someone else did the worrying for once," you mumble jokingly. "It gets tiring worrying all by myself."

Spider-Man stays quiet. "I've been okay. A little worse for the wear for the past two days, but okay otherwise."

You reach for him instinctively. "Lingering pain isn't like you," you say, already in doctor-mode, "did something happen?"

"No, not like that. I've just been… sad. I guess." His confession is soft as he takes your outstretched hands in his own. He's been more vulnerable around you lately and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "It's been a rough couple of days, that's all."

You rack your brain. What could possibly be paining him that you don't know of? He's already told you that he tells you everything (within reason), so maybe it's something that you already know of? You furrow your brows as you dive deeper into your memory. Deeper, deeper… until you happen across a memory from just about a year ago.

The kiss you shared on your balcony close to midnight.

"Oh my God." You voice your incredulity aloud. "Oh my God! I missed your birthday!"

Spider-Man straightens his posture as he inhales sharply.

How could you have forgotten? He confessed to you on his birthday last year that you were the only person he had left in his life since he hated his birthday so much. October 29th was such a painful day for him — to think that you didn't stop for a second to wonder if he was okay that day. It's not like you would've been able to contact him of course, but what if he swung by after you'd fallen asleep? You should've at least left him a note or something.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, lovebug." The confidence is starting to bleed out of him, you notice. Spider-Man walks over to your couch and sits on the floor in front of it. "I'll be okay. It's not like I was going to celebrate or anything."

You move to the couch and adjust yourself so that the vigilante is between your legs. You two often assume this position when you're finished patching him up and too tired to goof around until he leaves. You would place your hands on his head and press your fingers into the fabric of his mask. Spider-Man told you once that the action was soothing, but you have yet to admit to him that it's your way of trying to conjure up an image of what his hair must look like underneath.

Like always, he gets himself into position, draping his arms across your legs. This time, however, he's looking up at you. You're not sure what expression he might be wearing.

"I wasn't saying that we should've celebrated," you say softly. "I'm just upset that you had to be alone. Are you sure you're okay?" You ask as you massage your fingers across the crown of his head.

He hums. "I am now. I promise."

"If you're ever feeling down, you know you can come and see me." Your words surprise the both of you, but you don't regret them at all. He always seems to be around when you need his company the most, so why shouldn't you do the same for him? Who else would? your mind unhelpfully supplies. "I may not be the best company in the world, but at least you won't be alone, right?"

Spider-Man moves so that he's on his knees facing you. He's so close to your face like this; you inch backwards to preserve your sanity. "You're the only company I need." He says it with so much conviction that you shiver. "But does this mean I'm getting special treatment?"

"What--? You mean from the other Spider-Men?" When he nods, you snort. "Yeah, I guess you do get V.I.P privileges. You get extra treats unlike everyone else."

"Extra?" He tilts his head. "But you haven't given me any candy at all."

You raise a brow. "All that's left is the candy I'm hoarding for myself. And before you ask, no, I'm not sharing any. Why don't you try actually trick-or-treating? People would probably give the city hero the best of the best."

He sinks a little lower, seeming defeated. "...Would you believe me if I said I tried that already?"

"Did it work?"

He's silent.

"...It didn't work, did it?"

"...No. They thought I was just some superfan."

Peals of laughter burst out of you at his admission. "So this is how they repay you, huh?" You say between giggles. "No faith and no candy? That's rough, buddy." You get the distinct impression that he's glaring at you, but that only makes you laugh harder.

Fed up with your insistence on laughing at his misfortune, Spider-Man taps your leg. "Since I get special treatment from you, can I ask for a few wishes?"

You wipe a stray tear from your eye. "I'm dressed as a superhero, not a magic genie."

"Please?"

"Fine, fine." You finally catch your breath. "You get two wishes.

"Not three?"

"I'm not a genie. Don't push it."

Spider-Man puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, two it is. The first is… let me stay with you for the rest of the night."

You shrug. Wouldn't be the first time. He's usually gone by the time you wake up, anyhow. "Granted. Next one's your last — make it count, bug boy."

Spider-Man doesn't react to your nickname. Instead, he just stares at you. A familiar sensation tickles up your spine. He's watching you; you know that stare all too well. "I think you know what I'm going to ask for next." His voice is deeper, smoother than it was mere moments ago.

You nod and he eases himself closer to you. You feel your heart pick up an unsteady rhythm and rather than kiss him normally, you lean in close and press your masked lips to his. He makes a surprised noise before he laughs and melts into the "kiss" all the same. When you pull away, he's still laughing. A very welcome change from the bitter smile you're sure he was wearing when talking about his birthday. "Consider that a freebie," you mutter.

"You're too kind," he chuckles.

Soon, your fingers come to the base of his mask to raise it just above his lips when he suddenly stops you. He reaches for your face and you feel something tug at the base of your neck. Somehow, you completely forgot you were wearing that stupid mask. "It's kinda funny," he half-laughs, "having to unmask you for once."

"You... You can't tell anyone about my identity, okay?" You tease.

Spider-Man rolls your mask up just enough to expose your lips and you do the same to him. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but you meet in the middle in a kiss that has fireworks bursting behind your lids. The two of you are greedy, pouring a week's worth of longing into the kiss. The mutual yearning is palpable, so much so that you can hear his breath hitch when you sigh. He rises to the couch slowly and without breaking the kiss, doing his best not to part from you for even a second.

You missed him. Oh, how you missed him — you missed how he would wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you closer like it was nothing; how he would whisper his adoration for you between breaths; how he would chase after your lips whenever you would tease him with barely-there kisses. You missed the exhilaration, the thrill of knowing that you were the only one Spider-Man would ever treat this way. That you were his and he was yours.

He moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear and down to your neck. His pace is unhurried, though he seems eager to pull a reaction out of you. You give him what he wants whether you intend to or not. You press yourself closer to him in a silent request for more and he indulges you; his kisses become little nips, and the nips turn to bites as he starts to leave marks on your neck. He eases you back so that you're laying on your couch and he's hovering over you. The two of you stare at each other for a moment.

"Can I use my next wish?" His voice is rough. When you nod, he leans in once more. His uncovered lips brush against your ear as he whispers. "Let me give you a treat."

Something foreign yet familiar makes you shudder as you nod.

Spider-Man attacks your neck once again. Clearly he was holding himself back earlier, because every mark he leaves stings. He makes them dark and obvious, completely disregarding any warnings you may have given him on other days. You normally would tell him to ease up, to hide the marks that he so desperately wanted to leave on you. But now you let him do as he pleases. You gave him an inch and as expected, he took the mile. He soothes each one with a kiss and muffles your whimpers with his lips.

It takes a while before he's satisfied with his handiwork. Kazuha raises himself up with a shaky breath. Your wrists are in his hands and pinned against the couch. Looking down at you now, all flushed absolutely covered in his marks, he feels something uncontrollable stir within him. He has half a mind to tell you to close your eyes so he can take his mask off, but he refrains.

That's all he ever does when it comes to you. You, the greatest test of his endurance that he will ever encounter in his lifetime. No supervillain with any amount of underground connections or otherworldly technology will ever test his patience and restraint quite like you. For years, Kazuha has weighed the pros and cons of telling you who he is. He always wonders if you would still allow this, if you would still treat him like a lover if you knew who he was — if you knew that he's been lying to you. Though your reaction may not be guaranteed, it's a risk he's more than willing to take.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. Maybe another day when the time is right.

For now, Kazuha releases your wrists and sits himself up. He fixes his mask while you take yours off. You sit up and he watches as you ghost your fingers over each of your fresh hickies. You wince a little when you brush the one on the left side of your collarbone, above your heart. The silence that hangs in the air is evident, but not uncomfortable.

Then, you mutter. "I was supposed to give you a treat."

Kazuha reaches out and touches a hickey left on your pulse point. A sensitive spot for you – you shudder in response. He admires the lingering haze in your eyss. "You did. Thank you, lovebug."

✧ my goodness. @perpetualcynicism look at what you've done. you've reawakened a monster in me.

✧ edit: btw, the dividers belong to @cafekitsune!! thanks so much for making such beautiful dividers!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #spidey!kazuha #spidey!kazuha x reader #WHEW.#tagging is a fucking nightmare i cant believe i did this all the time #but uh.. ta-da...#i feel so much better though #i had a horrible day at work so i got super high and then i read thing in my asks and then i cried and wanted to write about kazuha #i literally checked off every box #get high? ✅️ cry? ✅️ write about kazuha? ✅️✅️✅️#I FEEL SO FREE

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peppertoastuniverse · 5 months ago

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Hi pepper!

I have a request for a one shot Gojo x reader. that’s fluffy based off of this song called “memory lane” by aqualina

I do have a scene based off of it but do whatever you’d like. Imagine this, either reader or Gojo finds some old footage of Him, reader, Shoko and Geto hanging out in their high school years. Reader and Gojo reminisce on old memories.

omg thank you for your sweet request ! hope this one was worth the wait ✨

something good – gojo satoru x reader

“...don’t you ever think about it though? the future?” the future?

shit, for once he didnt mean to fall asleep. still feeling slightly disoriented, he hastily slides off of the couch, moving quickly to his room down the hall. groaning as he glances at the clock in the hall, he sighs hoping to ignore his slightly teary eyes. he was going to be late – you were going to kill him.