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dreamersparacosm · 3 days ago

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jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part five)

warnings ; talk of blood and injuries (kinda?) but that’s it!

prompt : in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; guys why am i depressed about part six being the last part. i will miss my pookie so badddd :(( also why did I get turned on writing about injured jk…girl. anywho - crazy that this story has amassed over 3000 notes like… i love u all xo.. (make sure to listen to snow on the beach by taylor for the first part of this chapter ;’))

playlist here

series masterlist here

A few days pass.

Yet the man hasn’t left your mind. You’ve tried to shake it off, tried to go about your days like normal, but the problem is: nothing feels normal anymore. Not since Maya’s party, not since that night in his car, not since he told you not like this. Not since you woke up the next morning, lips tingling with the ghost of a kiss that never happened.

You’re so screwed.

It’s a crush—a full-blown, heart-thudding, stomach-flipping, ridiculous kind of crush.

The kind that makes you overly aware of every little thing he does. The way he texts you throughout the day, the way he always waits for your reaction when he says something funny, the way he watches you sometimes, really watches you, like he’s waiting for something.

And the worst part?

Nothing has changed, yet everything has changed.

Jungkook still invites you over like he always does, still texts you pictures of puzzles he’s working on, still shows up at your door with a bottle of wine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Today is just another one of those days.

It’s raining outside, the steady hum of water against the windows filling his home. The air smells like fresh coffee and buttered popcorn, and a half-played movie flickers dimly on the screen as you curl up in the corner of his couch, knees tucked under you.

It’s comfortable. Familiar.

Unfortunately, to your dismay, his stupid, soft, obnoxiously pink lips, the ones you almost felt against your own, the ones that hovered so close to yours that night in his car, the ones that have been torturing you for days now.

It’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.

Because ever since that night, you haven’t been able to stop. Not during work, not during your commute, not even in the quiet moments before you fall asleep because your brain won’t let you. It replays everything, like some cruel, never-ending loop. His voice, his gaze, the way he held you so gently as he carried you up your apartment stairs.

You’re obsessed with the almost, with the what if, with the thought of how it would’ve felt if he hadn’t stopped.

Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting beside you, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, his other hand absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on his sweatpants. Maybe it’s the way his knee brushes against yours every so often, something almost deliberate in the way he doesn’t move away. Maybe it’s just you.

Your heart is doing too much, your body feels too warm, and suddenly, sitting next to him feels like the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly, trying to act normal. “This movie sucks.”

Jungkook glances at you, one brow lifting. “You picked it.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I know. But I thought it would be one of those so bad it’s good movies.”

He smirks, sinking lower into the couch, arms stretching wider. “It’s just bad.”

You peek at him through your fingers, your lips twitching. “I regret everything.”

Jungkook hums, tilting his head like he’s thinking. “I could save you from your suffering.”

You blink. “How?”

His smirk deepens. “Turn it into a drinking game.”

You gasp, scandalized. “It’s literally three in the afternoon.”

Jungkook shrugs. “And?”

You glare. “You’re a bad influence.”

“And you’re boring,” he teases, nudging your knee with his. “Live a little.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I do live.”

Jungkook snorts, eyes glinting with amusement. “Do you?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes.”

He leans in slightly, voice dropping, taunting. “Then prove it.”

Your face heats. “I—”

Then you realize. This isn’t about the movie. This isn’t about anything you’re saying at all. This is about the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice dips low whenever he talks to you, the way his eyes flicker to your lips more often than they should. This is about the other night, you’re almost certain of it (and that holds weight, considering you may be as clueless as a child.)

Your breath hitches, pulse hammering beneath your skin, and you scramble for something to pull yourself back. “I live,” you blurt out.

Jungkook grins, watching you squirm. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod too quickly, too obviously. “Yes. I—I do things. Fun things.”

His smirk widens. “Like what?”

You freeze.

Your mind goes completely blank.

Jungkook laughs, tipping his head back, the sound richer, deeper than it should be. “Oh my god.”

You groan, hiding in your hoodie, absolutely mortified. Yet, a hand tugs your sleeve down, fingers brushing against your wrist, warm and gentle. Suddenly, you’re so aware of him again. Of how close he is. Of how the teasing is still there, but the energy has shifted, gone heavier, quieter, something else creeping into his expression, something that makes your stomach twist.

You swallow, throat tight. “What?”

Jungkook’s gaze lingers, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “You always get shy when I look at you like this," he murmurs, voice low and careful.

You open your mouth, speechless, but he tilts his head slightly, gaze never leaving yours.

"It’s cute," he continues, soft but deliberate.

This doesn’t feel mundane at all. Your stomach twists and turns like those pretzels you used to get at the mall as a kid. You know what he’s doing—knows he sees right through you, knows he’s teasing you for the way your pulse stumbles and your fingers twitch whenever he gets too close. It works every time.

You clear your throat, eyes flickering away, trying to shake the warmth creeping up your neck. “Stop that.”

Jungkook grins, all lazy amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s thoroughly enjoying your embarrassment.

“Stop what?” he muses, tilting his head, fingers drumming against the couch.

Your eyes narrow. “Looking at me like that.”

He hums, pretending to think. “Like what?”

“Like—” You wave a hand at him, flustered. “Like that.”

Jungkook laughs, head tilting back, utterly unbothered. “You are so bad at this.”

You glare, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him. “Shut up.”

It hits him square in the chest, and his laughter dies instantly.

You freeze. He blinks in response.

“Oh,” Jungkook murmurs, slow, dangerous, fingers curling around the pillow like he’s just now realizing the power he holds. “That’s how we’re playing this?”

You scramble backward, suddenly regretting everything. “Wait—”

Too late.

The pillow collides with your face, and you squeal, grabbing it before swinging back twice as hard, and suddenly it’s a war zone.

Feathers fly. Laughter erupts, breathless and wild, pillows smacking into shoulders, arms, legs. Jungkook is relentless, attacking without mercy, and you can barely breathe between your giggles, between the way he’s so unfairly quick at dodging your swings.

“You’re cheating!” you gasp, ducking as he swings again.

Jungkook grins, smug and effortless, dodging another one of your feeble attempts. “How?”

“You just—” You lunge, shoving a pillow against his chest, pushing him back.

Somehow you both lose balance, and now, you’re too close. His weight shifts, his arm reaching out to steady himself, and then his face is inches from yours.

Your laughter dies, breath stalls.

The room feels too quiet, too warm, suddenly too cramped.

Your fingers are still curled around the pillow, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook doesn’t either.

His lips part slightly, chest rising and falling too slow, too deep, his eyes locked onto yours like he’s waiting for something.

The thudding pulse in your ears, the heat coiling low in your stomach, the way his breath mixes with yours, close enough that if you just—

No.

Your brain kicks in, and you move first. A sharp inhale, a jerk away, a desperate scramble to the opposite end of the couch.

Distance. You need space.

Jungkook blinks, like he’s coming back to himself. Like he wasn’t just about to… He wouldn’t.. right? You can’t think about it.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

You grab another pillow and toss it at his face, laughing too quickly, too forced. “Truce?”

Jungkook catches it midair, gaze still unreadable. He smirks.

But this time, it’s not smug. It’s something else entirely.Something that makes your stomach flip, your chest tighten, your skin burn.

The pillow fight dies down, the last of your laughter melting into the air, breathless and warm. You’re both a little flushed, a little too aware of each other, but neither of you acknowledge it.

No, he doesn’t dare speak on the way his hands almost brushed against your waist. Or, the way you caught yourself staring at his lips when you landed too close. Or, the way you ran to the other side of the couch like your life depended on it.

Instead, you’re both acting worse than two petulant children who are trying to hide the candy supply in the classroom.

Jungkook shifts, stretching an arm over the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions like the last few minutes hadn’t completely ruined you (or him, for that matter.)

You do the same, try to focus on the movie flickering across the screen, try to calm your pulse, try to not think about the heat radiating from his body just inches from yours.

Now, as the glow of the screen casts soft shadows over his face, you’re even more hyper-aware of everything. You watch way his fingers tap idly against his knee. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The effortless, maddening way he exists beside you.

You hate him. You really, really hate him.

You let out a slow breath, forcing your gaze forward, gripping the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. Focus. It’s just a movie.

A terrible movie, but still, a movie nonetheless—

“Do you remember what you said when you were drunk?”

Your body locks up, fingers tightening against the fabric of the blanket as your heart skips a beat. Slowly, too slowly, you turn your head.

Jungkook isn’t looking at the movie anymore.

He’s looking at you.

The weight of his gaze presses into you, steady, unreadable, dark eyes flickering.

You try to play dumb. “…What?”

Jungkook tilts his head slightly, expression too neutral. Like he’s just making conversation. Like he’s not throwing you into complete chaos right now.

"You said you wanted to kiss me."

Silence.

Your stomach twists into knots. Heat floods your face, your entire body suddenly too warm, too stiff, too trapped in this moment with him.

He’s watching you so carefully, waiting, giving you a chance to deny it. You know you can’t.

You remember. You remember too well. It’s actually the only part of the night that replays in your head like a broken record. You clear your throat, swallowing past the dryness, voice barely above a whisper. “..Yeah.”

Jungkook exhales, just slightly, just enough for his lips to part again, and you make the mistake of looking at them.

The word hangs between you, fragile, dangerous, like it might shatter if you move too fast.

He doesn’t speak right away, doesn’t shift, doesn’t react. He just watches you, gaze heavy, dark, unreadable. And the way he’s looking at you, like he’s waiting, like he’s already bracing himself for what happens next makes your stomach flip.

“You think about it?” His voice is quiet, deep, deliberate.

You should lie. You should play it off, should laugh, should look away and act like he’s reading too much into this.

Your fingers twitch in your lap, throat too dry, pulse hammering against your ribs. “… Do you?”

His jaw tenses, his body too still, too controlled, like he’s holding something back. His voice is low when he finally answers. “All the time.”

There it is.

No teasing. No playful smirks.

Just the truth.

Your nails dig into the couch cushion, your body frozen between running away and leaning in. “Jungkook…”

He exhales slowly, eyes flickering between yours, something like hesitation, like restraint flickering behind them. You blurt out “You’re looking at me like you want me to kiss you.”

“…Would you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “If I let you?”

The words slip out before you can stop them, soft, unguarded, trembling at the edges. And the moment they do, time seems to slow, wrapping itself around the weight of what you’ve just said. You are not the kind of person who speaks without thinking. You measure your words, tuck your feelings away where no one can reach them. But here, now, in this fleeting second where everything feels just right, your heart betrays you. Your pulse pounds in your throat, heat crawling up your neck, a slow, aching bloom of realization. You shouldn’t have said it. You don’t say things like this.

Jungkook’s face tightens, jaw clenching, something dangerous and desperate flashing across his face. “Don’t test me.” His voice is low, strained, warning.

That is what does it for you. And maybe you should back away. Maybe you should slow down. Maybe you should stop pretending this isn’t going to happen.

His fingers move. Not in a rush. Not deliberate. Just… easy. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his thumb brushes along your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly, just enough to make you look at him. His touch is barely there, but it’s everywhere, searing into you, sending sparks down your spine.

“You still want me to kiss you?" His voice is soft. Careful. But the way his thumb lingers against your skin, the way his eyes darken just slightly, the way his breath mixes with yours, it’s not careful at all.

Your body betrays you before your brain can catch up, leaning into his touch, tilting your chin just slightly closer. You don’t even know if you’re breathing.

For a moment—just a moment—he gives you the chance to back out.

He lingers there, breath uneven, fingers still holding you in place, his body too still, like he’s waiting, waiting for you to come to your senses, to pull away, to break whatever this is before it fully unravels between you.

You won’t. Right now, every single thought, every ounce of hesitation, every reason you had to keep your distance, it is floating in the wind with the rest of your fucks, because all you can think about is him.

His lips are right there, warm, soft, barely a whisper away from yours.

You close the distance. Jungkook reacts instantly.

The moment your lips touch, his restraint shatters completely.

A sharp inhale, a slight hitch in his breath, and then he’s on you. His fingers tighten against your jaw, tilting your face up exactly how he wants it, his other hand gripping the couch beside you, caging you in, keeping you there.

God, it’s everything.

Slow, deep, hungry, like he’s been waiting for this for so long it’s physically painful. Your lips part, and he takes full advantage, kissing you deeper, harder, letting his lips move with so much purpose you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel everything he’s pouring into this moment.

It is as if, in that single, breathtaking moment, every fear and every hesitation is washed away by the warmth of his embrace. His desire for you is evident in every nuance: the way his eyes close a little tighter, the way his hand lingers a moment longer, as if trying to memorize every curve of your face. You feel him wanting you, wanting you so badly it hurts, and that longing wraps around you like a promise.

The cool metal of his lip ring brushes against your mouth, contrasting the heat of his kiss, making you dizzy, making you press closer without meaning to. Jungkook groans into your mouth, a sound low, rough, completely wrecked, like he’s feeling every second of this as intensely as you are.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head just enough for him to deepen the kiss.

You sigh into him, letting yourself melt, letting yourself give in, and the moment you do, his fingers twitch against your skin, like he feels you surrender, like he knows exactly what this means.

It’s more than just a kiss. It’s him wanting you. Not just now, not just tonight—but always, like he’s said a thousand times over.

You feel it, in the way his lips move against yours, in the way he devours you slowly, in the way his hands never leave your skin, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

No man has ever kissed you like this. No man has ever wanted you like this. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, undoing you completely.

And when you finally pull back—just barely, just enough to breathe—he chases you.

His lips brush against yours again, soft but desperate, like he can’t stand the distance.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it at first.

Your fingers drift upward, brushing lightly against his jaw, and then the cool metal of his lip ring, pressed so perfectly against his lower lip, catching slightly where your mouths meet.

It’s distracting, fascinating, and without thinking, your tongue flicks against it, curious, experimental, testing the feel of it against your own lips.

Jungkook nearly combusts in his own home.

He makes a sound that is low, deep, something that rumbles through his chest, and his fingers tighten against your skin, like he’s holding himself back from something much worse.

He pulls back, just barely, lips still brushing against yours, his breath hot, heavy, uneven.

His eyes are half-lidded, dark, hold yours with something so intense it makes your stomach flip.

"This is really hot, you know," he murmurs, voice raspy, ruined, like he wasn’t expecting this, like you’ve completely wrecked him without even realizing it.

Before you can even think of responding, before you can feel even an ounce of embarrassment, Jungkook pulls you back in.

He’s done pretending, done holding back, done waiting for permission.

The kiss is hungry, dizzying, lips parting, bodies pressing, fingers gripping, heat pooling low in your stomach as he devours you whole. Your shy giggle breaks between kisses, flustered and light, but Jungkook doesn’t stop, doesn’t even give you a chance to catch your breath.

He just grins against your lips, barely pulling back, murmuring something soft, something teasing, before diving back in.

You finally pull away, giggly, breathless, completely undone. Your skin is flushed, burning, your lips tingling with the ghost of his, and you can’t stop the embarrassed little laugh that escapes you as you tuck your face into your hands.

Jungkook?

Jungkook looks so smug, grinning like he just won first place at a national race, his head tilting as he watches you absolutely dissolve in front of him.

“Oh my god,” you mumble into your hands, mortified.

He chuckles, voice warm, teasing, endlessly amused. “What?”

You peek at him through your fingers, face burning, and he’s too close, too gorgeous, too smug about how easily he wrecks you.

“That was—” You pause, flustered, shaking your head before hiding your face again.

Jungkook laughs, tilting his head back against the couch.

“That was…?” he prompts, mischievous, completely entertained by your suffering.

You shake your head faster, burying yourself deeper into your hands. “Shut up.”

Jungkook grins. “Not a chance.”

You peek at him again, still horribly, painfully shy, but his smile is so warm, so easy, and you can’t help but laugh, your own nervous energy spilling over.

For a few seconds, neither of you speak, just sitting there, drunk off each other, off this moment, off the fact that you actually kissed him and survived it.

You let out a small breath, playing with the hem of your sweater, still so painfully shy when you murmur, “…I really like kissing you.”

The words are barely there, so soft he almost misses them, but the second they register, Jungkook freezes. Then, his grin widens, eyes lighting up with something dangerous and smug and pleased. “Oh, yeah?”

You instantly regret everything. God, why were you given the right to speak? Your face erupts in heat, and you bury your head into his shoulder, groaning into his hoodie. “Stop.”

Jungkook laughs, giddy, boyish, his chest shaking beneath you. “Say it again.”

You shove at his arm. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re annoying.”

He’s beaming, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on. You liked it. You just said so.”

You try to glare at him, but your lips betray you, twitching up at the corners, and Jungkook knows he’s won.

“So…” His voice is lighter now, careful, curious. “Are we friends who kiss?”

The air shifts, just slightly, just enough to remind you that this isn’t just teasing anymore. You really don’t know what to say to that, because the truth is, you have no idea what you are anymore.

And from the way Jungkook is looking at you, like he’s waiting for an answer, like he actually wants to know, you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

“…Do you kiss all your friends like that?” It’s quiet, barely above a whisper, but you feel the way it hits him instantly.

Jungkook exhales, a slow, measured breath, his fingers tapping against his knee like he’s thinking, debating, deciding what to say next. “Only the cute ones,” he murmurs.

Your breath stumbles, heart stammering, warmth spreading down your spine as you scramble for composure. You roll your eyes, shoving at his arm, playing it off even as your fingers tremble slightly. “You’re impossible.”

Jungkook chuckles, tilting his head at you, his expression so unbearably fond it makes your chest ache.

“So…” he continues, smirking. “That’s a yes, then?”

Your brows furrow. “A yes to what?”

“To us being friends who kiss.”

The teasing is back in his tone, light and playful, but there’s something else underneath it, something hesitant, something that feels too careful, too deliberate.

If you agree to this, to whatever this is, then what happens when it’s not enough anymore? What happens when you wake up one day and realize that being his friend isn’t enough anymore?

You swallow hard, pulse pounding, lips parting before you even realize you’re speaking. “..Maybe, I—I don’t...”

It’s softer than you mean for it to be, quieter, almost like an admission you shouldn’t be making.

Jungkook hears it. You see the way his smirk falters just slightly, the way his fingers flex against the couch like he’s reining himself in, like he’s forcing himself to keep this playful, to keep this from turning into something real.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice lower now, gentler. “It’s just a question.”

It’s not just a question. Not to you. Not to him.

But instead of pushing, instead of pressing, instead of forcing you to define something you’re still too scared to name, Jungkook just smiles, nudging your knee with his. “Don’t think too hard about it, okay?”

Somehow, that makes it worse. He’s giving you an out, he’s letting you pretend. That should make you feel relieved. Instead, it just makes your stomach twist.

Because if Jungkook is willing to pretend, if he’s willing to let you call this nothing, then why does it feel like everything?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You and Jungkook still talk every day. Still text constantly, still tease each other like you always have. He still calls you at random hours, voice warm, casual, like he just likes knowing what you’re doing. You still pretend it doesn’t make your stomach flip when he tells you about his day, when he asks about yours, when he remembers the smallest details you barely remember telling him. You still spend time together, still find yourselves in each other’s spaces like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But now, there’s something undeniable sitting between you. A weight to every glance, a meaning to every touch, a charge in the air whenever you get too close.

You feel it in the way his hand lingers on your back when he walks beside you, in the way his knee brushes yours when you sit too close on his couch. In the way he looks at you like he’s waiting for something. Like he’s waiting for you to admit what you both already know.

And maybe that’s why this time, when he tells you to come to another race, it feels different.

Before, he invited you.

But this time?

This time, it’s a demand, not a request.

"You’re coming to my race this weekend."

Not if you want to. Not if you’re free. Just come, like there was never a chance you’d say no. There really wasn’t.

When you get there, when you arrive at the track expecting to be in the stands with the rest of the civilians, expecting to be just another face in the crowd, you realize this time, he’s put you somewhere else. Somewhere closer. Somewhere that means something. You’re no longer in the stands.You’re with his crew, his manager, with the people who are part of his world, part of him.

And as you stand there, watching the way his team moves around you like you belong, wearing the NASCAR jacket with his last name on it that he draped over your shoulders without a word, you realize: You’re not just a spectator anymore. You’re fitting into his life. He is making you space for you. It’s a statement, intentional or not—he’s treating you like someone important. He’s branding you as his.

So it’s not surprising when Jungkook walks over to you, where his manager stands, and his eyes are gleaming with happiness. You see him before he even reaches you, his racing suit already zipped up, sleek black and red, fitted perfectly to his frame, the number on his chest stark against the fabric.

It’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re his favorite part of this whole damn day.

"Well," he grins, voice warm, breathless with excitement as he reaches you. "You ready to watch me be incredible?"

You roll your eyes, but your heart flutters anyway.

"You’re already insufferable, and the race hasn’t even started," you murmur, pretending like his presence isn’t throwing you completely off balance.

Jungkook laughs, tilting his head at you, gaze flickering down to the VIP lanyard resting against your chest before meeting your eyes again.

"Looks good on you," he muses.

You blink, confused. "What does?"

"My name."

Your breath stalls. And it’s only then that you realize, printed in bold across your lanyard, just below the race’s credentials, are the words: Guest of Jeon Jungkook.

You swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the weight of the jacket he lent you, the way his team has already accepted your presence without question, the way he’s so clearly staking his claim without actually saying it.

So you just huff, crossing your arms. "You’re the worst."

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. "Heard that before.”

Before you can argue, before you can figure out a response, he leans in slightly, voice lower now, teasing.

"Anyway," he murmurs, "I think you forgot something."

You blink. "…What?"

Jungkook tilts his head, feigning deep thought. "I mean, I could be wrong, but I swear I heard that a good luck kiss is mandatory."

Your brain short-circuits, entire face igniting. Jungkook just smirks, thoroughly enjoying your visible meltdown.

"I—" Your voice betrays you, barely there, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. "You’re making that up."

He gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "You think I’d lie to you?"

You give him the flattest look possible.

Jungkook grins wider, eyes twinkling with mischief, waiting, because he knows you, knows exactly how to get under your skin, knows exactly how flustered you are right now.

The worst part? He’s right. Because now you can’t not think about it. The idea of kissing him, the thought of pressing your lips to his, even if just for a second.

Your hands curl at your sides, nerves running wild, and you glance away, feeling impossibly warm under his gaze.

"Fine," you mumble.

Jungkook stills. "Wait, really?"

You roll your eyes, stepping forward, standing on your tiptoes before you can psych yourself out, before your heart makes you back down.

You lean in, pressing the softest, tiniest, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it peck to his cheek. It’s barely anything, just a whisper of warmth against his skin, a brush of your lips that ends before it even starts.

When you pull back, Jungkook is frozen.

"Oh, come on," he groans, whining like a child, tilting his head dramatically. "That was barely a kiss!"

Your cheeks burn. "You didn’t say how long it had to be, or where!"

Jungkook pouts. "That’s cheating."

"It’s not cheating!"

"It is," he argues, grinning now, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "But I’ll let it slide for now."

You huff, but before you can fire back, his team starts calling him over, signaling that it’s time. Jungkook lingers, just for a second, then tilts his head at you, so effortlessly charming it’s infuriating.

"Wish me luck?"

You sigh, but smile despite yourself. "Good luck, Jungkook."

His grin widens, but before he turns to leave, he reaches out, fingers brushing the sleeve of his jacket on your shoulders.

"You look good in this, too," he says, softer now.

And then he’s gone, walking toward his car, leaving you completely ruined in his wake.

One moment, Jungkook is standing in front of you, all teasing grins and warm eyes. The next, he’s walking toward the starting grid, toward his car, toward the adrenaline-fueled world that belongs to him in a way you’ll never fully understand.

The pre-race ritual begins like clockwork.

The track is a beast of its own, surrounded by a sea of flashing cameras, roaring fans, and the pulsing hum of engines warming up. Crew members move with quick precision, adjusting final setups, checking tires, fueling the machines that are about to push beyond human limits.

The announcers’ voices boom through the speakers, a mix of excited commentary and statistical breakdowns, analyzing lap times, weather conditions, and strategies for the coming race.

Jungkook steps onto the grid like he was born for this moment.

His racing suit fits like a second skin, sleek black and red, his name embroidered over his chest, sponsor logos lining the fabric. His gloved hands adjust the collar before he rolls his shoulders, his signature pre-race routine.

He waves to the crowd and the stands erupt.A deafening roar of cheers, whistles, and screams fills the air, the sound vibrating through the track, through the very ground beneath your feet. His name is on thousands of signs, chanted by fans in unison, a presence so overwhelming that it sends a chill down your spine.

Yet, Jungkook is calm. He grins, tipping his head toward the cameras, radiating a confidence that seems almost effortless. He acknowledges the love with a quick lift of his gloved hand before turning toward his car.

Your heart skips as he moves. Because while everyone else sees a world-class driver, a champion at the peak of his game, you truly see him. The man who just asked you for a good luck kiss like it was nothing. The man who threw his jacket over your shoulders without a second thought. The man who made sure you weren’t just in the crowd this time but standing with his people.

Your fingers tighten around the lanyard at your chest. And then, he finds you. Even in the chaos, even as the pit crews move, even as his race engineer talks into his earpiece, giving him last-minute data, his gaze lands on you.

For a brief second, the noise fades. Jungkook doesn’t wave this time. He just smirks, cocky, knowing, completely at ease with the fact that you’re watching him like you can’t help it.

You can’t find yourself to look away, not as he slips into the cockpit of his car, pulling down his visor. Not as the five red lights illuminate above the track, signaling the countdown. Not as the entire world seems to hold its breath.

Lights out.

Jungkook disappears in a blur of speed.

Somehow, you swear you’re screaming louder than anyone else. Your hands are clutched together, heart hammering against your ribs, breath shallow with anticipation as you watch him maneuver the track like he was born for this, his car weaving through turns, slicing through air with an ease that is almost inhuman.

You’ve watched enough races now to understand what’s happening, to know how to read the screen displaying his lap times, to recognize the strategic braking, the calculated risks he takes with each hairpin turn.

He’s flying.

The crowd is a blur of screams and chants, his name echoing through the stadium like a heartbeat, like a pulse. His manager and crew are behind you, murmuring low, speaking in code—numbers, tire wear, fuel calculations—but none of it registers.

All you can see is him.

Lap 47.

Only a few more to go.

Your grip tightens on the lanyard around your neck, the one with his name on it, the one that shouldn’t mean anything but suddenly means everything.

Before you can even recognize it, your nightmare, something you hadn’t dared let yourself think of as a possibility, happens. A flash of movement, a miscalculated overtake, a split-second misjudgment. Another car veers too close and clips into Jungkook’s left side.

The impact is instant.

His car jerks violently, spinning, tires screeching, rubber burning against asphalt and all you really see is his car disappear into the wall.

A sickening crunch of metal, the screech of carbon fiber against steel, and the entire stadium gasps as his car slams into the barrier.

Your breath vanishes. Your vision tunnels, ears ringing with static, with silence, with nothing.

No.

No, no, no.

Your body moves before your mind can catch up, hands clutching at the railing, eyes wild, scanning the wreckage, searching for movement, for a sign, for anything.

He’s not moving.

He’s not getting out.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, but your voice is lost, drowned out by the deafening roar of the stadium, the panic crackling through the radios, the blur of pit crews surging forward.

Your stomach twists, a horrible, gut-wrenching nausea that makes your knees weak, makes your hands tremble as you try to breathe, think, stay calm.

He’s in that car, in that wreckage, in that moment that feels like it will never end.

And for the first time, it truly hits you. This isn’t just a game. This isn’t just fast cars and roaring crowds and celebratory champagne. This is danger. This is risk. This is him—the boy who steals your breath with his teasing, who ruins you with his smiles, who kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough—and you can’t lose him.

Not like this, not ever.

A hand grips your arm. You think it’s his manager, trying to pull you back, saying something, but you’re already shaking your head, panic clawing at your throat.

“No,” you gasp, barely hearing yourself over the screams, the commotion, the static of the radios going off in every direction. “No, I—I have to—”

His manager tightens his grip, voice sharp. “You can’t go down there.”

But you don’t care. It’s a madhouse. Crew members are shouting, paramedics are sprinting, cameras are flashing, the entire stadium is a blur of chaos and noise and fear, and you’re inconsolable.

The second you saw that car slam into the wall, the second he stopped moving, the second the world seemed to hold its breath, something inside you snapped.

Tears stream down your face, hot and endless, your breath ragged, uneven, your entire body trembling so hard you can barely stand upright.

The grip on your arm tightens, grounding you just enough to hear his manager’s voice, low but firm, “They’re getting him out, do you hear me? They’re getting him out.”

You blink, vision blurred, pulse pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else—

At first, it’s barely anything.

A shift, a stretch, a stir. But then, you see it.

His legs move as they left him onto the stretcher. You squint further, and see his mouth move. He’s talking.

Your body lurches forward before you even realize what you’re doing, instincts overriding logic, pure desperation taking control.

You don’t care about the barricades, about security, about the fact that you’re not supposed to be on the track, you just need to get to him. Need to see him, touch him, hear him, know that he’s okay.

The grip on your arm yanks you back, pulling you against a solid chest, holding you in place.

“Let me go,” you sob, struggling, trying to break free. “Let me go, I have to—I have to—”

Your head whips around so fast it makes you dizzy, breath catching as your eyes find him, arms slung over two paramedics, legs shaky but strong, face bruised but alive.

He’s alive.

A broken, helpless sob escapes you, your hand flying to your mouth as you watch them carry him out, watch the way he winces slightly.

Something in your chest completely shatters.

You try to run to him again, try to close the distance, but his manager’s grip is ironclad, shaking his head.

“Come on,” he mutters. “We’re going with him.”

And that’s the only reason you stop fighting.

The world moves in a blur. You barely register the security leading you out of the pit lane, barely hear the frantic voices of the racing officials as they try to control the chaos.

The only thing that matters is the sight of Jungkook being loaded into the ambulance.

And suddenly, you’re moving again, faster this time, pushing past people as his manager guides you forward, urgency burning in your veins like wildfire.

By the time you reach the ambulance, the doors are thrown open, paramedics working around him, barking orders at each other, checking vitals, assessing injuries.

You lose it.

Jungkook looks worse up close.

His racing suit is partially unzipped, revealing a deepening bruise along his collarbone, a few scrapes on his arm where his glove had torn. There’s a gash on his brow, blood trickling sluggishly down his temple, his lip slightly split.

His eyes are lidded, drowsy, like he’s trying to fight the weight of exhaustion pulling at him.

“No, no, no—” Your voice bursts out before you can stop it, frantic, borderline hysterical. “What the hell are you guys doing? Are you checking for concussions? What about internal bleeding? What if he has a brain injury?”

The paramedics barely have time to respond before you whirl on his manager, eyes wild. “Why the hell did it take so long to get him out of the car?”

His manager blinks, startled, before sighing. “He was conscious the whole time—”

“And you let him sit there?!” you shriek. “He crashed into a fucking wall!”

Jungkook groans, head rolling slightly toward you, voice raspy.

“[Y/N], baby,” he murmurs. “Breathe.”

The pet name should throw you off, should have you collapsing and needing medical assistance with him. Your whole body is on fire. But you can’t.

He’s sitting there—bruised, bloody, hurt—and yet no one is doing enough.

You turn back to the paramedics, furious, pointing at the one nearest to Jungkook’s head. “Are you even checking for neurological symptoms? Do you have the equipment for that? Are you taking him to the hospital?”

The paramedic blinks at you, mildly alarmed. “Uh—”

“She’s, uh, kind of scary,” one of them mutters under his breath.

Another laughs, shaking his head. “Damn, Jungkook, you got your girl all worried.”

Jungkook smirks like this isn’t a life-threatening situation, his voice light despite the exhaustion.

“Hmph” His gaze is half-lidded but amused, his lips curling just slightly. “They think you’re my girl.”

Your face burns. Now is not the time for this.

You ignore him, refuse to entertain the teasing, focusing instead on the medics fumbling around him like they aren’t treating the most important person in the world. Or, well, maybe your world.

“You need to check his pupils,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Monitor his speech patterns, make sure he isn’t concussed.”

Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “You’re really going hard for this whole crazy girlfriend thing, huh?”

That is what makes you snap.

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice rises, eyes blazing as you step closer, nearly climbing into the ambulance. “You just crashed into a wall at almost 200 miles per hour, Jungkook. You could have died.”

The teasing disappears from his expression. The laughter fades. He’s just looking at you, eyes flickering over your face, taking in the panic still vibrating under your skin, the unfiltered fear in your eyes.

His throat bobs. For a moment, neither of you speak.

One of the paramedics snickers, cutting through the heavy silence. “She looks ready to throw hands with us.”

Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh, still staring at you, expression unreadable. Finally, he sighs, tilting his head toward you, voice softer now.

“[Y/N],” he murmurs, low and tired His gaze holds yours, dark and unwavering, “I’m okay.”

The words barely leave his lips before you snap back, voice firm, unwavering, “I’m coming with you."

Jungkook blinks.

His manager sighs.

The paramedics exchange glances, one of them stepping forward with a practiced, professional tone. “Ma’am, we need to get him to the hospital—”

“I know,” you cut in, eyes sharp, stance unshakable. “That’s why I’m going, too.”

There’s a beat of hesitation, a moment where the paramedics clearly debate pushing back, but they know they don’t stand a chance.

Your hands are already clenched into fists, your jaw is set, and your eyes are daring anyone to challenge you.

And Jungkook?

Jungkook just stares at you, completely stunned.

Because you’re not backing down.

Because his shy girl—the one who stumbles over words, the one who avoids attention, the one who blushes when he teases her—is gone. Instead, in her place is someone fierce, unwavering, absolutely insane about him.

He’s never been more obsessed in his life.

“Fine,” the paramedic relents, throwing his hands up, stepping aside. “Get in.”

You don’t waste a second.

Jungkook just grins, a shit-eating one that nearly splits his face in half.

The sirens wail above you, the vehicle rocking slightly with each turn, but you don’t care. You’re sitting on the tiny bench next to Jungkook, his fingers wrapped around yours, and you can’t stop staring at him.

Even like this—bruised, banged up, a small cut on his lip—he’s still beautiful. His eyes, despite the exhaustion, watch you closely, dark and soft, filled with adoration. His fingers squeeze yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles, his voice lower now, teasing but so warm it makes your chest ache.

“So,” he murmurs, grinning despite his split lip, “you always manhandle paramedics, or is that just for me?”

Your jaw drops.

Jungkook laughs, the sound low, husky, completely unaffected by the fact that he’s in a damn ambulance right now.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumble, squeezing his hand just a little too hard, trying to cover up the warmth spreading through your cheeks.

Jungkook hums, tilting his head at you. “You know what would make me feel better?”

You roll your eyes, already knowing where this is going. “What?”

“A good luck kiss,” he murmurs, boyish and smug, despite everything. ��Almost worked last time.”

“You’re insane.”

“So is that a no?”

You scoff, but your free hand moves before you can stop it, fingers gently brushing through his hair, sweeping the dark strands away from his face.

His eyes flicker, lips parting slightly, gaze locked onto yours like he can’t look anywhere else.

And suddenly, you’re both silent. Your hand is still in his hair, your fingers lightly tracing along his temple, and it feels so natural, so easy, so dangerous in a way you don’t know how to control.

His breath is slow, deliberate, his thumb still moving against your knuckles, and the way he’s looking at you, like he’s falling just a little harder every second you touch him, it’s all too much.

So, before you can overthink it, before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean in and press the softest, lightest peck against his lips. When you pull back, Jungkook just stares at you, completely still.

“Damn,” he breathes, grinning despite the slight wince. “I think I feel better already.”

You shove him gently, but enough to make him laugh, enough to make your heart stumble over itself. The fear from before feels a little further away. He’s here. He’s okay, and you aren’t leaving his side.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The hospital room is too quiet. Too white, too sterile, too suffocating with the smell of antiseptic and latex gloves. It should be calming. It’s not.

Jungkook is laid up in a hospital bed, his racing suit unzipped down to his waist, revealing the bandages wrapped around his torso. His head is tilted slightly back against the pillows, eyes closed, looking far too relaxed for someone who just crashed a car going nearly 200 miles per hour.

You, however, are pacing. Restless, jittery, hands shaking at your sides, heart still lodged somewhere in your throat.

The beeping of the monitors grates against your ears, the fluorescent lighting buzzing faintly overhead, and the room feels smaller and smaller the longer you stand in it.

Jungkook watches you, lazy and amused, arms resting behind his head as if he’s just lounging in his house.

"[Y/N]," he drawls while a nurse takes his blood pressure, voice a little hoarse but annoyingly soft, "you’re making me dizzy."

You stop. Turn. Glare.

How is he acting like this is nothing?

The moment the doctors had cleared him—minor bruising, nothing serious, no concussion—he had just shrugged, completely unaffected.

Meanwhile, you are still reeling. Still wearing his racing jacket, oversized on your frame, still breathing too fast, still feeling the phantom terror of watching his car spin out.

When the doctors finally leave, when it’s just the two of you alone in this cold, clinical room, everything boils over.

"You scared the hell out of me, Jungkook."

The words fly out of you before you can stop them, sharp and unsteady, laced with too much emotion, too much panic that you can’t shove down anymore.

Jungkook’s head tilts slightly. He grins, cocky, infuriating, like he’s enjoying this way too much.

"What," he muses, "worried about me?"

Your hands curl into fists. He’s playing with you, still joking, still smirking, still being so goddamn Jungkook while you almost lost him today.

Your breath shudders, uneven and shaky, and the fight drains from your body before you can even respond.

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see what this did to you. Soon enough, his grin fades. Because he does see it now. The way your voice had wobbled. The way your hands are still shaking at your sides. The way you are still trying to breathe through the terror of watching him crash, of watching him not move for those excruciating seconds that felt like eternity.

Something in his expression shifts. Something softer. More serious. More real. He doesn’t tease you this time. He just watches you, quiet now, unreadable.

And the tension lingers—thick, heavy, crackling in the space between you, filling the silence. Because this is not just friendship anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time.

“Of course, I was worried about you!" The words burst out of you before you can stop them, voice sharp, breaking, raw.

Jungkook’s brows lift slightly, taken aback.

"Do you think this is funny?" Your voice is rising now, fingers digging into your own arms, nails biting into skin just to ground yourself. "Do you think it’s normal for people to watch their friends crash into a wall and just be fine?"

Jungkook tilts his head, gaze unreadable. "Friends?"

Your stomach twists.

You freeze, realizing what you said. Jungkook doesn’t let you run from it. Instead, he shifts forward, leaning slightly.

"You tell me," he murmurs. "Is that all we are?"

And damn him, because he’s still doing this.

Still making you feel every little thing you don’t want to name. Still looking at you like he already knows the answer.

You can’t do this right now.

You shake your head, refusing to take the bait, refusing to engage, but your voice wavers when you speak again. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve done if something happened to you?"

Jungkook pauses.

"No." A beat. A step closer. "Why don’t you tell me?"

"God, Jungkook!" You explode, voice high, breathless, filled with frustration and something dangerously close to grief. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"You could have died!" you continue, voice rising, cracking, hands trembling at your sides. "Do you understand that?! Do you understand what it felt like watching that happen?!"

His lips part slightly, but no words come out.

"You think I’d just be fine?" you push, voice shaking, unsteady, unraveling completely. "You think I’d just—just move on and go back to my life like you weren’t—like you didn’t—"

You stop. Swallow. Your throat burns.

"You think I wouldn’t care?"

Jungkook is staring at you now, jaw tight, hands curled into fists against the hospital sheets. His Adam’s apple bobs, throat working as he swallows hard.

You can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t believe you, or because he does. That is the part that terrifies you the most.

He just stares at you, his lips parted slightly, his breath slow, controlled, like he’s afraid to move too fast, trying to understand what’s happening. This is not the version of you he’s used to. You, with your hands trembling at your sides. You, with your voice breaking in ways that make his chest ache. You, standing in front of him in his jacket, looking like you’re on the verge of completely shattering.

Your voice is a whisper. Small. Unsteady. he hates it. He finally gets it now. It’s not just about the crash, the fear, the hospital, the bruises on his skin. It’s about him and you and everything that’s been building between you for far too long.

Jungkook exhales, chest rising and falling, his hands gripping the sheets beside him, and for a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—he looks like he wants to say something.

You don’t give him the chance. You move first. Before you can stop yourself, before you can think, you step forward and collapse into his arms.

His body tenses in surprise, but only for a second. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, holding you tight. Your face presses into his shoulder, your fingers clutch at the fabric of his driver suit, and you break completely.

You sob and shake, and Jungkook just holds you through it.

"Hey," he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, his hands moving slowly, soothingly, one pressed against the small of your back, the other cradling the back of your head. "I’m right here."

You shake your head against him, your grip tightening, words muffled against his shoulder. "You can’t just say it like that, like it wasn’t—like you didn’t—"

Jungkook exhales, understanding without needing you to finish.

"I know," he says quietly. "I know, baby."

You just breathe him in. The warmth of him. The feeling of his heartbeat under your fingertips. The knowledge that he’s here, alive, safe.

"I don’t—" You sniffle, voice unsteady, body still trembling against his. "I don’t know how you do this. How do you just walk away from something like that?"

Jungkook chuckles softly, but there’s no teasing in it this time.

"It’s part of the sport," he murmurs, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your back. "Crashes happen. Risks happen. But I swear I’ll do my best to make sure it never happens again."

And when you finally pull back, just enough to look at him, his hands still rest on your waist, warm and steady.

His eyes flicker over your face, gentle and searching, and when he lifts a hand, fingers brushing away the stray tears from your cheek, you don’t stop him. You just let him touch you. Let yourself feel all of it. You blink, caught off guard, before his next words completely ruin you.

"You know," he muses, eyes twinkling, "you were kinda terrifying back there with those paramedics."

Your jaw drops.

Jungkook laughs, fully and unapologetically, his fingers still on your waist, his body still warm against yours, his presence still grounding you even as he makes fun of you.

"Shut up," you mumble, wiping at your face, still sniffling, still recovering from all of this. “I swear they weren’t even trying to do their job right.”

Jungkook just smirks.

"I like the idea of you as a crazy girlfriend."

The worst part? You do too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Ever since the hospital, things have been different. Not drastically. Not in a way that anyone else would notice.

Just you.

Jungkook has always been in your life in ways you never expected, but now, it feels permanent, like the space he takes up in your world is so much bigger than before.

You don’t even question why you’re here, in his house, day after day, fussing over him like it’s second nature.

He absolutely lets you. Despite his half-hearted protests, despite his attempts to act like he’s fine, he lets you take care of him.

Or, more accurately, he loves every second of it.

“[Y/N], sweetheart,” Jungkook groans from the couch, throwing his head back dramatically as you set a glass of water and his next round of painkillers on the coffee table. “You’re smothering me.”

You ignore him, plopping down on the other end of the couch as you pull your legs up, phone in hand. “You need to stay on schedule with your meds.”

“I barely feel anything anymore.”

You glance at him, unimpressed. “That’s because of the meds.”

Jungkook grins, shifting slightly so he’s facing you more, his arm draping lazily over the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You know,” he drawls, voice low and teasing, “I think you just like having an excuse to take care of me.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “I’m just being a decent human being.”

“Oh, come on. Admit it.” He smirks, tilting his head. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

You scoff, shaking your head, but your next words betray you: “You’re so annoying.”

Jungkook’s grin widens.

You don’t even see it coming.

His leg suddenly stretches out, toes nudging against your thigh, pushing you just enough to make you wobble slightly on the couch.

You yelp, slapping his knee. “Stop! You’re injured!”

He laughs, full and completely unbothered, before leaning back against the cushions, utterly relaxed.

“See?” he muses, eyes closing. “My personal nurse. Fussing over me every second of the day.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “I could just leave, you know.”

Jungkook peeks one eye open, eyebrow arching.

“Oh?” he challenges, voice too smug for his own good. “Go on, then.”

You hesitate.

Just for a second.

And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Because his grin turns downright devilish as he leans his head back again, stretching slightly, completely at ease.

“That’s what I thought.”

You hate him. You really do. Except you don’t, not even the tiniest bit.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

taglist ; @yooniepot @bookstoread199 @pipipipiiiii @someonegoood @vintagemoonsstuff @kittisuuuuu @ttanniett @loonareads @jincapableoflove @jkxlvrr @taekrve @jenniebyrubies @senaqsstuff @somisarchive @somehowukook @mysjammy @busanbby-jjk @mimi1097 @mikrokosmosellen @indyuhhhhh @vantelover1306 @haru-jiminn @sky-23s-world @minimoninini @bighitfics @outofworldvy @smartkive @dontcallmeelle @beomluvrr @tatamicc @seokout @ashslight @avawants2havefun @bjoriis @jjeonjjk7 @mar-lo-pap @parkinglot-nights @coletaehyung @mellyyyyyyx @magicalnachocreator @royalguk

#not the next part being the last #IM SO SO SO SAD #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts army #bts #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts smut #bts imagines

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thebisexualdogdad · 2 days ago

Note

Could you do Kate Bishop x Male Super Soldier, who happens to Clint's adopted son?

Kate Bishop x Male!Barton reader

● as a kid you were part of a project that experimented on you and turned you into another super soldier

● Clint ended up rescuing you and Laura convinced him to adopt you and give you a family

● then years later you met Kate when she and your father were taking down the tracksuit Mafia and he called you in for back up

● Kate “woah your son is a super soldier?? His biceps can't seriously be that big… is he single?”

● Clint rolled his eyes every time you two flirted with each other before finally dating

● Kate is always amazed by what you can do because of the super soldier serum

● like when you saved her from being crushed by a collapsing building

● or how she watched you casually throw an armored car down the street

● Kate helping you train your reflexes by her shooting arrows at you that you have to catch

● she wakes up to you doing push ups next to the bed at 5am

● “it's so early Y/N come back to bed”

● “sorry love but I gotta go on my 10 mile run after this”

● “at least bring back donuts and coffee”

● “will do,” you smile kissing her forehead

● Kate sending pictures of you sleeping cuddled with Lucky to Clint

● Clint “I regret giving you my phone number”

● people staring at you guys on the subway in your suits, covered in cuts and bruises with Kate holding her bow

● “we really gotta get a car”

● every once in a while you wake Kate up with pancakes in the shape of a heart all decked out in your favorite toppings

● “How did you learn how to make such amazing pancakes??”

● “Laura taught me, she made them every Saturday morning for me and my siblings”

● speaking of your siblings you bring Kate back to the farm pretty regularly

● growing up with all brothers Lila is happy to have another girl around

● and Nathaniel always gets more excited to see Lucky than you

● “oh come on I'm your brother”

● Nathaniel “yeah but Lucky is way cuter”

● Kate kissing your cheek “don't worry babe and I think you and Lucky are equally cute”

● after you've been dating for a while Laura keeps dropping not so subtle hints that she thinks you should propose to Kate

● “look all I'm saying is we could hold a beautiful wedding here on the farm” she tells you as you're helping her wash dishes after dinner

● “we're not quite there yet but maybe in a few years mom”

● Clint walking in with more empty plates “Oh god not the wedding talk again”

#marvel imagine #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x male reader #x male reader #headcanons

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bloodchapell · 2 days ago

Text

castle of sand — senku i. 10: the softness of home

brief summary: the new life, the new home

what to expect: kinda cozy

your sword's note: my little alchemy score is 298 elements B), little alchemy is like dr stone summarized try playing it, i wanted to get to the part where they revive taiju but this came naturally lmaoo, all past and future parts + playlist of this series available in my mistresslist

"You look awful." Once the sun is up, the sunlight creeps in between the gaps in the wood from the house. When you finally decide to open your eyes despite being awake —almost giving up on trying to keep sleeping—, you see that Senku is already up.

"I miss my bed so much... though it wasn't even my bed anymore." You murmur rubbing your eyes with your fists.

"Since the old hag kicked you out." Senku noted and you nodded. "You had to come live with your archenemy even. Anyway we have stuff to do so get up."

"What a tragedy." You sigh and sit up, your body stiff after sleeping in the hard wooden floor. "Will we spend all our lives with this noble duty? Will the day come in which we are ancient and come done only to realize we wasted away our youth and never even experienced having fun?"

"It is too early for that." He puts a plate of berries in between you two.

"I can still feel the void of stone when I close my eyes." You complain again. "I don't know how I managed to not go insane."

"Maybe because there is not a lot of difference between how you were and being insane."

"Oh my poor teared heart... I might never want to stargaze with you again." You stop for a second, the unserious threat didn't matter anymore. "Well, I stand at your mercy since I hold nothing anymore to threaten you."

Senku laughed. Despite his half insults you never seemed realistically offended. Now with his newly acquired emotional depth he realized that his half insults were nothing, whatever, he ought to concentrate on other things. After getting ready, you asked Senku the direction of the river.

"Since you are going to wash, take this and bring it back full." His evil grin on his face while giving you a clay bucket with a cap. "After all, between us you are stronger."

Despite his banter, he made sure to remind you to be careful and remember the way back.

Holding the bucket, you walked in the direction Senku had indicated. While walking you took the time to digest the environment around you. There were effectively no traces of the world you knew, you had closed your eyes 3700 years before looking at the track in which you would jog in physical education class, taking a glance at the street from your seat high above, even daring to look up in the horizon, trying to recognize what was the furthest thing you could see that didn’t constitute the sky: buildings so far away that it would take you maybe at least half an hour walking to get there. You could hear the random noises of your classmates, the engines of the cars driving by, the occasional plane zooming across the sky, maybe some dog barking, or a construction fixing a pothole in the street. You could smell the summer breeze, and feel the refreshing air saving you from the humidity that was arising, an environment you had known. You closed your eyes and soon after, your senses were blocked by the stone, Then, when you opened your eyes back again, the familiarity had vanished and replaced by the encyclopedic image of a forest. But despite the millenary changes that had restructured the landscape, you could still feel the energies that taunted the terrain. Where your feet stepped, you could hear the chatter of the students in the morning when you walked towards school, by the miracle cave you could feel the same summer breeze that had made you glad so many years ago, you could close your eyes and picture where you would be back in your time, around the convenience store by school. Despite the changes, the land withheld memories of its own of what once was, and oddly you could connect with those vestiges of your world when you looked around at the trees, when you felt the grass on your bare feet, when you heard the humm of the birds.

The river wasn't far and around that part it was a simple stream that wasn't deep. It took a while to shower, and it felt pointless without soap, but you still did it. Once you were done and realized there was no towel, you stood for a while letting the warmth of the sun evaporate the water off your skin, your mind ran to thinking again. You had wished to live again out of boredom in the nothingness of consciousness, yet you made sure to ask for different conditions. Realistically you could not imagine your change in terms would be possible. If you were to be reborn, would you be punished for taking your previous life with a worse one? You ought to open your eyes back in a virgin Eden, that was so perfect that you couldn't even imagine how it would be. Was this new world that Eden?

After waiting a few minutes to dry, you put the clothes back on and filled the bucket Senku had given you. It was light before, but full of water it was too heavy to carry around. So with the axe you had made the day before you cut around a thin tree and some vines in an attempt to build something.

"You have been gone for two hours, what the hell.” Senku’s voice distracted you, you were so focused that you forgot to keep track of the time.

“Did I happen to worry you?” Without any hidden motive you asked.

“No.”

Hell yes you did. After 30 minutes or so, his mind started imagining that the river had drowned you, or you were already at sea, or a wild animal had eaten you or some evil end. He sits down beside you, observing what you are building. He notices the shape, and when you hand it to him, he sees its a firm structure. Huh, the monkeys would also be surprised at this one —his words—. Once you are done, you place the clay bucket in the hand-truck you had built and give it a walk, it doesn’t fall apart much to your surprise.

“Ah, I see. It makes sense that you took so long, trying to round the cut pieces of the tree trunk into wheels, they are some polyhedron with an unknown amount of sides but still manage to roll. The axis in which you mounted the wheels seems stable enough to make subtle turns and the handle…”

"A wild chicken..." You point out at the animal and Senku goes quiet. "Come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me."

Senku observed the absurd interaction, ready to call you out on the insanity when you kept repeating the phrase non stop, but the chicken actually started walking towards you. Very slowly you crouched down, and when the chicken saw you extending your hand to pet it... it bit you.

"Goddamned chicken." You slapped it so hard that it fell to its side immediately.

You watched in awe at what you had done while Senku dropped to his knees almost unable to breathe from how hard he was laughing. You picked up the chicken and let out a suffocated gasp when the chicken didn’t react. Senku almost died of laughter seeing you checking the chicken and letting out mumbles when you realized the chicken was dead.

“One slap…” Holding his sides in pain Senku said. “It took one slap.”

“I am nothing but ashamed. I took the innocent life of the animal that trusted me enough to approach me…”

“The same ‘goddamned chicken’ that bit you, at that.” Senku noted. “And it is not like you are a saint, you eat meat and you used to torture bugs on the playground.”

“I was a troubled child…” You mention embarrassed. “That is no more.”

“True, you ate a pebble once to prove your worth.”

You throw the dead chicken at him.

The walk back to the house was full of Senku mentioning the odd things he saw you doing as a child and you complaining saying that you had changed. Suddenly he remembered a lot from your shared kindergarten days. After a while, you get back, he sends you to pick some berries for the lunch while he boils the water and cooks the chicken. When you come back after 20 minutes or so, the chicken doesn’t look like it did when it approached you but it looks like the chicken would have found in a supermarket. Your basket is placed on the floor and you sit on your self assigned log around the campfire, taking out the stems of the plants you brought. While Senku cooks the chicken, you kneel down by him.

“Wild garlic.” You say showing it to him. “A lemon. Seasoning before we decide life is pointless.”

“These are some legendary pulls.” He praises while you open the garlic, squish it and apply it to the chicken, then cutting the lemon and dropping the juice on it too. Some minutes after, Senku turns it to the other side so it can fully cook. You repeated the process on the other side. When the chicken is done, you put it in two clay plates with some of the berries and he serves two clay cups full of water from the previous day (since the new one was still boiling). You passed the plate to him and he immediately noticed you tensing up. Your shoulders stiff while your hands played with each other, and a grin of expectation mixed with fear in your face.

“It is really good." He pointed to it after taking a bite of the chicken, still chewing. "Thanks."

You don't seem to relax fully, but once you see him taking another bite yoh sit down and start eating.

Senku noticed that he had gotten the bigger piece of chicken and the berries that looked the best. He was going to scold you saying that you were going to be doing the physical work so you had to take the slightly bigger pieces but he stopped himself; not because it would have been rude to dump the extenuating work on you, or because it didn't matter since his chicken was only slightly bigger, but because he comprehended why you would serve a plate as if waiting for a food critic to destroy you for the meal not being beyond perfect.

"You cook really good." He says instead and you look up from your plate immediately.

"Do you truly think so?" Covering your mouth while still chewing you ask, a tint of emotion in your rather somber usual timbre.

He nods. You nod too. An unknown warmth in your cheeks creeped in, something similar to the embarrassment that would make your face reden when making a mistake in a conference, or the warmth of your blood that made your head hurt when your mom complained about the lunch, but intrinsically different. Not displeasant, factually the opposite.

You gasp hard when you realized the nature of the warmth, and you had to chug water when you almost chocked on the bite of chicken.

"Evil chicken." You cough and Senku makes fun of you.

At evening Senku continued trying different things to figure out the secrets behind how to revive people from the stone. When you saw him holding a stone sparrow with two sticks in the fire, it was you laughing modestly and teasing him about "cooking a statue".

During the dinner, you two chatted about nothing in concrete. You dared ask about the future, he said that he would start by figuring out a way to revive people, then revive a bunch of trustworthy fellows to start civilization from earth, air, fire and water —a clear reference to Little Alchemy that made you smile—.

Just as the previous day, you sat on the grass together and let your gaze rise to the stars. Senku talked about some of the stars you could see in the heavens, while you talked about the overwhelming company the stars provided. He laughed when you said that if the two of you ever argued, the loser had to be stuck in the house while the other watched the stars.

"Matter of perspectives." You shrug laying down. "But usually there is someone at fault."

"Implying that's me? Going to run to your sisters to badmouth me?" Senku turned around to see you and you did the same. You couldn't help but smile at him when you heard him referencing your feeling of relating to the stars.

"Woah, it does sound like we would divorce any moment..." You say while placing your hand by your chin.

"Oh you knew that too?"

"I am very attentive." You point out.

Another shared smile. Senku notices there is a certain softness to your interactions together and he can't pinpoint to what it is, what it roots in, but he feels cozy with the softness.

Eventually you go home. He sits down on the floor poofing his pillow while you complain about sleeping on the floor again. Senku is glad that he revived you during the summer, or else he would also have to hear your very real complains about the cold, though he assumed that by then he would have it solved.

"Goodnight."

"No, don't do that." He shush you. Goodnight is too intimate. He had never heard that from you and hearing it then made everything feel even more rosy.

He closes his eyes but can't sleep, not because of some cheesy stupidity, but because you keep turning and tossing like an old dog trying to find a good spot to lay down, he was going to scold you but he remembered that he at least had the pillow. Will he have the mercy to open his arms, even when he may tweak out at having you so close? He does, excusing it as simply prolonging his own peace of mind, and you give in happily, almost with a devious grin as if it was planned. He finds that you are soft. And he wants to tweak out indeed, but not because of you but because of how you make him feel.

taglist: @thelonestarinthesky

#senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku #senku ishigami #dr stone senku #dcst #dr stone #drst #x reader #dcst senku #senku x y/n

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shysuccubusstuff · 2 days ago

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Obsessed! M!Whitney

Content: Obsessed behaviour + Stalking + Degradation + Underwear stealing + Skin writing + dacryphilia + foul language + Public NSFW encounter + Masturbation; Non proof-reading

Note: I've been working so much with the L&DS men that I forgot my other men... I hope everyone is having a nice week! I'm already writing a Husband! Sylus fic, but I'm still working on the naughty part... Since I don't really see him as someone that would actually act in extreme ways for the person he loved (mainly cause their lover would probably get mad/freak out), I chose to look for someone that would actually accept it! Let me know if you want more about this game!! ♡♡

Obsessed! Whitney who at first simply approaches you as he has done to many others. After all, he was simply looking for a new toy that could entertain him a bit, who could be best than someone that was in the same class at him?

Obsessed! Whitney who starts to become a bit too interested in you. He does the same thing he has always done to the rest, forcing you to undress in the middle of the road while his friends take pictures and say nasty things about you, and despite he keeps on laughing each time you try to cover your face, he notices a strange knot in his stomach each time one of his friends tries to touch you a bit too much for his liking. In fact, he even has to restrain himself from punching him on the face, which is weird, as he usually has no issue sharing with them as long as he gets the first taste.

Obsessed! Whitney who begins to write more posessive messages all over your body. At first the messages were simply things like: "cumdump" or maybe "cumslut", but as the two of you begin to become closer, the messages become more... clear. With your inner thighs being completely marked by his teeth mark, together with permanent marker that said things like: "Whitney's slut", with his friends simply laughing acting as if they didn't notice that... strange glimpse on his eyes.

Obsessed! Whitney who begins to save your underwear in his room. He keeps telling you to not wear underwear, but he keeps on finding himself fisting his dick with your underwear wrapped around his cock, lewd sounds and curses coming out of his mouth as he tries his best not to remember your stupid face with those stupidly cute eyes. The next day, he has bite marks over his left hand, and he somehow seems to be in an even worse mood, as he keeps clicking his tongue each time you get remotely close to him, still, the only thing you can do is wonder what the hell is wrong that day with him.

Obsessed! Whitney who only becomes more and more fixated on you the hardest he tries to play cool. He keeps forcing himself to get used to sharing you with his friends, used to seeing you on the floor while some other fucker tries to have their way with you... His little plan comes crashing down the second he finds you with that fucking loser, what was his name? Oh yeah, Kylar, that frail boy who kept stealing glances at you every time he thought nobody was looking. Guess it was his turn to show who you truly belonged to, right? So he made his way inside the small closet and closing the door behind him. He suddenly grabbed you by the collar, pulling you to the floor and forcing you to get on your knees as he unbuttons his trousers, rapidly removing his underwear in front of the two of you.

"Who would have guessed that the loser would fall in love with my slut? Guess it's time to show him just how much you love my dick, yeah? Open up, slut." He wrapped his hand around his cock, moving the tip towards your lips as he smiled wickedly. His other hand grabbed you by your hair, pulling it so you finally opened your mouth, your tongue lolling out as if you were trying to mess with him. He tightened the grip around your hair, forcing his whole length into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat as you tried your best not to gag on it. "Come on slut, tighten that fucking throat, we have someone watching..." He started to move his hips on a ruthless pace, forcing you to constantly gasp for air as you kept trying your hardest, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you kept receiving his harsh thrusts against your uvula. This kept going for a few minutes, the closet being filled with the lewd sounds of you choking on his cock, together with the faint sounds of Kylar's crying (and maybe some other wet sound...). Without warning, Whitney put both of his hands on the back of your head, a slightly salty liquid filling your mouth as he held you on your place, heavy ropes of cum falling down your throat as you kept trying to swallow it as fast as possible. "I hope this reminds you who you truly belong to, slut." Without saying anything else, Whitney leaves, looking at you one last time before going to the following class.

Obsessed! Whitney who starts to see you more and more outside of class. He begins to wait at the front gate every single day, always making some poor excuse for him to separate from his group. This strange behaviour only increases, as you start to see him everywhere, from math classes to the park, even sometimes feeling as if you were being followed while walking around the alleways of the city. In fact, you even notice how you stop being harassed by most people, with them simply looking at you with a mixture of desire and restrain. Who would guess that it was thanks to Whitney's threats that you would finally be able to walk around the city more or less safe?

Obsessed! Whitney who starts following you around the whole school, forcing you to have your arm wrapped around his, only letting you away for some time as he speaks with his friends, his hand trailing around your naked lower half, his fingers barely rubbing against it as you force yourself to keep a straight face, making him grin as soon as he notices your useless squirming. This not only allows him to state his position as your boyfriend, but he even gets to see the looks on the faces of all those losers that you had been fucking while he wasn't around, God, he just loves seeing their faces crumble to pieces.

#degrees of lewdity #dol headcanons #dol whitney #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity whitney #whitney #dol x reader #dol fanfic

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heartbreakgrill · 21 hours ago

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Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 10; "Are you ever dreaming of me?"

a/n: girl i had to literally grind and write all of this today bc surprise song release means daisy and oliver have a fucking STORY TO TELL YALL enjoy this mess.

Humming.

Soft, sweet, supple humming. It vibrated like a bee buzzing close to my ear. Was there pollen growing there? Had I morphed into some type of flower?

Was I leaking honey?

The humming lifted sweetly, a higher octave. I almost recognized the song, the tilt in it’s lift, the bend in its melodic swing. No, I did recognize the song. It was…it was something so familiar that I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“What is that?” I asked. The picture that I had not realized was fuzzy focused, above, like an Eagle’s scope. I was watching somebody.

But, I was in my body. I was there, on those white crested sheets, sheets that were pristine but in need of an iron. I was shivering, heat rolling down my spine as the humming kissed the shell of my ear and a voice whispered into my drum.

“A song.”

It was amused, almost. Teasing, maybe? It knew something I did not know.

“Yeah, but what song?” I watched the dimples in my cheeks punch holes in my face and felt the laughter gently vibrate my chest.

The humming was…a person. A shadow, real, but so fuzzy. An outline. A depleting figure.

They shifted. They whispered, again, “You know it.”

I giggled again. Why was I so stricken with this…thing? “I can’t put my finger on it.”

The person/shadow hummed again. This time, the hum emphasized the soft rise in the song, but still did not sing any words. I could feel the rest of them now, their hands flat against my hips and stomach, their chin pressing into my shoulder. The breeze exited their mouth each time they breathed. Mint. Something…else. Someone.

“Are there words?”

They chuckled this time. Then, took a chest-heavy breath before singing, “I once was poison…”

I could hear the wet touch of their tongue to their lips as the words thwacked. “But, now…”

My lips uncontrollably went taut as a smile overcame my blushing cheeks. “Now, I’m your daisy,” I’m not a good singer, so I didn’t try. I just whispered the words back and twisted to meet the shadow’s eyes.

He continued, grinning, white teeth shining over pink lips, sleepy, bagged-eyes. “Baby, for you I would fall from grace,” his one hand slid up and over my cheek. I followed it’s line and watched as black paint smeared my skin. “Just to touch your face…if you walked away-”

Oliver did not get a chance to finish because my alarm was going off.

That wasn’t the first dream/nightmare/shit show that had invaded my nighttime slumbers or, even, daytime naps. But, it was the first in nearly 6 months. It had been really bad for the first couple of weeks. I don’t think I got a full night’s sleep for at least a month. I was up after every dream, sweating, sobbing, calling Max and yelling angrily at my stuffed squid. It was a counseling tactic that ended up saving my life (and stopping me from responding to Oliver’s texts).

(“Daisy, I need to tell you something…”)

I ended up going back to my therapist for about three months. It didn’t take long for me to edit my life, considering I was already pretty open to the change. I knew I was accepting poor behavior from people (it ended up being much more evident in my work life) and needed to be more assertive. My first session was…interesting. I sat down on the couch across from Marie, who I had not seen since I was 19, and started bawling. The first month went like that, crying about Oliver and how much I missed my mom (something I didn't even know was affecting me). And then the ball got rolling.

And, now, when I had these dreams, when I woke up in a hot sweat and my cat jumped from the bed in a fright, I knew what I needed to do to not spiral. I pushed the covers off of me and thought about the dream. It was…fucked up. And I couldn't even remember if it had actually happened or if I made it up. Curse me for being on a Taylor Swift kick lately. Her lyrics were causing me to go loony.

It was realistic. Too realistic. I had almost forgotten how Oliver felt against me, at my side. Nothing in the world felt quite like that. I’d tried to replicate, sure, and got pretty close during my first semester of graduate school whenever an international student (British) and I had a fling. But it was…weird. And, then I ended up opening up more to Marie about Oliver.

And then I dropped out of school.

The cool, early-March air was biting at me. I’d forgotten what it was like to live in an upstairs apartment during the winter. An old one, at that. So I pulled the covers back over my legs. Processing…

The dream did not mean anything bad. It was simply a memory, a twisted one, at that. Gaps filled with things I wish were said, probably. It was…bittersweet, a new, difficult emotion I’d been struggling to wrap my head around.

I opened up my journal and wrote it down, wrote down how it had made me feel, and how I was going to cope with it. Cleaning. Spring cleaning, to be exact. The apartment was a pig-sty, to be frank.

Unopened boxes, cobwebs in corners, paint splatters from the trimming I’d installed last week. Not to mention the entire shop downstairs…

I got up from the bed, practically skipping to my dresser but a foot away from the end of the comforter. The bedroom was tiny, tinier than I was used to. I slipped on warmer clothes and tied my hair back.

I Bluetoothed my phone to a mini-speaker and carried it with me to the kitchen. I popped on the kettle and shoveled half a pop tart in my mouth. Evie rubbed herself between my legs, probably dropping massive amounts of fur on my pants. I squatted down to love her while the kettle started to whistle. I snapped up before the water could boil and poured it out over the bag of tea.

“Let’s go, Ev,” I murmured over the rim of my mug as we shuffled into the living room.

It was a fucking wreck. I groaned and threw my head back, causing some of my hair to slip out of the tie.

I set the speaker and tea off to the side and got started. I was off work today, luckily, so I had time to really dig into things. But I did still have plans to go out later with a friend. And it was late. I’d gotten pretty good at having a routine, but the mornings after I worked I did not have any energy to get up at a good time. It was better than it had been.

The first two weeks after I’d dropped school, I stayed up until 4 am every night and slept on my new (thrifted) couch until the sun set. It was…a process, moving here, getting the swing of things.

But, this felt good. Unpacking- finding a place for everything. My mugs in the cupboard above the stove, spices along the wooden rack my mom had haphazardly installed a million years ago. The cat’s stand by the big picture window, where all of our random throw pillows sat. I hadn’t realized how many things were left by her until I got the keys from Sam and we drove my stuff down here.

But there were things- the spice rack, the pillows. Her old, vintage vanity squeezed in the extra (tiny) bedroom that Sam and I used to share. I’d made a point to clean that one up the most when I first got here, considering every one of my friends wanted to visit as soon as they could. It was a peaceful spot, where I’d also unloaded my books onto our old bookshelves and bought a comfy reading chair. A pull out bed set beneath the chair, some fancy contraption Max had found at some Swedish furniture store overseas. He was always sending me pictures of decor pieces. He knew me too well.

I got about three boxes unloaded before I splatted myself onto the (clearing) couch, phone and glass of cold water in hand. My phone began to buzz with a call from a familiar contact on the screen.

“Daz!” absolute ruckus on the other end. “Daz I miss youuuuuuuu!”

The voice was absolutely slurred, nearly drowned out by the club music thumping in the background. A few other voices yelled atop his and it seemed like the phone rustled around.

A new voice, my brother’s. “Daiiiiiissssyyyyy, waiiiiizzyyyyyy, mmaeeeeeeeeee!”

Then, Ronnie, a stern, calm and collected familiarity, “Daisy? Are you there? Sorry for these idiots. It’s been a crazy ass week and they’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” I giggled as she scolded them somewhere away from the speaker. “Celebrating what?”

“New tour! New song, album, fucking lore!” Ronnie yelled in response. “Sorry- hang on. Max- if you want to talk, come outside!”

The noise lessened, yet a string of voices seemed to follow her outside. I pulled my phone away and optioned to FaceTime them instead. Their faces loaded before me- Ronnie, Max, Sam, and even Cyrus. I grinned wide at the sight.

Of course I’d kept contact with everyone. Ronnie and Sam helped me move in the off-season, Max visited maybe 3 or 4 times. Cyrus, Adam, and I correspond in the group chat we’d made last summer and now still used. We’d play Minecraft together on the weekends, recommend each other books, and they'd send me samples of new music they were working on.

Only instrumentals, though.

They were some of my favorite people. It had just been a month or so since I’d actually spoken to all of them on the phone. I was- usually- working when they were not performing, writing, or traveling. But, this was the first Friday I had gotten off in a while. And, considering the time difference, I was pretty sure they’d just finished some show or something.

“Ugh, anyways-” Ronnie began and met my eye through the screen. “We’re celebrating, if you couldn’t tell! But, how are you? What are you up to? Max wanted to call cause he said you work too much and probably miss us. Which we all know is true. We miss you Daz!”

Everyone yelled in response, cheering my name and waving and grinning. I could cry, I missed them all so much. “I’m good! I miss you all so much more! Please come visit soon!”

Ronnie glanced back at Sam, so quickly I almost didn’t notice it. She wore a sneaky smirk. “Well, here’s part of the reason we’re celebrating, peaches!”

I jumped up onto the couch, dancing around as they shared the news. They’d be here in a week! Visiting me and my tiny little rundown apartment and shop for an entire month! They had some time off before the next tour cycle started and they could not think of a better place to be.

“We wanted to see you and help you get settled! We know it’s been a few months, but we basically ditched you at the apartment before we had to get back to Europe. So, clean off the couch, Daz!” Sam pushed his way to the phone to speak to me. I could tell he’d been drinking. His eyes were red, bloodshot and his smile was crooked. Oh, how I loved and missed him.

But, soon! He’d be here!

We’d be here, together, continuing mom’s legacy.

It was a dream. Come true.

One I hadn’t even known existed until I found myself in the streets of Europe.

But, here she was. Jumping up and down on her thrifted couch with her cat. Her very own cat! Her hair short, her hair chunky streaks of blonde. I was…Daisy. I was Daisy Hatlett, if she had ever existed and taken up space in her own existence.

I plopped onto the couch. Max took up the screen now. “I’m coming, too, Daz! Clear out the extra bedroom, lovely!”

“Oh, my God! You guys! I don’t think I’m going to be able to house all of you. Next, you’re going to tell me that Cyrus and Adam are coming to stay, too!” I pressed a hand over my eyes, but still could not stop grinning.

I peeked through my fingers because it went silent on the other end. All I could hear was the thumping of London club music resounding throughout the patio they were hanging out on.

“Jeez, tell me you hate me, Daisy,” Cyrus spoke up, attempting to break through what I could only describe as awkward silence.

Max pressed his lips together. “She might. She might.”

“So,” Sam swept the phone from whoever had been holding it and walked away from the crew. “Listen, Daisy. I should have called you when we were all sober to deliver the news, but…um. To make it easier, you know? I don’t…we’re all- basically management heard us talking about visiting. They looked into it and I guess there’s a good recording studio like an hour from you. They want us all to have some privacy in a small town to recuperate and, I guess, chill. But they want the guys to still be able to tweak parts of the album before it comes out. So…yeah, they’re sending us your way. We’re all coming.”

My dream felt like a premonition now.

It was crazy how, after months and months sober from something, from somebody, after resisting relapse and cravings and a text message that loads after the plane touches down, it’s crazy how you can still feel it. On the tip of your lips. The very drug you’d been getting over. And you could feel, for even just a second, just as helplessly young, dumb, and naive as you had nine months ago.

“Oliver’s gonna be here? In my town?” I murmured somewhat, knowing I looked stricken.

Sam nodded sadly. “But…listen, okay. You won’t even have to see him. He’ll be…he’ll be in the hotel or recording most of the time. And…even if you do, Daz, he’s, like, a completely different person. Fuck, he laughs now. Like, all the time. He’ll show us dumb ass memes and laugh-”

“I don’t need to know that,” I shook my head with a giggle that was anything but joyous. “Um…it’ll be fine. It’ll feel-” use those emotions, girl, “weird. But, it’ll be good. I’ll get to see y’all!”

I ran a hand through some of my blonde streaks. Sam watched and trailed the subject off, distracted by the alcohol and my hair. “Daz, you look so pretty. You look…you look so grown. And healthy. So healthy. I love you, sis.”

I pouted my lip at the complement. “Aw, Sam-Ham! I can’t wait to see you!”

And see him, I would. Him and Cyrus and Adam and Ronnie and Max and…and probably Oliver. But, I was not delicate now. I was a grown woman. I was…mature, like Sam had said. I’d finally started to live my life and I wasn’t susceptible to a bacterial growth like Oliver.

That’s what he was, in mine and my therapist and my friends’ minds. A growth. A tumor. And the old me had died from him. From that, a new Daisy, a healing, evolving Daisy was reborn into whoever the hell she wanted to be. Like a butterfly, I’d emerged from a chrysalis.

“Send me the details of your flight and I’ll come pick ya’ll up! We can give everybody a tour of our hometown!” I urged him.

Sam gave me a thumbs up, but Max was talking over him again. “Is she good with it? Does she like the idea? Is she gonna kill us- Daisy!”

Max gave me heart-eyes through the phone, grinning. “Daisy, I cannot wait to see this flower shop. I cannot wait to help you get it all set up and ready for the grand opening! Have you set a date yet?”

Oh, haha, totally! I have everything together! I wanted to lie through my teeth. But, I know I couldn’t. Instead, I shrugged, “Not really. It’ll happen when it happens. I’m still trying to get settled back into things. I’m unpacking the living room today since I’m off.”

“Blasting Tay-Tay, I’m sure,” Ronnie teasingly rolled her eyes.

“Hell yeah, girl!”

“Blast our new song!” Max whined, “I love Tay-Tay, you know I do. But get us some streams, babygirl!”

I exited out of the FaceTime app and opened Spotify. I could see their faces in the corner of my screen as they continued yelling. “Yeah, come on! It’s so fucking good, Daz. You’ll love the end part, for sure,” Cy added in.

“Mayyyybe,” I shrugged, though I did ponder the idea.

Emergence.

What a title.

I wondered about what Sam had said- how Oliver had changed.

And I wondered if he felt like me, different, aged. New. A butterfly in the place of where a caterpillar had been. A reborn soul in the place of a tumor.

Maybe I couldn’t listen to it. It would remind me that he’s human. Which, of course, I knew. It was a fact that had helped me heal. But, I think hearing about his own struggle with his identity might send me over the edge.

I was going out later…and that always meant alcohol, which fixed any reopened scars. Not healthy, I know, but journaling didn’t always feel fun to do.

“What’s it about?” I ventured, opening back up the FaceTime.

Cy and Max side-eyed each other. Sam and Ronnie had left a second ago, probably to get drinks.

“Um,” Max shrugged, “you know who’d you have to ask that question. Sorry, Daz.”

“Well, you helped write it, right, Cy? C’mon, tell meeee,” I pouted again.

Cy shook his head, “I wrote the drums, that’s all. It was…it was all Oliver, hun.”

I rolled my eyes and opened Spotify again. The cover was pretty, all rosy pink flowers.

It reminded me…God, it reminded me of my mom’s shop.

I wonder…

Wondering was a dangerous thing. I shut down my brain.

I talked to them some more, hearing about their most recent tour, The Teeth of God. Though, they had visited off and on when that tour happened, so I basically knew everything, But I loved when Cy and Max told stories. They were hilarious.

We talked for another half an hour before Ronnie and Sam came back. They made a big deal about some song that was playing in the club and demanded Cy and Max come dance. After a round of phone-hugs, smushy kisses on the camera from Max, and promised-calls from my brother, the sound of a hung up FaceTime call resonated.

I checked the time. It was somehow nearing 5pm already. My stomach was growling.

So, though I lingered over the music app with the tip of my thumb, I exited out of the app altogether, I got up and went to make myself dinner.

Friday nights in my hometown were busy.

I noticed after my first few shifts at the local pub. I made more money there from just a three day weekend work week than I had at the clinic. Sure, men were creepy and pigtails brought in more money, but having a surplus of ones was sick.

All this to say, I was happy to have this evening off.

I’d reconnected with a few people from high school and they’d been begging me to go out on a Friday. Tonight, Jay and I would be hitting a bar 15 minutes up the street that had a pool, mini golf, and some band headlining the small stage.

He was knocking on my door around 9pm, just in time for my setting spray to dry and my shot of vodka to kick in. I used to drink to get drunk, and now I just did it to chill. It was fun.

I opened the door with a chirpy, “Hey!”

Jay, a tall, blonde-headed car salesman, leaned down for a hug. Sure, he had been a frat boy at the local community college and had asshole friends in high school. But, everybody grows out of those embarrassing phases and become…well, he was sweet and paid for dinner when we went, opened the car door when he drove me places, aaaaaand he was a pretty good fuck. Hey, grown up Daisy did grown up things now, like sleep with the captain of her high school football team.

I squeezed my arms around his neck, catching a whiff of the sweet cologne he was wearing. And- was that smoke? Cigarette smoke? My mind almost flashed back, but I moved on. “Mm, you smell good,” I giggled as I pulled back.

Jay kissed the corner of my lips, sliding his hand to my fingers. I shut the door and he began trotting us down the steps to the side entrance of my building. “You, too. And you look good, too. I like this skirt.”

His other hand tugged at the bottom of the tight black piece. I giggled again, “Well, thanks. Thought I’d dress up for once.”

“Aw, you don’t have to. You look just as good in your sweatpants as you do this little number.”

We loaded into his car as we talked, soon rolling down the road. We were not together. And, no it was not because I had developed some weird attachment issues. I was really just looking for a low-commitment fling while I went through this major transition in my life. And Jay’s wife had just left him for some lawyer in the big city up North.

We had the same needs and wants right now.

We had a good time at the bar, sloshing back shots every once in a while, dancing on the tiny little dance floor beside the similarly mini-stage. I was no longer a light-weight now that I regularly drank, like normal people my age. So, it took a few extra Dirty Shirley’s and Long Islands to get me to the point that made this night out really fun. We went from playing pool to practically mosh-pitting to Mr. Brightside. Jay went so far as to volunteer to sing with the band and I became their honorary tambourine-girl. I demanded a photoshoot and drunkenly posted the pictures to Instagram with the caption, “FEEL THE BEAT!!!”

Eventually, the night started to wind down. We drove back to mine (old Daisy would have had an aneurysm if she knew I was letting someone drunk drive me) and had sex on my couch. The cat was still an adjustment for me, considering she liked to sit by the picture window and just stare at me.

When it was over, Jay picked her up and held her to his bare chest, boxers low on his hips. “You’re a little creep, aren’t ya?”

I giggled as she nuzzled into his neck, purring through her sweet little mouth, “She really is. I don’t know how to get her to stop either.”

Jay sat on the arm rest and Eve jumped from his arms, back to her spot on the windowsill. He leaned down close to me and wrapped a hand around my cheek. “I have a pretty good idea.”

He was flirting, making a pass for another round. I blushed, nonetheless, and kissed his wrist. “What might that be?” I smiled coyly.

Jay took my lips in his, a supple kiss, before whispering and nipping at my ear, “The bedroom has a door.”

I let him kiss me until I was in his arms, his hands strong under my thighs. He sobered me up through another restless round of (sure, vanilla) sex. Afterwards, he curled me into him, a deep sigh rattling from his chest.

“What was that?” I laughed, rearing my head back to see him better. “Something to share?”

Jay shared my laugh, though there was a deep, distant look that settled in his eyes. “No, no…well…I don’t know. I was just thinking…”

“Oh, no,” I mocked, “is the world ending?”

“Oh, Zee,” he pretended to squeeze me to death. “No, I just…we’ve been going out for some time now.”

Oh.

Oh!

Ohhhh….

“Yeah?” I sat up now, his arms falling off of me.

Jay followed, slowly, cautiously. Was he feeling how I had felt when Oliver passed me off like this?

I pushed that observation away. It burned going down.

“I just…you have to know that I’m really into you, Zee.”

The nickname felt weird. And I felt…weird. This all felt weird.

“Jay, I…” i raised my hand to stop him, but he kept going.

“Honestly, I think I’m falling for you. I have to tell you before we end up hurting each other. Because I know you must feel it, too-”

“I’m gonna be sick!”

I rushed from the bed and to the bathroom, a few steps down the hall. Jay called after me, unaffected by the rush, “Oh- okay! Let me know if you need anything!”

I shut the bathroom door behind me. Slid down it’s wooden spine. Pulled my legs to my chest. I was breathing heavily. I didn’t even need to throw up, I just- I needed away. It was suffocating in there.

I thought that this was just a casual thing, but I guess not.

And now I just felt- like shit, to be honest.

I tip-toed back into the room just to see if he was asleep or not. Luckily, he was passed out, jaw loose, snores coming from the back of his throat. He worked long hours. I praised the universe for the saving grace and continued to pray that he would forget about his conversation by the morning. While he was snoring, I put on some pj’s and went out to the living room. I sat beside Evie on the bench by the big picture window, watching as the moon turned red. A blood moon. I didn’t even know that was today.

I got up to grab my journal and sat back down. Something in me stirred. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the phone call earlier. Maybe it was this confession from Jay.

Maybe it was that dumb fucking dream. But I was missing London. I was missing the dirty streets of Paris and the spitfire rain in Ireland. I missed the gray skies and seeing my brother everyday.

I missed Oliver.

I let myself feel it. I had fought it for so long, but now I just tried to accept it. It was okay to miss people. I loved him, after all. But, this feeling usually passed after a moment.

I opened my journal and wrote about it. I wrote about how it slickened my throat and made my chest feel tight, the regret, the missing, the moving on.

It was worse than normal. It wouldn’t go away. It screamed in my heart and burned my head.

I don’t know why. I was over it (wasn’t I?) but my head started to race. He was…alive. Despite the fact that I didn't even know who he was anymore. He was doing things and moving on with his life. Me, too. I guess.

Oliver was a living and breathing person. His life didn’t end when our love did. That was hard to wrap my mind around. Though I was doing the same thing.

He was still writing songs, touring shows, painting himself in black every night. Writing songs.

And here I was- buying my mom’s old flower shop with Sam, moving back to our hometown, deciding I didn’t want to go to grad school.

Emergence. Out from underneath…

He was still…growing. I was growing. We were growing- away from each other.

Something about tonight, the blood moon or the information that he had released a song…something unravelled in me.

I could not stop thinking about him.

Was he sleeping with somebody, too? Was he dating some girl? Was she the reason for this new song? Was she clutching his bicep in the busy streets of London and laughing in the park in Paris while he told some stupid joke?

Was he falling in love with her? Was he confessing like Jay had? Or was he detached like me, unable to really move on from what we had last summer?

Unable to love somebody else the same way he loved me.

And then I found myself going through our text messages. God, I was really spiraling.

I’d deleted them when I got back home from London, but then my phone took a shit and I got a new one. Here, the iCloud hadn’t been backed up in so long that it reverted back to how it was when I’d boarded the plane. Oliver text messages and all.

Even the notification I’d gotten when I landed, the one I deleted, silenced, and never even opened. Airplane mode only lasted until you turned it off. Then, whatever failed to deliver just…popped up, wooshed through the atmosphere and over the seas.

It still was unread, and I ignored it even as I scrolled all the way up to the start and took myself through the journey of last summer.

Oh, Daisy…

The words he used, the things he told me. Fuck- the picures he sent me. I found myself wet again even though I’d just been relieved twice. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The names he called me.

Love, darling…

Sneak to my room later- meet me after the show- you tasted good.

Fragments of messages raced past my vision. Blurred. Anxious. It was all coming back, though I am not sure now that it had ever really left.

How could I have ever forgotten about him? Sure, my body lost the memory of him. But, even then, I think if I squeezed my eyes shut enough, I might be able to replicate the feeling, pretend Jay’s blonde hair was dark brown, that his blue eyes were that sweet greenish-tan. Pretend that his hands, strong, sure, were the toned ones of a certain Brit, fingers strong from piano and guitar playing. That his voice was laced with an accent, his tooth crooked but beautifully supple atop his pink, plump lips.

And, then…there was his spirit. The things he liked- the coffee and Ray Bradbury books. The song about someone being a fisherman and that poem about that fisherman painting looking over the top of a love affair. The signals he always sent me through these coded messages.

I’d forgotten that one.

But, there it was- a link to a PDF, an offer to let me borrow that book that he loved.

Reading it now-

“You lie bent up in embryo sleep

below the painting of the blue fisherman

without a pillow…

I watch you and wonder at you.

I know your face by touch when it's dark

I know the profile of your sleeping face

the sound of you sleeping…

I know the hills

and gullys of your body

the curves

the turns.

But there are times

when you can smile in such a way

that I'd forget a ten year war

and lie down in your shadows' shadow

and live on sounds your stomach makes…

But there is little salvage to be had

in bent and broken nails

and things that might have been

if I'd had wiser eyes

or been a fisherman

in blue.”

Had I been that naive?

He never used the words directly, but it was clear now, how vivid that love was that he had for me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

There was something else. Something I could not quite place. What- what the fuck was it? Nudging at my brain like Evie nudged at my thighs.

I smelled it. I smelled it somewhere. I traced the smell, sniffing through the air like a deranged lady. I sniffed the edge of the couch. It was there but it was- faint. Like it was a lifetime ago. Then, Jay’s t-shirt on the arm rest. Warmer. His coat- dangling off the coat rack. I patted the pockets and there it was- a pack of cigarettes. I was an addict moving through the world, tracking down the scent of a drug or a drink like a pack dog.

I held them in my hands, squishing the pack. Then, gently, I brought it to my nose and sniffled the aroma. Cigarette smoke.

Oliver.

The roof. The pool. The city. The look of his cheeks cinching in as he breathed in the cigarette smoke. The smell as he held my hair back and I puked on the streets of London. The smell of his fingertips on my cheek. The taste of him after I chased him down in the hotel elevator. Me quipping to him that it would fucking kill him- him laughing.

His laugh, fuck his laugh. Fuck, holy shit. I was weeping a little bit now.

I wonder if he could feel it, 12 million miles away from me. I pinched myself like a voodoo doll and willed the feeling.

It smelled like a part of me that I had pushed down for months. Healed, sure, but pushed away.

The part of me that had loved him.

I took a cigarette from the pack and felt around his pockets for a lighter. Then, ashamedly, looking around the apartment like someone was going to catch me in the act, I slipped on some shoes and a hoodie.

I took the stairs down to the flower shop and weaved my way through boxes. I took a seat on the stool behind the counter, crossed my leg over the other. It was freezing- nights in May were never warm. But I ignored goosebumps, embraced them, almost, and kept moving.

I lit the cigarette without ever touching it to my lips. I watched as the edge caught the flame then set the cigarette on the counter. I typed through my phone, searching for something on Spotify. I hit play.

Emergence.

I lay my head on my hands, propped upon the counter, eyes practically crossed as I watched the cigarette burn. I closed my eyes, breathed in his smell, and listened…

Come on, come on out from underneath who you were…

I looped the song. Once, twice. A fifth time. And, then…

I opened the text.

I didn’t know who I was right now. This wasn’t the old Daisy, but it wasn’t the new Daisy, either. This was someone entirely new. Someone…

Someone who needed to know the answers. Someone who still could not believe it.

Someone. Just someone.

“Daisy, I need to tell you a few things. If you do not want to hear me out, that is okay. You do not owe me the time nor the space to speak my truth. But, I don’t think I would able to live if I did not do so.’’

Crying. Sobbing. I took a moment to breathe in- cigarette smoke- and centered myself.

“Fiona is somebody who I used to lo-”

I stopped there. I deleted the message.

I relapsed, if only for the night. I let myself revel in the drug, revel in the burning memory of him, if only to just get it all out again, if only to just fulfill the prophecy and will of that fucking dream.

Then- I went back upstairs and lay myself underneath Jay’s arm.

I listened to his soft snoring as I fell asleep, sniffing and smelling like cigarette smoke.

#sleep token x reader #sleep token #sleep token smut #sleep token x you #vessel x you #vessel sleep token #vessel x reader #sleep token fanfic #sleep token iii #sleep token band

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angel-fruitcake · 1 day ago

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pretty sure the anon meant personality characterisation-so, like how cas is portrayed/how he acts etc and if that feels accurate. basically just how he is as a character- ‘voice’ would refer to either speech or just his internal monlogue.

side note ur so rigjt about the tan rhing bcuz sometimes when i read destiel fics its like theyve never seen a picture of them…dean is not blonde and i will die on this hill

asdfgdk thank you for the clarification, anon! lol i was definitely lowkey confused. at first i did think they meant personality, but the 'voice' thing kinda threw me off 😅

personally, i love when castiel's selflessness shines through in fics. cas doesn't think about his own needs very often, if ever. he's always putting the needs of others above his own (dean's needs being the Highest priority ofc), bc in truth he has a pretty low opinion of himself. his self-worth issues could rival dean's tbh. case(s) in point: every instance where cas tried to or successfully sacrificed his own life to save someone else (dean).

cas also has such an incredible capacity for loving others, yet he doesn't know how to handle love and care being given to him, bc he's still not all that used to receiving it (he also doesn't believe he deserves it). i love when cas gets all flustered and uncomfortable or even straight up tries to deflect compliments or open displays of love and affection directed towards him in fics; it's cute and feels very in-character to me.

i also love when writers show how pathetically whipped cas is for dean specifically, especially in his smaller actions. sam runs out of coffee one morning? sure, cas might blip over to the store and get him some more. maybe. if he's in the mood and not busy atm. dean runs out of coffee? cas will drop everything and fly to brazil, harvest the very finest coffee beans he can find, meticulously grind them by hand (or by grace), and deliver the fresh grounds to dean in the bunker kitchen, just to make him happy. dean has that angel wrapped around his finger like nobody else.

all that being said, cas' kind nature does not negate his ability to be an absolute bitch to his enemies, to people he doesn't like or care about, and to the people he does care about. castiel is simultaneously one of the most caring creatures in all of creation AND a huge fucking bitch, and i love to see that duality in fics.

aaaand lastly, ofc i adore castiel's general confusion when it comes to humans and their behaviors as much as the next guy, i really do. part of his charm as a character is his inability to fully grasp many of the intricacies of human customs— it's very cute and endearing... but to a reasonable extent. i've read some fics where the author took that aspect a tad bit too far for me.

castiel watched over humanity for multiple millennia before ever interacting with any of them. yes, he makes mistakes and might misinterpret certain phrases or actions, but he's not utterly clueless. especially in fics that take place in season 6 or later. at that point, cas had spent enough time physically among humans to understand at least the most basic social norms. ignorance taken too far starts to come off as stupidity, and cas is not stupid. there is a limit to his naivety, and pushing that makes him feel out-of-character to me.

this response kinda got away from me but i hope i answered your question, anon! 💕

#i have many thoughts about #castiel #destiel #spn #supernatural #anon #asks #emily yaps

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legolasghosty · 2 years ago

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Yeah @innytoes has captured me with fae magic and now I'm hooked on her Kidnapped by the Fae AU so... I'm sorry.

Alex couldn't sleep. Like he actually physically couldn't fall asleep. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago. Even Willie had drifted off on the couch, their breaths coming out in little adorable hums. But Alex couldn't drift off, no matter how hard he tried.

When he closed his eyes, all he could see were the dark trees, the twinkling lights, the swirling figures, the constant demands for faster, Faster, FASTER! as his hands flew over the drums. And his own body, helpless to do anything but obey. To serve his master. With pure devotion and without question.

Each time the fae went to sleep, Alex never could. The feeling of suddenly having control of his own limbs was too odd. Too unfamiliar. Too much.

And now it was like that all the time. If he wanted to stand up, he could. If he wanted to stay exactly where he was, no invisible strings stopped him. It was incredible. It was freeing. It was terrifying.

Because with no one to tell him what to do and where to go, no intangible hand on the back of his neck directing him, how could he know if he was doing it right?

The Molinas had been kind so far. They'd allowed them to live in their garage, eat their food, even loaned them some of the father's old clothes to wear. They'd shown them the magic of new technology, though that wasn't always the smoothest lesson. Alex grimaced at the memory of when sparks had suddenly begun to fly from the microwave because Luke had put that...tinfoil? stuff inside with his food. The Molinas had been upset but hadn't hurt them over it. They'd been kind. But the fae had been kind at first too.

At first, Alex had wondered if he'd died, alone in the forest, and was in some form of afterlife. He was offered food and fine clothing and music by the effervescent beings that inhabited this new plane. They'd enjoyed his drumming and hadn't seemed to mind when his eyes drifted to a young man with dark hair and a smile that made Alex's heart skip a beat.

They had been kind and welcoming to him. Until he made a mistake.

Things changed after that. Who was to say that wouldn't happen again? That the Molinas wouldn't run out of patience with him and he wouldn't become a prisoner and an outcast yet again.

Alex knew it would happen. It had happened with his first two homes, why not this one? So if he wanted to stay here, with his family and his lover, he couldn't make any mistakes. Couldn't give them any reason to throw him away like the used toy he was. But how could he know what was wrong if no one was directing his every move?

He couldn't. So he was doomed.

"Alex?"

Alex jumped, almost losing his footing on the dark tiles of the house roof. He whirled around to see Julie, the girl who had first found them, staring at him through an open, second-story window.

"What are you doing out on the roof?" she asked, blinking rapidly.

Oh. Well, this must be it. Alex thought he could hold out a bit longer.

"I'm so sorry, I know I shouldn't be on the house," he said quickly, holding out hope that maybe she would at least let him stay till morning. "I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake anyone and I knew there weren't any bedrooms around here so I just... I'm sorry-"

"Woah, slow down," Julie said, cutting him before he could say anything else. "No need to be sorry, you're not doing anything wrong, I just... wasn't expecting to see you sitting on the roof of my house at 3 am."

"Oh," Alex said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. She wasn't upset?

"Also, I know you have the whole-" Julie waved a hand around helplessly, "-magic thing going on, but hanging out on the roof isn't exactly the safest spot."

Alex shrugged. "I didn't think anyone would care," he replied honestly. Willie might be a little sad if he fell off the roof and broke his neck, but they'd get over it. There were so many people in the world to love, Willie wouldn't be alone for long.

Julie frowned. "Of course we would care if you got hurt," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "You did see how freaked my dad got the other day when Reggie burned himself on the stove, right?" She took a deep breath, then added, "You guys may not have come into our lives in a very...traditional way, but you're family now."

Alex was helpless to do anything but stare at her. Because, well, 'family' by blood wasn't something he had much respect for, but the way she said it felt more like when Luke called them that, back before they escaped. Like it actually meant something real.

"Note to self, Alex has even bigger trust issues than I thought," Julie muttered around a yawn. Then she offered him a hand. "Come on, we can crash on the couches downstairs and watch a movie or something. Just chill out for a bit."

It felt like a trap. A personal invitation into someone's space had always been a trap in the fae realm. But...maybe that wasn't how it was here? At least not with Julie?

Alex bit his lip, but accepted her hand and clambered in through the open window.

"Come on, I need to show you Dirty Dancing," Julie decided, keeping hold of his hand as she closed the window and led him downstairs. "I think you'll love it!"

And Alex did. Or at least he loved the first 30 minutes of it that he was awake for.

#legolas tag #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #kidnapped by the fae au #I am very sorry for how angsty this got #dang that was NOT what I had in mind #but uh... yup Alex has trauma now #not that he didn't already in this au but like...dang #I'm very sorry #in my head this is maybe like 2 weeks after they escape the fae realm?#and Alex has barely slept since that happened #Ray comes downstairs the next morning to see Julie and Alex curled up on the couch together fast asleep #and he's very confused but also not mad about it #he maybe takes a picture and saves it to his #The Fae Children I Accidentally Adopted Settling In #folder #he does not show them this album till probably at least a year or two later #cause fae and capturing their image and stuff is scary magic #so it takes them a while to understand that that isn't the case anymore

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toxintouch · 4 months ago

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Kinktober speedrun time! Used the Mirror prompt on this list. Thank you for the inspo! Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || Dom!Reader x Leander

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Reader, Mirror Use. Edging/Orgasm Denial + Light Degradation & Name calling (Leander being referred to as a dog but he’s really into it, promise) + Power Exchange & Sub/Dom Dynamics

OTHER INFO: Leander has a dick, anatomy of Reader/POV Character remains unspecified; "they" pronouns used.

Leander has the straight backed posture of a man who was given etiquette lessons. His mannerisms speak of wealth and class, yet they can’t help but observe that he looks completely comfortable while down on his knees.

His back muscles flex as he works himself, sweat slipping down his spine, pooling in the dimples just above his ass. He’s strung tight, the veins in his arms straining as he strokes a quick, even rhythm. His dick is flushed a painful red, copious amounts of pre-cum dripping down his wrist and splattering onto his thick thighs, some of it even dirtying the floor below when his strokes become too enthusiastic.

(They wonder how best to make him clean it later–he does so love to be ordered to lick up his own mess–but this floor is probably just as filthy as anywhere else in the Wick, despite appearances–and they don’t think they can find it in themself to make use of his mouth again after watching that.)

The full length mirror hanging in front of Leander is a new addition to the room. Something they’d wheedled out of him with nothing but an easy promise, whispered into his ear down at the bar. It was theirs not a full day later: a polished brass antique with a priceless clear finish.

His back is to them, but they can see everything they need to by gazing at his reflection.

His strokes stutter, faltering, and they watch as his abdominals jump rapidly. His hand makes a few more shaky attempts before he stops himself with a shudder, breathing hard and squeezing his cock at the base to cut off his own orgasm. They give a little hum of approval, waiting.

“Count.” They prompt, when he fails to remember on his own.

They watch his throat bob with effort as he swallows, his jaw trembling around his answer. “Five.”

“Good boy,” they say, their voice flat and unrewarding. Dismissive. "Guess that Hightown education really paid off for you, huh?" He whines at that, his palms slicking along his thighs, awaiting their instruction. He glances at them in the mirror, eyes hopeful. “Again,” they prompt, “and keep your eyes on yourself until I tell you. During, too. You were closing them a lot. It's just you and the mirror until you've earned otherwise.”

Bites his lip, beginning to stroke himself again.

The next edge comes more quickly.

His eyebrows draw up, mouth falling open, back arching. His cock jumps and this time he falls back onto his hands to keep from giving into temptation. His eyes travel the length of the mirror, his neck taught with tension as he pants. They notice his gaze darting along their form for a moment, greedily stealing along their silhouette in the looking glass. A quick glance of the place where their legs are splayed open as they lounge on the bed behind him, toying with themself idly.

He’s back to form so seamlessly, he probably thinks they didn’t even notice. The next number falls out of his mouth without prompting, as if to cover for his earlier sleight.

"..."

“Baby,” he whines, fidgeting without further instruction. His fingers return to his dick when they don't reply, ghosting over his wet, swollen cockhead. He knows they hate the way that epithet sounds in his voice, the condescending lilt he manages to wrap around the syllables. “Sweetheart. Please, may I–”

“Bad dog,” they admonish. They don't elaborate–let him figure out for himself which breach of protocol they're scolding him for.

“Again. And if you can’t behave, I’ll have to put you outside.”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦Kinktober Speedrun on Ao3

Consider: this type of power play with yandere!Leander...you watching him when he's usually the one watching you...

#kinktober 2024 #citrus fiending tag #tckinktober #18+ MDNI #see above tags for the tags you'll wanna blacklist if u don't wanna see me trying to speedrun this week lol #not pictured: POV character telling Leander that his ego is big enough that he should be able to get off without sneaking a peek at them :)#similarly not pictured: “we can use the blindfold if you *really* can't behave on your own.”#once I'm done speed running I'll maybe post a Kinktober 2024 Masterlist to the main tag but I'll prolly post in chara tags only for a bit..#leander x reader #leander touchstarved #touchstarved fanfic #something real nasty for those who partake <3 #feels too awkward to tag someone in this out of the blue but SHOUT OUT IF U SEE THIS ty for the list!#Consider: this type of power game with yandere!Leander #you watching him when he's usually the one watching you #save me yandere leander #take me away from this life; i no longer desire to participate in capitalism #/joking i was joking omg did u hear that did it just get cold all of the sudde..........#touchstarved x reader #Touchstarved leander

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wellijustfinnihedoneofthebooks · 2 days ago

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"Batman has a contingency plan for everyone in the justice league" false, one angry look from wonder woman and that sub'll fall in line

#plan for everything except a tall jacked woman giving you orders #batman #bruce wayne #wonder woman #diana prince #wonderbat #i guess #dc comics #okay hot take but the way i picture bruce in my mind he has all those contingencies but he probably wouldnt be able to actually cary themout #like i dunno if he could actually look clark in the eye and kill him #i feel like hed be hell bent on saving him again #maybe like capture him and keep him in some kryptonian-proof human rights violation but i dont know if he could really kill his best friend #and he certainly couldnt kill diana and not just cause shed steamroll his ass #just i feel like his savior complex is too severe for him to actually think anyone is beyond the point of saving #like this guy wont even kill the least redeemable villan ever crafted the joker #now that could be more cause of him not thinking the jokers threat level warrents it but still #i have a lot of feelings about bruce but i havent actually read too much dedicated to him so i dont know how backed up in canon i am #i feel the same about clark

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sillicaa · 1 month ago

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(lazy) current household picture bc im to lazy to change their height slider back clearly kimber > don > dawn (daughter) > avea (twin) > holt (twin)

jumpscare of the twins before their makeover jeez I thought I would have a rough time and they were destined to be ugly but I think they actually turned out super pretty

#ts4 #the sims 4 #show us your sims #yes that is indeed the #don lothario #i love him i think hes bene promoted to my fav townie after this playthrough like hes the best sweetie sweetest baby boy ever #idk where holt got his face shape from i guess don but the presets are genetic maybe?? weird #also he did grow up with brown eyes but my cas is weird idk cause i edited him then undid so i could take a photo cause im a forgetful idio #then he decided oh no i rather blue eyes like what... u had brown 2 seconds ago #anyways #i had enough switching between alpha and maxis match depending on what im doing thats it maxis mix is the way #dawn looks so much like her mum #does anyone read this or am i rambling to myself #either way i might one day in very many years to come will post the pictures of them growing up and whatever #im not done with them it sounds like i am like no i full plan on making this a legacy cause my old legacy the save file conked for some rea #plus i got a new pc!! yayy ltierally the game runs so smooth and loads up in like 2 minutes compared to i used to open a youtube video when #i wanted to play on my laptop LMAO #ive bene playing a lot of cyberpunk finally but ill leave that for my other blog mentatss

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nobodybetterlookatme · 2 months ago

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Guess who didn't get to go home 😭

#not snz #I'm fucking tired bro I'm so ready for this shit to be over #it's been over two weeks and it's just over 60% contained #i never wanna do this shit again this is more than enough for one lifetime 😭#and yet i will continue to do it 😔#but we went on a rescue mission of sorts today so that was something lmao #one of my friends called me frantic to see if i was anywhere near his house bc our physical station is somewhat close to him #bc he was at work and got an evacuation order and panicked bc his dog was still there #so i went running to my captian bc we were like maybe fifteen minutes away like 'please can we go save the dog'#and he actually said yeah so a few of us went code three to his house to grab the dog lmaoooo #and we were all cheering and going crazy like we did something as my buddy's house is still standing completely untouched hours later lmao #that was the most exciting thing we've done lmaoooo i was like wow is this how they feel on the shows #and the dog stayed with us for a few hours until my buddy got off work so we were taking pictures of him in front of the engines LMAO #we have fun while on standby 😌#anyway night watch duty again bc sleep is overrated lmao ✌️

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todayisafridaynight · 2 years ago

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It's been wonderful being able to talk about these things for me too! I haven't really had the opportunity since Y7 came out, so I'm positively buzzing. And no worries about the tone of your post about Daigo's article haha, I appreciate it when issues are pointed that I might've missed otherwise since that's at least something actionable.

But I'm obviously not going to stop anyone from venting frustrations with the wiki or with Fandom as a platform; I frequently find myself frustrated too! It's one of the things that keeps people editing the wiki. I'm honestly fine with whatever as long as it's not accusing us of being fujoshi for the billionth time lol, but for better or worse I do like to clarify what we're trying to do if there's any confusion.

Speaking of, Mine's relationship tags are kind of a funny story! So a lot of them have these dotted underlines and question marks, right? You're supposed to be able to hover over underlined terms to see a short definition (on desktop) and click the question mark to see an article with all the definitions on mobile, since hover actions aren't possible on a touchscreen.

But since the article was and still is under construction, Fandom doesn't show the link to logged-out users. So I had no idea it just looks like we're saying the tag is ambiguous lol. It's up now though, so it's hopefully easier to understand what we're trying to do!

I just found it funny I specifically added that feature to reduce confusion. Half the grief we get over Mine's "romantic interest" tag is because people assume we're saying it's mutual (we chose the term to try and avoid the "mutual" connotations of "love interest," but I guess that didn't work out). I also thought it might help with somewhat esoteric tags like "co-parent" (which was put in place for Jo and Arakawa and then I kept thinking of others) and "surrogate son." Turns out it's tough to boil complex relationships down to one term!

I definitely have SO many questions about New Year's Day and I probably always will; for the space of only one night, it's a huge blank. I certainly do have to wonder if shipping Masato off to America was decided then and there. There's a lot that could possibly be expanded on in RGGO (further interactions between Arakawa and Jo included lol), so I've got hope for that too now that we're back to random events. I'd be really interested to see how you'd portray it someday!

Talking about Nakai and Tsutsumi reminded me, Nakai mentioned he read the whole script in a day so he "wouldn't do a disservice to Arakawa or Sawashiro's characters." That kind of stuck out to me precisely because there are so few scenes between them compared to like, Arakawa and Ichi, and they're all relatively low-impact in comparison.

Of course, it could be marketing on account of him and Tsutsumi getting to co-star again, or the scenes could simply have stood out to him more for that reason, or he could've had a different impression of the ratios having read the script rather than played the game. But the part of me that makes me want to go Off The Deep End speculating is kind of wondering if there were other scenes planned?

And absolutely! I'm not able to reblog often because the post editor's been crashing whenever I try to tag my posts, but I hope you know I love your work and I'll support pretty much anything you put out! I'm very excited to share my findings as well.

A lot of it's to do with Mine's relationship to Western culture vs. Japanese culture (his "westabooism," basically), so that's specific to him, but there a lot of interesting concepts and theories in Japanese psychology regarding familial bonds, met and unmet emotional needs. They work as an explanation for his probable feelings of alienation from Japanese culture, but I feel they would make for an interesting lens to examine the Arakawas through as well.

I actually hadn't ever considered the similarity with regard to Mine and Jo's dads, but that makes so much sense! If I were to take it a step further, I think feelings of "abandonment" by their fathers have had long-lasting effects on both them and Masato. Jo we've been talking about, his father was technically still "there," but he wasn't in his corner, which feels much the same as abandonment to a child.

I think Mine's internalized a lot of the same feelings even though his father never meant to abandon him (I guess Jo's may not have, necessarily; alcoholism can destroy a family whether the individual wants that to happen or not). Like, unfairness, displacement, lack of control, the loss of the only support you have and so on. I think dwelling on that is what sent Mine's mental state spiraling, and what made it imperative to just believe Daigo was "dead" to try and move on as soon as possible. He didn't want to be hurt the same way again.

It's also probably what he was projecting in his ridiculous villain speech during The Orphanage Scene; the reason offering kids support in the way Kiryu does is a form of "victimization" in his eyes, at that moment, is because that support can be ripped away from you at any time. The scene is kind of hilarious to me because it's like, "okay we need Mine to have a kick-the-dog moment, his actions have been too understandable," but I do get it from that angle.

Similarly, I think those feelings of abandonment are why Arakawa faces the brunt of Aoki's abuse, because it's like, "YOUR negligence is why I had to go through all of that." So I get why Jo, like your sister, wouldn't want the finger pointed at him, but at the same time… damn. Perhaps if Arakawa had never had that talk with Masato, things might've been different. I get the impression he wouldn't be able to endure keeping things to himself for as long as Jo, though, given things like the letter he sent Ichi in prison.

Oh, yeah, Jo is CRAZY protective of Masato too! "If anything happens to him, killing you a thousand times would be insufficient!" I think part of his overreaction to having Masato's money is also that if Ichi can't listen to orders that fundamental, who's to say he listened to the orders to keep Masato safe? I guess if you see Ichiban as incompetent to the point of almost being a malicious actor, you might think that.

I'm sooo so glad you've noticed the rest of those similarities haha, I've been rotating them around in my brain like a cube for ages. A Venn diagram would be so fun to see! That's such an insightful look at the differences between Mine and Jo's offices too. I was a little confused about the placement of the social spaces, or even that they're there, but if you look at it as clearly separate from his personal spaces, it does make sense.

Also, not to harp on the books in the offices too much, but I compared the textures a little earlier. Mine's are basically all (very expensive) encyclopedias and language phrasebooks in English, Italian, French, and German, in contrast to Jo's discrete hardcovers and series of art history books. They're probably all stock assets lol, but I think they're surprisingly good fits; Mine dumping considerable time, money, and energy into his fascination with Western culture and Jo being the type to not want people to know what he's reading totally works for me.

But yes! It's kind of funny, because Yokoyama wasn't much of a Mine fan in his early days, but I hope he and the others keep on writing characters like him. I think of it as Mine's "legacy" in a series where past characters aren't acknowledged too often; the most I can recall are that Hakuho mention in 4 and the fencing around the Touto roof perimeter.

Speaking of, I love Mine's missed shots in the finale specifically because he's an excellent marksman in his Okinawa character story. Why? How? Who Knows, He's Perfect. (Probably not as good of a shot as Daigo though lol)

And yeahhh, there are other interviews, but it ain't the same! It was the most in-depth one I know of. I think this is one of the only remnants, and I shall entrust it to you.

But yes, exactly! And I'm also glad Y7 introduced more people to them (myself included), Tsutsumi's my favorite actor of all time and Nakai's brilliant. They make a great combi! Of the things I've seen where they co-star, I think Princess Toyotomi and Hero SP are both solid; the latter is a special for a longer show, but I honestly didn't even notice lol. Musashi I wasn't personally able to get through even though I've read the book, so I'm not sure how it plays out between them.

Also I DIDN'T KNOW TORU DIED IN PURE??? That came out of nowhere oh my god T___T But if you're ever looking for anything rare, feel free to ask! I might know a guy (gender neutral) with a stash, Fly, Daddy, Fly included.

OH MAN MINE'S WIKI ENTRY I've definitely made my opinions about it known, but now knowing the truth behind it it's kind of funny and still so unfortunate. I'd almost want to recommend a section dedicated to the topic since it's such an integral part of his character, though I also understand wanting to keep the wiki strictly to factual information and to exclude speculation (or "speculation" anyhow- it's definitely more of a concrete situation, especially going off of the information provided in your pinned post on the topic. If anything, that sort of information would belong to the "Trivia" tab wouldn't it- but again, it's such a deep situation it can't really be summarized in one or two sentences) and the topic being too niche to have a page dedicated to it. It's nice to know that the subject isn't trying to be brushed under the rug though and it's just a matter of awkward formatting/incomplete work!

Furthermore on The New Years Event, I would LOVE RGGO to expand on the topic since they've been so liberal with the stories they make and the depth those stories add to the characters. Honestly, I was expecting Masato's card to have that as its accompanying character story, so it's unfortunate that he doesn't get it or any story as far as I'm aware (or maybe he does have one and my poor pull luck has just prevented me from getting the card to find out myself, but I've looked as much as I could and couldn't find an upload of it). Oh well, I guess it's the old "if you want something done you gotta do it yourself-" not that anything I could make could ever be up to scratch, so I'm glad I do have people interested in what I have in mind :)

About Nakai, I wouldn't feel wrong trying to accredit his comment to a time before he knew the full plot or saw the full game and was just debriefed on the general story/character relationships, and I also wouldn't put it past RGG to have deleted scenes/ideas (if those do exist, RGG please let me in your vault I'd like to take a peak...)!

The psychology of Mine is another topic I've been wanting to officially tackle for a while now, so I'm glad I have this chance to share some of what I have mental bullet points for.

Moreover, Mine's dad and how he "left" Mine undeniably impacted him significantly beyond physically leaving him alone, and it definitely manifests in The Orphanage Scene and his idea that killing Daigo would be "putting him out of his misery". In those instances, he sees Daigo and the orphans as victims of an unfair reality, Daigo being comatose, and the orphans having the endure the struggles of being orphans (and that added-on, projected anxiety that their comfortable lives now could vanish at any second like it did for Mine). Mine's mustache-twirling villainy is funny for its absurdity, but I also genuinely appreciate it since it lets us peak into his warps philosophy better. It doesn't justify his actions by any means, but it explains to us why he can justify his actions as from a place of love or pity as opposed to thoughtless evil.

To add on, Mine's relationship with his father, from what we're allowed to gather, was healthy and positive. Because of their positive relationship, the removal of such adds credence as to why Mine's desperate to get that love again. It especially makes sense considering Japan's horrendous attitude and negligence towards orphaned children that was even demonstrated during Mine's childhood while his father was alive.

And as an inverse aside, Jo's relationship with his dad was toxic, whether it was due to blatant abuse or combined negligence. It's fair to assume that Jo never got to experience genuine, secure love growing up, so as a result, it's not something he actively seeks out. He's been without it long enough that it's not something he necessarily craves like Mine who used to have it until it was taken from him.

Masato certainly makes it clear he felt isolated despite the efforts Jo and Arakawa repeatedly went through for him, and it's apparent it's an unfortunate side affect of internalized ableism. It definitely doesn't help anyone's case that Masato had seemingly been informed of the night of his birthday's events (from Arakawa's point of view, obviously), and it's clear that knowledge gives ammunition as to why he resents him.

You're right on Jo potentially seeing Ichi as a bad actor, it's not as if he has disdain for him for no reason! Like even if Ichiban hadn't taken Masato's money the way Jo could have imagined, the idea that Ichi can't be responsible in one avenue can easily lead back to Ichi having the potential to look after Masato, especially when he seems to be the one who predominately looks after him when he's tasked to.

I've already got my program open to make my little chart and have my reference pictures ready, so hopefully I can have that silly thing out soon haha- I'm glad you're interested in seeing it, and I hope other people will like to see it too! Jo and Mine really are my favorite antagonists, so it's funny (and I guess not surprising) that they have parallels to them.

To add on to that though, I think it's fun to look at the extra details, no matter how small; I'm probably more happy than I should be that you looked at their office's books, but I can't help be a fan of the details you found (whether they're generic models or not, I'm running with them- I've done more with less before lmao)! Mine having language books is definitely in-line with his interests, but Jo having art history books is weirdly endearing (and dare I say another point for "these are the same picture" comparing it to Mine's own love for art). Jo being so private to the point of blocking out the binds of the books he owns is so accurate to him and his secrecy, and the concept that he likes to read about art in his spare time is a new favorite concept for me.

Mine really isn't acknowledged much after 4; in comparison to Ryuji and Nishiki, he's remembered throughout the series the least (you can argue the same for Ryuji, but considering he gets a whole new life in Dead Souls, I think it's fair to say that makes up for the mainline series forgetting about him. Though I guess the same could be Mine getting a prominent role as Hijikata in Ishin... Definitely not as cool of a spot as to be a playable protagonist with a machine gun arm if I'm honest). In that, it's great that his likelihood can exist in future characters, and I hope they continue the trend of phenomenal antagonists in LaD8 and onward!

I'm eternally grateful for this frame you've gifted me thank you so much- Nakai's smile is such a blessing honestly, I'm glad if anything survived from the interview it can be this shot at least.

I've got Princess Toyotomi and Hero SP added to my watch list, DEFINITELY something I'll be excited to check out as a reward once I have all my important business taken care of this week! Honestly, I haven't seen Musashi either: while I was looking through their filmography I saw it was a project they did, but I've always been bad at watching long series so I didn't take the time to see their performance together.

For things I have seen though... yeah he dies SORRY IF THAT WAS HOW YOU FOUND OUT </3</3 Honestly I didn't expect myself to love the series as much as I did (admittedly it was predominately because of the leads and their relationship), but when it happened I was both- dare I say crushed- a little humored a little funny in a dark-comedy way.

And if you do have access to harder-to-get films, I'd absolutely be interested in hearing about it. One of Nakai's movies Good Morning Show has been haunting me for weeks: it sounds like such a fun movie yet I can't find it anywhere </3

#long post #fave #i have to fave these now because i be putting my essay notes in these OOPSIE #snap chats #the state of the arakawas is probably one of my favorite things to explain to people BECAUSE its so complicated #i showed my sister the ending of Y7 despite her not knowing anything about the series since i was talking about how upset it made me #and i tried to explain the whole family situation since it was relevent #just... yeah so the guy in blue was put in a locker by his dad and then he got saved by another guy #and he did that because he thought the guy in blue was his kid- who is actually the guy in red #because /his/ mom put him in a locker because of yakuza business and she couldnt take care of him #but now dad-who-put-a-baby-in-a-locker came back so now he co-parents alongside the guy who took his baby #but theyre not together they just. raise 'their' kid but the other guy doesn't know that his co-parent is the /actual/ dad #i know i already made a parody of it but it genuinely has the set up to some goofy slice-of-life manga i love it ☠️☠️#its SO funny to try to explain its easy to understand if you put it down on paper or write it out but to verbally do it 😭☠️☠️#moving on tho i'd love to know more about that japanese psychology bit #im asian myself and tho obviously not all asian cultures are the same they overlap #so im curious to see if i can recognize any of the issues i notice in my own culture with that which can be applied to the arakawas + mine #the bit on his western idolization is something im interested in too ! esp based on the books in his office it could be an interestin topic #man i just keep looking at that interview picture and it really does have the energy of a proud dad and his son #maybe thats just because nakai's smile reminds me of my dads #but yes yes thank you again for writing it ! i know i keep saying it but i cant stress how nice it is to take this extensively #especially because not only do i learn a bit more and learn some details i missed but it also helps me expand my own thoughts #that i hope to make into bigger posts #on that note though i have one more quick post to make after this one then i have to tend to some of that Important Business..#and thank you for being a supporter of me and my work ! sometimes i get a bit self conscious about it #i know i post a lot too and i never expect people to interact with my things so im grateful for the knowledge you enjoy it !

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lxnarphase · 1 year ago

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g. satoru who is a massive pervert and constantly whines for you to let him touch you all the time, even when you're both around others. you've lost count of how many times he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, his warm hands slipping under your shirt while sitting next to g. suguru, who's attention is no longer on the tv.

'he doesn't mind,' satoru always comforts you, grinning into the skin of your neck. 'sugu's my best friend, he knows i can't help but touch you, baby.'

best friend or not, that doesn't explain how you always ended up with your legs spread open wide in satoru's lap, your jeans and panties discarded somewhere on the floor as suguru kisses all over your thighs. the two of them talk like you aren't even there, as if you aren't growing wetter as each second passes.

"satoru," suguru purrs, his fingers running up and down your soft lips, parting them open to watch slick slowly drip out of you. "you must be doing something else to her. i've never seen it get wet so quickly." the way he speaks so calmly makes you dizzy. it's unfair, so fucking unfair how calm and collected suguru is when he's inches away from your pussy, those pretty purple eyes focused on it.

"yeah? 's wet?" it's also unfair how riled up it gets satoru, seeing his pretty baby getting shy because his best friend is rubbing his fingers up and down her slick folds. "she's so messy, isn't she? she's the prettiest little pussy," he coos into your ear. that gets a chuckle from suguru, his eyes finally looking at you. "always the one to talk to the pussy and not about it, aren't you, satoru?"

his fingers finally focus on your clit, rubbing little circles into it. both you and satoru look pretty from this angle, suguru notices. the pure need and shyness on your face paired with that manic desperation on satoru's...it's a perfect picture, one he wants saved forever. maybe next time you'll let him take some pictures...after all, he needs a new background for his phone.

"c'mooon, sugu...give her a kiss? c'mon, c'mon, give that cunt a kiss, tell me how sticky 'n' wet she is," satoru fucking begs, acting as if he's the one spread open and dripping. but you second the thought, giving suguru the prettiest little puppy eyes.

"anything for you, princess," he coos softly, leaning down and pressing a little kiss on your clit. it's so light you barely feel it but then he's peppering kisses on it, your wetness starting to get on his lips and making each press of his lips sticker and wetter. "s-sugu-!" before you can even beg for more, his mouth is on you. his tongue is so wet and hot on your cunt, it feels like he was drooling for you.

"does she taste good? how wet is she, suguru, c'mon, tell me, tell me how that pussy tastes, pretty please?"

"mm, satoru, it's almost as if you wanted to be between her legs."

"who wouldn't? she's so pretty, she's squirmin' so cutely, my pretty baby, my needy little mochi, her pussy's always so creamy and warm and messy, god, i miss it right now."

"shit...stop talking like that, you're gettin' me flustered, should i-"

"s-sugu, please, keep going," you so politely ask. it's unbearable how cute you are, it's taking everything in him to keep being nice, to keep treating your cunt nicely. he knows satoru is mean and practically bullies your pretty slit almost every day, but he wants to be the nice one, the one who you go to when your 'toru' is being too mean. yet, you're making it so fucking hard when you look at him with lidded eyes that beg him to be rougher with you...

but he knows he's done for when satoru whispers something in your ear that has your eyes fluttering a bit and gets a pretty little gasp from you. those gorgeous eyes—oh, do you have little tears in them too?—connect with his and he's fucked.

"s-suguuu, please," you coo to him, moving your legs to hook over his shoulders and pull him closer to the apex of your thighs. "i need your mouth on my pussy r-really bad, please don't tease me." you take a pause and squeeze your eyes shut, whining a little as satoru coos for you to keep going. "g-give my...my messy cunt attention, suguru..."

suguru shakily sighs and the next thing you know, his mouth is smushed against your pussy, his tongue hungrily swirling against your clit as his hands grab onto the fat of your thighs. he doesn't know what gojo told you in order to hear you say that, but he's silently thanking him as he messily sucks and slurps at your juicy cunt.

it's so hot, all it takes is a few swipes of his tongue and you're gushing everywhere. suguru lowers his head to dip into your hole and he moans. he missed this, missed the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as you squirmed and moaned for him, your boyfriend's best friend.

"fuck, i-i can hear how wet she is," comes satoru's pitiful whine, his hand dipping down to swipe at your clit as suguru focused on lapping up everything that dripped out of you. "lemme help, lemme help, wanna help you get her creamy, sugu." the feeling of suguru groaning into your puffy folds has you keening, arching your back against satoru's chest. oh, he's in heaven watching you both. "yeah, you didn't know she could cream, didya? put your fingers in her, sugu, put 'em in that sticky little pussy 'n' angle up."

reluctantly pulling his mouth off you with a wet sound, suguru slips two of his fingers in you. he doesn't miss the cry of his name, but he really doesn't miss the delirious giggle and moan when he angles his fingers up, rubbing against that spongy spot.

"f-fuck, she's dripping..."

"go on, fuck her with your fingers, you know you wanna see her make a mess. make her fucking cream, suguru, get her prepped. maybe t'day she'll let you put it in...oh, based on your face, she just clenched on your fingers, yeah?"

his fingers are still swirling around your clit, his other coming down to press on your abdomen. he can hear you getting wetter, your little whimpers turning to moans as you slur their names desperately. he wants you to lose all thoughts, only able to think about him and suguru...yeah, he wants you all soft and sweet so he and his best friend can try and slip into those warm, slick walls.

"mmn...she's really creaming...god, pretty girl, can you cum for me? i wanna see you cum on my fingers. satoru, move your fingers, the poor thing needs my mouth on her."

"hmmm, suddenly you know what she needs? ehehehe, you're learninggg, suguruuuu!" if you had turned to look at satoru, you'd see the charged look in his eye, blue eyes practically glowing with insanity. his hand grabs a fistful of suguru's hair and pulls his face directly into your cunt, unable to handle any more of this. he wanted to see you cum on suguru's face.

"c'mon, c'mon, kiss it, suguru, make it messy for the both of us. mmh, fuck, listen to you making out with her pussy, s' wet and sticky, isn't it? oohmygod, both of you sound so good, she's gonna cum, sugu, she's gonna cum in your mouth...fuck, i love you both so much, can't wait to see you both fucking each other."

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madamechrissy · 2 months ago

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Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you��re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already, you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a- “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.”

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

#yandere gojo #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #yandere jjk #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #yandere satoru x reader

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pearlywritings · 1 year ago

Text

Intimacy records

synopsis: what kinds of horny stuff they have in their phones and which is the favorite?

pairing and characters: Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo, Sunday (separately) x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage/dating), consensual recording of lovemaking, nudes, oral, lingerie, fingering, masturbation, public sex, breast play, shibari/blindfold, sex machine, creampie

word count: 4.3k+ words

Aventurine

Undoubtedly this man has a whole separate folder for intimate stuff. Of course, he demands you send him something on a daily basis - doesn’t matter if it’s a quick snap of your choice of lingerie in the morning, or recordings of touching yourself - but never enough to cum, it’s his job. Naturally he loves having reminders of you being at his mercy - thus there are also videos of you both (with primarily established consent). All that to say - he has quite the collection, so it’s really hard to pick a favorite, the most desire-arising one.

Maybe it’s a category actually - self-made media created out of bet. Who’ll cum first? Can you keep going without tearing up from pleasure for longer than 10 minutes? Is he patient enough not to touch your sexy self, while you masturbate in front of him? Who is going to be louder this time? These kinds.

”I hope you are ready to lose,” your lover smirks, making himself comfortable between your legs. Camera floats a little, as you chuckle behind it. With a momentary adjustment, the focus is on his face again and he winks, before turning to trail a little path of kisses across your thigh. The image jumps, when he sucks on the skin, and slightly trembles as you let out a sigh. Then it’s firm, as Aventurine wraps his arms around your thighs, his nose teasingly rubbing against your clit. Suddenly there is a lick, then your breath hitches…. And then he buries his mouth into your pussy. It doesn’t take much time for the image to begin shaking wildly, almost matching your debauched noises. There is squelching, there are award-winning male moans, muffled by your heat, soon there is a hand, your hand, reaching down and grabbing his hair. Phone strangely angles, hardly supported by just one hand, until it falls camera down onto the sheets. After that, there are just delicious screams of yours, chanting the name of your lover and begging him to stop, while he doesn’t listen, taking his reward for yet another win.

Yeah, he proved you can’t keep the camera focused while he is eating you out in that one. It’s truly a pity, that more than a half of what was going on, didn’t get recorded in image. Maybe next time you'll do better - oh... That's actually not a bad idea at all… Looks like you are in for another bet.

Blade

His situation is… quite peculiar. First of all, he has so little care for his own phone outside using it to get info for the mission, to the point ANYONE from the Stellaron Hunters can just take it and do whatever with it (Silver Wolf and Kafka practice it a lot). Even your relationship doesn’t change it much, he messages you rarely and quite shortly, preferring to save the conversation for personal interaction.

However recently, Kafka has been putting a plan into action - the first step of which was banning everyone from getting into his phone (herself excluded). Then she’d start sending her colleague an occasional picture of a set of lingerie she’s oh so sure would look wonderful on you. Blade never answers, but he doesn’t tell her off either, and by the snooping she knows that the pictures get bookmarked, the links for the shops she attaches are visited, and sums of money are being spent.

Oh, and by checking the chat… She knows you get them delivered. Does she text you to shower you with compliments? She does. At first it was a little embarrassing and you asked Blade if he could, maybe, pay better attention to his phone??? But soon, when your lover started showing the telltale signs of jealousy... It became pretty hot (plus praise from THE Kafka? Ego-boosting).

Blade doesn’t voice it, but more than seeing you all pretty for him, he loves seeing you ruined for him, and doesn’t complain when you ask him to take a picture with your phone of whatever part of you, focusing on the marks, or the torn crotch of your panties, or something alike… There are times when he would text you with a simple ‘send me pictures with torn stockings’ or ‘yesterday. open nipples bra. now’ , because he knows you have them, and you deliver, because you know he loves them.

Has his favorites:

Depicts your thighs, bitten and opened wide, while the black panties are pushed aside to let two thick, scar-covered fingers dive into your pussy.

Your body after one of the sessions - bra roughly pushed down under the mark-covered breasts, panties missing, one stocking still on the leg, but with multiple holes in it, and the other tying your wrists above your head.

A small video you insisted on recording of the man tugging onto your garter belt whenever he wanted your hips to push towards his thrust, threatening for the thin elastic material to snap.

Even though he doesn’t save them, he knows how to get an easy access to them, so for Blade it works quite fine (and Kafka’s plan does too, making Blade look less intimacy-repulsed and spicing up your relationship).

Boothill

A cyborg, whose only human part of the body is the head, and sex life… How can this be possible?

Oh, trust me, it can. Sure, his bodily reaction differs, but he still is excited to get nudes from you, finally able to express through the text what he really thinks with that foul mouth of his. A voice recording of you dirty talking to him? Awesome. A video? You can bet his engine is overheating and vents are whirring.

But in all honesty, the ones he truly loves and returns to are the recordings of him doing stuff to you. Call him self-conscious, it’s not like he can bite back with a swear, but the reminder that he can bring you pleasure even now is sometimes necessary.

The lights are intimately dimmed, not enough to bring the room into utter darkness. Two bodies are lying almost intertwined with your back turned to the camera. The metal arm of your lover has sneaked under your side and around your waist, fingers digging into the plush glob of your ass, tugging on it, to further the spread which is created by your leg thrown over his hip. Your pussy is perfectly presented to the camera, puffy and slick, with two gray plated fingers massaging it. Digits slide up and down your labia, occasionally staying on the clit, to rub tight circles on it and elicit some sweet moans out of you, only to return to their previous ministrations, dipping the tips juuust a little bit into the quivering hole. Your back arches and body deliciously shivers from the contrast of his cool and your heat, and you softly whine, when he releases your ass cheek to give it a spank and then grab it again, unwilling to let the sight of your cunt escape his phone’s camera. You whimper something, muffled by his chest, but he remembers by heart what you were begging for. ‘Please, put your mouth on me.’ He will, in a minute, but right now he pushes both fingers to the second knuckle in, making you jolt in his hold, but not letting you go anywhere.

It’s captivating, how his inhuman digits disappear and reappear with every thrust he makes; slick-covered they look shiny, as if you polished them, and the cyborg shudders, imagining your tongue running around them. That’s one dangerous video, he may just give in to his want to see you and abandon the mission he was assigned to…

Dr Veritas Ratio

Unsurprisingly, Veritas’ phone doesn’t contain that much stuff in general. Maybe some downloaded articles, notes to put down later, if he doesn’t have a piece of paper at the moment, and very few pictures, mainly of his writings on the chalkboard. Don’t be discouraged though, of course he has pictures of you. Some selfies you took after “borrowing” his phone and ones he doesn’t have a heart to delete (but he will scoff at you, should you decide to tease him), and some very well-thought images he took on his own accord - he needs reference for when he decides to let his mind rest from research and focus on sculpting.

And one might think that such a reserved and cold man will not entertain storing anything explicit on his phone. Well, he indeed does not have any pictures and videos saved - if he wants, he can either find what you sent him via your chat or just demand your assistance. However… There is something that strangely became his way of concentrating when doing his research…

”Oh! Mh- *thrust* Veri- ohmygod! *thrust*”

“Wait- Aaah! I can’t! I’m sore! MmmmMMM!” “No, you can and you will. Now hold still, I can’t eat you out if you keep thrashing around.” “Oh Aeons!”

*Slick sounds of you going down on him, gurgling and choking on his girth, occasionally gasping to catch your breath, only to have his cock buried in your throat again*

“Baaaby… I miss you so much… Can I come to your office? I promise to be good… Just need to cockwarm you - nothing else I swear. Let me keep you company pleeease. Imagine how nicely it'd be to have your cock buried in my pussy, while you are working… Need to help you with stress-relief, it's gonna feel so-so good.”

“Oh fuck, o-oh, love, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I’mcumMIN-” “Ngh, s-so…tight…” “Aaaaaaah~!”

“Veritas Ratio, if you come home in ten minutes, I will give you a nice massage and then ride you damn cock, till the only thing you can think about is not your work, but me. If you fail to do so though… I wonder if my threat to use some toys instead will work. Just know that your wife is very mad. And horny.”

It doesn't matter if the audio was taken while you were intimate or it was something you sent to him and he saved - he thoroughly enjoys everything your voice has to offer to him. And if instead of concentrated it accidentally makes him horny - he'll just play the next one, while undoing his pants.

Gallagher

Oh, this man is a menace. And a huge ass-lover. His gallery is full of pictures of your booty: clothed, just panty-clad or bare. There are shots with your body clearly being bent, ass up and back covered in his load. Videos of him fucking you from behind, with cock sliding in and out of your pussy? Obviously. Recordings of it jiggling as he spanks you? Would’ve been strange if they weren’t there.

However, in that vast collection of his, there is a video that’s most peculiar - one might say scandalous. It was one of those nights when he took over the bar for Siobhan and you came over at some point, all enticing and so sexy in that little dress of yours… He could not resist taking you right there once the establishment was closed. And it got on security camera...

Moans so loud, that they are reaching the recording device, are still of the delicious kind. Your back is arched over the bar counter, arms lifted and wrists tied by none other but Gallagher’s wine-red tie, and held by his own hand for good measure. The front of your dress is pushed down, revealing your pretty breasts, jiggling with every thrust of the man’s hips, and the hem of it has ridden up, baring your stomach and mark-covered thighs. Your lover is barely unclothed, pants and boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock and the tie, obviously, missing. The hand that is not holding your wrists, is grabbing onto your leg, under the knee, lifting it for a better angle, and showing off a lewd detail - your black lace panties hanging on your shin. You are looking positively debauched, and he is no better, groaning and cursing, with an occasional exceptionally rough trust that makes you scream and whine. There are teeth-gritted ‘slut’s and huskily chuckled ‘bad girl’s with your pleading ‘sir’s and ‘Gal’s, all of that deliciously seasoned with the clapping of the wet skin colliding. But nothing beats the moment of you cumming, depicted by no less than three cameras from all of the hottest angles…

Of course this footage was ‘confiscated’ by him with some dumb excuse for Siobhan (he doubts she believed it, given the knowing look and shit-eating grin she gave him), with all traces destroyed except just one copy thoroughly hidden on his phone. He thinks you two should repeat that - this time, however, he’d love to bend you over the counter with your back facing him…

Gepard Landau

Gepard would die if someone took his phone and got into his gallery. Poor man has to change the password weekly to throw Serval off his case (she was only teasing, but that made her brother paranoid). There is a reason for such behavior - while he is way too sweet and gentlemanly to suggest making sexy pics or, Supreme Guardian forgive, videos, he can't help but to be too whipped for you.

This man dutifully saves every single photo and video of yours - nudes included.

You don't send them very often - you don't want to kill your darling husband. But sometimes the yearning is unbearable, and there is a suffocating need to show Gepard what he is missing while away on duty (you always leave a warning message though, so he could check it while alone and undisturbed).

No matter how red and embarrassed he gets, the man timidly admits that he enjoys this kind of attention. He is not beyond the earthly pleasures - he too has a favorite theme, that recently became more present in what you send him…

At first you looked so absolutely cute and domestic with his huge sweater on, the one you personally knitted for him - the beginning of the video didn’t look all that different from the photos you sent him just minutes before. But soon it becomes clear why you asked if he was alone, because once you position the phone and climb onto the bed, your full attire gets revealed. White stockings are replacing your usual home pants, and as your fingers grab the hem of the sweater and tug it up, the white panties from a matching set start peaking. The view is both pure and alluring, with the way your legs are spreading wide, and the sweater being pushed further up, baring your braless breasts. The hem gets secured between your teeth and both hands teasingly run down your sides, index fingers drawing circles around the tits, before squeezing them; as one remains right there, the other slowly slides down your stomach, disappearing under the hem of those flimsy panties. Imagination paints wild images - every next is hotter than the previous, and only your muffled moans of his name and rapidly rising chest are indicators of how good you feel with fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And that damn sweater… You are not taking it off.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards has one guilty pleasure - you, wearing his clothes. Domesticity, longing, finding comfort in something of his touches his heart and heightens his love and desire for you, almost making him consider taking a regular day off.

Jing Yuan

This man literally worships the ground his wife is walking on, so OF COURSE he wants to have as many pictures and videos of you as possible. It gets so boring and lonely when he is at work, after all. But don’t be fooled by his sweet and innocent smile, there are not only cute shots of you both or just you, he has sexy stuff too.

Man is obsessed with your chest. It’s his favorite pillow (thus so many pictures of him snuggling his face right between your breasts), his best stress-relief (photos and short videos of his big veiny hands cupping and squeezing your girls, with an occasional swipe of the thumbs over the erect nipples), his favorite place to leave marks on (no one can see them under the clothes, but just one tug of his finger on your collar and he is met with a delicious sight. Plus the photos he asks to send occasionally).

Loves, loves, loves, purchasing lingerie for you and when you demonstrate your bra-clad tits. He immediately wants them in his face, but there is the phone screen keeping him away.

But oh does he love recordings of playing with them.

Your body is steadily bouncing on your husband’s lap, creating a beautiful melody of skin slapping against skin. There is an occasional peak of his thick cock, covered in your juices, that immediately disappears again, undoubtedly swallowed by your pussy. One strong arm is wrapped around your waist, supporting you, while the other hand is palming at your left breast. The right one has fallen victim to his eager mouth, lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking on it tenderly, tongue toying with the overstimulated nub. His eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, moaning around your breast, when you tug on his luscious locks, trying to push him away, to give you a small rest. He is drawing back indeed, planting a soft kiss to the valley between the jiggling globes, and you sigh in relief, deceived by his affectionate action. Only for you back to arch and mouth hang in a loud moan, when Jing Yuan brings your other breast to his awaiting tongue, dropping both hands to your hips to aid you in speeding up your riding, sensing your nearing orgasm.

Maybe next time you should try recording him making you cum by playing with your chest only… Ah, just the thought makes his cock swell.

Loucha

As much as Loucha enjoys your company and more often than not allows you to accompany him in his journeys, there are times when he can’t take you with him. Which means he leaves for weeks, or sometimes a couple of months, going through the days without a single touch from you. Before getting into a relationship with you, he could survive without intimacy just fine, but now, since he knows the taste of affection and being spoiled by you, it’s getting hard.

That’s when recordings on his phone come in handy, especially when there is no opportunity of a video call to indulge. And there is one he most frequently returns to…

Your chest is rising and falling, pretty breasts with perky nipples brought together by a wrap of a rope. Red and purple marks bloom on your skin akin flowers, some fresh, some from days before. Sweat shines on your hot skin, indicating just for how long the blonde has been torturing you with pleasure and denial. There is a small shake of the video, as your lover is establishing his phone, having just started the recording, and softly making you aware of how good you look - you wouldn’t know with that blindfold covering your eyes. Once the angle is perfect - capturing your arms, tied above the head, the arch of your back and thighs pushed together for stimulation, the man is joining you on the bed. It is cock-hardening, how you lift your head to find his lips, when you sense him leaning down, needily allowing him to indulge in a kiss before the game of orgasm denial continues. His hand meanwhile is creeping down your body, starting with caressing your cheek, fingers sliding down your neck, over the swell of your breast, thumb pushing against the nipple, eliciting a moan out of you right into his mouth, and then palm splaying on your stomach, traveling even lower, before it disappears between your thighs.

Loucha is a man of foreplay. There is nothing more satisfying to him, than indulging into your body before sinking his cock into your warmth. He loves making you squirm, completely at his mercy, drawing you right to the edge, and then denying you the sweet release, just to make you yearn, just to stretch the process out.

Sampo Koski

Sampo is nasty and that is not a secret. I am sure, if you were up for it, he’d suggest filming porn just for the giggles (and extra cash, come on, you both are fucking hot). There are teasing nudes and intimate videos, and it’s not a rare occasion of either of you texting the other with some found porn with a caption ‘let’s try it?’ and you do, frequently recording the process to compare later, and claiming that your performance is better.

However, sometimes it tends to not go according to the script (not like you usually have one). Sampo is chaotic and it’s not hard to lose focus with a lover like him, and these exact moments are Koski’s favorite. Despite being a Masked Fool, during these times he himself looks so sincere, it’s as unnerving, as it is exciting. Rewatching such videos and seeing how you mirror the look in his eyes, giggle with him, even crack a joke, all without ruining the mood - makes him believe he’s found his soulmate (and if you did film porn with him, he’d never share this level of intimacy with your viewers, it solely belongs to you two).

You are giggling, shaking your head with a wide smile, all the while lying on your stomach between his toned mark-covered thighs and leisurely fisting his hard, leaking cock with an angrily red tip.

‘Sampo, please, be a little serious, we are trying to be sexy here.’

‘We are sexy! What’s not hot in shaping my and your pubic hairs into the lips?? They could kiss, when we fuck!’

‘You are unbelievable,’ you snort, trying to save the last bits of your composure, and leaning forward to mouth at his tight balls. This makes your lover pornographically (how ironic) moan, throwing his head back.

‘Mmm, yes, right there~ Oooh… If am soooo unbelievable, it must mean I am dreamy? How about I bring you to a Penacony, to a Dreamscape? I bet in your dream I’d be as good in bed as I am in reality.’

Your resolve snaps and you burst out laughing, letting go of his sack and pressing your face to his thigh, shaking, dropping the hand from around his cock. Sampo whines.

‘Come ooooon, I was so close!’

‘Shu-ah-ha-t-ah-uh-p,’ you manage through your laughter. The man pouts, but the gaze of mint green is summer-warm as he is looking down at your trembling form. Your voice is pretty, your cackles are pretty, and oh damn he is laughing too.

And these are just the first few minutes of the last video, the thing has a duration of half an hour, so, obviously, you didn’t stop there. That’s what Sampo Koski loves - no matter how cringe you become, it’s never a reason to stop the whole process. If anything it’s something to spark an even longer and intimacy-filled one.

Sunday

Keeping personal stuff on his phone is quite dangerous, given Sunday’s position. That’s why he owns two phones - his work one, and one to mainly contact you, his sister, and a small circle of the most trusted people. He is extremely good at handling the owning of two separate devices, never mistaking one for another, that people are often convinced he has only one.

But it’s his personal cellphone that interests us. Oh, does he have a whole collection of photos and videos of you, one folder in particular hidden just for good measure. Sunday is a collected and regal man, yet it doesn’t mean he has a hard time enjoying your teasing. Quite contrary, sometimes he welcomes it, loving the photos you send him from an outing, shopping for clothes, or better yet, lingerie, sending him multiple shots of different sets and asking him which he loves most, and which he’d like to see on you tonight.

There are videos too, especially when he’s been extremely busy, and you are oh so needy, sending him short recordings of touching yourself, sighing out his name, begging him to come and help you. However, there is one he particularly likes…

Big silicone cock is being pushed in and out by the machine he purchased for you to quell your need when your husband can’t be there for you. You are on your stomach, with hips slightly raised and pushed backwards, chasing the toy, and he can see the perfect outline of your pussy, outer lips swollen and puffy, covered in a sticky substance, opening and constricting in attempts to accommodate the girth. Your moans are sweet, so-so sweet, hitting a high pitch, when the dildo falls out and a thick glob of cum substitute escapes your pussy. And then another, and another, messing your thighs even more, ruining the towel underneath you. Yet you don’t stop, reaching behind, and pushing the tip back into your tight warmth, making the toy pick its pace again. It’s squelching, it’s so dirty, but it’s so hard to look away. You give yourself creampie, after creampie, sometimes stopping to collect the substance and push it inside with your digits, fingering, moaning and whining for your husband, wishing it’s his cum sploshing between your walls, breeding you.

Yes, it’s his favorite, almost 4-minute video. Ever the neat freak, he can’t deny you look heavenly when ruined, on an equally ruined bed, begging for his attention and semen. You have to forget about the machine for some time, however, because since then Sunday has been truly devoted to breeding you.

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