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lurochar · 5 months ago

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Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

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It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind.

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…�� You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

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I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

#alastor x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

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seafoamsol · 6 months ago

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The best years of my life...

... what I wouldn't give to have them back.

I had the great pleasure of working with @spiderscribe on a DeadCeptor work for the @tf-bigbang, which you can (and should!) read [ HERE ]!

Details and artist commentary under the cut!

Okay, first off, I just wanna say, thank you so much to @spiderscribe for picking up my very loose scribble and taking the jump. She's an absolute champ, and I IMPLORE you to read her writing. She did a knockout job on the fic, and guaranteed, these two pieces wouldn't have been so elaborate without her. If you're a fan of deadceptor, parallels, lovers to enemies to apocalyptic teammates to ???s, I'm sure you'll find that and more in there.

[ HERE ] is the link to that, if you missed it the first time around.

The background for the supermarket was a MASSIVE undertaking. I ended up blurring it in the final to keep the dream-like quality, but there is a lot happening there! Most of the time I spent on the background was (jokingly) complaining though.

Anyone who works retail will know the agony of customer-misplaced stock. The little canisters of energon additives seem like prime candidates to be placed willy-nilly.

The little warning sign... My favorite soda, apple sidra, has a carcinogen warning, so I'm familiar with it. It was slightly surprising to me that those warnings are not countrywide, despite the fact that they very clearly say "California Proposition 65", and well. Not something else, like "Federal" or whatever.

The bags of nuts and bolts below, I asked several people what flavor they would be, and I suppose I failed in my job, because I wanted the purple to be the "regular" flavor, and the green to be the "sour". But grape and lemon-lime work as well!

The tub is full of rust-sticks. I have no idea if that came across. My friends kept calling the individually wrapped ones slim jims, which I mean, I guess!

The car batteries... My idea was that they were similar to shots, in a way? So that's how I ended up with a battery with enough terminals to rival an international airport. It's also sunset-coloured, because, I don't know, that's what Party Flavor is to me.

Okay. The second illustration. This one was a headache, mostly due to my own lack of planning, and the fact that I lost the file for... basically everything I did, including the above illustration. So it was a bit of a rush job.

The background bots started off as these very vague silhouettes, which I'm a little proud of. Look at how nice and somewhat readable they are! Okay, now what if I ruined it? What? You don't like that? That's rather unfortunate, because that's what I proceeded to do. In fact, if I take off all.. 10 or something adjustment layers, they look like this:

My process went: Shadow block> Fill rest of form> Color randomiser> Copy and skew (to populate background)> Hue adjustment> Gradient map> Fill Light> Chromatic aberration> Vignette> Levels> Curves.

The.... Magenta cube is there because due to the nature of the color randomiser, the foot had a high value, and stuck out like nobody's business in the end.

Here's what it would look like without the cube. Begone, distracting white blob! (I didn't have to worry about the lava arm because Percy happened to cover it up. What a save! But if he didn't then... there would have been a second cube.)

Basically, it was a mess. But... at least it came out fine in the end! I hope!

I'd love to have speedpaints on hand, but I was switching between CSP and PS for a good majority of the work.

I'd say that's it for these two pieces! I actually have more, but those demand more time. I'm much slower at doing inks than I am at painting, but I hope you'll get to see them soon.

#phew! been a while since I last did some commentary for a piece #I didn't even go over what everything was on the background shelves but just know if you asked me i'd probably be able to tell you #I have... an additional several pages of a comic based off of the fic that I unfortunately have not finished in time #but I definitely will #again it was amazing working with caroline and I hope to work with her again in future!#maccadam #transformers #tf perceptor #tf dead end #transformers cyberverse #tfc #deadceptor #perceptor #dead end

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lgbtlunaverse · 6 months ago

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I've been wrestling with two beliefs I hold simultaneously but that I previously (incorrectly) thought were contradictory: that sexuality is inherently harmless, but also that specific kinds of sexual desire have been used to enact and justify grievous harm. The notion that men's sexuality is more important than women's consent, that white men's sexual access to white women must be protected from the "threat" of men of color, the idea that this specific kind of desire is so inherent to a proper society that if you have the wrong kind of sexuality you deserve to be shunned and harmed.

How can sexuality both be inherently harmless and measurably harmful?

Anyway, the answer is very easy, and part of why I feel like we should stop treating sex as something completely unlike other things and horniness as unlike all other emotions. Because I realized that, oh, right, this happens to other feelings too.

You know another feeling that is not inherently dangerous but is frequently used to enact and justify violence? Fear.

Fear is not inherently evil. Not even if it's irrational and your level of fear does not correspond to the level of danger you're actually in. In fact, irrational fears are such a common phenomenon we literally have a word for them: phobias. Which you are not evil for having. (Am I calling phobias the fear equivalnet of kinks? Kind of... I guess)

But fear and discomfort are used all the time to harm people. Let's say some random white woman is walking home late at night, and she notices a man is following her. This man might just be walking in the same direction by coincidence, but there's a small chance he's following her on purpose. It is quite natural for the mind to wander, and we frequently fear what we do not know. Discomfort or fear, in this situation, is neither inherently harmful nor unusual. However, if this white woman has been inundated her whole life with 'stranger danger' narratives and stories of women being brutally kidnapped, assaulted, and murdered by strangers. (Even though the vast majority of female victims are killed by someone they know, most often a romantic partner or family member) and she then, by the flash of a streetlight, spots that the man following her is black, and she has also been fed a narrative that black men are inherently violent and dangerous, that feeling of discomfort is enhanced and distorted until she believes she is in genuine danger and calls the police.

Statistically speaking, that guy really was just walking in the same direction, and is unlikely to be a threat. However she has now seriously endangered him, and justified it by the fact that she was scared.

A man justifying sexual assault because he couldn't help it, he was just so attracted to her. (And she led him on! She was barely dressed!) Is weaponizing his horniness in exactly the same way as people who call the authoroties on a disabled homeless person because they were "acting weird" are weaponizing their fear.

And all emotions can be weaponized this way. Anger is used to justify domestic violence ("you shouldn't have provoked me") Happiness and fun is used to jeoparidize safety (the last 30 years of olympic games have had a death toll among construction workers of over 116. The 2022 world cup alone has an officially admitted death count of 40, but the real cost is likely in the hundreds) disgust is used so often it's hard to restrict it to a single example (queerphobia, ableism, fatphobia, racism, misogyny, it's everywhere)

Sexual desire is just one way among many where the comfort of the powerful is valued above the safety of the opressed. It's not unique, but instead painfully common. And it's useful to keep this in mind not to devalue it or deny it's happening, but because we can borrow tactics and learn from similar situations rather than getting stuck on endless debates on whether porn is intrinsically evil or not, which will get us nowhere.

#feminism #misogyny #racism #classism #i've edited this post 4 timss and the edits keep not showing up its very frusrating #i fixed that 'coshet' and 'pritoected' typo So many times TUMBLR WHY #sexuality #sex positivity #sex negativity #tagging both because i think they both get at *part* of this but fail to grasp the full picture #... fuck it. sex neutrality. it's just another thing

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antigonick · 6 months ago

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Wait why do you hate mike flannigan? Just curious

Oh boy...

Because I think he sucks. I think he's a marketing-thirstrap who likes to use titles of horror classics to get some attention on his work, but he strips them of everything that makes them them, and fills it back up with vapid, unnuanced, trashy surface level bullshit. I love creative and liberal adaptation, but his "adaptations" are title and cultural-aura thefts to sell the absolute nothingness of his clumsy, clunky, tell-but-never-show stories. He's performative as hell (empty representation / tokenisation, apparently unaware discrimination glorified as awareness, empty rotating of cast and archetypes with no exploration whatsoever, empty gesturing at political/ social/ philosophical ideas with no actual significance or values).

Most important of all for the topic (since this was about horror), he's hailed as a master of horror when he's just so, so, so terribly bad at it. To me, he literally works AGAINST what horror is about—its complexity, its subversiveness. What he does is making palatable what should unsettle us, what should make us think further than ourselves. There's something fundamentally political and philosophical about horror; capitalising on its simplification-for-consumption is symptomatic of something uglier and culturally-spreading that I HATE. Flanagan is a perfect agent of that. Everything has to be streamlined, simplified, dichotomised and flattened. If you can't deal with hidden messages, with nuance and mystery, with subtext, with blurring boundaries to the point of discomfort to yourSELF, you can't do horror. Flanagan leaves nothing to mystery, to ugliness, to the unexplained or the many-explained, to rawness or openness and layers (for someone who pretends to adapt Shirley Jackson and Henry James, what a joke).

All in all, he just shoves his boring, expected, chain-made story beats down your throat, doesn't even bother with building a story beyond what he puts on screen (think even back to Hush, the complete lack of actual motivation from the aggressor, how fucking lazy can character writing be?). Then he razzle-dazzles that with a bit of gratuitous (and undeserved) shock-value on top to cover up his tracks, which just makes it more insulting. Tear-jerkers and animal death for success value? Yeah, as classy as everything else, I guess.

I feel like I've rambled a lot in this... okay enough bye

#DEEP BREATHS #im normal i swear

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dorabellingham · 2 months ago

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Be like them

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you want to straighten your hair to go to an event with him, but your boyfriend doesn't really like the idea

request: yes (sorry I had to change a little because i couldn't write it)

may contain spelling and translation errors!

You looked in the mirror, holding a lock of your hair, still damp from your shower, as you scrolled through Instagram. Jude had mentioned that Real Madrid was hosting a special event to launch their new kit, a premier that would bring together players, coaching staff and some of the WAG's. He invited you to go with him, and the simple invitation was enough to make you think about how to get ready.

From what you saw in the photos, all the women were incredibly sophisticated, with straight, perfect hair, impeccable in every detail. Suddenly, your own curly locks seemed a little... out of place. You never had a problem accepting yourself, but when you imagined yourself next to your boyfriend at that event, doubts arose. Maybe it would be better to straighten your hair just this once, to have a look more in line with the other women's style.

Later, Jude came into the room, already changed for a dinner they were planning before the event. Seeing you standing there, with a lost look, he slowly approached you and hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

—What are you thinking?

He asked, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You gave a weak smile and hesitated before answering:

—I was thinking about straightening my hair for the premiere. I think that way I would look more... —You paused, not knowing how to finish. —More like the other women.

Bellingham frowned and looked at you in the mirror, clearly surprised.

—And who said you have to be like them?

He asked, with a touch of disbelief in his voice.

You sighed, trying to put into words what you felt.

—I know it's silly, but... have you seen what they look like? Each one more stunning than the other, and they all have such a... polished style. I think I would look better with straight hair, more "sophisticated".

You said the last word with a tone of uncertainty, as if you didn't even believe it.

Bellingham let out a soft, affectionate laugh, squeezing you a little tighter in his arms.

—Honey, you’re beautiful just the way you are. And besides that. —He smiled, looking into your eyes in the mirror. —I love your curls. We’re the curly couple, you know? I don’t know what I would do without those curls by your side.

You laughed, but you still seemed a little hesitant.

—Jude… you know I’m proud of my hair, but… it’s just that at this kind of event, maybe I should be a little more… “elegant”? I don’t know if that makes sense. I guess I just don’t want people to think I don’t make an effort to be by your side.

He turned around, holding your face gently and speaking with a softness that you loved.

—It makes perfect sense. But who cares what people think? I wouldn’t trade those curls for anything. They’re part of who you are, and I wouldn’t change a thing about you. —He stroked a lock of your hair, twirling it around one of his fingers. —By the way, I want to be the guy who arrives with the most beautiful and authentic girl of all, the one who doesn't need to change a thing to be amazing. And, in my humble opinion, you already are. Totally.

You couldn't help but smile. Jude always had a way of making you feel valued, even when you tried to find fault with yourself. Still, doubts insisted on appearing, and he noticed the glint of uncertainty in your eyes.

—I know it's easy to say, but I'll show you that I'm not joking.

He said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and opening the gallery. He showed you several old photos of the two of them together, taken throughout their relationship, almost all during simple, quiet moments of everyday life. In all of them, your curls appeared naturally, and Jude always seemed enchanted by you, with a sparkle in his eyes that spoke for itself.

—See? — He smiled. —It's not your straight hair that will make me find you more beautiful. It's you. It's the way you smile, the way you look when you're comfortable and happy. And that's it. —He ruffled her curls slightly with a playful smile. —That's what I love.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of expectations dissipate a little.

—I guess I'll trust you, then. And let the curls be successful, right?

You said, half joking.

—That's my girl! —Jude replied, kissing you on the forehead with a proud smile. —Besides, the curls make you even more unique, and I love knowing that I have someone so incredible by my side. Let the other WAG's stay straight; I want to be with the most special one.

On the night of the premiere, as you were getting ready to go out, he could barely take his eyes off his girlfriend. You had put on a blue dress that highlighted your skin, and your curls were loose, forming a perfect frame around your face. He smiled when he saw you, feeling incredibly proud to have you by his side. As you approached the event, photographers and fans surrounded you, and you noticed the looks and whispers around you. For a moment, insecurity tried to return, but when you looked at Bellingham, you saw only a glow of admiration and love on his face.

—See? You don’t have to change a thing.

He whispered, holding your hand firmly as you walked together.

The curly-haired couple, as he joked, shone that night, drawing attention and leaving a unique mark. And you realized, amidst the flashes and Jude's affection, that their authenticity was their true strength, something that no one could take away.

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novvabee · 18 days ago

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Training for the Ballet Potter?🩰

summary: James Potter x Reader, James takes a ballet class and crushes on the teacher (you)

cw: sexist remarks? it is kind of just gender stereotypes of ballet I guess, i didn't proof read this so just pretend it's good for me

word count: 2.6K

James thought that he might actually quit. This was ridiculous in every sense of the word. It was humiliating and a cruel punishment for sure.

His quidditch coach had the brilliant idea of signing the whole team up for ballet classes. Ballet, as in, turns and tiptoes and tights. This was emasculating to him, so beneath his training and dedication to the sport he should be practicing.

His coach announced the classes on the last day of spring training. He stated that they were to attend every class until their season starts, no exceptions. He went on and on about how it would benefit the team to become more agile and graceful. But James didn’t understand the logic at all, he needed to be quick, strong, sturdy. Not exactly what ballerinas are known for.

His coach emphasized the fact that these lessons were mandatory by stating that those who fail to attend would be cut from the team. He was not joking. A few of his teammates tried to protest, but his coach made the ultimatum. He said that if they wanted to be professionals and play on this prestigious team, they would learn grace and elegance in their training.

James loved and valued his position on the team, so he wasn't so fast to say no to these lessons. He was also trying to become captain of the team this year, and pretending to be excited and grateful for these lessons seemed like a way to earn him some brownie points.

So he pretended to the best of his abilities, he got the team together to encourage or change their attitudes, saying that it would be a great experience for the summer and that it was only three months of these lessons. Well, two lessons every week for three months, but that still wasn’t too bad.

When the coach overheard some of the team still complaining about ballet, he made them run and condition until half of them were throwing up. He was not here to play about these lessons.

“Got your leotard?” Sirius teased James from the couch. He had his head resting in Remus’s lap.

James had lived with his two best friends since the end of school and he couldn’t be happier. Well, he could do with a little less of the making out and the groping he would catch every now and then, but he couldn’t blame them both, they were happy and in love. He just… didn’t need to see it all the time. And now, he didn’t need to be teased to add insult to injury.

“No.” James replied, rolling his eyes. He grabbed his red workout bag with his team’s logo from the opposite couch that his friends were sitting on and slung it over his shoulder.

“I think it’ll be good for you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in, “You could learn a thing or two about grace.”

James again rolled his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood, he was sore from yesterday’s practice, and was now about to prance around like an idiot for an hour.

“I just need to get through this,” James said. “I want to look good when my coach is choosing captains this season.”

“Anything for that position, eh, Prongsie?” Sirius chuckled from Remus’s lap. “Look on the bright side though, you’ll be surrounded by fit girls in tight clothes and tiny skirts.”

Remus smacked the top of his head for the comment, earning an ‘ouch’ and small apology. Remus rolled his eyes this time, annoyed by his lover’s crude statement.

James supposed that there was that to look forward to, he would never say it out loud like Sirius, but he was… intrigued by the idea. His male teammates were all put into the Monday/Wednesday classes with a strict teacher apparently. He was selected for the Tuesday/Thursday classes, which he found out were much smaller and taught by a new, younger teacher. A few of his teammates made sure to let him know how lucky he in fact was, the Monday/Wednesday teacher sounded like a hard-ass and a mean old witch.

Another bright side of the classes was that he would be with Marlene, one of his best friends on the team. If he had to endure this torture, he was glad to do it with her at least. It was actually Marlene who was picking him up so they could go to the lesson together. She should be here in about… now.

James bid farewell to his friends and raced out the door before any of the last minute teasing could make it to his ears, and rushed out to where Marlene was waiting in her car for him.

“Hey,” he greeted her, sliding into the passenger seat of her car which felt much too tiny for him to squeeze into.

“Ready for the ballet Potter?” she giggled, wiggling her brows as she put the car in drive. James found it quite humorous, the two of them, going to their first ballet lesson. The two of them who look like they should keep far away from anything to do with ballet. James, who was a 6’1 burly man with all the elegance of a rhino and knocked into possibly every piece of furniture he owned on a daily basis, and Marlene, with chipped black nails and a self-cut mullet who looks like she would eat the posh little ballerinas for lunch.

Sooner than he would have liked, they reached the dance studio. Marlene parked and they both just sat there for a moment breathing in deep. He turned to her and saw the look that he himself was wearing. One of regret and annoyance.

“Come on Marls, it's an hour and then we’re done.’’ James reminded her.

She groaned but opened her door and slipped out.

They both made their way to the door of the building. He opened it and allowed Marlene to walk through first, pretending that it was just a courteous, gentlemanly thing to do, but in all reality, he was just holding onto any time he could have left not doing ballet.

He stepped into the building and into a crowded area with chairs and fake plants, a waiting room for the parents coming to pick up their little ballerinas from lessons. The waiting room was littered with moms scrolling on their phones and looking at their watches. Great.

James and Marlene had to wait for the teacher to come get them and escort them into the correct studio. Marlene plopped herself in a chair and motioned for James to do the same, but he just stood and lingered around the area.

James heard a door open and the chatter and giggles of many children. He heard many “Thank you miss Y/N”s and “Bye miss Y/N”s followed by a flood of little girls all dressed in colorful leotards and skirts filling the waiting room. The children all ran up to their respective mothers and told them about their lesson and how nice their new teacher was and that they all got stickers and how fun everything was. Some of the little girls eyed James and Marlene up and down, Marlene just stared back until the girls got scared and ran over to their adult.

As soon as the chaos broke into the little waiting room, it left. The last little girl put on her pink sparkly light up shoes and bounded out the door with her parent. This reassured everything that James had already felt; that this was useless, meant for little girls. Definitely not quidditch players, definitely not James.

He heard the door open again and turned to see a small woman, about his age, walk out with a clipboard. Her hair was pulled up into a bun. She was clad in a pink leotard and matching pink skirt, light pink tights, and pink ballet shoes. She was pretty, not in a typical perfect ballerina way, but in an entirely different way. James was definitely not expecting someone like her to be in a studio like this, let alone to be teaching.

Her eyes snapped up from what she was reading on her clipboard and instantly lit up.

“Oh hello!” she squeaked. “Are you two here for the 4:00 class?”

“Uh, yeah.” James replied.

“Perfect! You’re right on time. I’m Y/N, by the way, I’ll be your instructor. You can follow me right in here to studio B.” she said, motioning them to follow her down the hall to the studio. Marlene stood and the both followed. “And here we are,” She said, turning on the light switch, allowing for a better view of the studio.

It was a very small room with light hardwood floors, mirrors lining the back wall. There were mats stacked up in the corner and two parallel bars mounted on the two walls without mirrors.

“You two can go ahead and set your stuff on the wall with the mirrors and then we can get started with stretching.” she announced chipper.

“Aren’t we going to wait for the rest of the class to show up?” Marlene asked from beside James.

“Oh no, you two are the whole class.” She smiled. “You can think of it more like a private lesson, more one on one.”

Private ballet lessons… Sirius was going to have a field day. He looked over at Marlene who just shrugged and made her way to the mirror wall to set her stuff down. James followed.

“It’s just us?” James whisper yelled to Marlene, trying not to let the instructor hear.

“Is that a problem?” Marlene asked back. “She’s hot.”

James just huffed and pulled off his jacket, tossing it in his bag.

“Look Potter, think of it this way,” She tried to reason with him, “Now there’s less people to look like an idiot in front of. All of the embarrassing moves will stay just between us three.” She smiled and James nodded his head, feeling like maybe it was a blessing to be in such a small class. “But… I can’t promise I won't make fun of you or use it against you.” She joked.

“Alright, are you both ready?” Y/N asked sweetly. They both nodded and made their way to the center of the room where she was waiting for them. “Alright first things first, welcome to ballet! My name is Y/N, you don't have to call me Miss or anything like the little ones do, just Y/N is fine” She said, her eyes glowing.

Marlene was right, she was hot. But James wouldn’t be that forward about it, she was incredibly beautiful. If James could do with a touch of grace, she was bathed in it, dripping in it. She radiated confidence and elegance. James didn’t know what to do with his hands all of a sudden.

“I understand that your coach has signed you both up?” She asked. Marlene nodded in confirmation. “Ok, that is perfectly fine, we teach a lot of different athletes here at this studio. But in all honesty, I am a bit new to all of this,” She blushed, looking to the floor, “I mostly work with beginner classes and children so, bear with me.”

She looked back at them and smiled. “Now, usually we require ballet shoes, but I won't require them for you two, socks or barefoot will be just fine.” she explained. “It is also better if you could wear things that are a little bit tighter. You don’t have to wear leos, but I need to be able to see the lines of your bodies better, so leggings, shorts, tank tops, those are all great!”

She was so cheery. Not only was she elegant and grateful, but kind and bubbly. James felt this warmth within the pit of his stomach now.

“Lastly, I want you two to have fun. I know that this is very different for you but, I promise I will make it as fun and educational for you so that you benefit the most that you can from this experience.” She finished, eyes sparking again.

“Alright with all that being said, let’s start our warm up!” she said.

Y/N led them through a series of stretches, most just like the ones they did at quidditch practice, others that were uncomfortable and pulled on his tight muscles. She assured them that with time, those stretches would get easier.

After, she led them to the bars mounted on one of the walls. She taught them the different positions of ballet; first, second, third, etc.. She taught them plies and releve, coupe and passe, and other French words he didn’t understand and would need to be repeated to him most likely all summer.

“Good Marlene.” James heard Y/N critique from where she was situated behind him. For all the gripe that she gave, Marlene was actually pretty decent at all this.

All of a sudden James felt hands on his abdomen and back, straightening his back into the correct posture. He was startled but continued on.

“There you go,” Y/N chuckled. “And..” she began but cut herself off by setting her hands atop his broad shoulders, pushing down on them. “You gotta relax, your shoulders are too tense. We don’t want them up by our ears,” She said, demonstrating to him by pulling her own shoulders up. “We want an elongated line from our neck and down our spine.” She explained, relaxing her shoulders and looking perfect.

Next Y/N ran them through some basic turns and steps and they practiced by repeating them across the floor. James couldn’t believe this but, he was actually getting a pretty good workout. He was using muscles he didn’t even know he had, and he knew that if he dared mention that he was sore from ballet in front of Remus and Sirius, they would never let him live it down.

Time actually flew, and class was over before he knew.

“Great job today.” She said to them both, smiling as James caught her eye.

“I heard you give out stickers.” Marlene mentioned, mischief laced in her voice, making Y/N giggle. James loved the sound, decided that he wanted to do anything, everything in his power to hear that again. Hear it forever if he can.

She walked over to where her clipboard lay on the other side of the room, picked it up, then returned to where James and Marlene were now packing up. She peeled off a smiley face that said ‘awesome’ and placed it on Marlene’s shirt. Marlene smiled and started out the door.

Y/N peeled another off, a star that said ‘you did great’ and placed it on James’s shirt. She pressed it into the fabric, making sure it stuck. James felt the warmth of her fingers radiate through his shirt and into his skin.

He smiled at her and made his way after Marlene. He turned back to say “See you Thursday!”

She smiled back, waving goodbye to him and repeating that she would see them on Thursday.

Exiting the studio and climbing back into Marlene’s car, James couldn’t get rid of the goofy smile that etched itself into his face. Marlene looked at him and shook her head. “Don’t make it too obvious, Twinkletoes.” She mocked him with a new and reactive nickname.

“What are you talking about?” James asked, pulling his seatbelt on.

“Your little crush.” Marlene said plainly.

James wasn't going to deny it, so what if he had a little crush on the cute ballet teacher? She was gorgeous and so warm. He liked to see the passion in her eyes when she was explaining ballet to them.

He couldn’t believe it and he would probably never say it out loud but he was excited for his ballet lesson on Thursday.

i wrote this cause I miss ballet and love the athlete x ballerina trope. also ballerinas are in fact athletes, dance is a sport ❤️🎀🩰 also please let me know if you would like to be added to any tag lists

taglist 🍓: @navs-bhat

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lilac-5ky · 2 years ago

Text

Sex with a Ghost (TojixFem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Date with a ghost

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

Summary: Being at the bottom of the ladder in your class with a non-combat oriented technique, you are prompted by Gojo to summon a dead sorcerer as a learning experience. However, when none other than Fushiguro Toji appears in your room, you find yourself practicing more than just your cursed technique.

Tags: Student!reader, Ghost!Toji, Age Gap(reader 18, Toji early 30s), Oral Sex (both f. and m. receiving), Manipulation, Corruption Kink, Praise, Degradation, Pet Names (princess, baby, etc), Cowgirl, Toji being a horny asshole that gets redeemed at the end? Sort of.

Word Count: less than 6k.

“But, sensei, is this really necessary?”

You tilted the sphere between your fingers, sizing it up. It weighed no more than a baseball ball did, yet its price must be comparable to that of an entire stadium. A cursed item among cursed items given to a mere grade 3 sorcerer who barely stood out amidst the renowned prodigies of Tokyo Jujutsu High. This was a waste of both time and effort and yet the white-haired man before you begged to differ, eyes glinting a vibrant sky-blue hue from underneath his dark shades.

“Doubting your favorite teacher, Y/N?” he chuckled only to sulk a second later when you asked him what deluded him into thinking he was your favorite.

Undeterred, he continued “I feel like a broken record here, but do yourself a favor and have a bit more confidence. Graduation is two months away, don’t you wanna prove your worth till then? It’s not too late to climb a couple of steps up the ladder. You could easily shoot up to Grade 2. Look at the rest of your class—”

A firm albeit reassuring grip latched itself onto your shoulder, gently twisting you in the direction of your classmates.

The heatwave must have gotten to them for good, blood boiling under the vicious sun rays. Their sleeves and pants were rolled high above their elbows and knees respectively, foreheads glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat that dribbled down their necks.

Just looking at them made your skin crawl with uneasiness.

You didn’t understand why anyone in their right mind would willingly trade the shade of these blessed pine trees for the scorching furnace that the schoolyard was, but when you stopped paying attention to their clothes and took in their blissful expression, you felt a lump swell in your throat.

The two of them were practically beaming, giggling, and prancing around the water fountains without a care in the world— and why should they have anything to worry about when they were Grade 1 at seventeen? A Kamo and a distant cousin to the Zen’ins, both guaranteed to walk a path strewn with rose petals since birth. No trial or tribulation whatsoever.

Your teacher’s voice was muffled into white noise while you were busy shooting daggers at the duo, part of you wishing to join them in their harmless idiocy, and another silently praying that in your next life, you’d be lucky enough to be born into one of their clans. No one questioned the value of a Kamo. No one went against a Zen’in with an inherited technique.

“So, we good? Tell me I didn’t waste 15 minutes of my precious time for nothing.” His fingers squeezed at your shoulder, causing your attention to shift.

You had no idea what he’d been saying, though you’d sat through plenty of pep talks already to guess the gist of it. “You have potential, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down like this. You can do it!” All empty words without real meaning. Worthless. Not everyone had what it takes to become the next Gojo Satoru. Some people were born to be stepping stones for others, and you were perfectly fine with it. No half-assed aspiration would spur you on.

“If I do this… will you leave me alone?”

A Cheshire cat grin spanned from one corner of his mouth to the other. If one didn’t know any better, they’d mistake Gojo for an overzealous teacher whose earnest goal was to see his students succeed. Not you. You’d spent enough time in his presence to know that his whole “Teacher of the Year” shtick hid an agenda of its own. It was a matter of time to find out what his true motive was.

“What’s the plan?”

“Now we are talking,” he sang in glee. “Very simple, really. You just hold this between your palms and channel as much cursed energy as possible to its center. The ball will absorb it like a magnet and continue drawing from you until you have a clear picture of your target. Then, assuming all goes well and you don’t pass out,” a quiet “What?!” was overwritten by his voice, “you’ll get your very own date with a spirit. Isn’t that exciting?”

Nothing about your expression screamed excitement, eyes squinting in slits and bottom lip quivering into a frown. “And who’s my target, exactly?”

“A Zen’in sorcerer,” he said.

“A Zen’in sorcerer you say,” your eyes wandered again to that soaked blockhead in the distance, the black mop he had for hair flapping left and right. “Ain’t the one over there good enough?”

Shaping a cone around his mouth, Gojo yelled at the top of his lungs for the kids to wait up so they could play together. The duo cheered excitedly, shouting some sort of inside joke you knew nothing about right back at him. Wasn’t the first time you were excluded, and it certainly wasn’t the first time you questioned how this man came to be the world’s most talented sorcerer, either.

“If he was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” his smile softened as he lowered his voice. “The Zen’in I’m talking about has been dead for a little more than a hundred years now. Unfortunately, his name is erased from our logs,” of course it is “but that shouldn’t hinder you too much. He was an immensely powerful sorcerer with a great amount of cursed energy to back his technique up. An anomaly, if you like.”

“What kind of technique?” “The ten shadows technique,” he answered. “Out of all the Shikigami users, he is perhaps the strongest there’s ever been.”

“Stronger than you, sensei?”

The way his nose scrunched made you regret asking, knowing that a haughty declaration was dangling from the tip of his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a never-ending spiel of self-praise.

“And why should I invoke him in particular?” you quickly changed the subject. “I thought our goal was to hone my spirit-channeling technique and increase my cursed energy flow while we’re at it.”

“That we are doin’, but why not kill two birds with one stone? A new ten-shadow user has risen. I’m sure whatever trick that old dog has up his sleeve will be useful to our little Meg—” He feigned a smile of innocence at his slip. “All you gotta do is chit-chat him into giving you some info. Toss in a few compliments, butter him up. Shouldn’t take more than a few words to convince him, spirits are dying to be summoned— Oh well, unfortunate choice of words. What do you say? You’re in?”

Your groan was all the answer he required to beeline straight to the water fountains, his chirpy laugh echoing from afar. This guy, you huffed, examining the crystal ball anew. There was no way out of this. Either you did his bidding or you’d be forced to endure the obnoxious sound of his voice all summer long.

“Couldn’t you have chosen anything more cliche than a crystal ball?” you snarled, convinced he hadn’t heard you.

“Ouija board was already taken,” he warbled unexpectedly, voice meshing with that of your peers as they ran around in circles, dark-colored uniforms turning darker with every splash of water. “Besides, this has a bit of pink in it,” he referred to the rosy shaded base. “Much cuter than a bunch of rusty letters, right?”

You groaned as you shoved the item into your tote bag, making no mistake to talk out loud again as you turned on your heel. A pinch of jealousy punctured your chest, relieved by every step you took away from the scene and away from the fun the three of them were having.

“Looks like we’re having a date with a ghost tonight.”

It was a quarter past twelve when you decided to put that little experiment to work, the coast clear of overbearing parents and annoying little brothers who wanted nothing more than to disrupt your so-called “studying session”. As far as your family was concerned, Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College (Tokyo Jujutsu High for short) was your average educational institution that had somehow recognized the value of your mediocre grades and scouted you when you were still in middle school— no questions asked from either side.

You wouldn’t go as far as to call your own family a bunch of dimwits, but the signs were all there. A teacher merely four years older than you were, his odd sartorial decisions only second to his eccentric personality. A class made up of four students dramatically and suddenly decreasing to a party of three. An unknown man in a suit and tie driving you back and forth between “emergency study dates” in the dead of night. The lack of studying material in your backpack as opposed to the exams you constantly stressed over. Your unreasonable reaction when your mother stored a cursed tool in with the silver cutlery.

Even if you straight up walked to them with a banner that read “I exorcise curses”, you doubted they’d have anything more to say than a plain “Good for you”, not because they were stupid, but because they simply didn’t care at all.

They didn’t care enough to bat an eye when seven-year-old you tugged at daddy’s trousers, whimpering about a squid-like creature sneaking in your closet, and didn’t care enough to try and justify the stream of water flooding down the corridor. They didn’t care that your imaginary friends were more akin to monsters, and they didn’t care about you being away from home 350 days a year. It was convenient not to. That’s how they were able to drink their woes away at the local bar on a Thursday night with a clear conscience, having offloaded that pest of a brother at your grandparents’ for the fifth consecutive night.

Poor kid. If he wasn’t so despicable, your big sister instincts might have kicked in and raised an objection, though as things currently were suited you best. Rituals required focus, and you needed to make sure no one would bust through the door and interrupt your conversation with Mister Whatever-his-name-was.

You’d taken care of all your basic needs —eating a reheated portion of lasagna, cleansing your body of the worldly filth that stained it, catching a rerun of your favorite show’s latest episode, and cursing Gojo for making you miss it in the first place— and were now seated on your room’s floor with the crystal ball nesting between your bare thighs, the cold sensation much welcome on this excruciatingly warm evening where sitting on the fuzzy carpet seemed like the greatest torture imaginable.

It was only March and you were already in your skimpiest outfit of all; a frilly pair of dusty-pink shorts and a matching low-cut tank top dressing your sweat-beaded body. Dark spots saturated the fabric, demanding your fingers fanned it every two seconds. The worst had yet to come. By the time summer arrived, the final thing for you to crawl out of would be your own skin.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you returned to the item at hand. It’d been fairly long since you’d last performed a seance. Your role in the recent assignments was to support your classmates from the sidelines, exorcising whatever lower-grade curse got in their way with the aid of various cursed tools.

The white-haired nuisance could claim your technique was useful all he wanted, but at the end of the day, yours were simply not meant for combat. Best case scenario, after graduation, the higher-ups would put you on a 9 to 5 job, where you could dig whatever intel they wanted from the comfort of your cramped-up desk; away from your haughty classmates, and away from Gojo Satoru.

You rolled your fingers around the globe’s surface, pads tingling with waves of cursed energy as they seeped into the crystal. Slowly, a dark purple aura came to distort its translucence with colors and shapes of various magnitudes. Shadow-like forms gathered at the seams, remnants of pent-up energy colliding and converging with one another at one focal point. All ready to go!

You began mentally chanting the surname of your target, over and over again until the slideshow of foggy faces diminished to that of a select few candidates from the same bloodline. Some, you would imagine had died when they were still in their prime, measly fledglings of sorcerers with eyes retaining that youthful glossiness, while others seemed to have lived enough to see themselves turn into dehydrated raisins with next to zero cursed energy left.

Once you’d gone through your classmate’s entire family tree at least three times, you caught yourself admitting that despite their faults and innate air of pretension, the Zen’ins weren’t particularly hard on the eyes. Especially that one guy whose mug kept reappearing at random intervals, the slanted scar of his lips lingering in your mind well after the next contender’s appearance. There was something about him, be it the lack of aura he emitted or the viridescent hue of his eyes that had you replaying the frame at the expense of your own energy.

You were drawn to him in an inexplicable way that, at the time, you attributed to fate. It had to be him, right? That must have been why the dope you had for a mentor insisted on calling this a date. Even if he didn’t know the sorcerer’s name, he must have known how insanely attractive the guy was, right?

And suddenly, you felt a sliver of gratitude overcome you, eyelids snapping shut with the Zen’in sorcerer’s face as clear as day behind them, while you chanted the incantation Gojo himself had taught you.

“From the murky shroud of oblivion, I invoke thou out the shadows and blight to bask in heavenly light. Through me gain life, and through life gain thine blessed power.”

No more than a few seconds had passed when you heard a thud, your gaze meeting with that of the very man you’d summoned.

The orb barely did him any justice. Not as if crystal balls were ideal measuring instruments, but you’d need about ten more of those to depict his height as he towered over you, the bulky frame of his shoulders casting a large shadow on the wall behind your head. He was dressed in a much more casual manner than one would expect of someone who’d been dead for over a century, with corded veins and taut muscles peaking underneath a black compression shirt, waist accentuated where his hips met with a pair of baggy pants. And once you got to his face— you must have lost track of time staring into the gem-like green orbs of his eyes, considering you didn’t notice the scowl his lips wore until his tone pointed it out.

“The hell is this?” He sounded just like he looked, the bass of his timbre ringing most pleasantly in your ears.

You wouldn’t know what being dead felt like, but if it was anything remotely close to sitting on a dead leg for hours on end, you guessed he’d rather take a moment to adjust over an answer.

His soles circled the tiny space, eyes dancing between the fairy lights on the wall, the moonless sky —and by extension the empty driveway outside your window—, the three Polaroids on your desk that depicted an old family trip to Seoul (your mother silently accusing him from the frame for the crime of wearing his shoes inside the house), and lastly, you. His gaze feasted on your body as if he’d been starved for ages and you were the first oasis in the desert, his expression gradually easing into a lopsided smile as he cocked his head to the side.

“Got a name, sweetheart?” he asked in a syrupy sweet tone, the nickname he’d come up with making you doubt he’d use your actual name even if you shared it.

You set the ball aside and hopped on your feet, standing on somewhat more equal ground, though not equal enough to completely diminish the difference in height. He was massive, and you were still processing the kind of person that possessed the power to end this man’s life.

“Name’s Y/N,” you extended your hand. “You must be master Zen’in, nice to meet you!”

He merely glanced at your gesture, leaving you to embarrass yourself without a single qualm. “No one’s called me that in some time,” he expressed wryly. “You know about me?”

You nodded, wiping your palm against your shorts. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen a spirit act all high and mighty, a Zen’in at that. “Who hasn’t heard of the greatest sorcerer there’s ever been?” you chuckled, Gojo’s bootlicking advice coming in for the clutch. “You are somewhat of a legend in the Jujutsu world. The one who mastered the ten shadows technique like no other.”

“Is that who I am now,” he pondered out loud, his index briefly scratching his jaw. “I guess I am,” he grinned with confidence. “That why you summoned me? Wanted to meet with great ol’ me in person?”

“Something like it,” you admitted, finding it hard not to smile back. “I just so happen to be acquainted with this idiot who’s a big fan of yours. Had me use my technique for a passing grade.”

A low hum prompted you to continue. “He’s a real pain in the ass,” you groaned. “Calls himself ‘the strongest’ and acts as if he’s ‘teacher of the year’ when he forces me to fish out intel like some lackey— Actually, you might have heard of his family name before, they’ve been around for ages. Gojo,” quickly adding “Satoru.”

At the sound of your teacher’s name, the man’s eyes widened, his darkened pupils blown with an emotion akin to rage. You weren’t sure what great calamity the Gojos had brought upon him in his previous life, but being familiar with their descendant you doubted they put much effort into it.

“The six eyes is your teacher?” he asked, not giving you enough time to question how on earth he knew that title before he pitched in another question. “So, ya just a kid, huh?”

“I’m not!” you objected. “Turned 18 a while ago.”

“A while, you say?” he arched a brow.

“I’m closer to 19 if anything,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“19,” he mocked, his droopy eyelids incapable of hiding the way he sized your figure up.

You didn’t even think to put on a bra before the ritual started. Just like you could vividly picture what his pecs looked like under his clothes, your flimsy outfit left little to the imagination, the sweat that’d shimmered across your collarbones and cleavage working in your favor.

“Nah, you are right. No kid could ever have a body like that. Plump and ripe in all the right places,” his tongue lapped over his bottom lip, salacious stare prodding at what your arms kept hidden. “That’s a woman’s body, no doubt.”

Heat spread from your chest all the way to your cheeks, and for once, it wasn’t because of the room’s overbearing heat. Your toes sunk inside the carpet, thighs awkwardly rubbing together. You’d found yourself in such a position before, yet never with a boy like him— never with a man like him.

“Th-thank you,” you mumbled, your fingers hesitantly sliding down your elbows.

He took a step closer, lacking hesitation as he lifted your chin with two fingers, his thumb gently caressing it.

“Gonna let me look at the rest, baby?” his other hand encompassed your hip, the size of his palm alone making you feel oh-so small and fragile before him. “I’ll make ya a deal if you lemme. Tell ya anything you wanna know and more— heh, I’ll make sure ya pass with flying colors.”

“I don’t… I’m not-”

Depriving you of the chance to deny his advances, the man slotted his lips between yours and pulled back almost instantaneously, overjoyed to catch you leaning into his touch for more.

You weren’t sure why this was happening— why you were letting this happen. He was a stranger who barely qualified as being alive, and at the time of his death, he was closer to your father’s age than yours. But he was there, and he was paying you attention, and the way he spoke to you as if he already knew your answer ahead of your mouth had warmth spiraling to the lower parts of your body.

Rather than giving in to your pouty lips, the man whose name you didn’t even know cupped your breasts in both his hands, calloused thumbs making quick work of your nipples as they peaked below the drenched fabric, rolling the sensitive buds into full hardness.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he praised, kneading at your supple skin almost adoringly.

The straps of your top slid down your shoulders, and you felt the ghost of a smile press onto your neck, his warm mouth smearing wet kisses right to where your neck and shoulders connected. You bit back a sigh, your breath audibly strained.

“Bet you wanna be touched, hmm?” he continued, finding the sweet spot you didn’t know you had, and pressed on, his sharp teeth digging into your flesh coaxing a purr from deep within your throat. He chuckled, the vibrations making you shudder. “That why you’re dressed like a slut? Wanna be treated like one, mm?” his lips parted again, tongue lapping over the delicate bruise his teeth left as he pinched your nipples harshly. A moan was ripped from your slack jaw, the insult he carelessly threw adding to the slick between your thighs.

“Sounds about right,” he smirked. “Well, I’m not complaining. You’re a sight for sore eyes, kitten.”

He didn’t ask for permission before he tugged at your shirt, your breasts spilling out with a single bounce. You saw him wet his lips once more, fingers seizing your now-exposed nipples and lustful eyes admiring them up close. You hadn’t noticed how close he was standing until his hips bucked against yours, alerting you to how painfully hard he’d gotten underneath his pants. The six-year-long refractory period his body was subjected to was far too cruel— though you wouldn’t know about that until much later.

“Tell me,” he requested, pausing just so he could look you dead in the eye. “Have you ever done this before?”

His lips traversed the valley of your breasts, rough palms sliding languidly across your ribs and waist. You could see him hold you like that while being inches deep in you. Slamming your frail little set of bones against your desk’s wooden surface. Pounding your hole for your parents to return to their precious daughter bent in half by some stranger. Bruising Gojo’s star student until the smug smile was wiped from his obnoxious mouth for good.

All those reasons made you nod at his question, not caring that he’d be ten times rougher because of your white lie. If anything, you looked forward to that.

“Sure you’re not lying to me?” he read your mind like an open book, the elastic of your shorts being torn away from your body. “Won’t be mad if y’are. I love myself a sweet little virgin. Love how whiny their voices get. How,” he lowered himself onto his knees, palm pushing you to sit on your bed “cute their little tight cunts look all stretched around me.”

His hot breath fanned over your soaked panties, index lazily rubbing back and forth between your clothed slit, the added friction sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine.

“You really aren’t one, are ya?”

You shook your head repeatedly like a bobblehead doll, propping your weight onto your elbows as he lifted your legs on his shoulders, the reality of his choppy raven hair nuzzling to your thighs finally hitting you.

“You said all you wanted to do was look, right?” the finger that was hooked around your underwear stopped. “That was the deal…”

For a brief yet conscious second, his eyes bore into yours with such spite that you thought you’d completely messed up. Only a virgin would dare say something this stupid. If he wasn’t bound to you by the ritual, he’d be out the door the moment you spat those words, you knew it, but then his knuckles brushed over your abdomen to find the hand that clenched onto the sheets, and you realized that wasn’t the case.

“Deals get altered and terms renewed all the time,” he mumbled distractedly, deeply inhaling your scent on his nose, while your fingers unfolded between his lips. You gasped, the sight of him fucking them in and out his mouth —tongue slithering right in the middle and saliva dribbling down his chin as he popped them out— enough to hypnotize whatever sense out of your brain.

“I’ll make ya a new deal,” he hummed, gently directing them to your mouth as if he beckoned you to do the same. A smirk tugged at his scar as he watched your pink lips obediently part and round around your own fingers. He didn’t let go until he heard you choke, secretly plotting to replace them with something else—sooner, than later.

“My technique is what interests you, right? How about instead of telling you, I show you?”

You tried to remove your hand, but he shoved it back in, his true colors pouring into a devilish smile. “I’ve had enough of your voice. All you gotta do is sit back like the good little girl I know you are and keep your legs nice and spread for me. How’s that?”

The only thing your head could manage was pathetically bob up and down in agreement, your fingers stuck in your mouth like a damn pacifier, while your cunt pulsed at every single word he uttered; derogatory or not. Were it any other guy talking down to you like that, your knuckles would be leaving an impermanent imprint on his cheek. Were it any other guy treating you as if you had no volition of your own as if you were just a toy for him to break, and you—

There wouldn’t be any other guy for you ever again. He’d make sure of it.

He ripped the fabric into a single shred and tossed it over his shoulder without caring where it landed- your bedside lamp. He looked down at your pussy, debating to himself whether to start with his tongue or fingers first, calculating the time it’d take for him to prep you for his cock down to the last second. He might’ve been a lot less nice than he pretended to be, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way to hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.

“Let’s see,” he tipped forward, the way his forefinger slipped between your folds without any resistance whatsoever bringing you shame. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, his digit triumphantly pulling out and smearing your slick all over your puffy lips. “Is that all for me, sweetheart? So fucking wet just for me?”

Your hips bucked forward as an answer to his question and he thought he wouldn’t mind taking things slow for once— see how much you could take before you came completely undone.

“Girls like you make the best fuck,” he cooed, voice echoing right through your core. “Surrendering to the first sweet word they hear.” His thumb circled your clit, flicking at the little bundle of nerves. “Leaking at the slightest of touch.” His middle and ring fingers joined in the action, burying themselves as far inside walls as your tight hole let him push. “Breaking so easily.” He drooled, coating your entire pussy in his thick saliva before allowing himself a taste, tongue lapping at the mix of juices straight from the source.

Your thighs clenched around him, muffling the lewdness of a whimper as he looked up at you, his smirk loosening with every kitten lick across your flesh. You wanted to say something, to call out his name and moan for him, but it all felt so unpracticed— similarly to how unpracticed your cunt was when it came to the girth of his fingers; much bigger than yours, more experienced too. He reached depths you didn’t know existed, bringing your body such pleasure that had you writhing for more, hips slamming against his face.

He groaned, his own arousal throbbing against his lower abdomen, begging him to get this over with. “Wanna fuck my face, baby?”

You felt your cheeks ignite anew, the eyes you’d fallen for at first sight overflowing with lust, convincing you it felt as good for him as it felt for you.

“Can’t let ya do that,” he parted your folds, fingers spreading your thighs apart while his tongue darted between your lips, his nose intentionally nudging the pink nub with each deep stroke against your spongy spot. “Gotta earn it first.”

You stared at him like an idiot, wondering to yourself if somewhere between his refusal to shake your hand and his eagerness to quench his thirst with your body you’d passed away because that was what heaven ought to feel like. That was what angels ought to look like.

“Got something to say, princess?” his eyes shot up and he gestured for you to unlatch your mouth.

“S-so pretty,” you whispered.

“What was that?” his ears perked up, not because he hadn’t heard you the first time, but because he could do with some affirmation himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this… f-fuck—” a yelp punched its way out of your lungs as he folded you in half, pinning your thighs onto your stomach, and crawling onto the bed right after them.

He’d had enough of this little game.

“Good girls shouldn’t cuss like that. Six eyes didn’t teach ya that?”

Holding you down with one hand, he dived back into your pussy, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a furious pace that had your upper body tossing and turning, the first unregulated moans ushering him to keep going. His tongue toyed with your swollen bud, the squelching of your cunt growing significantly louder from this angle, reverberating throughout the four walls of your bedroom. You were close, and so was he to getting his dick wet with all the mess he’d helped create.

His mouth watered just at the thought of his seed being the one to dribble down your thighs instead of his spit. He could picture you in one of those cute blue-navy skirts hanging from your closet and hoped you weren’t a tights person. He wanted to see you off to school every morning with your thighs sticking together so deliciously that anyone smart enough would understand how meticulously he’d fucked the brat out of you—

If only there was a mirror for you to see how stunning you looked. All fucked out and writhing, disheveled hair stuck on your tits and forehead while you nuzzled to the pillows, your shaky voice calling out to the surname he’d left behind. Would you still do that if you knew he played you like a fiddle? If you knew he was no esteemed Zen’in or sorcerer, for that matter, but a man hell-bent on ruining you for his own sick satisfaction?

Your body reciprocated his vile thoughts, your pussy fluttering around his digits. “Gonna cum for me?” he panted, forcing your legs to the side lest he missed a reaction.

Neither of you realized how his one hand had sneaked into his pants, stroking his veiny cock closer to the ecstasy he craved. Precum leaked hot out of the reddened tip, his thumb frantically swiping it over his length in sync with his thrusts. He’d stopped listening to your pleas and instructions. He fucked his fingers in you as he pleased, slowing down only when his balls began to dangerously tighten. Only then did he tear his fingers away ‘cause God forbid he busts his load in his palm like some fucking untouched teenager— regardless of how obscenely pretty you appeared for him or not.

Once he regained his composure, words made sense again. Harder. Faster. More. He hated being told what to do but absolutely loved how pliant you were. A people-pleaser, he bet. Going above and beyond what was asked of you, bending and breaking into whatever molds others force you to fit. He could work with that. Shape you into a mold only he could fit in.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how much prettier y’ can get.”

His cock twitched as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, your sweet face contorting with pleasure, lips swollen with how hard they’d tried to contain the last bits of debouched decency.

How cute.

He set your legs down and moved up to meet your face with his, a wave of genuine softness rushing over him as he thought to kiss your lips tenderly, hushing whatever emotion had you spasming. You were so sensitive. Even if you’d been with another guy before him, he doubted they knew what they were doing— not like he did, anyway. He’d make you scream out his name for the neighbors to hear what a dirty slut lived just next door from them.

After a short while of his stroking your hair and whispering filth into your ears, he decided he’d been good enough to get his trick. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cock, grinning like a little kid as your smaller palm traced the outline over his pants, knowing full well both hands would do nothing to cover his girth.

He’d really missed this— so much that he didn’t mind letting a grunt out in appreciation, certain that more would follow.

Your eyes met, the spark in them telling him you understood what he expected you to do, and even if you didn’t, he’d teach you. He’d teach you everything, snatch you from that piece of shit and make you into his star student, so long as you kept touching him and let him do all the things he’d spent the last thirty minutes fantasizing about.

Everything and anything, all for you to take—

The thoughts that failed to reach your ears along with all traces of the man whose weight alone -up until a moment ago- threatened to crush your body into a fine powder evaporated, the smooth sound of his voice replaced by the crude breaks of your father’s car as he pulled into the driveway— your mother’s kitten heels soon clicking atop every step they climbed.

Shit.

A/N: I actually intended for this to be a one-shot, but I guess it sort of ended on a cliffhanger so, oops. Lemme know if I should write a second and final part, or if you have any Toji ideas/requests ♡

3K notes · View notes

dailynnt · 27 days ago

Text

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📕 Number of part: 19/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words. Tags will be added as the story is written.

⊹👩🏼‍💻 From the author: A new part for everyone who reads my story. I don't know about you, but something don't like to me in this part. Perhaps because I finally have to lead the plot to the main problem of the story, I feel some pressure. I don't know how it all works or how it should be, but I'm writing purely from my imagination, which tries to be logical. Y/N sees Jungkook in his new look and learns something about his work. She has no idea Jungkook he might be connected to the mafia. I think it's obvious, and you all guessed it, that Jungkook is working for the mafia clan.

⊹ 🫂Dedication: Dedicate this work to my darling @myjungkookthighs I so appreciate all your love for my story and your endless support. This story is for you.💜🥰

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 8: That man driving the Mercedes.

It was Friday. You were lying on the couch in front of the TV watching your favorite show. You could finally enjoy some free time. After passing the exam, you could breathe a sigh of relief. Now you have almost 2 months off before the next semester starts.

You didn't really plan what to do during these two months. Christmas and New Year's are coming up, so you'll probably go to Suwon to visit your parents and spend the Christmas vacation with them. You would like Jungkook to come with you, too, because he rarely visits his parents because of his work. You planned to persuade him.

When you thought of Jungkook, you felt sad. Since the last time you were together, he has hardly ever been home. He comes home late and leaves early, when you already sleeping or still sleeping. You text each other, sometimes when he has time you talk on the phone, but these conversations are short. You felt that you missed Jungkook because you missed his warmth. And not just his warmth. He promised to teach you about sex, and for some reason he disappeared. His work schedule became erratic.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to got intimate with Jungkook again. After your last time in the shower, you couldn't help but think about Jungkook every day. It was so hot between you two. You wanted to feel his hot kiss on your lips again. To taste his skillful tongue. To feel the strength of his muscles moving under your hands. To moan at his skillful fingers and finally feel him filling you with his cock. To be completely at his mercy.

But all you have is his dirty clothes that he leaves in the laundry room, which is how you know he's home, and the food he buys every day and leaves for you. That's the reason you haven't left the house in almost a week. You just don't need to, everything you need is there. Except for Jungkook.

You're looking at the TV, but your mind is far away. But when you see the characters on the screen coming to a restaurant and eating samgyopsal, you remember that Jungkook promised that you two would go to “Kyochon Chicken” and eat the most delicious chicken in Seoul to celebrate your excellent passing the exam. But it seems like Jungkook had forgotten about it altogether.

You were distracted by a phone call. It was Suyong. She called to ask you were doing, and then she suggested that we go to Myeongdong and buy gifts for her parents for Christmas at the Lotte Department Store. You were eager to buy gifts too. But the scholarship was still two weeks away, and it would arrive almost before Christmas. You only had money for utilities, some of which you had to pay, so you only had about 100 thousand won left. It was not enough. You thought you would ask Jungkook if he could lend you some money.

You told Suyoung that you would go with her and that you would meet her at the exit of the subway station. You'll be there in an hour.

You took a shower to freshen up. You put on makeup and went to get dressed.

Your outfit today was a white turtleneck sweater and mom jeans. There was a lot of snow outside and it made the subzero temperature outside not so cold. So it would be comfortable to walk around in this outfit and it wouldn't be cold. You combed your hair and at first you wanted to tie it up in a high ponytail, but you changed your mind. It would be much warmer with your hair down. A long cappuccino winter coat and white boots completed the look.

The street was crowded. People were busy in the pre-Christmas bustle, everyone was in a hurry to do their own thing. When you reached the street leading to the subway, you remembered that you hadn't called Jungkook to borrow money yet. You found his number and heard long dial tones.

"Hey, baby." - Jungkook answered the phone. You heard his voice, today was the first time you called him. You had only spoken to him yesterday in the morning and you hadn't seen him for what seemed like forever, even though you live together. Your heart is beating fast. It must be from walking in the cold air.

"Hi." - You say. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. What about you? Are you going out?" - Jungkook asks.

"I'm fine too. Yeah. Going to the subway." - You say sadly. You suddenly felt how much you missed your friend.

"Why are you going to the subway?" - Jungkook asks you again. His voice is gentle and thoughtful.

"That's why I'm calling you. Suyoung suggested that we go to the LDS to buy gifts for Christmas. I want to buy gifts for my parents too, but I won't get my scholarship until the 25th. Could you lend me some money?" - You ask, still keeping your tone low-key.

"Of course, baby. How much do you need?" - Jungkook agrees immediately. You are grateful to him.

"Can you transfer 300 thousand to the card?" - You ask.

"Will that be enough? Probably I send you more?" - You hear Jungkook say. But you don't need more. This amount should be enough to buy gifts for parents. You have already bought a gift for Jungkook.

A week ago, when you were in Itaewon on business, you saw a limited edition watch in the Calvin Klein store. When you saw it, it instantly reminded you of your friend's image. It was beautiful, immediately catching your eye out of all the watches on display. A metal strap and a black dial with a minimalist design. You immediately realized that this watch had to be his. Besides, Jungkook loves to wear watches and this would be a good gift to remind him of you.

It was expensive, so now you have to ask for money to buy gifts.

"I don't need any more. Thank you." - You say. It's still about 15 minutes walk to the subway station, but you're already cold. You should have worn warmer pants or a jacket.

"Okay." - Jungkook says, and after a couple of seconds adds. "What's wrong with your voice?" - He finally notices that you're sad.

"It's okay." - You say shortly. You hear him laughing through the phone.

"It’s must be I done something wrong." - He states and you feel that he is still smiling. You smile too, but quietly so he doesn't hear. How well he knows you. You quickly compose yourself and speak with the same tone. Before you can speak, you hear a notification that money has been credited to your card. You didn't look at the amount, but it seems to be the amount you needed.

"You didn't do anything wrong. You just promised something and didn't fulfill it." - You say. Jungkook yells into the phone.

"No freaking way!" - He says in mock horror. You smile. "I'm a real asshole. Just tell me and I'll do it for you in a heartbeat." - Jungkook promises. You're laughing louder now, but still bitterly.

"I haven't seen you for almost a week, only your dirty clothes. What kind of stupid schedule do you have? Besides, you won't do it so fast. You promised to go eat chicken." - You're already faking sadness, too. But Jungkook can hear you laughing into the phone.

"Do you miss me, baby?" - Jungkook flirts. You can hear it in his voice.

"Not that I miss you... But I'm used to your company, I'm just bored alone." - You deny. Only admit that you miss him, as it could be your curse. You won't be able to withstand the bold reproaches that you can't live without your friend. Therefore, you need to choose your words more clearly.

"Oh... so you're bored. Do you want me to cheer you up?" - You hear him lower his voice.

"Maybe." - You say playfully, too. Jungkook laughs. She never admits to being bored or wanting something more. She just teases him. He likes that.

"This sucks. We'll definitely go to a restaurant. But I really can't do it right now. I have an important meeting with a woman." - Your friend is serious. The infusion he raised a moment ago instantly disappeared. You raised your eyebrows and felt a stab of jealousy.

"What woman?" - You say a little more sharply than you wanted to. Jungkook can barely contain his laughter.

"She's a very important partner. I have to settle some things with her about the deal." - Jungkook says. You are surprised for a moment that he is telling you such details. Usually everything about his work is covered in shadows.

"Then I won't distract you from your important meeting with a woman." - You say dryly. Why did he emphasize that it was a woman? "She's much more important than me." - You can't help but reproach him.

"She is very important at the moment. I'm sorry, baby." - Jungkook apologizes. You shake inside.

"Is she pretty?" - You asked with venom in your voice. Jungkook could barely contain his laughter. He knew you were jealous.

"She's fucking hot!" - He said with admiration in his voice. You feel like you've been electrocuted. How can this jerk say that to you about some woman? You instantly become angry. Suddenly you don't regret that this asshole was gone for a whole week. Is he serious? Did he find someone when you agreed to had sex? But you didn't talk about it properly and didn't agree on the rules. Because you thought it was obvious that while you were together you shouldn't have partners. But Jungkook didn't seem to have enough of you.

You wanted to scold him, but you heard a car horn to your left. It was so loud that you jumped in fright. Not far from you, on the sidewalk, was a black Mercedes Gelentwagen. Behind the wheel was Jungkook, dressed in a black sweatshirt that hugged his body and a black jacket over it.

You spent almost half a minute trying to figure out if it was really Jungkook or if you were hallucinating. He held the phone to his ear and smiled broadly, slyly.

"I can see her right now, so I have to hang up." - He said.

You glare at your friend, who looks like a fucking mafia in that car and those clothes. You approach his open window, completely forgetting that you wanted to fight with him a moment ago

"You drive a Geltwagen? What kind of job do you have?" - You ask with your mouth open and examine at the car as you can. You were impressed by the look of this car. It radiates power and elegance at the same time. Coincidence? But it was your favorite car of all the ones you had seen. Its square shape set it apart from most cars, making it almost unique. Its straight, sharp lines make you feel his powerful in the best possible way. That's why you like it.

"Get in the car quickly. I can't park here." - Jungkook warns you to move faster. But you get into the car, mesmerized, and run your eyes over the leather interior. Jungkook starts the engine and the car starts to move with a typical Geltwagen growl.

You turn your head to look at Jungkook and don't recognize him. Is this gorgeous man your best friend? You're used to seeing him in sporty clothes, riding a bike. But seeing him in a business suit and driving such an expensive car is something new.

"Do you always wear a suit at work?" - You suddenly break the silence. Jungkook holds the steering wheel with one hand and rests the other on the armrest.

"Uh-huh. It's part of the dress code." - He answers, keeping his eyes on the road. You look at Jungkook like that and you drool even more at the sight of him. How the fuck can you be so sexy while driving a car and wearing a suit? You already think he's sexy and handsome, but what you're seeing right now is lighting a fire in your eyes.

"And this is your car?" - You ask.

"The company car." - Jungkook clarifies. But it's a lie. You would notice if you knew that every time Jungkook lies, he eats his lips.

It was his car, but you don't want to know that. Because you would immediately want to know how he got the money for such a car. Jungkook only uses it when he's at work, because it emphasizes a certain status. When he started living with you, he only rides his bike. He doesn't want you to know about certain things.

"What does this company do that they buy Mercedes as company cars?" - You impressed ask. Jungkook smiled slightly.

"I told you I work in the defense service. That's all I can tell you." - He says carefully. But he quickly changes the subject before you ask too many questions. "So are we going to eat chicken?" - He asks and quickly glances at you, looking away. But almost instantly he turns it back to you, staring shamelessly. You try to figure out what's wrong and look at the road and then at Jungkook.

"What? Why are you looking like that? Look at the road instead." - You point at it. He looks at you for a moment and then looks away.

"I was just looking at you and couldn't understand..." - He says and deliberately doesn't finish his sentence.

"Understand what? Is there something on my face?" - You reached for the sun visor with a mirror in it. Opening it, you began to look for what Jungkook might have noticed.

"I couldn't figure out if you've always been this beautiful or if it's just the white turtleneck that makes you look more pretty?" - Jungkook says. You are instantly embarrassed by his compliment. What is wrong with him? Telling you that you're beautiful right to your face?

"What do you think?" - You ask, wanting to know his opinion.

"I think it's the sweater." - He jokes and gets punched in the ribs. He laughs and you look at your friend angrily.

"I am beautiful, not my sweater that makes me beautiful." - You argue. Jungkook laughs.

"Yes, baby. You are." - He says more gently and you feel those fucking butterflies in your stomach. It was a simple compliment, but you blush. You know that he thinks you're beautiful, but it's so unusually to hear it. Because he usually only teases you and doesn't say it sincerely like this.

When you're almost at “Kyochon Chicken”, you remember that you're supposed to meet Suyoung in 30 minutes. You completely forgot about it when you saw Jungkook.

You pull out your phone to text your friend that you're going to be late.

"I have to meet Suyong, that's why I left the house. But you've thrown me off track." - You complain to Jungkook. He sees you texting Suyong and asks.

"Text her that you're going to be hour late." - You froze and stopped typing.

"Hour? Why is it taking so long? Let's get a quick meal." - You suggest. Jungkook is already pulling into a large parking lot not far from the restaurant. There aren't many cars here at this hour. He doesn't answer, so you just watch him.

After parking the car a far from another, he unbuckles his seatbelt. Then he quickly approaches you, standing next to you and leaning over the armrest. One of his hands rests somewhere above your head, and he puts the other on your hips, closer to your fly.

"Because I missed and I want to amuse you." - He says. Before you can to react it, you feel his lips on yours. Jungkook kisses you and you respond immediately. The phone falls out of your hands, and you reach for Jungkook's hair. You plunge your fingers into his neatly stolen locks and mess up his hairstyle. The kiss becomes hotter as you use your tongue, and you both realize that you really missed each other.

You don't know when you became so dependent on Jungkook. As you kiss him, you want it to never end. You forget about everything in the world when those unrestrained lips are against yours.

After a week without his touch, you're hungry. And you definitely don't need chicken right now. You need Jungkook.

He pulls away from you, but only by an inch, and smiles.

"You missed your friend did ya?" - He asks the obvious. You bite your lip, remembering how you kissed a moment ago. What is there to hide? You were crazy about his absence.

"My favorite mouth." - He says as he nibbles on your lips. "I remember how great they looked wrapped around my cock." - Jungkook's words make you even wetter. You think back to that scene in the bathroom, too, and your desire increases.

Jungkook captures your lips again, not wanting to be without them for long. He engulfs your lips completely, and then kisses each lip in turn, pushing his tongue back into your mouth. This kiss is determined, passionate. He wants to show you how much he missed you.

While kissing you, Jungkook easily finds the button on your mom jeans and unbuttoned it. In a moment, his fingers are already smearing the abundant moisture on your folds. You moan into Jungkook's mouth with pleasure. You had forgotten how good it feels.

Jungkook felt his pants getting too tight from this girl moans. You were so wet that he seemed to be able to enter you so easily that it wouldn't cost him anything. And it wouldn't cost you either. The thought of shoving his cock into your welcoming pussy has made him even harder.

He wants to. He hasn't had sex in almost a week. It's not a big deal, sometimes he could go longer without it, but not when you're around. He feels so good with you that Jungkook felt like he could fuck you every day. Then the day you had sex for the first time, you gave him a kind of animal desire to you.

"Do you want me to fuck your little pussy?" - Jungkook asks you. He doesn't move too far away, continuing to caress you. Now his finger penetrates your hole. You spread your legs wider to make it easier for Jungkook to penetrate. He thinks it's still tight.

"Right here?" - You struggle to say it, fighting the sensations of his fingers. Your heart is beating like crazy in your throat.

"Yes. Right here." - Jungkook confirms. In fact, you'd rather he did it anywhere.

"We don't have a condom." - You say, and you're already regretting it. Because you really want to be filled with his cock.

"I have in the glove compartment." - Jungkook says to you.

"Why do you have condoms in your company car?" - You groan indignantly, your eyebrows raised. If Jungkook doesn't stop right now, you're going to come.

"I bought them on the way to your place!" - He confesses. You think. So he was on his way home to have sex? You wouldn't have minded. Did he want to catch you off guard? But if you hadn't called him, he wouldn't have known you were out.

"Did you have plans?" - You almost squeak and come to his fingers. How skillfully he makes you come every time.

"The plan was to fuck you on the couch at home. But doing it in the car is more to my liking." - Jungkook says, licking his fingers with your wetness. You're getting excited. You bite your lip and feel the orgasm you just had still coursing through your body.

"Take thatone from the glove compartment and get in the backseat." - Jungkook says and gets out of the car. You open the glove compartment, which was just above your knees. There's nothing in the glove compartment except a package of three condoms and a leather car manual. You take the package and get out to get into the back seat. Before you get out of the car, you take off your long coat, which is restricting your movements.

When you get in, Jungkook climbs in and makes himself comfortable. He also managed to take off his jacket and leave it on the driver's seat. He looks damn hot in that tight sweatshirt. You discreetly glance at his crotch. He's well aroused.

Jungkook gives you a studying look, probably deciding how this is going to go. You're holding the box of condoms and don't know what to do next. You can feel yourself getting embarrassed.

But this disappears when Jungkook moves closer. He sits in the middle next to you and holds you close. His hand reaches into yours and grabs what he'll need in a few minutes.

"So how would you like it? Riding me or lying down?" - Jungkook asks you, already busy taking off your sweater. You silently submit to his actions. He throws your white sweater somewhere on the ground and reaches for your breasts. Without removing your bra, he puts his hand through the fabric and frees your left boob.

He slowly bends down and takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks on it. The slight pain of his sucking is intertwined with desire and you feel even more excited. Your underwear is already soaked with moisture. The more Jungkook plays with your nipple, the more he makes you hot.

"Jungkook..." - Escapes your lips as he caresses your breasts and simultaneously tries to penetrate your hole. His fingers get in freely and he plunges his fingers inside you to stretch you for more.

When he's done with your nipple, he moves on to your neck. A path of kisses appears on your neck. You feel the traces of his lips and tongue meet the air and you shiver.

"Yes, baby." - Jungkook responds to his name.

"I need you..." - You moan sensually.

"I'm here." - He says. He continues to stretch you. But you realize that his experienced fingers are not enough. You need more. And you're almost ready to beg him.

"No. I want... you. Inside me." - Jungkook smiles to you words. It's a sly and insidious smile. What a treat for the ears to hear you want to be filled with his cock.

"Do you want me to fuck your sweet, tight pussy?" - He purrs against your lips.

"Yes..." - You exhale, feeling the friction of his fingers. You are becoming needy. Needy to the point of being desperate. "Please fuck me." - You beg. The words that come out of your mouth make Jungkook's cock twitch. He can barely keep himself from giving you all fours and fucking you senseless. But you're you. And he has to be careful with you. For now.

"Take off your pants and underwear." - He orders a little roughly. You like the possessiveness in his voice. It makes you wet even more. You obey and take off your pants, watching him pull down his pants out of the corner of your eye. They fall to his ankles. A moment later, his boxers are in the same place.

His cock bumps against his stomach as he sits up. He's horny and hard.

You remember giving him a blow job and salivate. As Jungkook pulls out a silver foil condom, you grab the length of it and run your tongue around the head.

Jungkook freezes for a moment. He doesn't breathe when he feels your tongue running over his cock. You feel him shudder a few times and you realize that he likes it.

Jungkook spreads his legs wide and you take more of his length into your mouth. You move your head up and down to make him feel good. He moans with pleasure. Your wet warm mouth is perfect for his cock. Jungkook puts his hand on your neck, tangling his fingers in your hair. You should see the eyes he's looking at you with now. They are dark, full of lust.

At some point, you touch his balls with your free hand and squeeze them slightly. Jungkook is going crazy. This is evidenced by his hissing mixed with his moans.

"Fuck!" - He curses barely audibly. He wants to come in your mouth. But he was going to fuck you. So your mouth work is enough, otherwise you don't get what you're promised.

Jungkook grabs you by the hair and easily takes you off his erect cock. He's covered in your saliva.

"If you keep doing that, I won't be able to fuck your pretty cunt." - He says. You wipe away the saliva that has already gathered in the corner of your mouth and stand up. Without letting go of your hair, Jungkook pulls you down and kisses you with his tongue. This tongue is perfect both on his cock and on his tongue.

He finally lets go of you and puts on a condom. You don't watch for long, because as soon as he's done with that, he pats his thighs, inviting you to sit on top of him.

This is something you haven't done before. It will be interesting to see how Jungkook's length will feel in this position. But before you climb on top of him, you ask your friend to take off his sweatshirt. You want you to be completely naked.

You end up on Jungkook's lap. He holds his cock as he helps you sit on him. When the head of his cock touches your entrance, you are jubilant. It has finally happened.

"Go down slowly, in and out." - Jungkook warns you in a low and breathy voice. As his cock sinks deeper into your passage, you feel the pressure. It still hurts, but it's not like the first time. You stop sometimes to get used to it.

A loud sensual moan escapes your lips. You press your groin against his as much as possible, your clit feeling his skin and pubic hair. Your eyes are glazed over with incredible pleasure.

The pressure on his length is different than when you're lying down or on all fours. You're just sitting on his cock and your walls are closing around him. Jungkook is swearing because he's never fucked a cunt that tight. It's unreal.

Jungkook puts his big hands on your buttocks, squeezing them lightly. He will help you if you get tired of swinging on his cock.

After getting used to these sensations, you want more and so you move your hips. Again, you feel pain. But it is almost imperceptible. Then more movements, then more movements. You set the rhythm. Now you're jumping on his lap and you can't get enough of the sensations of this sex.

It's crazy good. Your breasts are bouncing with every move you make. Your nails dig into Jungkook's muscular shoulders, which gives him an unrealistic high. Your cunt swallowed his cock so perfectly.

"Come on, baby, ride on my cock." - Jungkook encourages you, his voice full of lust. You bite your lip so hard it almost bleeds. "That feels so fucking good." - Jungkook says. You fully agree. You just moan at the feeling of his big cock inside you.

You keep rocking, Jungkook helping you by walking his hands from your ass to your hips.

Suddenly, some phone vibrates somewhere in the front seat. You open your eyes and freeze for a moment, but Jungkook pushes you with his hands to continue. You continue, but the phone doesn't stop ringing.

"I think it's your phone." - You say to Jungkook breathlessly. The vibration is coming from the driver's seat.

"I'll call back." - He replies just as breathlessly. You stop again and feel blissful pleasure from below. Your cunt throbs around Jungkook's cock. He pulls your neck and your lips merge in passion. You're fired up from this kiss and carry out the work you started. But no matter how much you want to ignore the phone, it vibrates a few more times.

"Someone really needs you." - You state, pointing at the phone. Jungkook swats it away and kisses your neck. You just move your hips and feel like you're getting close to orgasm. But the phone vibrates for the fourth time.

"Shit. Who's calling?" - Jungkook curses.

"Let me give the phone for you." - You offer. Jungkook wants to say no, but you insist. "Just pick up the phone and us stop disturbed."

"Okay." - Jungkook agrees. You want to get off, but he stops you with his hands on your hips. "Don't get down. I'll lift you up." - He says. You raise your eyebrows and smile in surprise. How is this supposed to look?

Jungkook climbs to a small height and approaches the front seats. You lean back, holding on to his neck and fumbling for him phone, which keeps ringing. Jungkook sits back in the seat with you and you see who has been trying to call Jungkook all this time. You turn the phone back to him.

"Jimin." - You announce. Jungkook raises his eyebrows. It seems to be something very urgent. Because his calls are one after another and this is the fourth one.

"Yes." - Jungkook says, trying to sound normal and not breathless. You make a few movements to find a comfortable position for yourself. But Jungkook doesn't appreciate your gesture. He stops you with his hand, grabbing your ass.

"Why don't you pick up the phone, kid?" - You hear Jimin's irritated voice. "Kid" such a funny nickname. You laugh silently. Jungkook jabs you in the rib with his finger, which makes you raise your eyebrows in anger.

"I'm a little busy. Speak quickly." - Jungkook says, eager to finish what he started. "Ughh..." - His breath hits the last word as you start to move on his lap. He meets your sly look and thinks you're a real bitch. You smile, and make sharp and deep thrusts, driving his cock deeper into you. He almost dies holding back his moans because your movements give him too much pleasure.

"I need you at the main office. Something has happened with the delivery of medical equipment. The customer wants to return the goods. Namjoon doesn't know yet, but it's only a matter of time. So you should come to the office before he finds out." - Jimin says. Jungkook realizes that something is wrong. But he can't get a word out because you're swinging on his length. "Hey, are you listening to me?" - Jimin is worried because Jungkook doesn't respond.

"Yes." - Jungkook answers barely. Why the fuck did he even pick up that phone? Jungkook tries to stop you, but it seems impossible.

"Damn, you shameless are having sex during call phone?" - You hear Jimin say and freeze. How did he realize that? Did Jungkook's voice give it away?

"Yes, Hyung. I told you I was busy." - Jungkook laughs at being caught. Jimin laughs too.

"You should finish up, because you're in big trouble." - Jimin says with a laugh. He speaks as if he's not talking about the problems that await Jungkook.

"I heard you. I'll be there in 20 minutes." - Jungkook says in a firmer voice.

"Isn't that Y/N taking care of you?" - Your friend asks. Your eyes get big. Does Jimin know about them? You look up at Jungkook, frightened. He seems to understand what you're thinking and shakes his head in denial.

"If I fuck Y/N, you'll be the first to know, Hyung. That's it, I have unfinished business." - Jungkook says and hangs up. You want to protest Jimin's words, but Jungkook doesn't let you. He squeezes your hips hard and grabs your neck. He pulls you sharply closer to him and speaks to you almost threateningly.

"You little bitch. I almost died while I was on the phone." - Jungkook says into your lips. His voice is low and dangerous, and you get aroused by the tone. This Jungkook is something completely new. Usually he is gentle and attentive. But now, with his menacing look...

"It was hard for me to restrain myself." - You say in your defense.

"If that's the case, I do it either." - Jungkook threatens. You smile bravely.

"Then go ahead. Fuck me properly." - You asking for. But it sounds more like an order. Jungkook is pleasantly surprised by your behavior during sex today. You were so shy at first, but now you're ordering him to fuck you. You'll get what you want.

"Your word is law." - Jungkook says and he bites down on your lips ruthlessly. Your head is spinning. You can feel Jungkook's irritation and it amuses you. But when he grabs you, squeezing your hips with force, and starts pounding you with his hips, you're not so amused. His thrusts are deep. You feel some unknown sensation before. It drives you crazy and you can't help but scream. You dig your nails into Jungkook's back to relieve these feelings. It's something completely wild and dizzy.

Jungkook reaches your uterus with his cock. He's so deep inside you, and he's fucking your cunt so hard. It's just pure ecstasy. Jungkook knows you came because your walls are clenching around his cock. He feels his balls tense, he's ready to come. One last deep thrust and he releases right into the condom.

You fall helplessly on his shoulder. You feel the car smell of sex and expensive perfume. You breathe in Jungkook's scent and hear your ears buzzing. You've never had an orgasm like this before. Even though you've only been having sex for a short time, this was the best orgasm you've ever had.

Jungkook's breathing is fast and ragged. It takes you a while to come to your senses. When you lift your head, still sitting on Jungkook's lap with his soft cock inside you, you smile at him. He's smiling back, too.

"Fuck, Jungkook, that was amazing." - You praise him. He snorts.

"Is that praise I hear?" - He asks and uses his fingers to brush your hair away from your face.

"It's not a sin to praise you for sex like that. But I can't sit like this anymore." - You grimace, feeling your legs go numb. "I don't think I'll be able to sit for a week."

Jungkook helps you down and sits down next to you, supporting you. You look for your underwear and put them on, wrinkling your nose a little.

"Was I too rude?" - Jungkook is worried. You pay attention to him and notice his concern.

"I was just joking. I liked it." - You assure Jungkook. But he doesn't seem to believe you.

"But I fucked you hard, are you sure it didn't hurt?" - He won't calm down. You flick your tongue.

"It's okay, Jungkook. I'm not in any pain." - You reach for him and kiss him lightly on the lips. It works and Jungkook finally relaxes. He also puts on his boxers and then pulls on his pants.

You get dressed quickly, Jungkook cleans up the car and starts the engine.

"I'm sorry, baby. We'll definitely come here this weekend to eat." - Jungkook apologizes. You weren't too upset that you didn't eat chicken today. Instead, you got something much better.

Jungkook drives you to the mall so that you can meet Suyoung and buy gifts for your parents. On the way, he checks his phone and you realize that he is getting irritated. He's reading some texts, but you don't look at his phone. It wouldn't be nice to do that.

"Is everything okay?" - You ask in hope. Jungkook locks the phone and throws it on the dashboard.

"Not really." - Is all Jungkook says. You want to ask him more, but you stop yourself in time. Jungkook needs to focus on solving the problem at hand, and you don't want to distract him. You stop talking, and there's silence between you for the rest of the ride.

Jungkook parks not far from the subway station. He smiles at you lightly and you smile back.

"Are you going to be late again tonight?" - You ask. He looks at you guiltily.

"I think so. So don't wait for me." - Jungkook says. He reaches out to kiss you, but you stop him in a panic.

"What are you doing? What if Suyoung sees us?" - You say.

"She doesn't know this car." - Jungkook counters your assumption.

"This car attracts attention. So she might see you and me." - You comment.

"Okay then, no kissing goodbye." - Jungkook says and sits up straight. For a moment, you regret not kissing Jungkook's lips, but then you come to your senses.

Everything between you is becoming lighthearted. There are no boundaries. You act like a couple, but you're not dating. You are friends with benefits. This must be kept under control. You should tell Jungkook that you need to set some rules. But Jimin calls him again and Jungkook already assures him that he's on his way.

You hurriedly leave Jungkook's car. You look in the wake and it only now dawns on you that Jimin is working with Jungkook. Why didn't they ever tell you that? And then there's this guy Namjoon. He seems to be Jungkook's boss.

You went to the mall because Suyoung was already there, and you remembered the conversation between Jungkook and Jimin.

It was a medical supply deal. Maybe Jungkook is a transportation safety coordinator? Or something like that.

It's strange that you've been friends with Jungkook for so many years and you've lived together for a long time, but you know almost nothing about his job. You realize that this work involves influential people. No matter how young Jungkook looks he fits in well with them. Although you know him as a simple, kind guy, as your best friend.

Jungkook picks up speed to get to the head office as soon as possible. He enters the underground parking lot and parks. He is angry because the deal he coordinated fell through. The fucking customer wants the product back.

Jungkook walks down a long corridor and finds himself on the 25th floor of the “Mono Corp” building.

He enters the office of "Director Park" and sees him at the window. He is on the phone.

"Yes, I got it. Please find out when this company was established. Dig up all the information on the supplier." - Jungkook hears what Jimin is saying. Jungkook's jaw is tense.

Jimin listens for a long minute and then hangs up. He turns back to his guest and runs his eyes over him.

"So who did you fuck on your lunch break?" - Jimin asks with undisguised curiosity. "My secretary?" - Jungkook raises his eyebrows.

"No, not your secretary." - He replies. And his mind is still fresh with your naked image sitting on his lap. And he can hear your groans in his ears. But Jungkook can't tell Jimin about you two. Besides, friends who know less sleep better. "You don't know her. We met on the Internet." - Jungkook lies. Jimin studies Jungkook's face for a few seconds and then turns away, walking to his desk. He sits down in his chair and grabs a pen. He twists it in his fingers to calm his nerves.

"I thought after that night you finally slept together with Y/N. Seriously Jungkook, she's so fucking hot, how can you just be friends with her?" -Jimin asks. Jungkook sits down on the couch and leans his arm over the back.

"Do you have your eye on her?" - Jungkook asks, trying to hide his jealousy.

"You'd have to be blind not to pay attention to her." - Jimin replies. Jungkook controls his facial expressions because he knows how well Jimin can read them. "But I'm not. I know you like her, so I'm not evaluating her as a potential partner. But it looks like Taehyung has his eye on her." - Jimin is lying to get some kind of reaction. Jungkook has a dispassionate expression on his face.

"Pfft, I wish him luck." - Jungkook just laughs. There it is. He's got him. Jimin knows what this "pfft" means. However he just will wait for his friend to admit that he's fucking his best friend.

"Why didn't you check the condition of the equipment before offering it to the customer?" - Jimin asks seriously, moving on to the business for which he called Jungkook.

"I checked it myself." - Jungkook says with the same serious tone.

"All 20 devices are defective. The customer wants a refund. And that's 50 million dollars for a minute." - Jimin states.

"I know the amount because I coordinated this order." - Jungkook says calmly. "But I'm telling you that I checked the serviceability of all the machines. I don't understand what could have happened..."

"I checked the logistics company Ironline Transport that the DVSS vehicles were traveling through, and guess what? This company is a subsidiary of “PrimeRoute Logistics”"- Jimin smiles.

"That's Doohoon's father's company!" - Jungkook boils with anger. "But does the contract say “Ironline Transport”? We signed the contract with a different company." - Jungkook says.

"No, the contract says subsidiary." - Jimin argues.

"I remember exactly how I read it from top to bottom and there was no such word as 'transport' in the name of the carrier company." - Jungkook recalls. "How did “Ironline Transport” get there?"

"That was my question to you." - Jimin says. Jungkook falls silent. There is definitely a mistake here. Obviously, someone forged the documents. He's in serious trouble, and he's betting his head that Doohoon is involved. "Either way, needs told all to Namjoon. But first, we'll investigate. I'm more than sure that your old friend is up to the same trick again. He likes to set you up."

↰ Previous chapter ⋮ ≣ Index ↓ ⋮ Next chapter ↱

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #bts mafia au

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kremlin · 11 months ago

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@wikwalker hi sure yes anything to give me an excuse to procrastinate the post i should be writing right now. here are all teh drugs and how to manage them. you can trust me, a drug addict

first of all: https://www.erowid.org/ , erowid always

don't be afraid of drugs, if they're the right drugs, you should do them since they will be a blast regardless and overcoming fear is also good (but outside the scope here)

OK to do as much as you want: alcohol - social benefit greatly outweighs health effects, no reason to avoid if predisposed to abuse since that'll happen sooner or later. what can i say? don't be a fucking dork. when you start drinking, really overdo it as much as possible without dying and get a few real nasty hangovers under your belt so you know how much is the right amount to drink.

weed - innocuous enough to be fine but will make you stupid in the long term. make sure to only buy from a real drug dealer and never some legal institution. cut it out when you're a "real adult". don't smoke weed and watch TV routinely, go out and do things so you naturally grow to hate it. good to go through this as early as possible to minimize the time you spend as a cringe weed enthusiast

i guess those are the only two.

ok to do infrequently (annually): "lsd" - or whatever it is, probably not lsd, blah blah blah, if it works and is sold on blotter its fine and won't make you go nuts or whatever. opt for a better psychadelic imo. see psych rule at bottom of section

mushrooms - better than acid since you know what they are. rule of thumb is to always do more than you think you want. minimum 1/8oz. see psych rule at bottom of post

dmt - if you somehow have a dmt hookup you don't need to be reading any of this. lasts 10 minutes which leads to tendency to way overdo it, don't do this, my favorite webcomic artist is permanently crazy from exactly that. using a crack pipe is also not the uhhhh most dignifying-feeling thing to do either. it's harder than you think.

mdma - for use at electronic music event or rave. overuse causes brain lesions or something.

coke - wait until you're in your 20s, have maxed out your roth IRA for a couple of years in a row, and havent missed a car payment in a similar timeframe. better still if you've worked a very shitty low paying job and know the value of a dollar. if you still find yourself buying candy you're not ready. too expensive to be worth it to get hooked on. know that you are VERY ANNOYING to anyone who also isn't high. don't fuck around with the guy selling it to you. avoid discussing or thinking about business ideas. you can't afford to make it a habit + kinda turns you into a piece of shit after a while, but at least a very interesting one

ketamine - another sick drug that rules, but save it for a special occasion. don't try and go into the k-hole your first time

rule for psychedelics - you get one good strong trip a year and that's it, make it count, always opt for doing a bit more than a bit less. but don't make it a habit, otherwise you turn into a very stupid very annoying "hippy" style cliché and believe in ghosts, aliens, crap like that.

ok to try once prescription opiates/benzodiazepine (xanax), valium, this kind of shit - worth trying so you can go "holy shit, this stuff is way way way too good to ever use responsibly" and then never do again. especially if you're white. for some reason we just can't handle this shit. if a doctor prescribes it to you, idk, that's your call to make.

ayhuasca - this is just dmt in a different form. do some other psychadelics a number of times before you do this. once you realize the whole "substantial visual hallucinations" thing is made up, its time. do exactly this: -buy root online (legal). receive box of dirt -boil dirt into "tea" (read erowid for exact recipe) -take over-the-counter anti nausea medicine or anything that will give you a stronger stomach -drink tea (its nasty as fuck, get it down quick) -have someone bigger than you keep an eye on you for the next five hours. -have the experience, which is absurdly intense, has no bearing to the real world, etc etc. don't be a bitch and throw up, if you do it'll only last an hour or so. again there is no way to provide a consistent description of the experience except that you will meet god. you only ever need to do this once and never again. trust me

peyote/salvia/etc - try em if you want, you'll never ever want to again afterwords. these are drugs for idiot teenagers too lame to get real drugs. imagine being very very sick from poison and utterly terrified at the same time. No good

whippets/nitrous oxide - just find a dentist that uses it and don't bother creating hundreds of pounds of trash on your floor for this crap that lasts ten seconds. you have to understand the extremely short timeframe coupled with the cost makes zero sense. go to a phish concert parking lot and do some people watching -- you do not want to be these people. only use is as a motivator to get routine dental exam. also if you somehow manage to make it a heavy habit your fucking legs stop working, no shit, but they start working again once you quit.

don't ever do heroin/meth/pcp - is is truly a mystery why you should never do these 🙄

synthetic weed/k2/shit from the gas station - it is so funny that they sell this as "weed that won't pop you on a drug test". its not weed. it is some dubious chemical sprayed on yard waste. smoke it to have a terrible time and go nuts. only buy drugs from legitimate drug dealers!

kratom - anyone's guess as to why this is legal but it's heroin for pussies. its still heroin

dxm/cough syrup - do you ever wonder why it is exclusively teenagers robotripping? it's because it sucks ass. is like a cheesegrater on your brain in terms of health effects with repeated usage. you're better than this king

inhalants - these are at the bottom of the list for a reason. do not huff gas. don't huff paint. do not consume computer duster. not fun + fastest way to make yourself a complete, uh, (word i can't say anymore) and then dead

not listed quaaludes- unavailable due to no longer being manufactured. these ruled apparantly

sincis2c - unavailable due to not existing, i just made this up

amphetamines - cannot provide objective take here. they're my albatross, lifelong (posted 4:55am natch)

#posts i will be deleting

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thrashkink-coven · 4 months ago

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Special reminder to all the new Luciferians that forgot that he is the adversary, yeah, he’s gonna fuck with you FOR FUN.

If you’ve been working with Lucifer for a week or so and have started getting “conflicting” messages, you are not alone 😩. Lucifer loves to test us, he loves to see how deep our values go. He will purposely say things you disagree with or it would seem like he would disagree with just to fuck with you. This dude LOVES to debate.

For example, a large part of my relationship with Lucifer involved coming to terms with my neurodivergency. For weeks we were working on accepting my limits, being aware of my disorders and having patience for myself. But during a meditation I got the very strong message from him “People with mental illnesses are just looking for an excuse to be lazy”

and I was like ????? what the fuck???? No they’re not??? You fucking idiot???? Who am I talking to right now???? And he was like “yes and anyone who claims to have a disorder without a diagnosis are just looking for attention. Prove me wrong if you think differently”

and I blew up, providing so many arguments for why he’s wrong and why that stance is so stupid, and eventually after a while he was like “Hm… that’s interesting. I guess you’re right. Now that we’ve established this I guess we won’t need entertain the idea anymore”

and any time after that, when I was having self doubts, maybe I’m just faking it for attention, maybe I’m just lazy, Lucifer has been like “OH! So I guess I WAS right!” and I’ve been like NOOO!!!!!! YOURE WRONG!!! THE ENTIRE IDEA IS STUPID AND I WONT LET YOU TELL ME OTHERWISE!!!

and Lucifer will then be like “Oh, good then. Don’t let you tell you otherwise either”.

He will press your boundaries, even if only to make sure YOU know where your boundaries are. When writing a spell together Lucifer has been like “yes, we will also need to sacrifice a cat”

and I’ve been like “wtf no we’re not sacrificing a cat why the hell would I do that”

and he’s responded “Because I said so. You will obey my order without question.” (again, extremely out of character, this is a test’!)

until I finally put my foot down and say “I don’t care who or what you are, doing this goes against my core values and I will not abandon those for you or anyone. With all due respect I refuse to do this task”

and Lucifer will be like “I’m just fucking with you, I really liked the way you stood your ground against me though, that was very hot”

and for even less obvious things, Lucifer will test you. He wants to know why you think the things you think. We recently had a very long conversation about the concept of Pedophilia. Super uncomfortable, a conversation I didn’t know we’d ever have, but it was important. He starts by asking me if pedophilia is wrong. Um what??? Obviously???

“Why is it wrong? Explain your reasoning.”

Well because it hurts kids.

“What about non offending pedophiles? What about pre offending reformed pedophiles?”

You don’t have to have the answer to those questions, but you must understand that the answers to those questions matter, even though they are incredibly uncomfortable. Are there evil people? Do evil people deserve empathy? What is an evil person? I don’t like thinking about that, that’s the reason why I don’t have an answer. Lucifer will force you to come to that answer.

“How do we conduct a society where we prevent pedophiles from hurting children without creating another form of discrimination? Do you believe pedophiles deserve empathy? Do they deserve to die? How do we deal with murderers and rapists without becoming murderers and rapists ourselves? How do you console yourself with the reality that some people genuinely enjoy evil things? If you were the Emperor of Hell, how would you manage all the most wicked people who have ever lived? Why is incest bad? Why is murder bad? Do racists deserve to die? Do war criminals deserve to die? Who should be allowed to determine who deserves to die? How far does your empathy extend to people who have done horrible things? How does your moral compass navigate these complex scenarios? What is right and what is wrong? Why do you believe the things you believe?”

There will be times when it seems like he’s trying to do everything in his power to just disagree with you. It’ll seem like he’s leading you to argue with him, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’ll ask you questions that should seem like common sense. He’s establishing that not only is it okay to disagree with him, but that at times, he will force you to, to ensure that you are not deriving your own personal values from “whatever God tells you”. He will lie to you, just to see if you’re able to identity a lie. He will say things that he obviously doesn’t believe, only to hear why YOU don’t believe it. It’s important to be firm on your boundaries even if your God is pushing them. You should not be afraid to disagree. You should not be afraid to disobey if it is important to you. Lucifer is not a Shepard and you are not a sheep. You need to understand your own morality alone, without God, without a cheat sheet telling you the answers. and you need to be firm on those. To the point that if God Himself told you differently, you wouldn’t budge.

So if you’ve started working with him recently and are confused as to why he suddenly started saying things you disagree with, investigate what he may be trying to get across. You’ll learn a lot more about yourself.

#pagan #paganism #luciferian witch #luciferism #luciferian #lucifer devotee #theistic luciferianism #lucifer deity #lucifer morningstar #lord lucifer #lucifer #witchcraft #demonology #demonolatry

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togglesbloggle · 11 days ago

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Insofar as I have a principled position on the matter- and I don’t, not really- it’s this: art does have the ability to alter our values and our way of interpreting the world. It’s absolutely a live grenade, and should be taken seriously as such.

Like, of course it does! Probably you can point to some book, some film, some story somewhere that touched you not just deeply but irrevocably. There are moments of aesthetic experience which give a before and after to our lives, just as surely as moments of extraordinary suffering or extraordinary joy can.

I’m lucky enough to have more than a few I can list off, personally. Profoundly transformative ones like Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited or the music of John Cage, sure. But maybe even more interesting (tractable?) to me were small moments of grace like the one I found in the Dragonlance novels by Weis and Hickman: the dark wizard Raistlin Majere wove back and forth across the line between ‘hero’ and ‘villain’ in exactly such a way that, after reading his books at a young age, I immediately and quite distinctly overcame my fear of the dark.

What a wonderful thing for a book to do! I’d be hard-pressed to explain exactly how, if only because I’m such a different person now than I was then. Perhaps your own intuition will bridge the gap a bit. It was all tied up with this distinction between good and evil, you see, and with the ability to stare in to the face of evil things without flinching, to understand that they have contingency and history just like good things do, and to be in some sense in community with them.

That was a long, long time ago, and I don’t think my model of the world even has evil in it any more, not in the sense that I believed in it then. But my fear of the dark never came back, either.

I don’t believe for a minute that Weis and Hickman had any idea that they were giving me that gift in particular, nor did they have any sensible means to achieve such a goal even if they somehow wanted to. It wasn’t a transformation mediated by intent, you know? It didn’t reduce to an argument that I believed or disbelieved in some intellectual way, or to some specific controlled experience that the authors had planned for me.

Art is transformative, but not in the way that effective polemic is transformative. It doesn't (principally) reason with us or persuade us. Rather, I think art is dangerous for the same reasons that travel to a foreign country is dangerous, or a friendship with somebody new is dangerous. It threatens us by expanding our conscious history to include new categories of experience, that is, by changing the context in which we go about the business of living.

It's wrong to think of art mostly as a tug-of-war dragging hapless consumers from one ideology to another, with the victory going to whichever faction can fill the algorithm with mass-produced and doctrinally compliant stories clamoring endlessly for their views. Normalization has its power, don't get me wrong, but there will always be far greater power in a single glimpse over the horizon.

Think about Whoopi Goldberg's account of seeing Nichelle Nichol's Uhura on television:

“Well, when I was nine years old Star Trek came on. I looked at it and I went screaming through the house, ‘Come here, mum, everybody, come quick, come quick, there’s a black lady on television and she ain’t no maid!’ I knew right then and there I could be anything I wanted to be.”

Once. It took one time, and the walls fell away, and everything was possible. The fashions and approved styles may come and go with the seasons, but the outer perimeter of our experiences, and the sense of what the world could be, can only ever grow, and sometimes it grows by leaps and bounds in an instant.

I guess this is why I tend to think of censorship and control over media as basically quixotic. Sure, with enough energy you can control what's normal and what's public, but controlling what's possible is an exercise in futility on a grand scale. You can never win that fight, only lose it fast or slow.

We all have this remarkably unpredictable collection of soft places and hard places: some things in us that deform to match the shape of their environment, and other things that break us before they can bend. And we all try to find a way to make these strange shapes work within the limits of our own experience and the world as we understand it. Some of us thrive in communities and cultures where others die gasping, and some of us spend our entire lives trying to smash through excruciating barriers that others can't even detect.

Art is one of the things that expands those limits, gives the strange creature inside us a little bit of room to stretch and grow and find a space for the hard bits to arrange themselves as they need to be. But it can't do that without changing the soft parts as well, because the soft parts need external force to maintain their shape. Socialization and ideology can only weakly bind us, because they rely on deliberate and conscious pressures to conform; ignorance is stronger, because it denies us the choice altogether. Without art, you'll never really be able to learn what kind of animal you are, as opposed to the kind of person your world has told you to be. But art will change you, too, as discovery always will.

The life you have now has real value- great beauty, and great meaning. For all that you are defined in part by the walls of your cage, knowledge and new experiences are not something to accept lightly, and they can never be undone. All I can say, really, is that I've never once regretted it.

#Some late-night posting from a bed with far too little sleep in it

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bonefall · 7 months ago

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Not sure if this is the place to ask or if I should go to Bonebabble, but ooh, Dungeon Meshi mention! I love what you said about low-empathy and apathy, I think I’ll use that in ny own characters.

I wanted to ask why you think Shuro is autistic. I’ve seen a lot of people say it so there must be a reason why, but I don’t think it’s really obvious to me? Like with Laios, autism/neurodivergence is so integral to his story, so it’s deeply obvious. I love the way he’s written! But we don’t see a lot of Shuro, so I’d like to hear more of why people see the tism in him.

@bonebabbles is the better place to send these in the future but it's chill! The vibe right now's loose since we're all coming down from the heaviness of Mooncourse lmao

Honestly, I feel a little 'tism in a lot of the cast of Dungeon Meshi. As a very autistic writer myself, it kind of has a vibe like it was written by someone who's autistic and so it gets peppered into all of her characters. It's something I notice a lot in my own art, too.

But like, when it comes to Toshiro... I can't stop thinking about him. He makes me want to chew the furniture. With every passing day I become less normal about him.

glossary because I had a lot of thoughts about Toshiro Dungeon Meshi i guess. Oh my god this got long

He reminds me of some people I know

His culture clash is very relatable to me in an autistic way

He has a rigid commitment to his values and morals

Miscellaneous Autism Moments

THE LAIOS FIGHT

in conclusion

He reminds me of some people I know

He reminds me of certain autistic men I've met from affluent families. The type who both is taught to repress and mask their own traits, yet also not to be incredibly mindful of the emotions of other people. Because of their status, they don't have to learn how to work out interpersonal conflict because the majority of the people around them are servants or family. People who would never go away if they didn't like you.

So, his vassals have to learn to talk to him and how to carry out his orders. Not the other way around. As a result, Toshiro has a bit of unearned confidence about his leadership abilities and communication skills. NOT in a way that is smug, DO NOT misunderstand me; just in a way that overestimates his own judgement. Maybe he has encyclopedic knowledge for talking to other nobles offscreen, but when it came to his own team, he was ignoring a lot of the good advice they gave him about taking breaks.

Yes, Toshiro is from a high-context culture-- but his communication issues are bad with everyone.

ESPECIALLY his vassals, people he calls family, from the same exact culture as him. They're worried about him, most of them are desperate for acknowledgement, they'd do anything for him, and he doesn't address this until AFTER his brawl with Laios!

His culture clash is very relatable to me in an autistic way

Toshiro knew he was going somewhere that was going to be a melting pot of mostly western cultures. He knew the manners were going to be different, and he came alone, not in a group where he was only interacting with his own people.

Yet he NEVER adjusted his own social behavior.

I'm American and my partner is British. When I first went, I had no idea why they were offering me so much tea. I thought I was being polite by following them into the kitchen, thinking they wanted to move the conversation over there. My partner quickly fixed this by explaining that when someone offers you tea, they're taking a short pause in the lull of a conversation to be a good host.

I am autistic. What someone else might have just figured out through getting an awkward look, I had to be told directly. There are a lot of little things like that.

Toshiro feels like what would happen if the opposite was happening, an autistic person from a high-context culture coming to a low-context culture. He can't properly express discomfort. It's not JUST Laios, King of Autism, that he's having issues talking to. Neither Marcille nor Chilchuck know that "Shuro" is a mispronunciation, and they had no clue that he disliked Laios THIS much.

I even think it's kinda telling that Toshiro felt the most comfortable with Falin out of the rest of the party. The hyper-empathetic autistic girl who goes out of her way to accommodate others.

He has a rigid commitment to his values and morals

A strict, uncompromising moral compass is a hallmark of autism. It's everything Toshiro does!!

When Falin was eaten, he bolted off to assemble the best team he could think of. He believes that love is sacrifice, so he pushes his body and his family to the limit to try and prove how much he loves Falin. Chilchuck freaks out when he finds out that Laios told him about the dark magic, because "HE'S THE WORST PERSON TO TELL!"

LIKE, YEAH! HE SURE IS!

Maizuru also explains that from a very young age, he's been incredibly compliant. He never asks for anything, he's always been a bit sickly and uninterested in eating. He always tries to be on his very best behavior, even if that means not asking for accommodations he might actually need.

In fact, the only food he seems to LIKE eating is what Maizuru makes him. To the point where she ended up getting pulled into the kitchen even when she was on a "mission." Senshi makes a cute comment that it's "love" that Maizuru puts into those meals, but... what if it's actually because she knows the textures and flavors he likes?

Miscellaneous Autism Moments

There's so many little moments that are so incredibly autistic to me.

He sees Falin with a bug and he proposes right on the spot. The other characters are like, "oh that's just how they act in the east" but no the fuck it is not. They don't even know "Shuro" is a mispronunciation, how the hell do they know anything about eastern courting traditions?

I know EXACTLY what happened. I'm beaming you this information directly from the truth.

Toshiro was TOLD that you're supposed to 1. make your proposals a surprise, and 2. you will know the right one when you see them, and NO ONE elaborated any further because he comes from a high context culture. He popped that question the first time both of those boxes were ticked off.

In coming from a high context culture, what he does is strictly follow rules and conditions he was taught.

And that's absolutely why he handed Laios that bell. Because he does care about him and the party, and he's taught that doing these acts of service is a show of that... and he didn't even think ahead to the fact the bell was going to be ringing constantly.

And yet. In spite of that, he ALWAYS keeps it near him.

Before it clicked and I realized why, I used to think Toshiro was kind of an asshole for running off to get his vassals without even telling Marcille and Laios about his plan. Like... how could you not know they were going to do something drastic? The three of them were the Falin Fan Club and he was the most normal member of it. It's so obvious to me that Laios (brother) and Marcille (""Gal Pal"") were going to get themselves in danger.

So how could you just run off like that without telling them? Even if lack of supplies meant they couldn't go back in, how could you just leave them worried sick in the town, thinking you abandoned Falin?

And then it hit me. The man just has low empathy.

There WAS no malice, just like how there wasn't malice in how he was pushing him and his vassals to the limits, just like how there was never malice against Laios. It simply didn't occur to him like that.

He's never been taught to consider the thoughts and feelings of others very deeply and they don't come naturally. He's still compassionate. There's a reason all of his vassals love him!

But THAT'S WHY he never put himself in Laios' shoes, or anyone else's. Empathy does not come naturally to him. All of his good behavior is as a result of his moral code, NOT empathy.

So with that said, why does he love Falin so much? Aside from the wonderful, positive traits he lists when he's asked? I mean, what's really deep down at the core of why he finds these things so lovely?

Well... Falin and Laios are not all that different from each other, to the point where Toshiro gets gently ribbed in a bonus chapter about how if one of them was a girl, Shuro might have loved Laios instead. He waxes poetic about the ways she's different from most women, how she's not afraid of things like insects, her compassion, her face, her laugh.

These are all things Laios does too (in fact in one of the panels where Toshiro is appreciating Falin, she's trying to check if a caterpillar is a male or female), but Falin's personality expresses in a more subdued and introverted way. Closer to how Toshiro is, as a person. So... I think it's because he relates to her.

To both Touden siblings. But Laios makes him see things he doesn't want to.

THE LAIOS FIGHT

We established that Toshiro has a strict commitment to his values, he probably has low empathy, and even taking his cultural differences into account he's bad at communicating.

So then, why was one of his complaints against Laios' obliviousness that he "knows he doesn't mean anything by it, and that makes it worse"? Isn't that kinda specific when you think about it?

If you're neurodivergent, I want you to think back to points in time where you dealt with people who have the same issues you do. Autism, ADHD, PTSD, DID, whatever. Did you ever have a moment where they did something harmless or mildly inconvenient, definitely as a result of the same exact thing you have, and you just... HATED it?

You HATED it even more than you would anyone else doing the same thing. You probably know your response was disproportionate. But YOU don't do that THING they did. Or if you do that, it's less bad somehow. Or you used to do that but don't anymore and it reminds you of when you did.

If you're reflective, you might have realized it might be internalized ableism. I feel like that's a huge part of why Toshiro finds Laios SO. ANNOYING. Laios is like this stupid, idiot, blundering caricature of things Toshiro has been taught to avoid, which violate his moral code. Shuro comes from a place of so many more rules and subtle cues, and it's like Laios doesn't respect any of them.

What STARTS this fight, causes Laios to finally hit back after being smacked, shoved, and shouted at, is being told "YOU'RE NOT TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY."

It's so obviously wrong! Laios, who ran back into a dungeon immediately? Who Toshiro himself called rash? This is NOT a logical conclusion to make about Laios or his party. I think it came from frustration that Laios "does things the wrong way." That it's projection, stemming from that low empathy.

He's not like Kabru in the same chapter, who's desperately trying to get a read on Laios' inner workings and failing. Shuro's just extrapolating his own feelings onto him, because he's recognizing that same "sense" within him. If TOSHIRO didn't follow the rules he sets down for himself, that's not "taking it seriously."

Toshiro follows the rules. Laios does not.

...and Laios is FREE.

He's open and honest in a way Toshiro can never be, not as a noble, not as an easterner, and not as an autistic man. Hell, Laios was ALSO a noble, he gave that up! Threw that away, and then came back to his village and took Falin away from it. If Laios is acting like an idiot, he's acting like an idiot who does everything Toshiro has ever wanted to do. Laios cannot mask and Toshiro resents that.

One of the things Toshiro even explicitly says he HATES about Laios is the fact he's willing to be a burden on other people. Maizuru said earlier that he's NEVER made a "selfish request" before-- but Laios can just open his mouth and ask for help, feeling no shame, just as he did in this chapter when he asked him not to tell the Island Lord about the dark magic.

And then, after they literally come to blows, Toshiro tells Laios some incredibly brutal things, revealing he's NEVER been his friend and he has resented him this whole time. This actually sits with Laios well into the later chapters, but the fight ends and then they're just CHATTING FRIENDLY LIKE IT DIDN'T MATTER.

More honestly than ever before, because Toshiro is returning the effort. He eats some food (the narrative's metaphor for making connections). He thanks his vassals for the first time. He talks about how he wishes he'd told Falin about all the things he adored about her when he still had the chance.

I have to take the panels of his response right out of the manga actually because this little expression here is so subtle, but so meaningful.

(Read <- <- <- that way)

Look at the way that when Laios makes that genuine movement, assuring him with passion that he will be making sure Falin receives this message, Toshiro's gut response is annoyance. But then it softens and he pauses, like he's reconsidering what his response is going to be.

To admit that he envies "this side of Laios" is also admitting that the earlier fight was based on envy.

Laios was like this the WHOLE time. Making these grand speeches about his plans, what his party's been doing, how Toshiro needs to eat something and take a nap. He's ALWAYS been like this. It was Toshiro's mindset that changed.

In conclusion

Something I really like about Dungeon Meshi is HOW MANY of its characters can be read as autistic. Laios is just the most obvious one, with his special interest in monsters and inability to read social cues being central to the plot. His is a more "well known" expression of autism-- it's rare you get characters whose masking is central to their characters.

But it's really refreshing to see characters like Kabru, Falin, and Toshiro. Autistic people are rare enough in popular media to begin with, but we NEVER get characters whose autism intersects with their trauma, gender, and culture quite like these three.

#dungeon meshi #toshiro #shuro #shuro dungeon meshi #toshiro dungeon meshi #media analysis #autism

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