#i love knowing that cats have always been cats

[lovelivision]

‎‎‎‎THE PRACTICE OF KISSING .𖥔 ݁ ˖

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎𐔌.pairing — geto suguru / reader

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 10k

✿ summary... after getting asked on a date you feel insecure over your inexperience regarding kissing someone. telling your bestfriend geto about your concerns results in an offer from him you didn't expect

warnings.ᐟ ─�� 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, hickeys, biting, (light) nipple play, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, orgasm denial (once), bsf!geto, virgin!reader, return of tease!geto, afab!reader, no use of pronouns !!

The state of your mind is currently a mess, feeling overwhelmed and staring off into space as you think about how a guy asked you on a date earlier today. You'd turned him down but only because you have a particular hang up you can't get over, hence the feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never gone out on a date before and you feel like you’re missing out, so you definitely would’ve said yes if you weren’t so unsure of yourself.

Geto's hand waves in front of your face, breaking you from your trance, "Are you even listening to me?"

Has he been talking? Damn, you really spaced out, "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Not even a little bit," his gaze unamused.

You look away from him and to the poster behind his head on the wall, feeling sheepish, "Then no... sorry."

His frown deepens, legs uncrossing and scooting closer to the edge of his bed, "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Not telling," you answer, spinning around in his office chair so that you’re facing away from him.

His desk is neat, everything organised and probably put exactly where it should be. Beside his monitor sits a little black cat figurine, one you had bought him not too long ago because it reminded you of him. Seeing it displayed makes you smile; he must like it.

Geto’s voice cuts through your small reverie, "So, you're not only going to ignore me, you're also not going to tell me what's wrong?"

Not even glancing back, you hum at him, "That would be a correct assessment... yes."

"Have I told you that you're annoying yet today?" He exasperates.

Shrugging, "I don't think so?"

"Oh? In that case, you're annoying."

"You're so mean to me; this is why I don't want to tell you what's wrong," you’re being dramatic but so is he.

A sigh leaves him, "If I promise to be nice will you tell me what's wrong?"

Your head flops onto the chairs headrest, jabbing at him jokingly, "I don't know if you're capable of kindness, Suguru."

"Now who's being mean? I'm nice all the time."

"Maybe to strangers..." You mumble out.

There’s no reply from him and for a second you think he’s going to leave the issue alone… that is until you’re suddenly spinning. His footsteps are always so light, you didn’t even hear him come up behind you. You’re facing him now, his hands holding himself up by the arm rests of his office chair. He’d spun you around just to lean down into your space and pointedly look at you.

Geto squints, “I’m nice to you all the time.”

“I don’t think this constitutes as ‘nice’.”

He groans your name, “Come on, you always talk to me when something’s wrong.”

“Maybe this is awkward for me to talk to you about,” you pout back at him.

His tongue clicks in realisation, “So, it’s about your love life?”

The immediate correct guess stumps you, causing you to sputter out, “What!? You have no way of–”

“–You never talk to me about your dates and you also got defensive so I’m guessing I’m right,” his gaze is even, unconcerned.

You huff at him and echo his earlier question, “Have I told you that you’re annoying yet today?”

“Yes, earlier when you almost fell over and I smiled,” he reminds.

Your response is a grimace and a matter-of-fact tone when saying, “I don’t tell you about my dates because I don’t go on them.”

“Ever?” Geto’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your confession.

Cementing back, “Ever.”

“People have definitely asked you out though.”

“Yeah but not that often because they always think we’re together,” you glare back at him.

A hand reaches for your face and squishes your cheeks between his fingers, “Don’t look at me like that, that’s not my fault.”

Your voice comes out all mumbled and difficult to understand, “It so is.” He rolls his eyes at you and you slap his hand away, “Stop squishing my face!”

Letting go, he sighs and takes a step back, sitting on the edge of the bed again, “Something about your love life is bothering you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest and looking to the side, you complain, “You’re so nosy.”

“Am not.”

What a liar, he’s always in your business. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t think he’s usually in other people’s business this bad. He does like hearing about the gossip you collect though, always ready to hear it while acting as though he doesn’t care.

There’s no reply you can think to give, so you give him the silent treatment. Still looking away from him and silently pouting, you can feel his eyes watching you, waiting for you to break. It’s a frequent game you start that he finishes, silently ignoring him while he watches and waits until you can’t take it anymore and tell him what’s on your mind.

A few more moments pass by and you already feel ready to give in, you hate how much more effective his silence is. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your gazes meet and you feel yourself folding all at once.

Large and exasperated groan leaving you as your shoulders slump back into the chair, “Fine!”

He perks up at your concession, a self-satisfied look on his face that irks you.

Looking at him properly to say, “I was asked on a date earlier today.”

The expression on his face changes to one of annoyance, like he’s not happy to hear that, “Who?”

“Some guy, you don’t know him,” you wave off, not really understanding why it matters to him.

Geto prods for more information, “…And what did you say?”

“…I said no.”

“Oh?” His reaction is indecipherable to you, “Why?”

This question is exactly why you didn’t want to talk about this, “I don’t know…” You’re lying, trying to avoid talking about this in more depth.

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t not like him,” you shrug, “I would’ve liked to go out with him at least once but…”

“But…” He pushes.

“I don’t know, Suguru,” you scowl at your own reasoning, “I’ve never been on a proper date before, I don’t know what to expect or what’s expected of me. What if he wanted to kiss me or something?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making you antsy while you wait for him to talk, “…Would you want to kiss him back?”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding the issue,” his brows are pinched with his confusion.

You’re exhausted with him, like you aren’t the one being purposefully cryptic, “Am I gonna have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh!” You kick your legs in a mini tantrum, “I’ve never properly kissed someone… it’s always been like… a peck, I don’t know? But what if he expected more of me?”

You can see the way he’s actively fighting against the smile threatening to break out on his face, “Is that–” he bites down an amused sound, “Is that why you always say no to dates?”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” you were already feeling silly and embarrassed and his clear joy from this is not helping that.

He pouts at you mockingly, “Don’t be like that, I can help.”

“How could you possibly help me with this?”

A smile comfortable on his face when he states, “I could teach you.”

“You want to teach me how to kiss?” You scrutinise him, “Have you gone insane?”

“You’re the one all hung up on this and I’m offering to help you,” he puts his hands up, “But if you’d rather be a dateless loser for the rest of your life–”

“–Hey!” You point at him, “Uncalled for… and rude!”

A very signature and very annoying, polite smile sits on his pretty features. Unbothered by your outburst at his very clear bait. He simply raises his arm and grabs the hand you had pointed at him, tugging you from the chair and into him on the bed. You’re taken aback by his bold move, so close to him so quickly. Falling into his lap less than gracefully, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady as you sit sideways between his legs.

You stutter out at him, “Wha– what are you doing?”

Letting go of your hand; he reaches for your face. His thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone, “Do you want my help or not?”

“What you’re basically asking me is if I want to kiss you,” you correct… because that is what he’s asking right now.

Geto’s head drops back slightly as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you dramatically, hand resting on your outer thigh now, “Don’t be so pedantic. You have a problem and I’m offering to help fix it.”

A sound of disapproval slips from you at his wording, “I know the theory behind kissing someone, Suguru. What you’re offering is making out with me.”

“So?”

Your expression is dumbfounded, you know he’s not this dense, “You want to stick your tongue in my mouth and then go back to the usual?”

He leans in again, dodging your question with his own, “Do you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?”

“Geto–”

“–Ouch–”

“–Shut up.” You cut him off, “If! We did this and I do mean if. Would you be able to look at me the same?”

“The same as I always have? Sure,” there’s no hesitation from him.

He seems so sure, like he’s not worried about what this might mean for your friendship at all. The easy-going look on his face is both pissing you off and relaxing you, emotions he’s always been able to pull from you.

His hand is large on your thigh and the way it makes you feel is not how you should feel for him. Mumbling out a small, “You’re annoying.”

An amused breath leaves him, “You’ve already told me that today.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you look up at him through your lashes.

“That’s kind of the point of this.”

“Right…” You can’t help but find yourself feeling nervous, embarrassed that you won’t be good enough. For some reason… you really want him to think you’re a good kisser.

He must take your silence as rejection because his tone is gentle when he says, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I know, I just…” You frown while looking at him, trying to figure out exactly what steps to take next, “I don’t know what to do now…” Geto’s face relaxes and a smile replaces his concern causing you to chastise him, “Don’t smile, it’s not funny!”

“No,” he agrees, “But it is a little cute.”

“Whatever, can we just kiss now?”

“Desperate?” He asks teasingly.

You deny it, “I just want you to stop talking.”

“Sure.” It’s all dragged out and has a teasing lilt to it. Damn him and his need to have the last word. You don’t reply to that and instead try to shuffle off him, thinking sitting like this would be awkward. His hold becomes firmer on you, “What are you doing?”

You’re confused, “Isn’t this position weird?”

“Makes it easier,” is all he says in reply.

Being sat between his spread legs, your own draping over one of them while he holds you doesn’t seem ideal. To you, this couldn’t be a more awkward position to be in for this. Instead of telling him that though, you settle back, “Alright…”

When you look back up at him properly, he’s already looking at you. There’s a funny feeling that runs through you at the look in his eyes. The hand on your thigh moves to your face again, cradling you as he leans in. Murmuring a soft, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Just as he’s about to move all the way in, your hand covers his mouth, “Wait.” You stop him, your nerves getting the better of you, “What if… what if you don’t like kissing me?” He looks a little frustrated so you pull your hand away, giving him a chance to speak.

“Do you want me to like kissing you?”

You feel flustered by his question, “Why do you always answer my questions with a question?”

“Because your questions are interesting…” he pauses, “…And also, I like teasing you.”

“If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Fine,” he indulges you, “I’m not gonna dislike kissing you so your question is dumb.”

“But you can’t know–”

He tuts you, interrupting what you were saying, “–You gotta answer my question now.”

You groan at him, “Well… yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ what?”

He’s such a smug bastard, “Yeah! Yeah I want you to like kissing me, Suguru.”

You’re huffy but he seems so pleased by your response. A serene and happy look on his face despite the tone you used. You find yourself waiting for him to say something more, something to tease you further but he doesn’t. He simply leans in again, taking you by surprise when his lips are softly pressing to yours. It’s short and sweet, more akin to a peck than anything else. Continuing to plant gentle kisses to your lips until you return them and then he lets them linger.

The feelings that run through you have you all tingly and hot, kissing your best friend for practice probably shouldn’t feel this good… right? You still don’t really know what you’re doing though, more just letting him kiss you than anything. When you part again, you murmur, “Suguru, I still don’t know what I’m meant to be doing.”

“Just follow my lead,” his eyes stay on your lips, now shiny from the shared kisses, “That’s all you gotta do.”

“But–”

His eyes roll when you go to argue more, “–Stop thinking so hard about it and let me kiss you.”

You can’t help but squirm slightly at that, “Okay.”

Satisfaction rolls off him in waves but thankfully for you he doesn’t comment any further, choosing to kiss you again. Instinctually, your hand reaches for his chest and grips onto his shirt, you need something to ground you.

Geto is taking this slow, he’s trying his best to be patient to savour this moment with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far too soon and have you stop whatever this is. If he were more sure of himself and where he stands with you, he’d have just asked you out like a sane person but he’s not sure and he didn’t want to pass on this opportunity.

He can feel this becoming something he covets, your soft lips on his, uncertain in your movements but so ready to be kissed by him. His heart pulls with a kind of possessiveness that’s not completely unfamiliar to him regarding you. The desire to not want anyone else to ever have this side of you overwhelming him.

It’s addictive, his kisses, his hold on you… him. You can feel yourself falling into him more, the longer you do this dance. You want more, you want him to kiss you more but you have no idea how to ask for that. Following his lead is good, it’s helpful but it’s starting to feel like he’s depriving you.

Pulling back, you force yourself to voice, “I want more…”

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” He sounds strained.

“You said you would teach me,” you remind. “So, teach me.”

His thumb presses into your jaw, “Open your mouth more then.”

Doing as he asks; he angles you just slightly before pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss fuller, his tongue licking into your mouth. It has a shiver running down your spine, the sensation new and mind numbing. It’s messier than before and so much more dizzying, you can’t even really keep up with his movements. Just letting him kiss you to his hearts content, feeling yourself getting drunk on his lips in the process.

You can’t even be sure if you’re doing this right but it doesn’t really feel like it matters, not when you’re this lost in it. Lips gliding against his, a small involuntary sound pulling from your chest at how he grips you tighter. Feeling like he gets impossibly closer, his kisses growing desperate the moment you whine into him.

Geto’s restraint is wearing thin, his desire for you growing tenfold at how you moan for him. He wants to touch you so much more, to put his hands on every part of you. The fear of ruining this moment keeps his hands planted firmly to your hip and cheek though and it’s killing him to not touch you more, more, more.

When you tentatively lick against his tongue he almost all but folds in that single moment, he feels so pathetically weak for you. So unsure of yourself and still trying to kiss him just as deeply as he is you. A guttural groan leaves him, a sound he’d be almost ashamed of if he didn’t notice the way you squirm at it.

You pull back from him and he can’t help but chase your lips, he doesn’t want to stop. An amused breath leaves you, “Hold on.”

He doesn’t understand what you need a moment for until you’re pulling his hands from you and moving to straddle him.  Your thighs resting beside him, he feels dizzy with need, the need to touch you, to undress you. To have you naked and straddling his lap just like this could make his whole year. His hands are on your hips, tugging you up his lap just slightly further, encouraging.

Going to sit on him, you notice his erection and gasp. Heat rising to your face, suddenly so conscious of how heated this exchange has gotten, “Maybe we should stop…”

It’s almost like it hurts him to hear those words, “Do you want to stop?”

You wish you weren’t so certain, so quick to immediately know that, “… No, I don’t.”

“That’s good…” he smiles, “Cause I’m not done teaching yet.”

And then you’re kissing again, wet and sloppy. He’s holding back less, depraved in how he sucks your tongue into his mouth, bolder now. Revelling in every twitch you make against him, every mumbled whine you let out.

Mindlessly, your hips lightly roll downwards and his resulting grip holds you so still against him. A debauched moan leaving him at your unexpected movements, parting his mouth from yours with it. Geto’s head tucks into your chest, controlling his breathing, like he might snap at any moment.

You feel a little frantic, like you might’ve hurt him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“–Don’t– fuck– don’t apologise,” he can feel how warm you are through your pants and it’s making him feel feral.

Your fingers run through his hair, to comfort him, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He huffs an unamused sound, “The only thing hurting me is how badly I wanna stuff you full.”

“Sugu–”

“–I know you can feel just how hard I am,” he pulls his head back to look at you, eyes blown wide and dark, “I’m practically aching for you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “Suguru… are you some kind of closeted perv?”

The question makes him laugh, “Wanna find out?”

“You were only supposed to teach me how to kiss…”

“Mhm, and you’re doing great,” his nose traces along your neck, inhaling you, “I still have so much more knowledge to give though.”

“Don’t be so– hah!” He licks at your skin before latching his mouth to the side of your throat, the pressure making you fidget in his lap. You feel so sensitive, so much more than what you thought you would.

When Geto pulls back from the mark he’s made, he blows softly on it, enjoying the way you shudder on top of him. “‘Don’t be so’ what?”

That’s right you were going to say something, he looks really nice right now though… eyes lidded and cheeks just slightly pink, lips slick. What were you going to say to him? His grin only grows, taking satisfaction in your glazed eyes and struggle to think. Averting your gaze, you try to remember what you wanted to say. The break in eye contact short lived since he grabs your chin and pulls you back.

“Come on, pretty, what were you gonna say?”

The effect he’s having on you is becoming too much, “I was gonna tell you to not be so depraved!”

“Hmm…” His head quirks at you, “You seem to like it though?”

How presumptuous of him, “You can’t know that!”

“You know… the human body is really interesting, for example…” he looks down to where you’re sitting over his prominent erection, “You’re so incredibly hot against me that I feel like I’m going insane,” smiling back up at you evilly, “Just how wet are you?”

The possibility of fainting is very real all of a sudden, his question has you hot everywhere. “I jus– I just told you to not be so depraved.”

“Yeah and I ignored you,” he deadpans, ignoring your indignant sounds. “Do you want me to stop?”

Again, you hate how badly you don’t want to stop. Right now, you think you’d let him do just about whatever he wanted to you. “Promise not to tease me later?”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

You pout back at him, “Then I’m not gonna say what I was thinking.”

His curiosity is sufficiently piqued, “Fine, I promise to try not to tease you later.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He tries again, “I promise.” You both stay looking at one another for a moment before he adds, “That’s as good as you’re getting.” And you know it to be true.

How to say this without embarrassing yourself, “You can… you can touch me… however you want, Suguru…”

He feels like he’s gone into shock, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“No… I heard you,” he can’t help the way his cock jumps in excitement, “I’m just double checking I heard you right.” He leans in to taunt, “You’re gonna let me touch you however I want?”

“You said you had more knowledge to share,” It’s a dangerous game that you’re both playing.

He breathes out, “And if I wanna touch you in a depraved manner?”

So certain in yourself when you reply, “I want to be touched in a depraved manner… by you.”

Ah, so you’re trying to kill him, is the conclusion that Geto has come to. A breathless laugh leaves him, “For practice?”

“Sure,” you give him the answer you think he wants, in reality you just want to desperately be touched by him. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life and it’s all his fault.

An amused sound leaves him, “Hah– Don’t know if I believe your answer there…” his hands are on your hips, slowly dragging you over his dick. Biting his lip at the feeling, cock jumping when your breath stutters.

“Wait– wait,” your hands hold onto his and he stops moving you. Realising now that he might’ve gotten carried away, that he should’ve double checked again.

When you get off his lap and onto shaky legs Geto feels his heart drop, only for it to suddenly pick up speed when you’re shuffling your pants down and off. Crawling back onto him in your panties, he – shamefully – has to put so much focus into keeping calm, so worked up he could cum from this alone.

“Yeah…” you murmur back at him, placing yourself right over his erection again, gasping at how hard he is, at how much more you can feel even through the layers left on, “I lied just now.”

He wants to ask more; he wants to know what you lied about but if he thought you were hot before then he’s melting now. You’re sitting on his dick in the cutest little panties, already so drenched from making out with him that the affection he feels for you fills up his chest. He’s way too distracted right now to ask what he wants.

“Be honest,” it feels like a chore to rip his gaze away from your pussy, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Geto’s eyes are all glassy and blown, cheeks flushed as he implores you, like he’s worried you’re actually trying to kill him. He’s making you feel shy, “It’s your fault I’m acting like this.”

That has him feeling a little prideful, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“In that case,” he’s slowly dragging your heated core over his erection again, “Should I fix it?”

You nod your head at him, “…Yeah”

The shivers that run through you make you gasp, the drag over Geto’s dick feeling so much better without your pants on. And yet you can’t help but feel so greedy, a kind of need in your bones that you’ve not experienced before.

He takes his hands away from your hips and you stop moving, whining pathetically at him, “Why–”

“–Keep doing it yourself,” he encourages.

“But–”

“Just do it how it feels good, use me for a bit,” he grins, “I wanna watch you pleasure yourself on me.”

“You really are a perv,” you mutter back at him.

His retort is quick, “Say that to me when your pussy’s not drooling all over my pants.”

Your cunt jumps at his words, “Are you gonna be this crude the whole time?”

“I can be worse if you want?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he looks pointedly down to where your cunt is pulsing hot against him. “Now do us both a favour and move,” he hisses out through clenched teeth, apparently nearing his limit.

“You’re so bossy,” you frown, “I’ve never…” You’re at a loss for how to phrase it.

“Dry humped someone before?” He finishes for you, “Though with how wet you are–”

“Shh!” You cover his mouth with your palm, “Stop… talking about how wet I am.”

He pulls your hand away, “You know, I’m not surprised you’ve never–”

“–You don’t have to say it again,” you cut him off.

He rolls his eyes, “You hadn’t even made out with someone, I’m just saying that I didn’t ask you to use me without knowing.” He holds the side of your face gently, “Stop worrying about it so much, I know already… that you’re a huge virgin.”

His gentle touch greatly contrasts his teasing words. He’s so evil to you, “This is why I say you’re not nice.”

“Do you want me to be nice? To tell you how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing?” The reaction you have is almost visceral, skin heating and looking away from him. Even more embarrassed when he chuckles at you, “Got a bit of a praise kink, hmm?”

“You’re making this difficult for me.”

“You should’ve just done what I asked then,” he shrugs easily.

If you thought holding out would punish him more than you, then maybe you’d just get off him and go home to get yourself off but you want him to make you feel good. So instead, you’ll just give in and hope he shows you mercy, though by how this is going, he doesn’t seem to be the type.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down into Geto and he huffs out a breath like he wasn’t expecting it. Your hands move to his shoulders for purchase, using the leverage you have there to grind down into him harder.

He holds onto your waist. Not moving you, just resting his hands there, “Oh fuck– no– hah– no warning?”

You shake your head at him, brows pinched as you focus on seeking your own pleasure, “You– hnn– wanted me to– hah– to do as you asked.”

His head falls back slightly at the pleasure, a lazy smile on his face, “That’s true.”

The longer you do this, the slicker his pants get, you’re so unbelievably wet that it’s coating the material obscenely. Geto is in awe of it, eyes fixed on where you’re rutting down into him, marvelling at the damp spot on his pants, at how drenched your panties are. So soaked that they’re practically a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination with how it’s sticking to you.

He holds you still suddenly and the whine you let out is endearing, “Wait for a second,” he huffs.

Moving his hands to his belt to undo it, shuffling his pants down his legs. You lean up on your knees for a moment for him to drop them to his feet but before you can sit back down, his hand is holding you there. He runs the fingers of his other hand through your covered folds, a groan coming from the back of Geto’s throat.

“Seriously, you’re so fucking wet,” he reminds you.

“Sorry…”

He almost chokes, “‘Sorry?’” His fingers draw up to your clit, pressing into it, “Don’t be fucking sorry… I’m nearly salivating because of how drenched you are.”

That catches you off guard, “Sugu–”

He doesn’t let you speak, “–This wet because of me? It’s my fault you said?”

You bite your lip, his fingers circling your clit deliciously, “Mhm.”

His eyes brighten, “Perfect. Aren’t you just perfect for me?”

Your legs start shaking and he lets you drop back to his lap, one less layer between the two of you now. He’s so warm and hard and if you weren’t straddling him, you’d be clenching your thighs together for relief.  

“You are doing such a good job for me,” he whispers low against your ear, “Having the most perfect reactions.”

You whine at his praise, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yeah,” he licks against your ear, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His size is honestly daunting, large and thick as you sit on it, throbbing underneath you. “Suguru?”

He noses at your cheekbone, “Mmm?”

“I’m worried…”

“About?”

“What if you don’t fit…” you look down to his lap, “I just mean, you feel…big.”

“I don’t have to put it in you,” he comforts but he can’t help the way he twitches at your genuine concern over taking him.

“But you want to?”

“What sort of a question is that?” he holds you down while he grind up into you, “Does it feel like I want to?”

“I was jus– ah!– I was just checking,” you sulk back.

Your mind melts, getting away from you. He’s rutting up into you in a way that has you shaking and your breaths stuttering. On edge for so long while sat in his lap, you want to meet his grinds, you want to move your hips into him but his grip is firm and steady.

It’s honestly a little pitiful how quickly he’s building you up, your insides clenching with the pleasure. The drag back and forth on his clothed cock driving you slowly to insanity. His boxers almost as ruined as your panties, your slick coating his covered dick. The glide much smoother than what you’d expect. It’s like you can feel him throbbing for you and it makes you want to fully take him even more.

Your own thoughts riling you up, the idea of him sitting so heavily inside you makes you huff out a whine. A sound that Geto relishes in, in fact, he’s relishing in all of this. You’re so malleable to his will, he thinks in this state, you’d let him do whatever he pleases. The thought alone nearly has his eyes rolling.

He needs you to cum like this, he needs to see it. How you shake and writhe on top of him, the expression you make. He wants to make you cum in so many different ways just to see how your expressions might differ each time.

It’s relentless, how he humps up into you, how he pulls you down into him. Your clit catching on the tip of his dick making you jump each time, shocks of pleasure running through you. You never thought something like this would feel so damn good.

Fingers grappling at the material of his shirt, pleasure wracking your body as he draws you closer and closer, “Stop– ah!– if you keep going I’ll– hnn–”

“–So soon?” he hums, “I don’t know if– hah– I believe you… you’re gonna have to prove it,” he leers back at you.

His eyes on you feel so consuming, calm and watching but so hungry that it’s driving you to the edge. It feels like you’re melting, so warm and unbelievably close. Body twitching on top of him with your impending orgasm. You don’t even get to try and warn him again, sounds you’ve never heard yourself make falling from your mouth before you can think to stop them. Trembling with the force of your orgasm, feeling so weak as you slump into him, eyes wet and bleary.

Geto feels like he’s vibrating, watching you come undone on top of him making him feel too much at once. His arms wrap around you and hold you close, hands smoothing up and down your back. Lips close to your ear when he speaks, “You know… you make some really cute noises when you cum.”

Lazily, you look up at him through your lashes. Feeling a stupid kind of pleasure running through your body, still jolting slightly with the come down. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m only being honest,” his hands slip under your shirt, groping your waist, “You getting embarrassed is just a bonus.”

“Have you always been this sadistic?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Who knows?” He smiles.

Turning, you catch his mouth with yours. Kissing him properly, hands tickling the back of his neck as you try to kiss him like he did you earlier. His hands on your waist grip you, lips imploring. So needy in how he returns your kiss, all but whining when you part. A string of saliva connects your mouths and he wipes your lower lip with his thumb, pressing it to your lips like he might push it inside.

Eyes lost as he dances his digit over your plush lips, “You’re beautiful,” is all he says, gazing at you with so much affection.

Opening your mouth, you gently take his thumb between your teeth. Biting so very lightly before flicking your tongue over the tip of it. Geto looks like he blushes at the action, pulling his hand back.

“Seems as though I’m not the only tease,” he accuses.

You mutter back at him, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His compliment had made you feel so soft and tingly that you didn’t know what to say or how to react. It’s not like he’s never complimented you before, you just weren’t expecting him to call you beautiful so earnestly. Being given compliments by someone has never made your insides flutter as much as they did just now.

He hums at you, redirecting his attention. Pulling at the hem of your shirt to show what he wants; you lift your arms up so he can remove it from you properly. Feeling so bare on top of him but not really minding, still too blissed on your orgasm to care.

Geto doesn’t waste any time, groping your tits in his large hands. Rolling your nipples experimentally and grinning wide at how you twitch and bite back moans at it. “My, you’re sensitive.”

Teeth digging into your lower lip to stop the pitiful noises he’s threatening to pull from you, “Try not to sound so pleased about that.” Your blood is still thumping through your ears, pleasure fresh in your bones.

“Would you rather I be upset?”

“I’d rather you not make– ah!–”

His wet mouth wrapping around your nipple has your words cutting off suddenly, back arching into him. Huffing out breaths at how he flicks his tongue over your sensitive skin, dizzy from the heat he’s making you feel. Pulling back with an obscene pop, licking at you a final time while keeping eye contact before swapping to your neglected tit.

He’s playing with you, or he’s waiting for you to say you’re ready for more… no he’s definitely just playing with you. Taking his time leaving marks all over your tits, even biting some places. Neglecting himself in favour of teasing you to insanity, though it can’t be that painful for him considering how he’s enjoying this immensely.

Whining at him, “You– hah!– You’re gonna leave too many marks,” he ignores you in favour of making a new mark to the top of your breast, “Suguru!”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull him back with a tug. You’re frowning at him but your eyes are so wet and dazed and you’re nearly completely naked on top of him. Covered in hickeys and his saliva, despite your pulled brows you look so euphoric.

Feigning ignorance, he simpers, “What’s wrong with that?” A finger trails over the marks he’s left, grazing a sensitive nipple in his journey, “You seemed to liked it.”

Swallowing your pride, you tell him directly, “I want more.”

“You want to cum again?” He muses, “Greedy.”

Taking offence at his accurate guess, you add, “I want… you to as well.”

Geto ignores the thumping of his heart, “Take off your panties then.”

“But…”

A brow raises at you, “‘But’ what?”

You don’t really want to tell him about how shaky your legs are, you’re a little concerned they’ll give out as soon as you try to stand. He really doesn’t need the ego boost right now, “Nothing.”

Moving off him so so carefully, you keep your hands on his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. With the way your knees are wobbling and fingers gripping to him so harshly, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that you’ve not really got a great sense of balance right now. A smug smile gracing his lips when he sees you fight to figure out how you’re going to take off your panties with your hands on him.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” You quickly answer.

“Then take them off,” a finger pulls at the waistline of your underwear only to let it snap back to you. At your continued struggle he adds, “Or do you want me to take them off for you?”

You look to him, eyes hopeful for mercy, “Please?”

“Sure,” his tone polite but you’re not sure you’re that trusting of him.

Thankfully, his hands slide them delicately down your legs, brushing against your thighs. Though, he’s an opportunist and he uses this chance to grip at your thighs, pulling at your skin further and further up your legs. Humming low to himself at the slick coating your inner thighs, unable to help himself when he drags his fingers through your folds, touching your pussy directly.

“Fuck, alright–” He bites out, pulling you to his lap suddenly, “I’ve reached my limit.”

“Wait,” he stops his frantic movements and you pull at his shirt, “Take it off.”

He doesn’t even tease, just immediately does as you asked, hastily tugging his shirt off. It’s dropped less than gracefully onto the floor. Your fingers dance along his shoulders, down his chest. You want to take it all in a bit more but he’s flopping onto his back and shucking his boxers down enough to pull his cock free.

The size of him almost has your eyes bulging, you wonder how he’s been so patient when he’s this hard and achy looking. Tip flushed deep pink and already smothered in his own leaky precum, your cunt throbs while looking at him. Caught between concern over his size and a desperate need to be full of him.

“You don’t have to take it but please just–” He grabs and moves you until you’re hovering over it, “Sit on it at least.”

Lowering yourself cautiously, you sit on him lightly. He can feel your heat and it makes him shiver, “I don’t need you to be gentle with me,” he snickers, “Split your pussy open on my dick.”

Geto doesn’t even give you the chance to do it yourself, hands tugging you down onto him with more force. A gasp ripping from you when he immediately starts dragging you back and forth on his whole length. Stifled groans leave him from under you, his chest vibrating under your palm.

“Sugu–”

“–Sorry,” his brows are knitted together, “I got– nnh– impatient.”

It’s so wet, slipping over him repeatedly, the head of his cock nudging your clit over every pass. Your teeth dig into your lower lip to fight the whines bubbling inside you but eventually you give up and just let yourself moan. He seems to like it anyways, cock jerking at the soft breaths and whimpers leaving you.

He’s on the brink of stupidity, you’re so soft and unbelievably warm and his tip keeps catching on your hole and it makes him shudder each time. Looking down, he watches the way you’re coating his cock in more of your slick, cock shiny with how wet you are. Lewd sounds of your pussy grinding over him fill the room and now he’s thinking about you creaming around him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life.

“Sugu,” you call out to him and he dopily pulls his eyes to yours, “Do you think I could just…” when his cockhead catches on your hole again, you press down, not even taking him in any real way and yet still stretching slightly for it.

His grip hardens on you, holding you completely still, “There’s no ‘just’ anything.” He struggles to breath out evenly, “Not with how tight you are.”

“I wanna feel full though,” you try wiggling down into him but he’s truly got you in a vice like hold.

His cock twitches as excitement rushes through him, “You asking me to take your virginity, pretty?”

Shy when you ask, “Would you?”

He’s not passing on the chance to pick on you a little bit, “How bad do you want it?”

He can feel the way your hole flutters when you think about his question, your answer seemingly downplaying how you feel, “Pretty bad.”

“Hmm,” He pretends to think about his answer.

You’re taking issue with his faux deep thought, “Sugu, stop acting like you’re not…”

“Go on,” he encourages, “‘Like I’m not’ what?”

“Like you’re not…” you look away from him, mumbling out, “Aching for it…”

“Oh? You aching for it?” The smile he’s wearing can be heard in his words.

He sounds way too gleeful over this and it’s ticking you off, “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ as you lift yourself off him.

“Don’t be like that,” he sits up, “I’m not letting you go anywhere… not when I know you’re aching for my cock.”

“I did not say that.”

“That’s what I heard you say,” he shrugs.

Geto’s arms wrap around you only to throw you down onto the bed, gone from you for a second while he shoves his boxers off quickly. And then he’s crawling over you, hands tracing up your body, relishing in your reactions to him.

“You really are so sensitive,” he mutters, trailing a finger up your thigh and watching your skin break out in goosebumps.

He’s being so unbearable, the need you feel is so loud and he’s here taunting you, “You’re so frustrating.”

“You’re just a needy little thing,” he returns, “So desperate to be filled even though you’re not prepared in the slightest.”

“Then prepare me,” you whine back.

He finds this about you cute, your insatiable greed, your back and forth between shy and so horny that you’re getting pissy at him. “I should teach you some manners,” he grumbles.

You spread your legs for him obscenely, growing even more impatient. “Please, touch me,” you pull his hand towards your pussy, “please.”

If he ever gets the chance to touch you like this again he’s going to torture you because right now you’re playing so completely unfairly that he can’t even think to deny you. His brows pull up as he flushes, finding himself doing exactly what you wanted, fingers gliding through your folds.

The way you keen at his touch almost makes it worth it. “You don’t play fair,” he complains.

“Someone lead by– hah!– po– poor example, I guess,” you shudder when he slips a single finger inside you.

Geto groans at the snug heat of your cunt, closing his eyes to take a quick breath at just how you feel wrapped around his digit. The fear or cumming the minute he gets inside you is real; he’s going to have to develop an insane amount of self-restraint between then and now.

“You’re hilarious,” he leans down to whisper in your hear, “Now shhh…” He draws his finger back before fucking it back in, lewd wet sounds of your pussy filling the silence, “Hear that?” He keeps repeating his movements, taking immense joy in how you writhe under him, “I think… pretty things that are this wet and begging to get fucked… don’t get to mock me.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, eyes glassy when you look up at him, “Don’t– nnh– be sooo mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean,” he pulls his finger back just to stuff another inside you, grinning when you arch your back at it, “I’ve only been nice to you today.”

“Be nicer,” you pout.

“Don’t wanna be,” he smiles graciously back at you.

The fingers he has in you scissor to spread you open, pleased hums leaving him at your responses. Your mouth drops open and legs shake, fighting to close but unable to with how he’s in-between them. He’s hitting all the perfect spots inside you, crooking his digits to rub against your inner walls in a way you’re never able to reach.

He’s getting you so close to cumming that you want to hide from him, somehow feeling so much more vulnerable like this than when you were sitting in his lap earlier. Slowly, he works you to the point of taking another of his fingers, fucked open on three of them now. Your toes curl and your thighs hoist themselves on either side of his waist. Hips grinding into his hand, meeting his movements.

Geto finds the frenzied and desperate grinds into his hand adorable, satisfied with just how much more greedy you get when you’re this turned on. He already knows you must be close, your sudden drive to fuck down onto his fingers a dead giveaway to him.

He adds his thumb, rubbing circles into your clit. You jerk at it, tits bouncing in a way that has him drooling. To be honest, if you weren’t practically begging to get dicked down earlier he would’ve put his mouth on you. Maybe if he weren’t also desperate to put his cock in you he’d do it anyways but for now, he’ll settle for fingerfucking you to insanity and then shoving you full of his dick.

Your voice comes out smaller than you want, “Sugu, I think–”

“–I know,” his eyes are bright, fully aware of how close you are.

He can feel the way you twitch and clench down on him, back arching off the bed. Speeding up his movements just to get you there that much quicker and when you’re about to cum all over his fingers… he pulls them from you. Leaving you without your orgasm but so high that he could blow on your clit and you might cum.

You whine at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Expression dopey and angry, sexually frustrated from the cruel and unexpected edging he just put you through. “What the hell, Suguru?!”

His grin is wolfish, merciless expression painted over with faux pity, “I’m so sorry, pretty. Were you close?” A hand cradles your face, soothing you for something that is completely his fault.

“Why would you do that?” All he’s succeeded in is making you needier than before, squirming under him with no way to find relief.

His answer is simple, “Just to see how you’d react.”

“I shouldn’t have hung out with you today.”

“Don’t be like that,” he guides his dick to your cunt, “I’m ‘bout to treat you so good.”

“If you don’t let me cum we’re not friends anymore,” you warn.

He snickers at how genuine you’re being, “Alright.”

“I mean it, Suguru.”

“I know you do,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “That’s why it’s a little tempting.”

You whine at him, “Can you stop being so cruel for a moment?”

He blinks at you, “What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be the first person you go on a date with.”

His request confuses you, “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer you, “Those are my terms,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay! Fine, yes, whatever you want,” you nod at him.

He smiles and starts pushing into you, the stretch is a lot and it aches more than his fingers. You’re trying to breathe through it but it seems like he is too. His thumb is on your clit, trying to get you to relax for him. “St– stop– hah– fuck!– stop clenching so tight,” he hisses through his teeth.

“I can’t– nnh– help it,” your nails dig into his skin.

His lashes flutter when he gets his tip inside you, groan leaving him. “Wh– when I s–say date I mean– hnnn– a real date. A ‘I take you out and then try kissing you at the end of it’ date.”

For some reason, that makes your insides twist and you squirm. “Wh– whatever you– nnh– want, Sugu.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna– hah– dress up and let me take you out for your first ever date?” His fingers grip at his blanket below.

Your eyes roll as he slips further inside you, babbling out, “If you– hnn– let me cum? I’ll date only you.”

Geto sputters at that, hips driving forwards on their own making you both moan. His upper body drops down to you, lips ghosting over your neck and cheek before taking yours in a sweet kiss. He knows you’re out of your mind horny and probably not even sure of what you just said but he’s going to live in this moment while he fucks you.

He’s kissing your breath away while he slowly fills you to the hilt, trying so hard to be careful with you. His lips successfully distract you from the ache you were feeling, melting into him as he licks at your tongue.

Parting from you only when he’s balls deep inside you, head flopping to your shoulder as he moans. Struggling to keep it together, you’re wrapped so snug and hot around him, pulsing so tightly around his aching cock that he feels like he might cum at any second.

“Sugu?” When he hums, you continue, “Move please?”

You wiggle your hips into him but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand, “If you don’t want this ending right now then you need to give me a moment.”

“Hmm, that’s awfully cute of you, Suguru,” you tease him.

“That’s bold,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “I’m going to ruin you.”

“More than you already have?”

He agrees, “So much more.”

It feels like an eternity before he’s finally dragging his hips back, that alone has your breath stuttering. He wants to set a punishing pace so bad; he wants to fuck you until you’re mad but he starts slow. Thrusting back into you at a languid pace, still carefully opening you up on his fat dick. It’s your first time and as much as he loves torturing you, he also loves pleasing you.

You’re scrabbling for purchase at his leisurely pace anyways, not expecting the heavy drag of his cock to feel this mind numbing. He chuckles lowly at the way you’re already weak for him, though it’s completely his fault considering all he’s put you through up until now.

“I think you may be the awfully cute one,” he smirks at you.

Your insides tug at his tone, “You can– hnn– be quiet.”

Leaning up, he rest on his knees, pushing your leg back and up. He has a great view of you taking him like this, able to see all your reactions. “I can but your pussy really likes when I talk.”

He’s so smug and he gets to be too because he’s right, his lightly mocking tone and that polite smile he wears is a deadly combo that has your cunt seizing around him. “I like it– hah– better when you’re nice to me.”

“You’re taking me all so well, pretty,” he praises, “Pussy sucking me right back in, so greedily.”

Your eyes roll back at how he thrusts into you, new angle hitting deeper than before, “That’s not– hnn– being nice!”

“Really?” He watches the way your hole clenches and feels how much wetter you get around him, “‘Cause you seemed to like it a lot.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, silently asking for him to fuck you.

He looks down his nose at you, “What are you asking for?”

Sulking, “I want you to– hah– move more.”

“You should’ve just said that then,” he crooks his head to the side at you.

The slow drag out is the same as always until he’s fucking himself back into you sharply, a gasped moan stumbling from you as your hands seek stability in the mattress below. Your whine is dragged out when he repeats it over and over, brows knitted together in your pleasure.

“That’s a nice reaction,” he comments smugly.

You only hum at him, too consumed by the feeling of him shoving his dick in and out over and over in such a relentless pace that you’re seeing stars. Either you’ve closed your eyes or they’ve rolled to the back of your head because you’re not seeing much of anything right now.

Your eyes are welling with tears, chest heaving with your breaths. The stretch in your leg increasing when Geto pushes down into you further, pushing back on your leg with it. He’s basically folded it over his shoulder, you had no idea you were capable of bending this much. You’re so dazed and fucked stupid when you look to him lazily, he looks so pretty like this. Hunched over you and driving his cock in and out of your tight heat, his hair hanging messily over his shoulders and face as his expression twists in bliss.

Reaching a hand up, you tuck a strand of his hair behind his hair, “You’re pretty.”

You say it so dopily that he wonders if you know what you’ve just said, “I’m fucking you to the point you’re cock drunk and you think I’m pretty?”

A shudder runs through you at his voice, “Mhm, and– ah!– you have– hnn– have a pretty voice.”

God help him, he’s about to cum from you calling him pretty. “St– stop– hnn– talking.”

“Sugu, you feel so–”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, he has a feeling that whatever you were about to say would have him cumming inside you. “You’re so cute but I need you to shut up before I cum.”

From behind his hand, you look ruined. Tears slipping from your eyes, he can feel the way you’re drooling against his skin. The only sounds in the room his grunts, your muffled moans and the slick squelching of you swallowing his cock.

You want to keep telling him how pretty he is and how good he’s making you feel but even without him hindering you, you feel as though you may be beyond words now. Brain not able to form very cohesive thoughts as of this moment let alone speak them. He has you feeling so full, his cock throbbing against your walls in a way that has your skin thrumming.

Geto’s eyes lock down on where he’s stuffing himself into your little cunt, he feels himself short circuiting at the sight. Pussy bulging around him, struggling to take him all, dick so shiny with your slick. White creamy ring at the base of himself, it’s messy and lewd and it has him feeling so unbelievably obsessed with your cunt.

Thinking distantly that he’s going to do his best to impress you on your date so he can have you again, next time he’s definitely licking your pussy. Debauched groans vibrate in his chest at the thought, he’s going to make this so unforgettable for you, he needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. He’s going to be so much worse after this and he was already down pretty bad.

Your hand grabs at his wrist, trying to tug it away so you can speak. He pulls back out of curiosity, “I– hnn– I’m– ah!–” Giving up trying to warn him after a particular thrust has you crying out, there’s no real point in warning him anyways.

He grins at your inability to say anything meaningful, “I’ve gotcha, go ahead and cum for me.”

Of course he knew exactly what you were trying to say, how does he already know your body so perfectly. He leans down to you, impossibly close, just to kiss your cheek and say, “Come on, pretty, I wanna feel you squeeze me tight before I cum in you.”

Crude and obscene and effective because his words make you shudder as you suddenly cum around him. A little frantic in how you squirm under him, eyes rolling as your hips fight to fuck yourself onto his thrusts. Pitiful whimpers of his name leaving you repeatedly, the only really comprehensive thing you’re able to utter out.

Geto’s orgasm is immediately triggered by yours, he was hoping he’d get to play with you a little more but as soon as he felt the sinful way you gripped him while you came, he was done for. Your cunt pulsating around him milking him for all he’s worth, he’s cumming so much so deeply. His hips flush to yours as he only grinds into you to ride out both your highs.

He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that much in his life and he’s unsure if it’s because it’s you or because he held back for so long. His weight drops to you as he catches his breath, feeling spent and so drunk on your pussy that if he thought too hard about you he’d get hard again.

Your hand taps lightly at his shoulder, words all garbled when you speak, “Sugu, too heavy.”

Shoving his arms under you, he rolls until you’re on top of him. Cock slipping from you in the process and it has you letting out a cute whine.

“It’s leaking out of me,” you warn him.

He groans, “Don’t say that.”

You rest your check to his collarbone, “Why not?”

“I’ll get turned on again.”

Rolling your eyes at him, “You’re an insatiable pervert.”

“You’re not much better.”

His hands tickle up your sides, repeating the motion over, it’s making you feel sleepy. “You’re still worse.”

He just hums at you, apparently not caring to argue back. “You gonna be okay to shower?”

“In a bit… and only if you carry me the whole time.”

He laughs at that, “Sure.”

You draw mindless patterns on his chest with your finger, “So… where are you taking me on my first date?”

𝒂.𝒏. this was actually a request that i got carried away with,, my requests aren't even open i just fucked with the idea that hard hehe.... i hope you all enjoyed and thank you very much for reading !!!

(i recently made a discord for my followers so if you guys are interested in that please check out the pinned page on my blog :3)

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][aged up!][college-type au][friends to more?][cute lil blurb][anal][sloppy fuck][spit down the crack][claustrophobia warning][finger-sucking][muffled][anal creampie][orgasm denial][mdom][just a lil' sumn-sumn][spit][rough sex][my beta reader is asleep][for my anon mark girlies][no plot, just porn]

"Thank God you're here." Mark hisses under his breath, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist before tugging you towards one of the random closets, and shoving you in, alongside coats and brooms.

"Play Truth or Dare with me."

The request catches you off guard, and you stare at him, upper lip curled in distaste.

"What am I, twelve?"

"No, you're my best friend and you need to do twelve year old things with me." He huffs before pursing his lips. "That didn't come out right but—"

"Why are you playing Truth or Dare anyway?" You question. "You don't like party games."

"I got roped into it! Now you need to help me or else."

"Or else what?"

"Exactly."

You let out a huff, swatting Mark in the back of his head, watching as his hands reach for the back of his scalp, brows creasing into a pinched frown.

"I'm not letting you rope me into the potential situation of putting my mouth on someone else's filthy ass, dirty ass, grimy ass mouth."

You seethe.

"That's like saying you want me to put a turd in my mouth. Because that's what'll happen."

"But you might get to put your mouth on my mouth. Isn't that better?" Mark tries to appease you, brilliant brown eyes twinkling as he looks down at you, his hands moving to rest on your shoulders, thumbs brushing against the soft skin exposed by the rather wide-neck of your T-shirt.

"A cute cat turd is still a turd, Mark." You deadpan before letting out a huff, scowling up at him.

"Fine." You hiss. "But you owe me."

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"And we meet again."

The grin that creeps onto Mark's face is shit-eating, dimples in his cheeks popping and he leans back against the wall, arms crossing over his broad chest, and you watch the lean muscles of his arms flex. Definitely intentional.

Just like the dare to be in the closet.

"You're vagina repellent in a knitted sweater. I hope you know that."

The laugh that Mark let's out is melodious, slivers of light creep under the door and paint the wooden interior with faint light, features shadowy as Mark drops to the floor, legs extended and jeans straining against the muscles of his thighs.

It's an appealing sight.

Invincible, staring up at you through dark lashes, chocolate hued eyes locked on your form in that way that's always been too... Assessing to be friendly. And a hand wraps around your ankle, his thumb gently brushing over the tightly wound laces of your boot before gently guiding your foot to rest over his crotch. He feels the weight of your leg and you feel the weight of his gaze, boring into you.

"That was mad smooth, wasn't it?" Mark breaks the tension-ridden silence and your only answer is a snort, before you crouch down, planting yourself on his shins instead of sitting on the floorboards.

"It was, I'm not gonna lie." You concede, your thighs on either side of you, sneakers tucked on either side of your ass and your hands rest lazily on Mark's thighs.

"How long do we need to be in here?" You question with a hum, picking at the lint of his jeans, attention lowered so that you don't have to meet that million-eyed stare of his.

"15-ish minutes." Mark hums. "20 if we wanna do something."

The snort that leaves your lips has his mouth twitching into a little grin. He's always loved the way your lips curl, the way your eyes twinkle the slightest bit and the way your chest heaves when you take that breath.

"Is that you telling me you wanna do you something?" You tease with a hum, leaning forward and tugging playfully on the V-neck of his sweater vest.

There's always been a bit of a 'will-they won't-they' situation between you and Mark.

Shy gazes, and soft touches, the way your eyes would automatical crinkle at the corners whenever you'd catch sight of him and the way his jokes would automatically become more pandered towards you than anyone else.

Mark genuinely doesn't give a shit if no one else finds him funny, but as long as you do, it's a win.

Even if it's just a stupid snort that leaves you.

"Yeah." Mark's voice breaks the silence, his tongue dragging slowly across his top row of teeth, from one canine to the other. "I wanna do something."

"Shit—" You gasp, the coolness of the closet wall pressed against your cheek, hands splayed against the surface and your skirt around your waist, panties discarded to God knows where and Mark's voice is a breathy pant, his hips snapping against yours.

The burning stretch is painful, your nails nearly peeling paint from the walls before Mark's hips slow to a tantalizing grind, his hands moving from the cool surface of the wall before palming the fleshy globes of your ass, spreading the plush and looking at where your tight, furled hole sucks him in so sweetly, pulsing around his thick, weepy cock.

"Ohhhh, so fuckin' pretty."

Your gummy walls flutter when you feel that cooling glob of spit run down the crease of your ass, parting only to lubricate where Mark has you speared on his cock, hips rolling and grinding to reach the deepest crevices of your insides.

His palm collides with the jiggly flesh of your ass, and he drinks in your weak, whiny whimpers, as your hands continue to attempt to stabilize you inbetween the mindboggling thrusts that have your tongue lolling and drool trickling down your bottom lip.

Two digits force your plush lips to part, fingertips pressing against the flat of your tongue, fucking your mouth sloppily while his cock continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon.

"Where am I?" Mark huffs, one hand grasping the fat of your ass cheek with the desperation of a man dying in 20 minutes and his other fucks your mouth, fingers bullying the back of your throat until you gag, thick globs of saliva spilling from your lips with each painfully hard thrust.

"Tell me where I am." He repeats.

"M—my ass..." You whine, words muffled and eyes brimming with tears, your mascara's ruined and your lipgloss is smeared across your chin.

Mark's cock twitches, smearing precum against your sensitive walls that keep sucking him in with neediness, your cunt clenching around nothing and slick dripping down your thighs. There's nothing that makes him harder than the way your eyes flutter when he hits particularly deep, when he leans forward and gets even deeper.

He likes the way your voice deepens and you let out that groan that makes his hips stutter just a bit.

"Tell me you like it." He breathes out, smearing his saliva and spit covered hand across your features, very much ruining your makeup and you gasp shakily. "Tell me I'm doing a good job, baby. And I'll let you come."

The promise of being able to extinguish that paining burn that's been fizzing in your belly is magnetic and you don't even know when your swollen lips part to whine and mewl.

"I like— I love the way you fuck m-my ass— ...shit— you're so good at fucking me, Mark. Don't stop, please."

You sound pathetic and if you weren't so cock drunk, you'd have cringed at how weak you sound.

But your back is arched like a cat, your face is messy and your ass is being treated like a fleshlight, so you're not too capable of being a bitch.

Not when Mark's hiking up your leg, his hips speeding up in the way that has you muffling your screams, biting down onto his fingers before his hips still and you feel the way warmth fills your insides.

Cum leaks around his cock, pearly droplets forming pools at your knees and soaking into the carpet below you, and you pant weakly when Mark pulls his cock from your ass.

And he watches his snowy slick trickle out of your puckered hole, and down your slippery and neglected folds, and dripping.

It's damn near uncomfortably cramped but Mark finds his way, pushing you against the wall as lowers his head, dragging his tongue through your sodden folds, his cum coating his tongue before he spits it back at your cunt, watching the way your hole clenches.

There's nothing sexier than the way your body twitches and shakes when he eats his cum, his hands grasping your fleshy thighs so tightly that he's definitely leaving indentations. His lips find purchase, suckling at your clit and rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub, and your hips buck.

Your toes curl and you feel the way your belly burns with an oncoming orgasm.

And you feel the burn increase tenfold when Mark grabs your hand, gently easing three of your own fingers into your still abused hole, and you whine, staring at him over your shoulder.

Mark looks unapologetically feral, sucking and tongue fucking your cunt before he meets your gaze, hazy brown eyes staring at you from below long lashes.

"I never thought you'd look this pretty with your ass stuffed."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@fayethefaerie 🦋

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@allycat4458 🪻

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

[fleuriion]

✦ Season of Love

ノ When the flowers started blooming back as the scent of spring slithers back into our body, whereas the season of love has just begun.

♡ What I think the current Chrysos Heirs' love languages are ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 957

✦ Note ; beware of spelling mistakes and grammar error due to english not being my first language T_T ⸝⸝ while this writing was meant to be romantic, you can take it however you like! (platonic or romantic.) ⸝⸝ I won't write for Tribbios in this one! ⸝⸝ I apologize if they're ooc because this is my first time writing them

♡ Phainon, The Hero ノ Words of Affirmation ⸝⸝ Acts of Service (Physical Touch might work for him too,,)

For whatever reason it is, I see Phainon as the kind of guy to shower you with compliments that you totally deserve while carrying all the stuff you were struggling to carry with ease. Would always get down on one knee and kiss your knuckles like they're a treasure for him (Like you yourself isn't a treasure he holds dear already), if not that then bridal carries you.

Phainon is protective of you; you could trip and get a scar that is barely a scratch on your being and he would get into a teary-eyed dramatic frenzy panic. You can many times assure him that you are very much okay and he will still worry dead for you.

"Are you okay?! Do you need me to carry you up?! Should we go see a doctor?!?-" "Phainon, it's just a scratch."

Overall a massive head over heels sweetheart that is afraid of losing his loved one and would give his life away to protect you <3

♡ Aglaea, The Weaver ノ Gifts Giving ⸝⸝ Quality Time Okay I know this might not sound like it makes sense, but imagine juuust imagine Aglaea making clothes and/or accessories that reminds her of you and then gifting them to you. She will come across a fabric and then once it reminds her of you, even for the tiniest things ever, she will start sewing and sewing and then boom, an entire set for you just the next day standing at the corner of your room.

Aside from bathing together, Aglaea loves hearing your voice. As a demigod with a duty to protect Okhema, she will obviously be busy and that's no doubt, but she will somehow always leave a room in her busy schedule for you. For you, she will even endure the stupidest of the stupidest questions ever.

"Aglaea, what if the golden blood in the Chrysos Heir's bath is actually piss?" "Yes, My Dear."

You might be an idiot, but you're her idiot <3

♡ Mydeimos, The Undying ノ Acts of Service ⸝⸝ Gifts Giving It's no doubt that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos prefers to let his actions speak for him because words have failed him multiple times already. While he may not verbally express his love for you much, Mydei would slay a god for you and hand you their heart as a gift. I'm just kidding, he's not just a hot headed brute. But, still, he will give you gifts that reminds him of you, or just things you like generally. Oh you were walking together and he heard you gushing over something of your interest? You will find that same said thing the next day you wake up placed on your nightstand.

Mydei will remember things about you, even ones that are tiny and useless. He will remember the precise number of the plushies in your room and your breakfast routine if you tell him. Would tag you along to have a bite at the restaurant that serves his favourite pancake, and would let you know that he actually likes the pink in his pomegranate juice. While Mydei becomes more gentle with you around, he also gets extra protective of you, by nature. Nobody really mess with you unless they have a death wish because of this.

"What? No no! Mydei is actually super nice! You just need to get to know him to see that side." *radiates passively agressive aura*

By the end, Mydei softens around you like a lion turning into a house-cat. His sarcastic remarks stays though! <3 /hj

♡ Castorice, Servant of Death ノ Quality Time ⸝⸝ Words of Affirmation Due to her curse, Castorice has been deprived of physical contacts for so long throughout her life. She is well aware of this, and because of it too, makes sure you physically keep your distance away from her at least a little. Not because she has any grudges against you obviously! The Servant, in fact, loves you very very much and deeply wishes she could hold you and vice versa. When it comes to this, Castorice makes a plushie resembling you for her to hold at hard times.

While she's incapable of touching you in fear of sending you to the not-so-sweet embrace of death, Castorice loves spending time with you. You two could sit under the white gazebo nestled at the garden of Marmoreal Palace, and she would tell you all sorts of story revolving around the history of the Titans and more. If not that, then she will make accessories together with you. Aside from that, Castorice showers you with sweet words that she wishes you know of too.

"[Name], I sincerely hope you are aware of just how blessed I am to be in your presence.." "I love you too, Castorice."

Castorice might be cursed with the touch of death, but just by your existence had the burden on her shoulders be lifted off slightly and The Servant is very grateful of it <3

[worthlessnepenthes]

So I reblogged this because it’s funny but then I thought about YQY for a second, and reblogged again so I could talk.

This isn’t going to be any new, profound thoughts for the fandom I’m sure but they’re new to me and I wanna talk for a minute.

I, personally, do not like YQY. I don’t HATE him, but I don’t like him. But I do feel sorriest for him, out of all the SVSSS and PIDW characters. I often forget that when he left SJ, he too was a literal child. Yes, he probably could have done better—told his master he needed help to save his brother, heck, told a fellow shidi or shixiong once he got to the peak. He was probably popular. I can’t imagine no one would have been willing to help him. But he was also a child, so I forgive him. He suffered and hurt himself, grievously, permanently causing himself a chronic condition in his attempts to get back to DJ. I don’t know that I think he did everything he COULD, but I do believe he did everything he THOUGHT he could.

And then Shen Jiu shows up, much like a feral cat, and constantly lashes out and hurts YQY. Their strained relationship is absolutely caused on both ends. It’s hard to say, ‘Well, YQY should have just KNOWN that SJ wasn’t going to the brothels to sleep with whores/didn’t kill LQG/wasn’t abusing Ning Ning/whatever other terrible things he was accused of,’ when SJ was, in fact, very verbally abusive and physically abusive to at least one disciple (lbh. Do we even get a canon reason WHY he hates him so much?), and verbally abusive to YQY, and to most likely many other characters.

However, maybe if YQY had actually stood up for SJ and said ‘No, this is a misunderstanding, this is not what happened,’ instead of just assuming that SJ had done whatever terrible thing and then covering for him in a sense of guilt, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. Or if YQY said, ‘take out your anger on me, it’s all my fault, but leave the others alone’. (It wasn’t, and SJ is wrong for acting this way.)

Honestly if they had ever fucking COMMUNICATED instead of just assuming the actual fucking worst of each other, while still deeply loving the other (in whatever romantic or platonic way they had, they loved the other) no matter whether they ever said it or not, a lot could have been avoided. Like PIDW YQY’s death.

Or hell, if Airplane had ever written about Xianxia mental health care instead of probably curing depression with papapa!

But the relationship between SJ and YQY is almost worse and more horrifying after SY comes through. YQY KNOWS it isn’t SJ, but every test they do show he isn’t possessed. So maybe it really is SJ, and all SJ needed to become happy was simply…to forget almost everything, but especially any time SJ and YQY spent together before they became Peak Lords.

So YQY is still trying to make it up to a person that he both thinks is there and thinks is not there, never knowing for sure. Every emotion he has towards this ‘new’ SJ feeling like a betrayal, ‘if only SJ could have acted like this before!’

Yeah. It’s really horrifying. He never gets the comfort of knowing for certain that SJ is gone, never gets to properly grieve and burn incense for him. But he also always feels just slightly off kilter with SY, and then feels guilt, because this is SJ! And even if it isn’t…what can YQY do about it?

YQY has many sleepless nights, wondering, after SY shows up.

I don’t like YQY, but I feel sorry for him. He is the most pitiful character in the book to me.

Shen Qingqiu, pissed off during a peak lord meeting: when I die I want Shang-shidi to lower me into the earth, just so he can let me down one last time

Shang Qinghua: bro c'mon

Yue Qingyuan, abruptly overcome by jealousy so intense that he's on the verge of a qi deviation: but I thought I was the one who let Xiao Jiu down the most...?

[espresso1patronum]

Nine Lives, One Knight

(batman!gojo x catwoman!reader)

synopsis: By day, Gojo Satoru is Gotham’s golden boy—billionaire, genius, untouchable. By night, he’s the Bat, a relentless force in the city’s shadows. You? You’re Catwoman—master thief, chaos incarnate, always one step ahead. You’ve spent years dancing around each other, neither willing to truly win. But when a new faction, the Black Veil, sets its sights on Gotham’s most powerful players—including you and the Bat—you’re forced into an uneasy alliance. Tension crackles, lines blur, and the game you’ve always played turns deadly. Because this time, it’s not just about the city. This time, it’s about each other.

cw: batman au, mutual pining, slow burn, sort of enemies to lovers, angst, violence, blood, injury mention, gun violence, kinda gory? kinda forbidden love? Toji, geto, shoko and nanami cameo lmao

word count: 10.1k

author's note: this had been in my drafts for a very long time and after the poll results, I thought i'd finish this. it's not much, but I enjoyed writing this jjk x dc crossover.

Gotham was never silent.

Not even at midnight.

Not even when the rain came down in thick, suffocating sheets, drenching the city in shadows. Somewhere below, sirens wailed. Tires screeched. A single gunshot cracked through the air, distant but unmistakable.

To some, the noise was chaos. To you?

It was home.

You move across the rooftop with practiced ease, the weight of the Black Veil’s encrypted drive tucked safely into the pocket of your suit. The heist had been too easy. A little slip past the lasers, a quick crack of the safe, and just like that—you were out.

Something worth a small fortune in your hands. Or rather—something that could destroy half of Gotham’s elite if it ended up in the wrong hands.

(Or the right ones, depending on who you asked.)

A clean escape. A successful job. You should be gone by now.

And yet—

A shiver runs down your spine. Not from the cold. Not from the rain. From something else.

Something you can’t see, but feel.

You land soundlessly on another rooftop, pausing only for a second to scan the city below. Nothing. No movement. Just the familiar neon glow of Gotham’s underbelly.

Still—your fingers twitch. Instinct coils in your gut, whispering a warning you don’t want to acknowledge.

Too easy.

Too—

“Going somewhere, kitten?”

The voice comes from behind you, smooth as silk, dark as thunder.

You don’t startle. You don’t turn. Instead, you let a slow, knowing smirk curl at your lips before you finally glance back.

There he is.

Perched on the edge of the rooftop like he belongs in the night, the rain dripping off the edges of his cowl, his cape shifting slightly in the wind. Batman.

Or rather—Gojo Satoru.

You should’ve known he’d show up. Maybe you did. Maybe you ignored it.

"Bold of you," you murmur, fingers flexing, ready to bolt. "Sneaking up on a cat in the dark."

His head tilts, and though the mask hides half his face, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Please," he drawls. "You knew I was here before you even touched the ground."

He's right. You did. But you don’t let him win that easily.

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, Bat?" You shift your weight, rolling your shoulders, keeping it casual. "Or do you just like following me around?"

He steps closer. Slow. Deliberate. The way a storm rolls in—inevitable.

"You stole something," he says.

You sigh, dramatically. "I steal a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific."

"You know what I’m talking about."

He’s close enough now that you can see the flicker of blue beneath his mask. The kind of dangerous blue that makes your pulse stutter for half a second before you shut it down.

"Give it to me," he says, voice quieter this time.

You shake your head, clicking your tongue. "Oh, Bat. You always ask so nicely."

Before he can move, you bolt.

And that’s when the rooftop explodes.

A deafening boom shatters the night, the blast wave knocking you clean off your feet. You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to react—your body moves on instinct, twisting midair, boots scraping against the slick rooftop as you skid dangerously close to the edge.

Shit.

The explosion wasn’t meant for him. It was meant for you.

You barely have time to register the shift in the air before an arm wraps around your waist—strong, unyielding, and familiar—yanking you backward just as the ledge beneath your feet crumbles.

You don’t fall.

Because he doesn’t let you.

When the smoke clears, you’re half-sprawled against him, one of his arms still locked around your waist, his other hand braced against the rooftop. Your breaths come hard and fast, heart pounding against your ribs, adrenaline flooding your veins.

"Well," you huff, dazed but not broken. "Didn’t think you cared, Bat."

His grip tightens—just for a second. Just long enough for you to feel it.

"I don’t," he says flatly. But his jaw clenches. "Stay down."

You snort, pushing off of him as you roll onto your feet. "You and I both know that’s not happening."

He doesn’t argue. Because you’re right. Because whoever just tried to kill you isn’t done.

And they’re not alone.

From the rooftop across the alley, figures emerge from the shadows. Armed. Precise. Waiting.

Batman’s shoulders go rigid. His voice is low. Dangerous.

"They knew you’d be here."

You exhale sharply, adjusting your gloves. "Looks like we’re on the same side tonight, Bat."

The rain slicks the rooftop, turning it into a death trap. But you’ve fought in worse.

Across the alley, four figures move into position. Their weapons gleam under the glow of a distant streetlight—guns, knives, and something that looks an awful lot like a taser baton.

Cute.

Satoru tenses beside you, assessing. Calculating. His voice is low, barely audible over the rain. "Stay behind me."

You scoff, rolling your shoulders. "Not happening."

He doesn’t waste time arguing. Because you’re both outnumbered, because the enemy is moving—because there’s no time to fight each other when you’re about to fight them.

And then—they strike.

One gunshot. Two. You react on instinct, dropping low, twisting away, boots skidding against the rooftop. Batman’s cape flares as he moves—one sharp flick of his wrist, and a batarang slices through the dark, knocking a pistol clean from one of their hands.

Fast and efficient. Classic him.

You? You have your own way of doing things.

The second attacker lunges at you with a knife. You sidestep, grab their wrist, twist—the blade clatters to the ground. Before they can react, your elbow smashes into their ribs, sending them stumbling backward with a wheeze.

"Really?" you taunt, dodging another strike. "You came all this way just to embarrass yourselves?"

Batman doesn’t look at you, but you swear you can feel his exasperation.

"Focus."

You grin. "I am focused."

And then you flip over one of the attackers, landing smoothly behind them before slamming them headfirst into a ventilation unit.

Batman exhales sharply. "Could’ve just knocked them out."

"They’ll wake up." You dodge another strike. "Eventually."

More gunfire. Batman twists mid-air, cape flowing like liquid shadow as he dodges the bullets. In the same motion, he grabs your wrist—yanking you forward, pulling you out of the line of fire just as another shot rings out.

You’re so close you can hear his heartbeat.

For half a second, the world shrinks. The rain, the chaos, the rooftop beneath your feet, it all disappears.

It’s just you and him. Breathing the same air.

Then—"Move."

And just like that, the moment is gone.

You both explode into motion, flawless in sync. A kick to the ribs. A punch to the jaw. A perfect sweep of your leg sends another attacker sprawling.

It’s fast. Clean. Too easy.

When the last enemy collapses, groaning, you barely break a sweat.

You exhale, shaking out your arms. "Well," you say, breathless. "That was fun."

Satoru glares at you. "This wasn’t a game."

"Could’ve fooled me." You step over one of the unconscious bodies, crouching slightly to pat them down. No ID. No insignia. No obvious ties to the Black Veil.

But then— your fingers brush against something cold. Metal.

Your stomach drops.

A small device is clipped to one of their belts. Black, sleek, with a blinking red light.

Shit.

Your head snaps up. Satoru sees it the same moment you do, his voice is sharp. "Bomb." A soft beep. A single second.

And then— the rooftop blows apart beneath your feet.

Pain.

It drags you back to consciousness, slow and disorienting, like surfacing from deep water. Your body aches, the sharp sting of a fresh wound cutting through the dull throb of bruises.

The last thing you remember—the rooftop. The explosion.

And then—falling.

Your eyes snap open. You’re not on the street. You’re not dead.

Instead, you’re somewhere dimly lit, the soft hum of an old heater filling the silence. A safehouse.

Your head tilts slightly. The room is small—just a battered couch, an old desk, and a half-broken lamp casting flickering shadows against the walls.

And across from you— standing near the door, arms crossed, still in full suit— is Batman.

Gojo.

Watching you.

You shift, trying to sit up, but a sharp pull at your side stops you. That’s when you realize— your suit is torn and your stomach is bandaged, and you sure as hell didn’t do it yourself.

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. "Didn’t take you for the hands-on type, Bat."

His jaw ticks. "You were bleeding."

"Aww," you tease, voice still hoarse. "You do care."

He steps closer. The soft glow of the lamp catches the edge of his mask, illuminating the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint tension in his shoulders.

"You almost died." His voice is quiet now, lacking its usual smugness. Too honest.

You tilt your head, studying him. Something about the way he’s looking at you feels... different.

Like he hated seeing you like that. Like it unnerved him.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The air is thick, heavy, charged with something unspoken.

Then—he exhales, stepping back, breaking the moment.

"You need rest," he mutters.

You shift again, testing the pain, biting back a wince. "I need answers."

"You need to not die."

"You didn’t answer my question."

His hands tighten into fists at his sides. He doesn’t look at you, but his voice is sharp, precise. Avoiding something.

"The bomb was a trap. Someone wanted you dead."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, I figured that part out, Bat."

He ignores the sarcasm. "Who else knew you’d be at that vault?"

"Just me."

His gaze flickers to you, sharp and assessing. Like he doesn’t believe you.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Look, I don’t have a name yet. Just whispers about a buyer wanting the drive. But if they’re willing to go that far to kill me for it—"

"—then you’re already in too deep."

There’s something grim in his tone that makes your stomach twist. You study him carefully. His cowl hides most of his face, but you’ve seen him fight, seen him move.

Gojo Satoru is always too confident. Too smug. Like he knows he’s the strongest, the fastest, the smartest in the room.

But right now? Right now, he looks... frustrated.

Not at you. He is frustrated for you and the realization is dangerous.

You push it down and swallow it whole. "Relax, Bat," you say, forcing a smirk. "I still got, what, six lives left?"

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t take the bait. But then your breath catches as he kneels infront of you but you don't move.

You should. You should say something—anything—but you don’t. Because his hands are on you again, pressing carefully against your bandaged side, checking his work.

He’s too close. His touch warm, solid, and careful.

And for the first time, he looks at you—not as an opponent. Not as a thief. But as something else entirely.

The silence stretches and you wish it hadn't because your heart is pounding in a way it isn't supposed to.

And then— he shifts.

You feel it before it happens. The slow lean forward. The weight of his stare. The way your own pulse betrays you, beating too fast, too hard, in the space between you.

Almost—

But then, the moment shatters.

The old radio in the corner crackles to life, static hissing before a voice cuts through. "Breaking news—an attack on Gotham’s financial district just moments ago—"

You blink as he pulls back and you just clear your throat, wanting to push all the wierd thoughts that were clouding your mind right now.

Satoru's expression hardens, as he stands, straightens his suit and steps away. "You stay here," he says, all business again.

You smirk, ignoring the sharp ache in your ribs. "Come on, Bat. You know that’s not happening."

He exhales, long-suffering. "You’re injured."

"And yet I still fight better than half your enemies."

He pauses and stares at you as though you'd said something wrong. Then, finally—a reluctant smirk. "Try to keep up, kitten."

Satoru hadn’t always been like this in the past when you met him. He was obnoxious, full of himself, always eager to show off his strength and speed in front of you. But today—this time—he felt different. For the first time, he seemed genuinely serious. And maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of vulnerability in the way he spoke, in the way Gotham’s Batman spoke.

You told yourself it had nothing to do with you. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thought away, you couldn’t help but wonder—what if it did?

Sneaking into Gotham’s financial district isn’t hard. But sneaking in with Batman?

Now that’s a challenge.

You slip through the shadows like you were born for this—because you were. Satoru moves beside you, silent, precise, and still annoyingly smug. You glance at him. "Not bad, Bat."

He doesn’t look at you. "Not trying to impress you, kitten."

Liar.

The building looms ahead, dark and empty except for the guards patrolling the perimeter. "Twelve," you murmur, already counting. "Four on the roof, two at the entrance, six inside."

He hums. "I’ll take the roof. You take the inside."

You grin. "Awfully trusting, Bat."

"If you get caught, I’m not saving you."

You both know that’s a lie.

Getting in is easy. Getting to the main office where the stolen drive is hidden? Even easier. You’re already at the vault, fingers working over the lock, when— you hear footsteps.

Shit.

You whirl around, but it’s too late—one of the guards spots you. The alarm blares.

"Dammit," you hiss, already moving, flipping over the desk as more guards storm in. You could take them. You should take them. It's really easy for you actually.

But before you even get the chance— a blur of black crashes through the skylight. Batman lands hard, cape billowing, taking down two guards before his boots even hit the floor.

You blink. "Show-off."

"You’re welcome," he mutters, throwing a punch.

It’s a blur of fists, kicks, and electricity. You move too well together, too in sync. It’s not just skill—it’s instinct. Every time you dodge, he’s already covering your blind spot. Every time he moves, you’re already reading his next step.

It’s flawless. It’s deadly. It’s perfect but— a bit too much. At some point, you end up back-to-back. Panting, bruised and your adrenaline spiking.

His voice is low, breathless. "You good?"

You swallow hard because you shouldn’t be this affected. You shouldn't be affected by anything he says or he does because you don't care, right?

"Always."

And then— a hand grips your wrist. It was a guard you didn’t see. You twist your hand, ready to counter, but before you can, Batman moves first.

Fast. Too fast.

His hand grips the front of your suit—yanking you forward, spinning you behind him as he slams the attacker into the wall with enough force to shake the room.

With a loud thud, the guy drops instantly and you hear nothing but the silence that is lingering in the air. The only sound is your breath and his, his hand still gripping your suit, still holding you.

You look up at him and find him already watching you. He’s too close for your liking. Or is he?

His jaw is tight, his chest rising and falling in steady yet controlled breaths, and his grip on you remains firm. Your pulse slams against your ribs. There’s something in the air—something that shifts, pulling both of you in. You feel it. And so does he.

You hate this. Or at least, you tell yourself you do. But the truth is, you can’t stop it. It’s happening, inevitable and inescapable. This isn’t just a fight anymore. This is something else entirely. And this time, no one interrupts. No radio crackling to life, no explosions in the distance, no convenient excuse to look away.

It’s just you. Him. And a choice.

Before you can even pull yourself back, before your mind can fully grasp the situation, Satoru makes the decision for you. He yanks you forward, his lips crashing onto yours, his mask half-pulled up—just like yours. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you in closer.

And despite everything, despite all the reasons you shouldn’t—you kiss him back.

Your back slams against cold metal, the impact sending a shiver down your spine—not that you can focus on it. Not when he’s leaning in, fingers curling into your suit, pulling, pressing, taking.

You don’t even realize you’re kissing him back until it’s too late. Until your hands are in his hair, gripping, tugging, dragging him closer. Until his weight is the only thing keeping you upright.

The vault. The alarms. The entire damn mission—forgotten. Because all you can think about is—

This is dangerous. This is a mistake. This is—

“Fuck,” you breathe against his lips.

And then— he pulls back, barely.

His breath is ragged, his gloved hand still firm on your jaw, his eyes burning with something wild, like he can’t believe he just did that or like he can’t believe he wants to do it again.

The silence between you crackles like a live wire.

Then he swallows. “We can’t—”

You shove him off. Hard.

Your body still hums from his touch, your lips still tingling, your pulse betraying you. But you don’t let any of it show. Instead, you smirk, sharp as a blade.

“Didn’t know the Bat had such bad impulse control.”

His expression doesn’t change, but you see it—the exact moment he chooses denial. The way his walls snap back into place like steel reinforcements.

His mask comes down. His voice turns cold. “Let’s move.”

And just like that, it’s over.

Except it isn’t.

Because now, the line between you is blurred beyond recognition. Because now, you know what he tastes like. Because now, everything has changed.

And there’s no undoing it.

Gotham’s elite love to party.

It’s how they distract themselves from the fact that their city is rotting beneath them.

Big money, expensive champagne, and a ballroom filled with people who don’t care about anything but themselves.

It’s your kind of scene.

A place where no one notices a missing diamond necklace. Where a stolen keycard goes unreported. Where masks are more than just accessories.

And yet— tonight, you’re not here to steal. Tonight, you're here for him.

It had been a few days since that night—since everything that happened between you and Satoru. Or Batman.

Now, another party was being thrown by Gotham’s elite, and of course, Batman had been invited. And, of course, you had to see him again.

It felt awkward.

Because no matter how much you wanted to ignore it, that kiss had meant something. To both of you. And you didn’t want it to.

You wanted to talk to him like nothing had happened. Like nothing ever would happen again. Right?

You wanted to tell him it was just the adrenaline, just the chaos of that night, nothing more. That’s all it was. That’s all it could ever be.

Gojo Satoru feels you before he sees you.

A shift in the air. A prickle at the back of his neck.

And then— you walk in, dressed to kill.

Silk. Black. Dangerous. A slit running high up your thigh, the soft glint of diamonds resting against your collarbone.

And when your gaze meets his across the ballroom— his throat goes dry.

Because he hasn’t seen you since the kiss. Because you’re smiling like it never happened. Because the second you do— you turn away, and walk straight into another man’s arms.

You feel his stare before you even see him. It lingers on your skin, heavy and unrelenting, like a touch without contact. But you don’t look. Not yet.

Instead, you let the man beside you—some rich idiot with more money than sense—pull you closer, his hand brushing over your waist, his breath warm as he leans in.

"You look exquisite tonight," he murmurs, voice smooth, practiced.

You hum, barely interested. "I know." And still, you feel him.

Watching. Brooding. Jealous. Exactly as you wanted.

So when you finally turn—when your gaze finally locks onto his across the crowded ballroom—you make sure to smirk.

And just like that, he’s gone.

But you know better. He didn’t leave. Not really.

So when you step outside onto the balcony, the cool Gotham night air brushing against your skin, you’re not surprised to find him already there. He stands by the railing, his posture deceptively relaxed, fingers curled around a glass of untouched champagne.

His mask is gone, but his walls? Higher than ever.

You exhale slowly as you step closer, watching him carefully. "Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Bat."

He doesn’t look at you when he answers. "I’m not."

You tilt your head, amusement flickering in your eyes. "Could’ve fooled me."

Silence settles between you, thick with unspoken words and something else, something heavier. The tension coils between you like a wire pulled too tight, waiting to snap.

And then, you break it.

"You’ve been avoiding me," you say, your voice quieter now.

His jaw tightens, but his expression doesn’t shift. "You’ve been avoiding me."

"Maybe," you admit. A small smirk tugs at your lips as you step even closer. "Or maybe I was just waiting for you to make the first move."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "That’s not how this works, kitten."

"Then how does it work?" Your voice is softer now, your gaze steady. "Because last I checked, you kissed me."

His breath hitches, barely audible.

For a moment, he doesn’t move.

And then— you’re against the railing, his hand is on your waist, his grip firm, fingers pressing against the silk of your dress as if anchoring himself in place. His breath is warm against your skin, his voice low and edged with something dangerous.

"It was a mistake," he murmurs, though there’s no conviction behind the words.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "Then why are you still thinking about it?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Because you already know.

And when his grip tightens on your waist, when his breath ghosts over your lips, you can see it—the exact moment he realizes he’s already lost.

You could kiss him right now. It would be easy. He’s already too close. His body is practically caging you in, his presence overwhelming. His fingers press into your waist like he doesn’t want to let go, like he’s memorizing the feeling of you beneath his touch. His breath is warm against your lips, his eyes dark and unreadable.

And you know he wants it. Because he hasn’t moved away. Because his grip keeps tightening, like he’s fighting himself but losing the battle.

Because when you whisper, "What are you so afraid of, Bat?" his lips part—like he’s about to answer.

Like he’s about to give in. Like this is finally it.

And then— "We’ve got a problem." The comm in his ear crackles to life, shattering the moment.

Just like that, his entire body stiffens. The warmth disappears, replaced by something cold, something distant. You watch it happen—the exact second he shuts down. The moment he remembers who he is. Who you are. What this is.

His hand falls away. His walls slam back up.

When he speaks again, his voice is devoid of whatever had been lingering between you just seconds ago. "I have to go."

You don’t let it show—the disappointment, the frustration curling inside your chest, the ache you don’t want to name. Instead, you force a smirk, tilting your head slightly.

"Duty calls, huh?"

His expression remains unreadable. "Always."

And with that— he’s gone.

But there's always a problem. You should've known this was a setup. You should have left the party the second he walked away.

You should have ignored the champagne, the meaningless conversations, and the empty laughter echoing through the ballroom. You should have disappeared into the night before anyone had the chance to notice.

But you didn’t. And now, you are paying for it.

The moment you step out the back entrance and into the dimly lit alleyway, something slams into you with brutal force. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, sending you stumbling. Before you can react, a sharp sting pierces the side of your neck.

Your vision blurs instantly as your body feels heavy and unsteady. The world tilts beneath you as you struggle to stay upright, but your limbs refuse to cooperate.

Through the haze, a voice reaches your ears, low and amused. "Nighty night, kitty."

Darkness swallows you whole.

"Say that again."

His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

Shoko hesitates over the comms. "She’s missing. No one’s seen her since the party. Word on the street is—"

She doesn’t get the chance to finish. He is already moving. His mind is no longer in the conversation. His focus sharpens, narrowing in on a single, undeniable truth.

Someone took you. And that changes everything.

This isn’t part of the game you and he have played for years. This isn’t the usual chase through Gotham’s streets, the endless dance of pursuit and escape. This isn’t teasing smirks and near-missed captures.

This is something else, something darker.

Someone dared to take you, and that is a very, very big problem.

Because you are his to chase. Because no one else gets to touch you. Because if they have hurt you— he will burn this entire fucking city to the ground.

Pain is the first thing you register. The feeling's not new at all though.

A dull, throbbing ache pulses behind your eyes, heavy and unrelenting. A sharp sting burns at your wrists where the rope digs into your skin. Cold metal presses against your ankles, the bite of steel cuffs locking you in place.

You inhale slowly, steadying yourself as the haze begins to clear. You’re tied to a chair.

The air is thick with the scent of damp concrete, musty and stale, like an old basement that hasn't seen fresh air in years. A single lightbulb flickers overhead, its dim glow casting long, shifting shadows against the cracked walls.

You take a slow breath and assess your surroundings.

You’re underground. Maybe an abandoned warehouse. Maybe a storage facility. Wherever you are, it's hidden, tucked away from prying eyes.

And whoever took you here—they know what they’re doing.

You flex your fingers, testing the restraints, but before you can shift too much, a voice cuts through the silence.

"Ah, you’re awake."

The words are smooth, laced with amusement, as if this entire situation is nothing more than an entertaining inconvenience to him.

Your eyes snap toward the source of the voice, adjusting to the dim light, and when you finally see him, irritation flares in your chest.

Fushiguro Toji.

You let out a slow breath, biting back a groan. "You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me."

Toji smirks, leaning back in his chair like he has all the time in the world. "Surprised, kitty?"

"Annoyed," you correct, rolling your shoulders against the ropes. "Didn’t think I was worth your time."

He chuckles, dark amusement dancing in his green eyes. "Oh, you weren’t. But then I heard about your little… situation with Gotham’s Bat."

The words are casual, but your stomach twists.

You don’t react. You don’t tense. You don’t let the flicker of unease show on your face. Instead, you arch a brow and smirk. "Didn’t know he had fans."

"I wouldn’t call myself a fan," Toji muses, tilting his head. "But I do love a good weakness. And you, sweetheart?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You’re his."

Your heart skips just for a second.

But you keep your expression neutral because he’s wrong.

Right?

Right.

Right.

…Right?

Gojo finds the first guy in ten minutes.

The second in five.

By the time he gets to the third, his knuckles are already bloodied, bruises forming across his fingers from the force of his hits.

The man stumbles back, pressing himself against the brick wall, his breath coming out in short, panicked gasps. "I-I don’t know where they took her, I swear—"

Gojo’s expression is unreadable beneath his blindfold, but his voice is ice. "Where."

It isn’t a question. It’s a demand.

The man chokes, scrambling for words. "P-please, man, I just heard they took her underground—"

That’s all Gojo needs.

His fingers loosen, and the man collapses to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. But Gojo doesn’t wait. He’s already gone. Because he’s close. Because they took you from him. Because they think they can keep you.

And they’re about to learn just how wrong they are.

You won’t let him see you sweat.

Not when the ropes burn against your wrists, cutting into your skin with every twitch of your fingers. Not when your head pounds from whatever the hell they drugged you with, the fog in your brain refusing to lift. Not even when Fushiguro Toji leans in, eyes dark with amusement, the sharp glint of his knife catching the dim, flickering light.

He’s enjoying this.

Enjoying the way your muscles tense when the blade spins between his fingers. Enjoying the way your gaze flickers toward the door, toward the single exposed bulb swaying overhead.

Enjoying the way you’re waiting for something.

Or rather, someone.

"What’s wrong, kitty?" he murmurs, the cold edge of steel pressing against your cheek. "Thought your Bat would’ve come for you by now?"

Your lips curl into a smirk, masking the way your stomach coils with unease. "What, jealous?"

Toji chuckles, low and amused, before his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face up. His grip is firm—not cruel, but controlling. A predator playing with his food.

"Nah," he muses. "Just curious how long it’s gonna take him to break."

Your stomach tightens because if there’s one thing you know about Gojo Satoru, it’s this— he doesn’t break.

He shatters. And when he does— he takes everything down with him.

Gojo hears your heartbeat before he sees you. He has some sirt of a bat instinct, you see.

Faint. Steady. Alive.

That’s the only thing keeping him from ripping this place apart.

But the moment he steps inside—the moment his eyes land on you, tied to that fucking chair, with Toji crouched in front of you like a wolf toying with its prey—something inside him snaps.

"Step away from her." His voice is quiet and deadly. The kind of voice that promises violence.

Toji doesn’t even turn around. Instead, he grins, spinning his knife between his fingers. "Took you long enough, Bat."

Gojo doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. "This is your only warning."

Toji finally turns, his sharp green eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Or what?"

Gojo tilts his head, slow and deliberate.

Then—he smiles. "Or I’ll show you why Gotham is afraid of the dark."

You’ve seen him fight before. You’ve seen the way he moves—quick, calculated, precise.

But this? This is different. This isn’t the controlled Bat, this isn’t the patient hunter.

This is Gojo Satoru with nothing left to hold back. And it’s terrifying. Because he’s not just fighting Toji.

He’s dismantling him.

A fist meets flesh with a sickening, brutal crack. Toji throws a punch—Gojo catches his wrist mid-air, twisting hard enough that the snap of bone echoes through the empty warehouse.

Toji grits his teeth, lunges—Gojo moves faster, dodging with ease before slamming him into the concrete so hard the ground cracks beneath them. There’s no banter. No smirk. No teasing.

There’s just rage.

And the worst part? Gojo is enjoying it. Because this isn’t just about you anymore. This is everything.

This is Gotham. The corruption. The powerlessness.

This is every ounce of anger he’s swallowed down for years, unleashed on the one bastard stupid enough to give him an excuse and if you don’t stop him now— he won’t stop at all.

"Satoru." Your voice barely reaches him over the pounding in his ears.

But the second you say his name—his real name— he freezes.

Fist still curled in Toji’s bloodied collar. Breath coming in slow, heavy exhales. Shoulders rising and falling with barely contained fury.

And then, slowly—he turns. His eyes meet yours, and for the briefest moment, they flicker—from Gotham’s Bat to the man underneath. That’s all you need.

"Let him go."

Gojo stares at you, unmoving, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second.

Then, with a sharp breath—he lets Toji’s unconscious body drop to the ground. The tension in his frame lingers, coiled tight, but his steps are steady as he moves toward you. The anger is still there. The darkness. The weight of everything he just did.

But his hands are gentle when they find the ropes binding your wrists.

"Let’s get you out of here."

The silence is suffocating.

You should be grateful though. The moment he cut you loose, he got you out—carried you through Gotham’s backstreets, made sure you weren’t followed. Now, you’re in a hidden safehouse—one of his, no doubt—sitting on an old couch, trying to ignore the dull ache in your wrists.

And him? He’s in the bathroom. Avoiding you.

You hear the water running, the steady drip of blood swirling down the sink. You should leave, you should run. But you don’t. Because you’re not done with him yet.

But for him it keeps replaying in his head. The way you said it.

'"Satoru."'

Not Batman. Not Bats. Not some teasing, smug nickname meant to piss him off. Just his name.

Like you knew exactly what it meant to use it. Like you knew it would break him.

His knuckles sting as he washes off the blood. He should have killed Toji. He should have— no.

No, he shouldn’t have let you get this close. He grips the edge of the sink, eyes burning into his reflection. He can’t want this. He can’t want you.

But then—a creak of the floorboard, a shift in the air. He doesn’t need to turn around to know you’re standing in the doorway. And when you speak— he already knows he’s fucked.

"Let me see your hands."

He doesn’t move, neither does he look at you. But he also doesn’t stop you when you step forward and reach for his hand. The bruises are already blooming, dark and angry across his knuckles.

You should say something sharp—something to piss him off, make him smirk, drag him back into whatever stupid game you’ve been playing for years. But for once, you don’t want to play.

"You could’ve killed him," your voice is quiet.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "I should have."

"That’s not who you are," you say as you caress the back of his hand.

That makes him snap.

His head jerks up, eyes flashing. "You don’t know who I am."

But you don’t let go.

You squeeze his hand—challenging. "Then tell me."

He doesn't say anything for a while and you feel frustrated.

And then, softer—barely a breath. "You don’t want to know."

The silence between you stretches, thick and heavy, coiling around your throat like a noose.

His hand is still in yours, bruised and warm, fingers twitching like he’s fighting the urge to pull away.

Or worse—hold on tighter.

You don’t let go. Neither does he. And for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe— maybe this isn’t something you have to fight. Maybe this doesn’t have to be another battle, another game of pushing and pulling until one of you finally lets go.

Maybe— but then his grip tightens, and his voice, when he finally speaks, is hoarse. "You should leave."

The words hit harder than any punch.

Your breath catches, but you don’t let it show. You force yourself to smile, to tilt your head like this is nothing, like you aren’t standing on the edge of something that could shatter you completely.

"So that’s it?" you murmur, fingers tracing absent patterns along his wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath your touch. "I almost die, you almost lose your mind, and now you’re just gonna pretend none of it happened?"

His jaw clenches, eyes flashing, but he doesn’t pull away. "It can’t happen."

You scoff. "Can’t, or won’t?"

He exhales sharply, the muscle in his jaw twitching again. "Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

"Make this something it isn’t."

Anger flickers hot in your chest, and this time, it’s you who tightens your grip. "And what exactly is this, Satoru?"

He doesn’t answer and that’s the worst part. Because you can take a fight. You can take sharp words and heated arguments, can take anger and fire and frustration.

But this? This silence? This refusal to even acknowledge what’s between you? This is what fucking hurts.

You shake your head, laughing bitterly as you finally drop his hand. "You know, for someone who always acts like he’s got all the answers, you really are a fucking coward."

Then you turn. And this time, you walk away first.

He lets you walk away, though he shouldn’t.

He knows he shouldn’t. But he does.

Because if he stops you—if he says anything else, if he gives in even an inch— he won’t be able to stop himself at all.

He won’t be able to stop himself from pulling you back, from letting himself want this, want you, from letting himself believe that there could ever be a world where this doesn't end in disaster.

So he lets you go. He stays in that goddamn bathroom, gripping the counter so hard his knuckles turn white, staring at his own reflection like it’ll give him an answer he doesn’t already fucking know.

Because he knows.

He knows that no matter how many times he tells himself to stay away, no matter how many times he buries it— it’s still there.

It’s been there for years. And now? Now it’s unraveling, slipping through his fingers like smoke, impossible to ignore, impossible to deny. Because the moment you walked away? He felt it.

The weight in his chest, the tightening in his throat, the overwhelming urge to chase after you, to take it back, to do something—

And fuck.

Fuck.

He slams his fist into the mirror before he can stop himself, glass shattering beneath his skin, pain blooming sharp and hot across his knuckles. He doesn’t even feel it. Because all he can think about—all he can fucking think about— is you. And that’s when he knows. This is it. This is the breaking point.

Because the second something happens—the second something puts you in danger again, the second someone so much as looks at you the wrong way— he won’t be able to stop himself.

And this time? He won’t fucking try.

You shouldn’t care. You tell yourself you don’t.

You tell yourself it’s better this way.

You tell yourself you should be used to it by now—used to the push and pull, used to the way he always leaves first, used to the way you always let him.

But this time? This time, it feels different.

This time, it feels like something inside you has been cracked open, exposed, left bleeding in the space between you. This time, you were the one who walked away—and it still fucking hurts.

Because the truth is— you wanted him to stop you. You wanted him to prove you wrong. But he didn’t.

And that? That fucking stings.

You exhale, pressing your fingers to your temples, eyes fluttering shut as you try to push it down, try to shove it deep, deep, deep beneath the surface where it can’t touch you anymore.

But the second you open your eyes, the second you see your reflection in the grimy window of your apartment—

You know. You know this isn’t over, because no matter how hard you try to run from it— it always brings you back to him.

You were lost in your thoughts, more like consumed by them that you forgot. You're Catwoman. You're in the freaking city of Gotham. You should've known. It happens fast. Too fast.

One second, you’re walking down the empty streets of Gotham, the cool night air biting at your skin, the weight of earlier still sitting heavy in your chest—

And the next? You’re surrounded.

Shadows slip out from the alleys, footsteps closing in, voices murmuring in low, amused tones. "Look what we have here…"

"Thought you were untouchable, sweetheart?"

Shit.

You recognize them instantly—Falcone’s men. Which means this isn’t a random attack. This is a message, a warning. A consequence for getting too close to Gotham’s Bat.

You bite back a curse, hands twitching at your sides, muscles tensing as you count the men, assess the distance, calculate your odds.

Four—maybe five. Armed? Most likely. A fight you could win? …Not without consequences.

But what other choice do you have? Because you already know— no one is coming to save you. Not this time.

Satoru feels it before he hears it.

It’s instinct.

A sharp, sudden shift in his chest, a gut-wrenching pull like something inside him is being ripped apart. Then— the comm buzzes.

"We got a situation." Nanami’s voice is clipped, urgent. "Falcone’s men. Five of them. Near Harbor Street."

And before he can even think—before he can stop himself—he’s already moving. Because he knows.

He fucking knows.

You don’t go down easy. They think they’ve already won. They think this will be easy.

They think you’re just a pretty little thief, just a girl who got in too deep, just another lesson to be taught. And that’s their first mistake. Because you don’t go down easy.

You move before they do—a sharp kick, a twist, a knife pulled from your belt and pressed to the throat of the closest man before he can even blink.

"Try it," you hiss, voice laced with venom.

He hesitates, and in that second, you know—you have an opening.

But then— a gun cocks.

And a voice—low, amused, familiar—cuts through the night like a blade. "Tsk. Always making things difficult, aren’t you, kitten?"

Your blood runs cold because you know that voice.

Suguru Geto.

And that? That changes everything.

You’ve honestly been in worse situations. But not many.

Not ones that make your stomach twist quite like this, not ones that make your pulse hammer against your ribs in something too sharp, too visceral, too close to fear. Because this isn’t just anyone. This isn’t some low-level thug. This isn’t even some mob boss looking to put you in your place. This is Suguru Geto.

And he doesn’t waste his time on small threats. No, when he moves, when he speaks, when he smiles—it means something.

"You’ve been causing quite the stir lately," he muses, stepping closer, his hands tucked casually in his coat pockets. "Getting on the Bat’s good side, stepping on all the wrong toes—really, kitten, I expected better from you."

You force your grip to stay steady, the knife still pressed against the throat of the man you caught off guard.

"Flattered, really," you say, keeping your voice light, like your pulse isn’t hammering, like your fingers aren’t itching to grab your grapple and run. "Didn’t think I’d be important enough to warrant a visit from the great Suguru Geto himself."

He chuckles—low, smooth, condescending. "Oh, you’re important," he says. "Just not in the way you think."

Your jaw tightens. "Yeah? Then why are you here?"

He tilts his head, watching you like you’re a puzzle he’s already figured out. "Because," he hums, "you have something that belongs to me."

The USB.

Shit.

Your grip on the knife falters for half a second—half a second too long. Because before you can react, before you can process, before you can even think— The man you were holding twists, shoving you off, the cold barrel of a gun pressing against your ribs before you can recover.

And just like that— you’re out of options.

Satoru's close.

Close enough that he can hear the words, close enough that he can hear your fucking pulse spike.

And that? That’s what does it. Because it’s one thing to be reckless. It’s one thing to be stubborn, to push him away, to insist that you don’t need him, that you can handle yourself.

But this? This is different because Geto doesn’t make idle threats.

And the second Gojo hears the sharp intake of your breath, the second he hears the shift of movement, the second he realizes exactly what’s happening— he moves. Fast. Too fast for them to react.

Because one second, Geto is smirking, enjoying his little game— and the next? He’s eating pavement.

Satoru doesn't hold back. He could, he should. But he doesn’t.

Because the second he sees that gun against your ribs, the second he sees the way your shoulders tense, the way your eyes flicker with something you never let anyone see— it’s over.

The first punch sends Geto flying. The second cracks something, leaves him coughing up blood.

The third? That one’s personal.

Because Gojo has been patient. He’s let things slide, let lines blur, let the underworld think he’s just another player in the game. But this? This is different. This is you. And that? That changes everything.

You've seen his fight countless times, but not like this. Not like he’s tearing through them without a second thought, not like he’s this close to losing control, not like the only thing keeping him from going too far is the fact that you’re standing right there.

It should scare you.

It should make you rethink everything, should remind you why you’ve always kept your distance, why you’ve always told yourself you couldn’t afford to get caught up in whatever the hell is between you. But it doesn’t. Because all you can think, as you watch him break Geto’s men like they’re nothing— is that he came. That you didn’t even call for him, and he still fucking came.

And when it’s over, when the dust settles and Geto is left bloody and laughing on the pavement, when Gojo finally turns to you, breath ragged, knuckles split, eyes burning— you don’t run. You don’t even flinch.

Because you know what this means. What it’s always meant. And maybe—maybe this time, neither of you will walk away first.

You really think you should stop this. You should. You should shove him away, should tell him this doesn’t change anything, should remind yourself why this is a bad idea, why this has always been a bad idea.

But when his fingers curl around your wrist, when he tugs you closer, when his breath ghosts over your lips— you don’t move. You don’t speak. You don’t even breathe. Because this isn’t like before.

This isn’t a game, isn’t a moment either of you will walk away from, isn’t something that can be brushed aside when the night is over. This is the point of no return.

And when he finally, finally closes the distance— you let him.

Because maybe—just maybe—you were never meant to run from him in the first place. It was always going to be you, always.

From the moment you first slipped past his defenses, from the moment you first met his gaze across the rooftops of Gotham, from the moment you first left him standing there with nothing but your name on his tongue and your laughter ringing in his ears— it was always going to be you.

And now? Now, with you in his arms, with your fingers tangled in his hair, with your taste on his lips, he knows there’s no going back. He doesn’t want to.

Because if Gotham is his curse, if the mask is his burden, if the weight of this city is something he’ll never escape— then you? You're the only thing that’s ever made it worth it. And for once, just once—he’s taking what he wants.

You find yourself on the rooftop with him, where it all began.

The city glows beneath you. The skyline stretches out, endless and alive, neon lights flickering, sirens wailing in the distance, the hum of Gotham’s heartbeat steady and unyielding.

It’s always been like this. Always moving. Always demanding. Always taking. And you? You’ve always been running.

But tonight? Tonight, you stand still. Because Gojo is in front of you, mask off, white hair ruffled by the wind, the cut on his lip still fresh from the fight, his eyes— those damn blue eyes—locked onto yours like he’s trying to memorize you, like he already knows what’s coming.

"So this is it, huh?" he says, voice low, rough.

You swallow hard, forcing a smirk. "Come on, Bat. You knew it wouldn’t last."

His jaw clenches. "Doesn’t mean I have to like it."

You step closer, tilting your head. "You’ll live."

He exhales sharply, like he’s about to say something—something real, something that might make you stay— but you can’t let him.

So you reach up, fingers barely brushing his jaw, a ghost of a touch, a silent goodbye.

"Goodbye, Batman," you whisper, voice softer than you mean it to be. "Gotham needs you."

For a second, just a second—you think that’s it. That he’ll let you go. That he’ll watch you disappear into the night like you always do.

But then— his hand catches yours. Tightly. Desperately. And when he speaks, when his voice finally breaks— it nearly stops you in your tracks.

"Why don’t you stay, Cat?" he murmurs, raw, unguarded, everything. "I need you."

Your breath catches as your heart lurches. Because that—that’s the one thing you weren’t ready for. But you force a smirk, even as your chest aches.

"That’s your problem, Bat." You squeeze his hand once, just once—before slipping free. "You’re not supposed to." You pause and for once give him a big genuine smile. "See ya later batman."

And with that— you step back and you turn, as you disappear into the night, like you always do.

Because Gotham needs him. And maybe he was never meant to need you.

@do-morochaa @madamechrissy @katthekat1234 (hope y'all like it😭💗)

[wosospacegirl]

I’m not being mean - Head Coach Leah x Arsenal! r (+18)

Summary: Coach! Leah punishes the reader during a forbidden make-out session.

Warnings: +18!!!!!! dominant!L x lots of kissing x fingering x reader being needy and L being mean x little bit of aftercare.

Word count: 1.2k.

Masterlist here

I'm kinda new to the Woso world, so I don't know if you guys like fics like this... but I'm a slut for dominant woman so yeah :D.

..

Leah’s tongue was wet and warm against Y/n’s mouth, her icy hand gripping the youngest girl’s hip, pulling her closer as Leah deepened the kiss.

 Y/n moaned, tilting her head to give Leah room to explore her neck. The blonde woman found her lips at Y/n’s jugular, sucking it lightly.

“Don’t,” Y/n whined, pushing Leah away slightly. “You can’t leave marks, or the other will see them.”

“Use a turtleneck,” Leah mumbled unrepentantly, pulling Y/n closer, her mouth back on her neck.

“I can’t use a turtleneck for training,” Y/n said, her words and moans blending together. “That’s so good, Leah, more.” She whispered, opening her legs and grinding against Leah’s knee.

Leah smirked. Y/n was just like that, always worried about everything and everyone, but as soon as Leah touched her, she went limp.

Leah had agreed to become Arsenal’s manager after a career-ending injury had shattered her world. It took her some time to accept her new life, but Leah couldn’t say she was unhappy. The ex-lioness had been very successful in her new role. She led Arsenal to many victories, cups, and titles.

Unfortunately, being a manager also meant that Leah couldn’t kiss Y/n, the new Arsenal signing for the season.

Leah and Y/n didn’t get along at first. Leah was too grumpy and Y/n too enthusiastic. Y/n had said they were like a black cat and a golden retriever. Leah disagreed; she didn’t like cats.

The truth was: Leah and Y/n didn’t get on. Leah was rude when Y/n was kind. Leah was confident when Y/n was not. If they spent too much time talking, they would argue, so that’s when the make out sessions came in.

When the two women were making out, nothing else mattered. It was as if their bodies had known each other for centuries. Leah knew where to touch Y/n and the young girl was quick to do whatever Leah wanted of her.

Leah stopped their kiss to pull at Y/n shirt. It was dirty with grass and dirty from the pitch, but she didn’t care. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Leah whispered, looking at Y/n’s chest. The girl was wearing a smaller training bra, her erected nipples drawing Leah's attention.

The blonde quickly stripped Y/n’s down to her shorts, her mouth sucking on Y/n’s breast as Y/n rubbed herself even harder against Leah’s leg.

“Can I leave a mark here, love?” Leah asked teasingly, grinding in her teeth on Y/n’s nipple before taking it with her teeth.

Love.

Leah only called Y/n love when they were like... this. Y/n didn’t mind, or at least she told herself she didn’t mind that the only time Leah was affectionate towards her was when they were having sex.

Y/n was ripped from her thoughts as she felt Leah’s firm grip on her jaw. “Look at me,” Leah said. “If I ask you a question, you answer it immediately, understand?”

Y/n nodded, moaning as Leah gave her a sharp slap on her ass. It would have hurt even more if she hadn’t been wearing her Arsenal shorts.  

“Good girl,” Leah smiled, kissing Y/n again, more intensely.

Leah was clearly more dominant than Y/n. She liked to boss people around and hated it when they didn’t do what she wanted. Leah fucking loved it having the upper hand.

Y/n liked being told what to do, she enjoyed when Leah treated her like she was just a stupid horny girl.

Leah knew the effect she had on the girl’s body, knew how wet Y/n’s pussy got when she was a bit mean to her.

“I want you, please.” Y/n murmured against Leah’s ear. The throbbing in her pussy was getting too much, it hurt.

“I don’t think you deserve it,” Leah bit Y/n’s earlobe. “You forget your boots again, didn’t you? That’s why you were a bit clumsy on the field today.

Y/n had a bad habit of forgetting things, being late… all the things Leah hated.

“I—I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” Y/n promised, whimpering as Leah’s finger finally found its way into to clit. “There, please.” The girl moved herself against Leah’s hand, trying to find more friction.

“You say that every time, love, you never learn, do you?”

Leah noticed that Y/n’s legs were shaking, so she held Y/n tighter against her, teasing Y/n’s wet hole. She put a finger, and then another, Moving them slowly.

“I do learn,” Y/n tried to protest.

“No, you don’t, you need me to remind you of everything, just a little puppy you are.” Leah whispered in Y/n’s ears, her warm walls welcoming Leah’s third finger.

“Please, Leah, let me? Please?” Y/n begged, feeling an orgasm approaching. It was as if her chest was tightening, as if there wasn’t enough air for her to breathe.

“Are you close, love?” Leah asked, cupping Y/n’s face and kissing her mouth softly.

Y/n nodded, moving her hips, feeling Leah’s fingers deep inside her.

Just a little more and she would come, just a little more.

“Too bad, not today, darling,” Leah said, removing her finger from Y/n’s pussy as she held the girls hip firmly, scared that Y/n would fall.

“What?!” Y/n cried. “No, more!” Y/n begged as she closed her hands around Leah’s and cupped them on her pussy. “Don’t be mean, please, more.”

Leah quickly grabbed Y/n’s wrists with one hand while holding her jaw with the other. “I’m not being mean, you were the one who left your things at home, this is your punishment.”

Y/n looked at Leah desperately. She was almost there; her tights were already shaking with need.

“I’ve already said I’m sorry,” Y/n grumbled looking down, her cheeks wet.

Leah wiped away her tears, kissed her forehead and pulled the girl into a hug.

“You know I don’t like you crying like that,” Leah said as she sat in her chair, Y/n on her lap. Leah put a comforting hand on Y/n’s back and let the girl cry for a while.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed, shall we?” Leah kissed Y/n’s cheek as she helped the girl back into her training clothes.

Y/n didn’t say a word, she just let Leah do as she pleased.

The blonde women took some tissues to wipe Y/n’s face. “I’m sorry I cried, I know you don’t like it,” Y/n mumbled, placing her head on Leah’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Leah told her. “Are you all right now?”

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I should probably get going.” Y/n lifted herself form Leah’s lap, but the older women held her down.

“You don’t have to go now, you can stay here a little longer, just so I can make sure you’re really ok.”

Leah might be grumpy and distant, but she gave good aftercare.

“I know you have things to do,” Y/n gave Leah a sad smile. “I have to go home anyway.”

“All right then,” Leah agreed, taking her hands off Y/n.

Y/n was still a bit shaky, but she didn’t want Leah to see it. It was hard to let yourself be vulnerable with someone, and even harder when your feelings weren’t reciprocated.

Leah got up and opened the door to her office, taking a quick look outside to see if anyone was around. No one could know about Leah and Y/n, or well, now about their sex arrangement.

“No one is here, you can go,” Leah said, no more softness in her voice. She was back to being the team’s Manager. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Y/n walked out the door. “Yeah, bye,” she mumbled.

“Don’t forget your boots again.” That was the last thing Leah said before closing the door, leaving Y/n alone in the corridor.

[thinemoonshine]

⋆𐙚₊ 𝓹𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝓴𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 ˚⊹♡

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ it’s not his fault. she left when they’re meant to be together. he just wants to keep their promise

good boy!jungwon x bad girl!reader content(s): angst, suggestive, jungwon fell hard and can’t get up at all, profanities, (y/n) is a teeny bit mean in a way where she’s selfish, jungwon is obsessed, won is described to be like a cat—highly jealous, sneaky and sly, toxic relationship type: oneshot

yang jungwon is like an affectionate cat. he loves nuzzling against (y/n) with arms curled around her and pawing whenever he wants attention or to get comfy. his favourite position is to have his face buried in the crook of her neck where her scent is the sweetest.

yang jungwon is like a clingy cat. he's always tailing after (y/n) whenever she's around and sits himself near her with doe eyes blinking prettily for her to notice and look. and when she does, you can almost hear him purr with delight as he grins with glee.

yang jungwon is like a jealous cat. he hates other men approaching his person. his round eyes will sharpen to blades and pierce anyone who dares approach (y/n). his hand will find home around her waist, hip or even shoulder just to show everyone she already has a pet. and if they still don't get it, he might just hiss.

yang jungwon is like a cat, through and through. and just like cats, he can be a teensy bit…cunning.

…

……

jungwon didn’t like what he saw.

his typically soft, playful eyes turned sharp and glaring at the scene he witnessed in front of him. even with the heavy rain that blurred his surroundings into splashes of colour and indistinguishable shapes, he could skillfully recognize (y/n) who was leaned against a lamp post with a man practically sucking her face off.

his hands traveled the surface of her clothes—clawing and pulling at the wet fabric—with the clear intent of wanting to just rip it off. thankfully, he still had some public decency and had left them on.

when they finally pulled away, jungwon’s seething breaths hitched momentarily at the sight of (y/n)’s radiant smile and it was as if she stood under a spotlight. with the moonlight that shone on her glistening skin and sparkling eyes, it pained him to see how gleeful she seemed to be with another beside him.

and he hated it. with all his heart and being.

his knuckles turned as white as a sheet as his fingers tightened around his now dripping wet phone with a screen flashing a bright blue dot on a map that marked (y/n)’s location.

so…this is why she hadn’t answered his texts.

no matter. just like the other boys she fooled around with, he’ll just be another toy she’ll cast aside.

—

that was a week ago and now, jungwon’s enjoying his little ‘won and (y/n)’ saturday sleepover with his head on her lap, her playing with his fluffy blonde hair while they’re both watching the show playing on TV.

it’s peaceful and lighthearted until the girl sharply clicks her tongue—grabbing the attention of the young man on her lap. he flips onto his back to look up at her who’s scowling at her phone.

“what’s up?” he asks, blinking with wide curious eyes.

the girl sighs before throwing her gadget aside. “just another guy who bailed. seriously, what is it these days? all the guys i reach out to always agree at first but then after we confirm the plans, they suddenly ‘can’t make it’ because of some sh!tyy excuse or whatever.”

she groans and lets her head fall back against the couch, her hand also dropping from his fluffy locks. “it’s been so long since i got laid. am i not pretty enough or something?”

jungwon gasps at that, more offended than she is and he quickly clasps her hand in his. “you’re the prettiest, (y/n). the most beautiful person i know inside and out. they’re the ones who are jerks.”

(y/n) chuckles at this and looks down at him who’s smiling up at her almost expectantly, as if hoping for validation or praise. she shakes her head with endearment before using her other hand to brush his bangs back. “but of course, you’d say that, wonnie.”

“i mean it, though,” he claims and he does—with his whole chest and existence. “you’re so breathtaking that i forget to even breathe sometimes. not that i need to.”

“yeah? why’s that?”

“all i need is you~” jungwon sings with his lips puckering exaggeratedly to elongate the ‘you.’

the other scoffs instantly at that and pushes his face away before immediately pulling back with a screech when she feels something wet and warm slide against her palm.

“yang jungwon! did you lick me??” she exclaims, flabbergasted, and yet the other only giggles playfully with a wiggle of his brows as he sits up.

“your hand lotion smells sweet,” he reasons and her brows jump with disbelief.

with a scrunched face, she dries her wet hand on his sleeve with a rough swipe. “it doesn’t mean it’ll taste nice!”

jungwon disagrees though. and he’s not afraid to show that by tilting his head with a frown of disagreement. “you always taste nice.”

(y/n)’s opportunity to retort is stripped away by him whose face is suddenly inches away from her as his eyes flicker between hers before zoning down at her mouth.

her breaths hitch when his own fans her lips and his tongue darts out to flick at the rosy nubs. “jungwon—”

“kiss?” he hums quietly and at the sight of it still closed tight, he draws closer with a little huff while his hand gently paws at her lap. “please? won wants kiss…”

(y/n) can feel her resolve shattering at his small pleas and she parts her lips to which he instantly dives into.

he doesn’t spare a second to practically feast on her in a messy choreography—tongues tangling, breaths blending and saliva stringing—and the intensity of it all shocks her, especially so when he straddles her.

thinking back, all of this started a week ago. she’s not sure what exactly sparked it but long story short, (y/n)’s apartment door had been rung incessantly and the moment she peeked through the eyehole, she was overrun with both worry and horror at the sight of a completely soaked jungwon standing outside her door.

various questions filled her head. what was he doing out in the rain nearing midnight? why was he at her door?

sure, she too herself had just come home an hour ago after a hooking up with some guy but that was her. a norm. jungwon? goody-two-shoes jungwon to be out of bed, out in the rain, soaked head-to-toe and not to mention, drunk??

something was definitely up. and that very same time was when jungwon started asking for kisses, saying something along the lines of “need to… need to clean…”

and if doing it was the only way to get him to calm down, she’d do anything.

at the end though, what she thought was a one time thing, a mistake by his drunken self, was actually some sort of new ‘diet’ jungwon had. something he had to have each day. something he began to shamelessly ask for.

and deep within (y/n)’s twisted little self, she reveled in the way he seemed to yearn for her kisses. like she was his lifeline. of course, she’s rational enough to not let it go beyond the line.

as if that would make it better.

“jungwon, kitty,” she calls after pulling away and the nickname makes him gasp softly as he shudders on her lap. growing up, he had a habit of sinking his teeth into things and (y/n)’s always the main victim. the fact that this knowledge is personal between them makes it so intimate, so special that he just can’t help but preen whenever he hears the name.

“hm?” he hums whilst nosing her cheeks and leaving soft butterfly kisses on her face.

her hand moves to gently push him away by the chest just so they can properly see one another. “what happened that day?“

he freezes, nervous gaze flicking between hers before looking down. he can’t tell her that he used their little friendship necklace that doubles as safety trackers because she wasn’t answering his texts. he can’t tell her that he saw her making out with some other dude and nearly lost his mind when he saw that she liked it. he can’t tell her that he practically had to drink himself away just so he could forget and not tear the man’s head off his neck.

so instead, he says, “i was just stressed. everything…everything is just overwhelming.”

good job, jungwon, he pats himself in the back. playing the typical overworked uni student will always be believable.

he throws in a small pout as his brows raise and dip at the ends and he knows she’s bought it when a soft coo sounds and her fingers start to play with the hair on his nape.

won simply melts at the touch, leaning slightly and baring his neck as he sighs dreamily.

“so is that what this is? your stress reliever?” (y/n) refers to the kisses.

he stays silent for an unnoticeable second. if he had to be completely honest, the kisses are because he wants to wipe off whatever filth was left behind by that man that kissed her.

but stress reliever isn’t precisely wrong he suppose. her lips are to die for. she is to die for.

he nods softly and curls himself into her—arms wrapping around her waist as his head rests in the crook of her neck—and he nuzzles to drown himself in her sweet, soothing scent.

his knees lock around her hips as his tongue flicks out to lick stripes against the skin of her neck and his ears perk at the sound of her giggles.

“that tickles,” she comments with a light jerk when he nips.

he smiles.

yeah, just this is fine for now.

—

no.

nonononononono no!

this isn’t supposed to happen!

jungwon stares with horror at the scene unfolding in front of him.

she’s back with that rodent. that…that little pest! how dare he crawl his way back to her?? after all i’ve done to make sure he stays away—

“jungwon!” (y/n)’s chirpy voice fishes him out of the depths of his rapidly darkening thoughts but he still can’t manage to put on a smile when his one and only comes up to him with her arm linked in another’s. “i thought you said had no class today.”

jungwon forces himself to form a small grin, enough to at least make him seem unsuspicious but not at the very least welcoming to the third party. “oh, i don’t! but i had to drop off an assignment.”

(y/n) nods at this and immediately gestures to her…company. “this is minoo. i’ve told you about him.”

yes, you did, won thinks bitterly in his head, teeth gritting beneath his strained smile. he’s a nasty waste of spa—

“jungwon, right? (y/n)’s told me about you too,” minoo says with a hand offered for a shake. the former’s feline eyes are quick to follow his motions before tracking back up to his gaze. with a small nod, he accepts his handshake—only by the tips of his fingers before having to physically restrain himself from shuddering. “said to me that you’re her childhood friend. hard to believe honestly.”

his comment vexes him and a dark brow arches up challengingly on jungwon’s face.

“why’s that?” he hisses and (y/n)’s quick to notice but says nothing. he’s always been defensive about their relationship. always the first to claw and hiss whenever someone makes an off-putting remark.

minoo doesn’t seem at all deterred and if anything, he seems more amused about it. a cocky chuckle sounds and he tilts his head—mockingly, won might add—before clicking his tongue. “oh, nothing. you guys are so…different. i get it, opposites attract and all but you know well yourself, she’s way better with someone like me than well…you.”

the girl’s eyes widen twice their size, ready to pull won away from spitting venom through his teeth which might end with some of them falling off by minoo’s fist if she might add.

but in contrary to her expectations, he…

drop!

the first of many tears cascade down his rosy cheek down to the dry cement below them before they thicken to streams.

“jungwon,” she gasps and reaches forward to cup his face that quickly turns flushed as he sniffles, turning his head to hide within her cold palm.

“i know…i know that,” he chokes out when he pulls away with a rushed inhale. his red-rimmed, brimming eyes staring straight at minoo with contempt and yet, defeat. “i know she’ll never choose me but, it’s not wrong of me to keep hoping! it’s…it’s not wrong… it’s not wrong to wish and hold on... it’s not wrong…”

hearing that confession spill from his trembling lips strikes a cord in her—an epiphany—and her eyes travel across his face for a moment, taking his raw emotion in all his entirety before taking a step back.

jungwon almost stops crying instantly at the loss of her touch and he looks up with confusion as she backs away to minoo’s side once again. “(y/n)…?”

“i shouldn’t have let it go this far,” is all she mutters and she doesn’t spare a moment for him to stop her when she suddenly spins on her heels while dragging minoo away with.

his tears dried instantly as alarms blare in his ears incessantly.

you’re losing her, jungwon.

what did you do? you ruined it!

“w-wait!” jungwon calls out, voice cracking but she ignores. not a single pause or glance.

she’s going further away, jungwon. you’re losing her. she hates you now. you’ve done it.

“i’m sorry! i-it was all my fault, i—!”

he gulps harshly. his throat’s too dry from having to strain himself to cry—to act like a meek, broken lamb. he never thought it would backfire.

and now he’s actually crying.

his arm outstretches towards her, wanting to keep up but he knows that going after her is going to escalate everything. he knows her enough to know that if his tears don’t work, nothing will.

but what else can he do??

you’re losing her. you arelosing her. youarelosingher. losingherlosinglosinglosingherlosingher—

you lost her.

jungwon heaves, chest too heavy and breathing suddenly all too laborious as he clutches his chest through his shirt. he watches with a trampled spirit and weeping eyes as her figure diminishes further and further away.

“i lost her.”

—

—-

——

jungwon’s not easily deterred. like a cat, he’s stubborn. like a cat, he has claws to sink.

he leans against the jagged stone wall of the dark alley. his black hood’s pulled up over his head while his hand is stuffed in his dark cargo pants, the other spinning around his phone between his fingers deftly.

it’s in the dead of the night in a place so quiet it’s unnerving, a striking contrast from the usually busy city. footsteps sound and they begin to echo the deeper they venture into the alley.

jungwon’s ears perk and eyes lift from the ground to the wall in front of him—sharpening to a glare the moment a figure steps between.

“i knew there had to be something wrong under that innocence face you play,” minoo chuckles with amusement. his brows raise with a daring smirk. “how’d you get my number, huh?”

“(y/n)’s phone. she doesn’t change her passcode,” jungwon casually replies and the other scoffs.

“really? thought you guys don’t talk anymore after your whole… crying fest.”

“i’ve had it for a while. just in case.”

“wah… so you’re a real creep, aren’t ya? and she trusts you wholeheartedly. you should’ve seen how she practically tore herself knowing how she ‘broke’ you,” minoo comments and leans against the opposing wall with his chin raised high. “fvck, it was such a bother. couldn’t even do anything with her being such a party pooper.”

“watch your mouth,” jungwon hisses as his hands curl at his sides, teeth gritted.

minoo raises his own hands in false surrender. “hey, don’t act like you’re such a saint. after all, we both know that you slashed my tires when i was about to go on that date with (y/n).”

the other says nothing to this—no confirmation, no refute—and minoo scoffs. he pushes himself off the wall and brings his face near him, grinning ear to ear. “hey, say something won’t you? why’d even ask to meet if you’re gonna stay mute like a little pussy?”

again, jungwon stays quiet—but just for a good moment. “stay away from (y/n). she deserves someone better than you.”

“yeah? like who? you?” minoo scoffs and tilts his head tauntingly.

won’s fists grow taut, nails digging into his palms as they tremble but again, he doesn't voice an answer. "just stay away."

minoo clicks his tongue and he leans back, now more annoyed than he is amused. he drops his head low as his eyes glare into the other's. "and if i don't?"

then without warning, jungwon smacks himself across the face—shocking the other and minoo straightens with eyes popping—but he doesn't stop once, no. he does it again, again and again from various different angles until his lips are cut and bleeding.

"what the fvck, man?? the hell are you doing?!” min bursts, both weirded out and unnerved.

“what i have to,” won replies almost monotonous and he grunts when he slams himself against the brick wall behind him—harsh. he repeats it, back of his skull knocking against the jagged stone with a clear ‘THUD!’ and his vision blackens for a moment as head spins.

he hisses and brows knit, clearly in pain as he stumbles from the momentary dizziness but he’s swift to turn around just to smash his forehead against the serrated screen from years of neglect.

“STOP IT, MAN!” minoo finally shouts, clearly perturbed and terrified and he grapples his shoulder to pull him away.

but jungwon doesn’t stop. not yet.

just when minoo manages to yank him a good distance away, he leaps straight back into the wall like he’s trying to materialize through it—like a madman. a self-destructive maniac.

“FINE! FINE! I’ll leave her alone so just stop acting like some fvcking psycho, dude!” minoo finally yields, face pale and breaths shallow from the anxiety as he watches jungwon continue to ruin himself like a brainless zombie.

he was ruthless—bashing his head against the brick wall, smashing himself against it as if daring it to crumble if not him first and fingers pounding and clawing, leaving traces of blood from the torn, tattered tips. he was brutal, unforgiving and yet, he’s grinning through it all.

he turns around with a stagger, panting heavily as he lifts his focus to him. minoo’s petrified at the crazed look in his bulging, widened eyes and the unnatural spread of his bloody lips from ear to ear is near predatory—devilish.

minoo’s insides are near to leaping out of his skin but he relents—standing frozen as jungwon approaches.

the latter rests a hand on the other’s shoulder and he tilts his head. the blood dripping from his temple drops onto the hard ground and his tongue swipes against the oozing red on his busted bottom lip. “i trust you will as i hope you’ll be smarter.”

he then tucks his hand into minoo’s hoodie’s pocket and fishes out his handphone with a screen lit by the clear recording symbol. the owner freezes, not expecting for jungwon to find out.

the latter ends the tape before permanently deleting it from his phone and waving it at the side of his face. “smarter than this.”

no matter how unassuming it sounds, chills runs down min’s spine. it feels like a threat—one that’s grim, that’s written in blood. deadly. and he shudders when won’s feline eyes glint with a foxy intent—quickly snatching his phone back before stuffing it into his jeans.

“whatever…” minoo mutters and rushes out the alley, leaving jungwon alone in the haunting darkness. one that seemed to emanate from him.

won breathes heavily as his vision blurs—the blood loss and heavy hits he took starting taking a toll on him. but he can’t lose himself, not yet.

he takes out his phone and clicks on a number, hearing it dial for a few times before the other line answers.

“jungwon? it’s so late, why are you—”

jungwon coughs harshly and wheezes after, putting on his best performance in exaggerating his wounds—not that he’s not severely hurt but he’d be lying if he said it’s unbearable. he’d rather have this pain a million times than the pain of losing (y/n).

“h-help…” he croaks. “minoo—!”

CRACK!

he drops his phone onto the stone floor and smiles when he hears her panicked voice screaming through the phone—asking where he is and if he’s fine before ultimately rushing out her door.

jungwon sighs contentedly and sits himself on the ground. his eyes rake over the wall painted with his blood before at the torn, grated skin on the bloody tips of his fingers.

now, he waits.

—

a week has passed since then.

minoo, the ‘perpetrator,’ is a serving time at a correctional facility for his ‘acts of violence.’ while the ‘victim,’ jungwon, is almost healed up and had been released from the hospital to instead rest up at home with a pardon from school.

and (y/n)? she’s been taking time off just to nurse after him, much to his utmost delight.

she has been going above and beyond for him due to her guilt—apologizing profusely for letting minoo in her life and undoubtedly bringing him to jungwon. and won, of course, always denies it, saying “it’s not your fault! it never is!” because truthfully, it isn’t.

it’s his. minoo didn’t even lay a hand on him. he was the one who damaged himself but they will never know that, will they?

not when his little friendship necklace with (y/n) that doubles as a tracker was found in minoo’s hoodie. imagine her shock and horror when she went out to find jungwon only for her to be lead to minoo.

but the anger she portrayed after, it was a sight to behold, the police were called and so was the ambulance after they found out jungwon’s location from minoo.

he claimed innocent. begging and pleading to be heard.

“it wasn’t me! he was insane!” “he kept running through the wall! punched himself and all!” “i’m the victim! h-he must have snuck that necklace into my pocket!”

how pitiful.

jungwon wished he could’ve been there to see it.

“how do you feel, baby? need something else?” (y/n) asks with utmost care as her hand brushes back his bangs.

jungwon purrs, pushing his head into her touch. “no, i’m okay. thank you for taking care of me.”

(y/n) stares at him as he clings to her, his pretty, doe eyes blinking at her like she’s his world, his saviour, his reason for living. he looks at her like she’s his world.

and she knows it’s her doing. she should’ve cut things short but she had been selfish.

“don’t…don’t thank me,” she quietly says, remorseful, and jungwon’s sparkly eyes soften as they study her grey mien before he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“lie with me?” he invites and she nods with a soft smile—joining him on his bed and tucking herself into his arms that gladly scoop her up.

he pats her back and strokes the back of her head. they revel in the peaceful silence and warmth that envelope them—one indulging in it much more than the other with a lovesick grin on his face and hearts glowing in his eyes.

“i don’t need anything else. i just need you,” jungwon mumbles into her hair and she chuckles. “like our promise.”

his words linger in the air for a moment before she sits up, a hand on his chest while the other props her up on her side to look at him.

“promise?”

won meets her gaze and nods. “back then, we promised to stay together forever. that’s why we got those tracking necklaces—so we can always find our way to each other more matter where we are.”

his words rekindles the memory in her head and her brows knit with guilt.

“you still remember?” she croaks, tears brimming and jungwon’s swift to bring his thumb up to wipe away a stray tear of hers.

“of course, i do. i remember everything about you—about us,” he says without a single doubt and sits up to hold her face. he bends down slightly to meet her height. “hey, hey… don’t cry. please, don’t cry. you’ll hurt your eyes again. shh, shh…”

he hugs her close and pushes her head gently to rest it on his shoulder—biting his lip when she brings herself closer to burrow into the crook of his neck. “i remember because well… i’ve always believed that i will stay with you—then, now and forevermore. promises aren’t meant to be broken. so you’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

“i will. i will, jungwon. and i’m so so sorry it took me so long to see that. to say this to you,” (y/n) sobs against him and he coos among comforting hushes as he pats her back.

“don’t be sorry. you don’t have to apologize for anything,” jungwon assures, his voice lulling and he presses a warm, lingering kiss on her temple. “in my eyes, you can do no wrong. you can slap me, kick me, stab me with a knife if you wish but as long as i know it’s your hand that’s holding it, i’ll gladly let it pierce my heart. you’re my everything, (y/n). i hope you know that.”

her cries only heighten at his genuine confession, heart aching like it’s breaking as tears overflow at the uncritical fondness he holds for her.

if she wasn’t in his embrace, she’s sure she would have shattered into pieces like fragile ceramic—completely oblivious to the wicked, toxic thoughts that fill her little angel’s head the longer he has her in his arms.

at this point, if she knew he was the one who baited minoo into a bear trap, made him watch as he thoroughly crushed and bled himself to the point of minoo’s mental ruin, snuck his necklace into his hoodie and called (y/n) for the fantastic finale, she’s still gonna think that jungwon did it for a good cause.

because just as he sees (y/n) as the embodiment of perfection, she now sees him as a poor, pathetic lamb who can do no sin—a saint.

and along with the guilt that now haunts her, he’s permanently tethered her to his side.

she can’t leave now, she can’t leave ever. they belong together, forever.

[wonder-innie]

this is my first time request but i was wondering if you could make a fluff/smut oneshot on reader and lee know being in the same friend group but reader starts messaging him to get to know him once they realise they have a crush on him. he eventually finds out that they have a crush and keeps prodding to find out clues as to who it could be but then reader doesn’t give in so easily. you can give it whatever kind of ending…

so obvious, so clueless

lee know x fem!reader. fluff

word count: 3.3k

a.n: tysm for the request! i loved writing this.

a.n 2: english is not my first language. check my masterlist

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Lee Know and you had always been part of the same friend group, and making plans one-on-one with any of them was never a problem… except when it came to him. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea; it was just that your relationship with him wasn’t as strong as it was with the others.

One night, all your friends got too drunk, except for you and Lee Know. With nothing else to do, the two of you started talking, and to your surprise, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You felt comfortable with him in a way you never had before. At one point, he let out a bright, genuine laugh, his smile practically lighting up the room. You had seen him smile before, but somehow, this time, it felt different, like you were seeing it for the first time. It was the prettiest smile you had ever seen. Before you knew it, you found yourself searching for the best jokes just to make him smile again. You weren’t sure why.

Days passed, yet that moment lingered in your mind, how easy it was to talk to him, how comfortable you felt, and… how handsome he was. You started stalking him on Instagram more often, to the point where you practically had his pictures memorized. Each time you saw his face, your heart raced, and that’s when it hit you. You had a crush on him.

You tried to ignore it, pushing the feelings away whenever they surfaced. What if it ruined your friendship? Worse… what if it affected the whole group? Some nights, when you couldn’t sleep, your mind wandered to the possibilities. If you two started dating and it didn’t work out… would everything fall apart? You didn’t want to be the reason your group broke up.

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A week later, you wanted to talk to him so badly that you couldn’t help but send him a message, ignoring all your second thoughts. You opened his chat, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. After a few minutes of overthinking, you decided to keep it simple.

“Heyy.”

Lee Know replied half an hour later, asking how your day had been. And just like that, the conversation started flowing, just like it had that night. He told you about his cats and even sent you a few pictures of them. They were adorable.

“They took their cuteness after their owner,” you typed without thinking twice.

The moment you hit send, you froze. Your eyes widened as realization hit… you had just sent him a pick up line with him. Unintentionally.

You gasped, heart pounding, suddenly regretting your words. But then, his reply popped up.

A single laughing emoji.

You sighed in relief when you saw that he hadn’t taken it as a serious attempt to flirt. At least, you hoped he hadn’t.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You and Lee Know had been texting for weeks, growing closer with each conversation. At some point, you even started sending what you both called “good morning selfies” (pictures of each other as soon as you woke up, looking as awful as possible). Well… at least that was the goal. Lee Know looked effortlessly handsome in every single one.

When Felix’s birthday came around, he invited the whole group to his place to celebrate. You felt a wave of nervous excitement, this would be the first time seeing Lee Know face-to-face after all those late-night chats. Wanting to look your best, you put on your prettiest dress and put extra effort into your makeup.

At Felix’s house, you greeted everyone with a hug, one by one. When it was Lee Know’s turn, your nerves spiked, but you didn’t hesitate. He smelled amazing. His cologne was deep, musky, and completely intoxicating. He was wearing a simple shirt and jeans—nothing particularly trendy—but to you, he had never looked better. Why did everything about him have to be so effortlessly perfect?

You didn’t get a chance to talk to him in private until later that night when Felix announced it was “movie time.” Settling onto the couch, you took a seat near the corner. You weren’t expecting Lee Know to sit beside you. It caught you off guard, but you weren’t about to complain.

Felix pressed play, and the movie began…a romcom. You hated romcoms. You always thought they were ridiculously predictable.

A few minutes in, Lee Know leaned close to whisper in your ear.

“This movie sucks.”

You stifled a laugh, turning your head toward him.

“I know, right? But we’re watching it for Felix… so be quiet.” You nudged him lightly before focusing back on the screen.

Of course, Lee Know wasn’t going to just sit there and behave. That wasn’t in his nature.

He suddenly blew softly against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps erupted across your skin.

“Don’t do that!” you hissed, glaring at him.

He grinned. “I’m boreeed. Entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want me to do? Pull a bunny out of my magical hat?”

His soft laughter sent a spark through your chest. “Yes, please. I’ve never seen a magician before.”

You let out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll entertain you by roasting this horrible movie, then.”

He smirked. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

After a brief glance at the screen, you blurted out, “Noah Centineo’s acting is so fucking cringe it makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a damn spoon.”

Lee Know covered his mouth to stifle his laugh, his shoulders shaking. He leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with amusement. “God, I love the way your brain works.”

Lee Know leaned in again, his breath warm against your ear. “I swear, if they make the couple kiss in the rain, I’m walking out.”

You snorted, whispering back, “Oh, you just know it’s coming. Probably with some dramatic speech about ‘fate’ too.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Yeah, because nothing says true love like pneumonia.”

As the movie dragged on, you and Lee Know kept whispering back and forth, throwing sarcastic comments at every overused trope. It was like no one else was in the room.

At one point, the main characters had a dramatic breakup scene, and Lee Know sighed, shaking his head. “Three… two… one… and cue the sad montage.”

Right on time, the screen faded into a heartbroken protagonist staring out of a rainy window.

You stifled a laugh. “I hate how predictable this is.”

“Right? It’s like they copy and paste the same script every time.”

As you both chuckled softly, what you didn’t notice were the lingering glances from your friends.

Felix, sipping his drink, nudged Seungmin with his elbow and tilted his head toward you two. “Are they always like this?” he whispered.

Seungmin smirked. “Nope. This is new.”

Han, sprawled on the floor with a pillow under his head, wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing some serious chemistry over there.”

Felix nodded subtly, watching as Lee Know leaned in to whisper something else in your ear, making you giggle. “Yeah… they’re in their own little world.”

Changbin, who had been watching quietly, grinned. “Should we say something?”

Felix shook his head. “Nah. Let’s see how long it takes them to notice.”

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to your friends’ knowing looks, you and Lee Know were still locked into your conversation.

Lee Know sighed dramatically. “If they don’t end up together in the dumbest way possible, I’ll be disappointed.”

You smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s definitely about to show up at her wedding and confess his love in front of everyone.”

Lee Know groaned. “God, I hope he gets rejected. Just once. Just for the plot twist.”

You snickered. “You’re asking for too much.”

At that moment, a new song started playing over the movie’s emotional climax. Lee Know made a face. “Oh great. Cue the emotional acoustic song.”

The movie’s final scene cut to black eventually, and the lights flicked on.

You stretched your arms and sighed, ready to make another sarcastic remark, when you noticed something strange, your friends were all staring at you and Lee Know.

You blinked. “Uh… what?”

Felix cleared his throat, quickly looking away. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Seungmin coughed into his fist. “Yeah, just… interesting movie, huh?”

Han smirked but said nothing, exchanging a glance with Changbin.

You frowned, confused, but shrugged it off. Meanwhile, Lee Know stretched beside you, completely unbothered.

The night eventually came to an end. As you were about to leave, Seungmin casually stepped beside you, hands tucked into his pockets.

“So… you like Lee Know, huh?”

You nearly choked on air. “W-What?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious.”

Your face heated up instantly. You glanced around, making sure no one else was paying attention before whispering, “Okay, fine. Maybe. A little.”

Seungmin scoffed. “A little? You were in your own little world with him the entire night.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters. He probably doesn’t—”

“He does.” Seungmin cut you off, looking at you like you were an idiot. “Y/N, the rest of us can see it. And if we can, you seriously think he doesn’t feel the same?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You think so?”

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head with a small smirk. “I don’t think. I know.”

And with that, he patted your shoulder and walked off, leaving you standing there, replaying his words in your head.

Maybe… just maybe, he was right.

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A few weeks later, your friend group planned a beach day. The plan was to leave early in the morning—around 6 or 7 AM—so they’d be picking you up at your place.

When the car arrived, you climbed in, greeted everyone sleepily, and settled into your seat. You ended up sitting next to Lee Know.

Still groggy from waking up so early, you leaned your head against the window, trying to get comfortable for the long drive. But just as you started to relax, Lee Know nudged your arm.

“So… I heard something interesting the other day.”

You blinked, turning to him. “What?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Seungmin told me you have a crush on someone.”

Your stomach dropped. That traitor.

You kept your expression neutral, playing it cool. “Oh? And you believe everything Seungmin says?”

Lee Know narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not buying it. “So it’s not true?”

You hesitated for half a second too long.

His smirk widened. “It is true.”

You groaned, turning your head away. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

But Lee Know was relentless. “Come on, just tell me who it is.”

You shook your head. “Nope. It’s a secret.”

He huffed, pretending to be offended. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

Lee Know gasped dramatically. “Unbelievable. I thought we were close.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We are, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything.”

For the rest of the car ride, Lee Know kept trying to get you to spill.

“Is it someone from our friend group?”

“Do I know them?”

“Oh my god, is it Felix?”

You ignored most of his questions, dodging them with vague answers or simply changing the subject. No matter how persistent he was, you refused to give in.

And by the time you finally arrived at the beach, Lee Know still had no clue who your crush was.

But that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to find out.

After arriving at the beach, your group got to work setting everything up; planting umbrellas in the sand, spreading out towels, and placing a cooler filled with beers in the middle of your little setup. The sun was already blazing, and the sound of waves crashing mixed with the laughter of your friends as they ran toward the water.

You had worn your bikini under your clothes, so without much thought, you grabbed the hem of your oversized T-shirt and pulled it over your head, quickly slipping out of your shorts.

What you didn’t expect was Lee Know’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him freeze. His entire body stiffened, and he quickly turned his head to the side, his ears turning red. He was flustered.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. Was he really that shy just from seeing you in a bikini? Seeing that reaction made your heart beat faster, looked so cute.

Trying to act casual, you grabbed your bottle of sunscreen and began applying it to your arms and legs. But when it came to your back, you hesitated. Your friends were already running toward the ocean, leaving only one person behind.

Lee Know.

You turned to him, holding up the sunscreen bottle. “Hey… can you help me with my back?”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at you.

“M-Me?”

You nodded. “Unless you want me to ask a total stranger?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes before snatching the bottle from your hand. “Fine, turn around.”

You turned your back to him, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. A few seconds later, his hands pressed against your back, spreading the cool sunscreen across your shoulders.

You swallowed. His touch was… soft.

His hands moved slowly, spreading the lotion over your shoulder blades, down to the middle of your back. You felt the way his fingers hesitated for a split second before gliding lower, rubbing the sunscreen into your skin with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

You liked it.

Your heartbeat picked up as his fingers pressed a little firmer, the warmth of his hands contrasting against the chill of the lotion. For a moment, it felt almost… intimate.

Lee Know cleared his throat behind you. “There. Done.”

You turned to face him, noticing the faint pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly handed you back the bottle, avoiding your gaze.

You took it with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded, still refusing to meet your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t get sunburned.”

You chuckled softly before turning toward the ocean, but you could still feel the lingering warmth of his hands on your skin.

The day went by normally, filled with laughter, splashes in the ocean, and the warmth of the sun against your skin. You and your friends had lunch right there on the beach, passing around sandwiches and drinks as the waves crashed nearby.

And throughout the day, Lee Know kept trying to get information out of you.

Every once in a while, he’d lean in, his voice teasing yet curious. “So… are you sure you don’t want to tell me?”

You’d simply shake your head, smiling innocently. “Nope.”

This game continued all afternoon. Every time he thought he was getting close, you dodged the question. Your friends, however, had started catching on.

Felix, Seungmin, and Han exchanged amused glances, whispering among themselves every time Lee Know tried (and failed) to get you to confess. He was completely oblivious to what was right in front of him.

Then, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Felix suddenly clapped his hands together.

“We should go get more beer.”

The others instantly caught on.

“Yeah, good idea,” Han said, already standing up.

Changbin stretched, “Let’s go before the store closes.”

One by one, they all got up, casually dusting the sand off their clothes.

You blinked. “…Wait, all of you are going?”

Felix grinned, “Yeah, why not?” Then, with a very obvious look between you and Lee Know, he added, “We’ll be back soon. Enjoy the sunset.”

Before you could protest, they were already walking away, leaving you alone with Lee Know.

A heavy silence settled between you two.

For the first time all day, he didn’t say anything.

The sound of the waves filled the quiet space, and you focused on the horizon, watching the sun sink lower. But then…

Lee Know let out a long sigh.

“Just tell me who it is. The suspense is killing me.”

You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the ocean. “I can’t tell you, Lee Know.”

“Why not?” He turned to fully face you, his brows furrowed. “Don’t you trust me? I thought we were friends.”

Friends.

That word hit you like a knife straight to the chest.

A mix of emotions… your feelings for him, the pressure he was putting on you, the fear of ruining your friendship, of breaking your friend group… it all exploded at once.

Before you could stop them, tears welled up in your eyes and started spilling down your cheeks.

You quickly stood up, turning away from him as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. You needed space.

Lee Know immediately noticed your shift in mood, and his voice softened.

“Hey… I’m sorry.” His tone was full of regret. “I didn’t mean to push you so much. I just—” He sighed again, more frustrated with himself than anything. “I need to know.”

Slowly, you turned back around, and when he saw your tear-streaked face, his eyes widened in alarm.

“You’re an idiot!” You snapped, voice shaking. “Do you really not see it? It’s so obvious…!”

Lee Know blinked, still clueless. “I must be an idiot then, because apparently, I’m the only one in our group who hasn’t figured it out.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief before finally, finally saying the words you had been holding in for weeks.

“It’s you, idiot! You’re the one I’ve liked for almost two months now. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

A heavy silence filled the space between you two.

Lee Know stood in front of you, motionless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you stared down at the sand, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

Then, gently, he reached out and lifted your chin with his fingers.

Your breath hitched as your eyes finally met his. His gaze was intense yet unbelievably soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

With the same hand, he delicately wiped away your tears, his thumb brushing against your cheek before resting his palm there. His touch was warm, grounding.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “How am I supposed to hold back when you look beautiful even when you’re crying?”

Before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss took you completely by surprise. Your body froze for a few seconds, too shocked to react. But then—instinct took over.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his soft hair. His arms circled your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you seemed to blur.

The kiss was deep, filled with all the emotions that had been bottled up for weeks. The warmth of his lips, the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss—it all felt so right.

The sound of the waves and the golden hues of the sunset painted the perfect scene around you.

And then…

A sudden burst of cheers erupted behind you.

You both pulled apart, startled, only to find your entire friend group standing there, grinning like idiots.

Felix clapped dramatically. “Finally!”

Han smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I told you he liked you too.”

Changbin grinned, raising an imaginary glass. “A toast to the new couple! I better get invited to your wedding.”

You groaned, hiding your face in Lee Know’s chest, while he simply smirked, unfazed.

Without missing a beat, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you even closer, whispering just for you to hear.

“Guess we really were obvious, huh?”

[whore-ibly-hot]

Tw: Dubcon, coercion, orgasm denial, general guys being icky and manipulative.

(Its kinda ass idk)

Thinking about...

A couple of guys, not really delinquents bit certainly not 'upstanding' citizens just using you for some relief. It's probably after some event, maybe a rock show at some shithole downtown, or maybe you were just getting some snacks with guys you thought were your friends. Not thought, they are your friends, but you couldn't have imagined this.

The first fidgets with the lever of the backseats, trying to get them folded back into the trunk while number twos tugging at your skirt, your tits pressed harshly into the leather of his car. "Cmon, find the fucking lever!" He growls and number one, who raises his hands in defense. "What do you want me to do, its probably your fucking car that let this happen. This shit-bucket probably doesn't even have a lever for the seats anymore."

Number three is driving, slowly finding some small lot with minimal lights in the back of some old building, shifting into park. While the two in back continue to bicker, he makes his way to the front of you. "Are you two sure about this? Seems like going to far." He says, one hand gripping at his pants sleeve with tension.

"You're bricked up too, bro. You aren't exactly the virgin Mary here." Number two pauses, then chuckles. "But, maybe virgin does fit." One cackles too, prompting three to smack the shoulder of two. "You're not scared, are you? You want this plenty, right?" Two asks, squishing your cheeks together in a 'fishy' face with a free hand.

"Don't know." You're scared, tired from the the fun night, unsure why three guys you've always been platonic with are doing this, but you can't deny the aching in your gut, the way your thighs are rubbing a bit against the leather seams of the middle seat and the far right seat. "I'm not sure, you guys-" You yelp, a hard open-palm grazing across the sliver of exposed ass poking from under your slightly ridden up skirt.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" Three asks, suddenly the seat jolts down, making you gasp. "Easy, easy."

"Get that skirt off, I just know she's got a good ass." One's hands push up, grabbing a cheek each amd kneading them as he groans. "Fucking mint, look at this, baby!" One leans so he's over you a bit, hard clothed cock pressing against your ass as he whispers in your ear. "Why'd you hide this thing from us?" He asks.

"I wasn't hiding it-"

"Obviously." Two snarks. "We barely even had to lift this skirt up, you were practically flaunting it."

God, you're aching. Maybe it's half stress, half arousal making you run on adrenaline, but the lack of care they seem to have for how you feel about this is having a primal effect on you.

"Pussy's fat too..." One comments, yanking down the thin panties keeping your soaked lips from him.

"Careful!" You squeak, causing them all to actually pause for a moment. "Its... been a bit."

Two breaks out into a grin, realizing this should mean dwindling protests from you about the way they plan to use you.

"She's not saying yes." Three protests, hand coming to hover over your cunt, effectively blocking his eager friends wandering fingers.

"She said maybe, and look at her!" One tries to get his hands past threes hand. "She's dripping on his leather seats, she's wetter than a bitch in heat.

"Its not like we're holding her down in some alley or something!" Two adds, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. "This is loving compared to that. Vanilla stuff." He snips.

Three seems conflicted, eyes downcast as he reluctantly pulls a hand away, moving it to gently rub your back up and down, as if trying to soothe a cat.

"Finally. Glad you decided to knock off the cockblocking." Spreading the lips of your labia, one whistles lowly, dragging a digital from your hole to aroused bud from behind, gently circling once, then twice.

"Shit-" You whisper out, gripping the seat edges with slick hands. You can feel threes hand clench slightly, but you lay your cheek on his knee, casting a flushed and low-lidded glance up at him. This reassures him a little, but your head near his oh-so sensitive inner thigh makes this action also go right to his dick.

"Fingers, how many you want?" One whispers. You just mewl at the feeling of friction on your clit, whining when it suddenly stops. "Wait, wait, okay, two, two!" You exclaim. You jolt forward a bit at the slight intrusion, the digits working you towards a finish, but not at the pace you'd like.

"You're sucking him in like crazy, shit." Two chuckles, leaning to glance behind you. "Makes me wonder what kinda suction you'd have elsewhere." He fidgets with his belt, the sound of a zipper and belt clasp coming undone sounds out, and a snap of boxers being pulled slightly lower. Three looks disgusted as two just winks, taking his own cock in his hand and running his hand over it once, then twice before pressing it forward.

Your lips wet with the slightly sticky red tip he presses to them, prodding once or twice like he's seeking entrance. "You wanna out in? Just give it a taste, I promise I'm not gonna make you take it all the way, baby." Two chuckles as you awkwardly kiss the tip. "That's nice, but I'm not asking you to give it's first kiss." Gripping your hair, he guides it in a bit, groaning. "Yeah, there we go. Right around my cock, use your tongue." You let out a moan as one hits a spot with the tips of his fingers, curled inside. It reverberates around Two's cock, causing him to buck. He keeps his promise, you have to admit, he only bucks forward a bit before pulling his length back out. "You're taking it so fucking good, not gonna bruise your mouth though, she's taking it like a fucking champ, man." He glances at One. "You think she's close?"

"Her pussy's twitching like she's gonna pop any second." The bragging first member slows his pace, causing you to whine and pull your mouth off Two's cock. "Why'd you stop, wait- wait-" You're panting, on the verge of overstimulation and seeking that release rather than focus on all your conflicting feelings.

"Shh, calm down. You'll get your pussy rocked, calm down." Two elbows Three, nodding his head towards the man. He's been stoic since you out your head on his leg, conflicted and sickened, while simultaneously being sickening aroused. "Last chance to jump this, man. I know you want to.." Three just pushes him back, but moves to have you sit up, now facing him. His hands on your cheek. "Breathe. S' okay, you want to stop, or you want to finish this?" He asks.

"Finish it, baby. We'll stroke it over yo-" Three smacks off one, scolding him before turning back to you. "Your choice. Your decision. Don't listen to them." Three reassures you, arms on blocking you in and leaning over you slightly to keep the other two from interfering.

"Finish. I wanna cum, m' aching and-" You buck forward just a bit, and he gets the memo. "Okay, okay. Lay on your back, spread your legs, I'm gonna do the work."

You don't have to be asked twice; laying on the cool leather, this time back down, chest rising. Two hands get your feet tucked around Threes waist, and he lowers down on you. You're so hyper focused on how sensitive you are, and your 'friend'leaning over you you can barely register one and two jerking off, hoping to climax around the time you do.

Three gets himself lined up, but not before placing a few soft kisses on your neck. "I got you. Just forget about those idiots, okay? You and me, I'm taking care of you. I'll let you finish and make em' take you right back home."

You just nod, eyes squeezing tight as he enters. "Ah-" You groan. "You're big, fuck-"

He's not moving. "Too big?"

You shake your head, and he resumes several slow repitions. Eventually, he's fully sheathed, balls smacking against your ass as he thrusts. "Amazing, you feel so good, so good." He grunts. His hands brace on either side of you, but don't grip you harshly like one and two. "Is it good for you?" He asks.

"Up..." is all you can mumble. He gets the hint, angling his cock slightly. Soon, his bulbous tip is hammering that spongy place deep inside you, and you can feel your release finally hitting. "Yes, cumming, I'm finishing-" You start to yell, then gasp at a hot rush of fluids that's aren't your own.

"Holy shit!" Two cackles along with one, as three halts in his movements. "Mister 'i don't wanna, it's not right' might've just knocked you up!"

Your still riding out your orgasm, but three has immediately snapped out of ir. "I didn't mean to, sorry, I didn't-" he's pulling out, immediately smacking two who finished a bit ago. "Its your car, drive. Fucking drive, go to the pharmacy." Two puts his hands up, but obeys.

"M' so sorry." Three says as he sits you up. "I promise I'm clean and stuff, and we're gonna grab plan b, get you some water too-"

"Its okay." You blurt. "Its okay, I know you didn't mean to." Biting your lip, you think about what happened. Of any other guys did this, it'd be horrifying, and you admit it was scary. But... it also wouldn't feel nearly as hot with anyone else. "It was good."

"Hell yeah it was." Both of you were so caught up, you didn't realize One stayed in the back of the car. "Wait till you get a ride on me, baby. I promise I'll be even more of a gentleman. Shit, I'll tell you before it shoot my load in you."

You should go out for late night drives more.

[seokminfilm]

longing to long for him ♫ lee seokmin

♫ pairing, lee seokmin x reader ♫ warnings, non-idol au, ceo au, husband seokmin, reader and seokmin have a baby girl, angst, hurt/no comfort, one allusion to being nude ♫ synopsis, you hate the feeling of being so close yet so far away.

♫ author's note, trying out a new layout! let me know your thoughts on it 🤍 been listening to same dream, same night, same mind by svt and suddenly had this urge to write something angsty with seokmin so here you go!! hurt no comfort too?? am i going insane?? (yes)

♫ now playing, same dream, same night, same mind, seventeen

♫ word count, 1.8k | for @kstrucknet

"welcome home, seokmin." your voice feels empty as you speak, but you bypass it, allowing your husband to bring you into his chest for a equally-empty hug.

being married to lee seokmin came with its ups and downs.

as the hardworking ceo of his own corporation, passed down to him by his grandfather, he always had a full, busy schedule. when seokmin wasn't busy in his office at home, he was on the road, driving from one meeting to another from sunrise to sunset.

as the youngest couple in the midst of seokmin's business partner circle, you were used to the so-called "advice" the older, married ladies would share with you at company dinner parties, as if it made the reality of your situation any better.

"there's no more time for love or play, now that mr. lee is climbing the ranks. you might as well get used to loveless nights, overdramatic reactions, and distant conversations. it happens to the best of us." one lady had said while stroking your back as if you were a miserable cat, and your skin boiled with anger, hoping that the lady would just drop dead.

the night you and seokmin had said "i do", he had laid down in your untouched hotel bed beside you, face and body still warm from the wedding's festivities. the sparkles in his eyes still haunt your memory to this day, and you could remember his sentence word for word, the feeling of his soft hand on your cheek as he looked into your eyes.

"no matter what happens from now until eternity, you'll always be on my mind."

that sentence was simple, but complex enough to make you teary eyed as seokmin hugged you, body engulfing yours as the sheets seemed to protect you from the harsh cold─the harsh cold being life without lee seokmin in it.

now, all you could feel was that cold.

"how's mihan?" seokmin's voice was tired, layers of disappointments and annoyance seeping into his words. his eyes were tired too, gaze harsh as he stripped himself of his shoes.

his styled hair was still flawless from this morning, and the sharp point of his nose was highlighted by the light shining down on him as he looked at his sleeping baby girl in your arms. she had your eyes and his nose, resting peacefully in her swaddle as you sighed, giving a small smile if only for her.

"she's doing okay. she's been sleeping all day." you say, and seokmin nods, sighing as he leans against the countertop. he stares up at the light, eyes unflinching as he shuts them tightly seconds later. the sigh that leaves his lips is felt, and your heart falls a little bit more, watching him bypass you without another word and disappear into your shared bedroom.

it hurts to see him leave without another kiss or tight hug like he used to do. as much as you wanted to ignore the warnings given to you in the early stage of your marriage, they were like bright stage lights, illuminating the things even you wanted to deny.

love used to be such an integral part of you and seokmin's marriage, and now, no matter how hard you looked or tried to pretend, you couldn't see it anymore. you couldn't remember the last time you or seokmin had said the phrase 'i love you' without sounding tired or empty, and it made your heart ache.

tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you walked to your bedroom, and mihan stirred in your arms, lips turning into a small smile as her tiny fingers clung to your shirt─the faded smiski tee seokmin had let you have the first time you had come home with him.

even he didn't recognize the shirt now. that, or he just didn't care anymore.

sitting on the bed after putting mihan to bed in her crib just a few steps away from you, you wipe the now freely falling tears from your eyes, wedding ring glinting on your finger as you chew at your lip, falling silent as the shower turns off in the bathroom.

soft piano lullabies play from your phone to calm down both you and mihan, and you sigh, turning away from the door as it opens to reveal seokmin's fresh face and toned figure, sweatpants thrown on around his waist as he scrubs his face dry.

your eyes meet for a second, taking each other in, and for a moment, it feels like old times again─the shyness you feel rising up in your body is just like when you saw seokmin nude for the first time, and it makes you turn away again, holding back fresh tears.

seokmin cleans up his mess, throwing his suit in the clothes hamper as he combs his fingers through his wet hair. his dark brown eyes seem to have more shadow under them, and he slowly makes his way to the bedside, crashing onto the sheets without a second thought.

silence goes through the room like a blaring siren, suffocating in nature as you look over to your husband. he's already fighting sleep, letting the silence and drip of the showerhead lull him to dreamland. his face is relaxed now, eyes half-lidded as he meets your gaze.

something lingers behind his eyes, but you don't know what, and before you can work up the courage to speak, he falls asleep, leaving you to long for him even more.

how long would you be longing to have lee seokmin back?

[lorewovenrp]

Reliving Roleplay Fever with a Warrior Cat Adventure!

I started this Tumblr account because, like many of you, I’ve been feeling the weight of missing those amazing roleplay moments. You know the ones I mean—the times when everything just clicks, when the stories unfold in ways you never expected, and you’re fully immersed in a world you and others have built together. It’s always those special sessions, that one moment, or maybe a series of memories that you just can’t shake. You know what I’m talking about, right? I think we all have that one RP that we just can’t forget.

I want to get back into roleplay because it’s something I’ve always loved, and there’s just something about the creative energy and the stories we can tell with other people. I’m planning on still talking about roleplays and lore in general, because it’s so interesting seeing everyone’s perspectives and hearing other people's stories. But... I think I might start a roleplay again myself. If I do, it’ll probably be Warrior Cats-based, mostly because who doesn’t feel the nostalgia of being an angry little kitty again? It’s a world with so much to explore and create, and I just think it’d be a fun thing to dive back into.

That said, it’ll likely be a little while before it opens up because I want to get the website set up just right—proper coding, neat layout, all that. I also want to touch up my preexisting litter roll and make sure everything looks nice and polished before I officially launch.

So, if you're interested in joining or just want to hear more, please let me know in the poll! Even if there’s not a huge interest, I’ll definitely still go ahead with it because, honestly, world-building and character creation have always been my absolute favorite parts of roleplaying. No matter what, I think it’s something I’ll enjoy as a hobby.

I would share a pic of the litter generator but its kind of large and even zoomed out it doesn't all fit. I'll try to get a video of it at some point for those interested in that type of thing! Some cool features it currently has:

Genetic Inheritance: Picks traits from both parents or just one for variety!

Mutation Possibilities: Introduces mutation chances (e.g., 0.3-10%) for added surprises.

Fertility System: Adjusts the fertility rate based on genetics, affecting litter sizes and chances of success.

Chance Breakdown: Some traits have multiple chances within chances. For example, the eye roll might first give a chance for heterochromia, and then, if it rolls, it splits further—whether the left eye is mom’s, dad’s, or a random combination!

[monstersholygrail]

dray the crisis is hitting again can I get yandere mad scientist and their also mad scientist reader who loves experimenting with them? Thank u!!

Omgeee my first yandere ask, thank you sm!! Hope you like it, it kinda went all over the place (much like the couple lol)

Ever since Yandere!Mad Scientist was a boy the twisted darkness of scientific exploration spoke to the depths of his soul. He carried it with him throughout his childhood and the so-called deranged experiments he would conduct on the neighborhood animals.

When you, the new neighbor’s child, cried over the loss of your cat, Yandere!Mad Scientist felt something shift inside of him for the first time in his few years on this earth. He wondered briefly if this is what his parents meant when referring to emotion. He wanted… more of this strange sensation. He also wanted to use his gifts for someone else for a change. Another first your presence has given him.

He knew you would appreciate the gift that resulted from his experiment, and appreciate him, even when no one else ever has. Something in him told him you would understand. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, no, he believed in cold hard facts and science. But perhaps in this one exception… it was your soul calling out for him. It had to be. Who was he not to answer?

The moment you throw open the gift box in your family’s living room to reveal your cat’s moving head on a mechanical body and your joyous squeals mingle with your parents horrified screams, he knew. The way you marveled at his accomplishment as you hugged your cat close before your parents tore it away from you in terror.

He knew you were meant to be his. And someday when he wasn’t so little and you weren’t under the control of your parents, you would be. By the possessive look you flash him as your parents usher him out and threaten to call the cops, he knows you have the same idea.

As you both continued to age, Yandere!Mad Scientist’s experiments only got more complex and dangerous. Though now you were right there by his side, driving his theories down even darker avenues. Your creative mind just as twisted as his, if not more so. Your genius unparalleled.

Of course, a series of strategic maneuvers had to be set in place every time you both snuck away to meet up given your parents had permanently banned you from seeing ‘the freak kid next door.’ They still hadn’t gotten over the little cat incident. The fact that you kept the cat alive to this day probably not helping them move on either.

But nothing could keep you away from each other. He was yours and you were most definitely his. With your work together you two would take control of the world and destroy anyone who tried to get in the others path. They were all of inferior minds to you two, they had no right to deny you what rightfully belonged to you and him.

No one would be able to touch you or keep you from him again. It was only a matter of time.

When you and Yandere!Mad Scientist got to college it was the real first taste of freedom either of you had ever had. He thought that this was it. You two would never be separated from now on. He’d be in an off campus apartment with you after school and during school you two would have all the same classes.

But then you have to go and betray him, doing the worst thing imaginable. Choosing a different major than him. While he had gone the expected path— the correct one— of a Science Major. You had chosen… Psychology. It was possibly the first time in his entire life that Yandere!Mad Scientist had been furious at you. You wouldn’t believe how tempted he was to handcuff you to him so you’d be forced to always remain by his side

He was actually searching online for a good sturdy pair the night you came to him asking for help with a project, the first you two had spoken in days following the fight you had about it. And that’s when he learns of your true motivations, the reason behind your desire to be a… Psych major of all things.

You see, you had started working on a memory control device that would surely help your plans for world domination. Of course, he immediately agreed to working on this with you. You two had never worked separately since you met and he wasn’t about to start now. Only he was allowed to know the inner workings of your mind, to understand the way your genius wove its clever webs. He was the only one who ever understood you and that would remain true for as long as he had a say about it.

Together, the work on your project progressed rapidly. The two of you working on it day and night. It was a little tricky, given you two only shared a few classes together where you’d pass flirtatious notes filled with complex algorithms. But he made do.

Though as you learned more from your classes and began applying them to the device, something started feeling… off about it all. More algorithms were attempted that he doesn’t remember running, beakers he doesn’t recall turning on were left running till they overflowed, and days seemed to pass him by where it felt like he had done absolutely nothing despite your excited rambling on the progression of the project.

One night, as you two are cleaning up from that night’s experiments, he comes across one of his many notebooks. Buried deep under a dozen others just like it. But this one has a book mark with an arrow pointing down saying ‘Read me.’ On the marked page lays a whole series of numbers and formulas he’s never even seen before in his one handwriting. With a sticky note at the top reading ‘Forget Something?’

He reads through what appears to be his work over and over again. No, this can’t be real. He never did any of this, it’s impossible. But as he watches the formulas grow more successful with each equation, realization dawns on him. It is possible. He just lost his memory of it. He looks up, eyes instantly catching onto your form across the room just as you look back up at him.

That playful smirk and mischievous glimmer in your eye that he loves so much. It’s as clear as day. As is what you’ve been doing to him. His lips curl into a mirroring expression and you just laugh, returning your gaze to your work.

Ah, so that’s how you want to play it, huh? That’s more than fine by him. He can play it right back to ya. To show you that his brain is all yours for fucking around with, so long as you’re his to do the same.

The next time you come to, the pair of you are sitting in an unfamiliar lecture hall. The teacher droning on about a topic you can’t really hear. Still half-asleep with your head resting on your arms.

“Wakey wakey, darling,” he murmurs in your ear, hand petting your head affectionately. You look too cute all groggy and disoriented as you slowly wake up from the device’s effects. He understands why you used it so much on him. Seeing you like this was absolutely irresistible.

You groan, eyes scrunching up tight. Your head feeling like it weighs about a metric ton and your eyes begging to remain closed forever. You open them anyway, lashes fluttering as you try and focus in on your surroundings. The lecture hall is completely unfamiliar to you. And given the stone walls, you’re in a completely different department.

“W-where am I?” You ask, voice slightly slurred from misuse.

He is having too much fun watching you. It’s wild seeing the device be used and the impacts it has on its users. He briefly wonders if you’ll forget all about this feeling just as he had. He cups your chin with a surprising tenderness, slowly bringing your attention back on him.

“Don’t you remember, dear? You decided to transfer into the Science department. Now, we’ll be together in all our classes. Just like you wanted,” he rumbles, his voice like a hypnotic lullaby as his thumb soothingly caresses your jaw.

It takes a moment for you to break through the comforting haze of his touch so his words can register. Your brows furrow deeply, having no memory of leaving your previous major. The words begin to repeat in your head, echoing and pounding against your skull.

Remember.

He can the moment clarity begins to dawn on you. Your eyes losing that dazed effect to them. He practically watches as you put the pieces together, realizing what must’ve happened just like he did. Though he has to give you props for how fast you realized. Your genius only made him fall harder for you, want even more of you.

But when you burst out into a fit of quiet giggles, your eyes lighting up with pride, he can feel the strings you have wrapped around his heart grow impossibly tighter. It was that pride in your work, pride in the success of the device, and even pride in him for managing to get one on you.

Your laughter is infectious and soon he’s laughing right along with you in the lecture hall, leaning in close and marveling at what you two can do when you put your minds to it.

He looks into your eyes, his hand sliding to cup your cheek and holding you like you’re the most the precious thing in the world to him. And just like back when you were kids, with one look he knows what you’re thinking.

That there is nothing better than experimenting with each other. In every way possible.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Can I request some boba fett cockwarming (sith) male reader?👉🏻👈🏻

Boba Fett x Sith Tusken male reader

Headcanons

Why is the reader a tusken raider? I don’t know, I just really love them. This takes place back when Boba was still a bounty hunter, so younger spicier Boba. I really want to write more about tusken raiders, please ask me about tusken raiders. Reader doesn’t work for palpatine, but became a sith on his own, kinda.

Did y’all know a good chunk of tusken raiders aren’t actually the species, but humans or near-humans who joined their tribes? So, what the reader is, is up to y’all, he’s just got the bits needed for fun. I may have done more lore than smut, but yeah, star wars brings it out in me.

You had always been part of the sand tribes of Tatooine, born into it and raised their way. The peaceful life, or as peaceful as it could be, ended when the one with the flaming sword slaughtered them all.

You had not even passed your coming of age at the time, forced to watch as your clan members, mother and father were killed like womp rats.

There had always been a power inside you, one that the clan elders told you connected you to the stars and the sand, which would one day allow you to become the clan’s storyteller and lorekeeper, maybe you could even become the next tribe leader if the stars and suns smiled upon you.

This power kept you hidden from the glowing one, hidden under the bodies of your clan and loved ones. You had never thought of what your clan did as evil, it was needed to survive, and the settlers didn’t deserve the sand’s gifts. But it was enough to doom you all.

There you laid for hours, days even, listening to the power of the stars and sands telling you to wait, be cautious, or you too would die. This time let you surround yourself with the pain and suffering you felt, having lost everything.

The Tusken people were not peacekeepers like jedi, and knew that one needed to kill to survive. This meant there was nothing keeping you cautious of the dark side, allowing you to embrace it and pack it inside yourself.

No other tribe dared let you join them, your connection to the universe was too powerful. Their own storytellers and lorekeepers shook before you, letting out shaky guttural requests for you to leave them be, and take the eternal darkness you carried with you.

You were not evil, but you were not kind. You stayed by yourself for a long time. You found a cave underground where you could meditate, train as the stars taught you. Here you discovered a glowing orange stone, one that sang when you held it, and screamed when your darkness turned it red.

Yet it still purred like a loth-cat when you placed it inside your specially made garderffi stick, which also worked as a spear when you wielded the stones power.

You truly only left your self-isolation when you felt the universe shift. The light that had existed was snuffed out with a pained shriek as darkness filled the void left behind.

A hidden light settled on Tatooine, but he could not hide from you. Your darkness covered the planet in your own blanket, shielding it from outsiders who wished to look inside, it kept you but also these new lights hidden.

He called himself Ben, but you knew it was a lie. His vocal cords could not pronounce your true name, instead he simply called you Abyss, which was close enough to some part of your name that you accepted it.

You were not friends perse, but you two would sometimes wander the sands together, and you would lead him to places with water, and black melons, where he would not mess with the planet and her resources.

Bounty hunters were common on the planet. Tatooine was hutt owned, meaning all kinds of evil came through her ports. Spreading their evil like disease. Something your energy struck back at like an evil spear when the opportunity presented itself.

Boba Fett was like the mandalorians your past storyteller spoke of, except his armor made him noticeable in the force, as Ben called it. his mission was to find your light companion, and with nothing to do you decided to confront him.

He must have believed you were like any other Tusken, wielding only a gaderffi stick and maybe a rifle. But he stood no chance against the vacuum of darkness you possessed. You didn’t kill him, there was no need too, plus, his cursing and spitting was entertaining.

In the end Boba forgot all about his bounty, instead focusing on you since you proved to be a lot more interesting. How funny that fighting could be seen as flirting in both your cultures, as something hotter brewed between you as he shot at you, and you flicked it away with a small motion.

You had never left Tatooine and her embrace, but you ended up leaving with Boba. Something developed between you, and you decided why not see the galaxy. Of course, the colonizers were horrified to see the bounty hunter leave with you behind him, but no one dared say anything.

Ben gave you a small farewell in the mind bond you two had developed to be able to speak together, before you both closed it off, not wanting him to be found through it.

You ended up meeting Vader, who made your darkness grow from a pit to a black hole, as he was the burning one who took everything from you. Even in his new form there was no hiding it, and only Vaders slavemaster kept the battle from happening.

The old corpse admired your strength and ability to hide, nihilus reborn, he sang. Whoever that was. You had no interest in his ideas and plans, instead you left with Boba. A deal was settled between you and Vader, he left you alone, and you left him alone.

At some point during your travels with Boba your clothing had to be changed up. You wore your robes and bandages for as long as possible, since it was who you were. But it became a bit of a problem on different planets.

In the end, Boba got you something more flowy but it covered just as much. apparently, Sidious had sent it. It had a strange mask as well with red detailing, with another note about this Nihilus. You didn’t care. You kept wearing your goggles, though you put away the mouthpiece for now.

It allowed for a lot more touch between you and Boba, and the bounty hunter could get quite physical. It wasn’t common in your culture, so in the beginning you would growl and push him away with your dark powers. But over time you got used to it, even allowing his hands to linger on your thighs.

The first time he tried to slide his hands under your robes had you knocking him unconscious though, nailing him in the helmet with your gaderffii stick.

Courting took a long time for your people, at least in your tribe. And involved a lot of sparring and fighting alongside each other, which you two did plenty. Getting intimate was strange too, as it was mostly for breeding in your tribe, but Boba made quick work of showing just how good it felt.

For the most part you only allowed Boba to move your robes and layers enough to expose your cock, and luckily that was all he needed most of the time.

Kisses wasn’t really a thing in your culture, instead you two would press your foreheads together which was a display in the Mandalorian culture instead. It got especially intimate when Boba would ride you and press his forehead against yours.

Seeing all his exposed skin could be very erotic and blasphemous to you, but it had the power inside you striking out and grasping at him like a starving krayt dragon clamping onto a bantha.

Boba was able to teach you how to fly a ship as well. He claimed it was so you could be the getaway when bounties went back, but you had a feeling it was so he could act out his fantasies of cockwarming you.

The first time you allowed him to expose you kickstarted his hunger, something he had suppressed for a long time because it made you uncomfortable to think about.

He was always on you somehow, be it when you would steer the ship or when you meditated. Having his mouth on you was such a culture shock that you spilled the moment his lips wrapped around you.

The mind link you two had started developing also taught you that the act of warming you and pleasing you assisted in calming his mind as well. It made the intimacy between you stronger, deeper.

Boba never got to see your face, at least for a very long time (think after he joined the tribe in the Boba Fett series), but he did succeed in pushing your robes up more and more, so he could grope as your pecs and muscles.

The force was also a great help, as the dark side was fueled by darker wants and urges. So, you may have used it once or twice to keep him in place and supply him with air, so he didn’t need to breathe. Boba loved it though.

On the matters of sithlords, you never claimed you were one, but you got called one anyways. How that pans out with the resistance and the fall of the empire is for later though.

[cosmerelists]

I Assign Cosmere Characters A Random Animal As Their Pet

I'm using the random generator from this post. I've already created a list of Cosmere characters (it's just the main characters I always do, ha ha), and then I'll randomly assign them a pet and see how they fair! For the record, these results are not altered at all!

[For the purposes of this post, we're gonna pretend that any animal that comes up would make a good and ethical pet, okay? Please don't actually try to adopt a bear.]

1. Kaladin: A dromedary (a type of camel)

Kaladin: [stares at the camel] Camel: [stares at Kaladin] Kaladin: T-This is just a bigger, meaner horse! Kaladin: I can tell just from one glance into its eyes that that hump is full of SPITE Camel: [spits at Kaladin] Kaladin: I KNEW IT

2. Vin: A mustang (a type of horse)

Vin: Yes, yes, you think you're soooo pretty and fast, don't you? Vin: I'm faster, you know. Probably. With enough metal. Vin: So just don't you getting to big for your horse britches! Elend: Wow! What a beautiful horse! Vin: Don't you start!

3. Shallan: A monkey

Shallan: What a cute little monkey you are! Shallan: With the little outfit Adolin sewed for you, and the paintbrush I gave you! Shallan: A regular little monkey artist! Pattern: [buzzing] I keep telling you, Shallan, this creature wants to be like that one person I saw when you were looking for the herald! It wants to be paint with its p- Shallan (loudly): We'll just use regular paint, thank you!

4. Tress: A mandrill (largest monkey in the world)

Tress: Wow, you have such a pretty face, ma'am! Tress: And a large girl like you won't need to fear any mean ol' cat, will you! Charlie: I feel strangely inadequate. Tress: I-I didn't mean it that way!

5. Dalinar: A bear

Dalinar: You and I are a lot alike, bear. Dalinar: We are both large and intimidating, and we can hurt a lot of people if we get violent. Dalinar: ... Dalinar: Also, apparently Navani really likes to cuddle with both of us. Navani: He's soooo soft!

6. Painter: A bighorn (a type of sheep)

Painter: I like him. Painter: He's got a noble bearing. You can tell with those big horns and steely gaze, he's probably king of his herd or something. Painter: So please stop stacking chopsticks on his head. Yumi: Come on, he LOVES his chopstick-tower-hat! Bighorn: [making happy sheep noises] Painter: I-I just think his gravitas is taking a hit.

7. Leshwi: A burro (a type of donkey)

Lewshi: I'll admit, I was really hoping for an animal that could fly. Venli: Surely anything can fly if you lash it to the sky. Leshwi: I tried that. Leshwi: Apparently donkeys don't like to fly.

8. Adolin: A basilisk (a type of lizard)

Shallan: So...why the little cape on your lizard friend? Adolin: He runs across water! It's cool, but I thought it would look even cooler if he was wearing a cape while he did it! Shallan: Where do you find enough water for that? Adolin: Well...he's mostly been running across a bathtub. Shallan: Ah, so he REALLY needs the coolness factor of a cape... Adolin: Yeah, I think it'll really help his self-esteem.

9. Steris: A sheep

Wax: Hey Steris. Steris: Hello, Wax. Wax: I can't help but notice that where yesterday was one sheep, today there are fifteen sheep. Steris: I read that they feel better in herds! Wax: You always go all in--I love that about you. Wax: ... Steris: ... Wax: So we're sheep farmers now? Steris: A little bit, yeah.

10. Navani: A ferret

Sibling: NAVANI YOUR FERRET IS RUNNING THROUGH MY TUNNELS AGAIN Navani: It loves you! Sibling: IT'S LIKE THAT LIFT CHILD ALL OVER AGAIN

11. Siri: A budgerigar (bird)

Siri: This little guy is perfect for me! Siri: Colorful, small, sweet! Siri: I'm teaching it to talk! Budgie: Let's destroy evil! Siri: ... Siri: Uncle Vasher was here again, wasn't he?

12. Kelsier: A duckbill platypus (yes, really)

Kelsier: Everyone, meet the newest member of our team! Dockson: Uh...what is that? Vin: It looks like a bunch of different animals stuck together. Breeze: Rather unsightly, really. Ham: You, uh, doing okay, Kel? Kelsier: You're all such doubters. But watch what happens when I do THIS! [Puts a fedora on the platypus] Vin: ...Why do I suddenly feel like he's going to make a great spy? Kelsier: Trust me, this is gonna be great!

[joyful-soul-collector]

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[daynascullys]

just wanted to share some nice therapy thoughts I’ve been thinking about lately.

I’ve been in therapy fairly consistently for ten years now, and have been a practicing therapist for four of them. I always resented the imbalance of feeling like I cared about my therapists more than they cared about me, especially since it was their job to care about me. as people, they didn’t care about me. logically I knew this couldn’t be true, but as someone with many issues in the area of attachment, that logic didn’t always translate to my beliefs.

but Chappell Roan performed “Pink Pony Club” at the Grammys, and the first person I wished I could reach out to was my 8-year-old client who used to request it in our sessions. I think of a 7-year-old I worked with whenever I get takeout from a certain restaurant because he is the reason I tried it in the first place. I see stuffed animals and gravitate toward the cheetahs and cats because I worked with a 4-year-old who loved them and they make me think of her. I think of one of the very first clients I ever worked with when I excitedly show people new things I bought because after a horrible depressive episode, one day she logged in and said “I’m going to do a little haul for you” before excitedly showing me the things she got after managing to get out of bed. whenever I am the red player in Connect 4, I think of the 6-year-old who was the first client I had who wanted to be yellow (and how I learned that multiple kids chose red because red is winning on the box).

it’s true that they didn’t know me the way I came to know them, but they are on my mind often and have become a part of my own story and everyday life. and it’s not my job to care about them anymore, but I do. I care so much and I am always rooting for them.

and if you ever worry about whether or not your therapist cared about you, I hope you think of this post and know that, at least most of the time, yes, we do. I can’t speak for all therapists, there are always exceptions, and this doesn’t excuse any of the bad exceptions. but the majority of the time, it’s not just you. we think about you and we care about you, we just can’t always say it the way we want to.