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tonycries · 3 months ago

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Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally.

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could.

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead.

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above.

Dammit.

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless?

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow.

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head.

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?”

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now.

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was.

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all.

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms.

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow.

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on.

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly.

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue.

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow.

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors.

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?”

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door.

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless-

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap.

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-”

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them.

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter.

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age.

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one.

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real.

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?”

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too.

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day.

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter.

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then.

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know.

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-”

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself.

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.”

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him.

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.”

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you.

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed.

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but.

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?”

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did.

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-”

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!”

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you.

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold.

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.”

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away.

Gojo Satoru was deathly still.

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary.

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you.

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid.

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-”

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too.

Unmistakable.

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away.

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him.

It was him. Alive.

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion.

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-”

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue.

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss.

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy.

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions.

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure.

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.”

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane.

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric.

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist.

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip!

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all.

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds.

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs.

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing.

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit.

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.”

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths.

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones-

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance.

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there.

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–”

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now.

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better.

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach.

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away.

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable.

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation.

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager.

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this.

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs.

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.”

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared.

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you.

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.”

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length.

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows.

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy.

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock.

“Spit on me.”

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes.

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot.

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside.

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode.

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure.

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet.

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful.

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins, “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 4

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the door closed behind you, Bucky tried to ease the tension in the room. His hands gently held your shoulders as he guided you away from the heated encounter with Caroline, his voice a low murmur.

“You better fucking win the election, Bucky,” you spat, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Alright, alright,” he responded, trying to soothe you with a calm tone, though his own nerves were frayed.

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “You’ve kidnapped me, drugged me, and dragged me into this mess,” you said, each word laced with frustration.

“I’ll play my part as the good and loving wife for the cameras, but you…” You paused, making sure your words hit him hard. “You better do your job too. Be my fucking husband and defend me from your mother!”

Bucky was taken aback, not just by your words but by the clarity with which you spoke, despite the fury burning within you. He was impressed—here you were, holding your ground even when the world seemed to be collapsing around you.

“Cause of death by in-law is rare,” you added, your voice dripping with dark humor. “I’d volunteer to add to the numbers.”

A small, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I really like this humor. Unique,” he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. The gesture was meant to calm you, but there was something more behind it—a hint of admiration, maybe even respect.

Without another word, Bucky turned and walked back out, his mind already on the next confrontation—this time, with his mother.

Caroline was still seething, humiliated by how you had called out her feelings. She sat with a rigid posture, her face tense as Hazel carefully fixed her hair. Shawn, sensing the tension, silently poured whiskey into a glass and handed it to Julius.

“Put a leash on her,” Caroline spat at Bucky, her voice laced with anger.

Bucky sighed, frustration clear in his eyes. “Mother!”

His voice rose sharply, making everyone in the room flinch. “I want you to stop talking down to my wife.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “You two aren’t exactly husband and wife.”

“Maybe not to you,” Bucky shot back, his tone cold and firm. “But to me, she’s the only woman in my life.”

Her expression hardened, but Bucky continued, undeterred. “And I’ve told you before—I won’t do this election without her.”

Caroline’s hands clenched into fists. “So you’re going to blame me now?” She massaged her temples as if warding off a headache. “Is this the thanks I get after helping you reach this position?”

Bucky’s eyes blazed with controlled fury. “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you hadn’t tried to separate us.”

Caroline’s thoughts churned. She hated you, her daughter-in-law, from the very beginning. She had always wanted Bucky to marry someone from their own social circle, someone who matched their status. Separating you two had been a victory for her, but Bucky’s refusal to remarry was an unexpected blow.

And now, the truth was unraveling—he had never sent the divorce papers to the court. He had blackmailed the attorney into silence. Not just you, but the entire family had been kept in the dark. Caroline had never imagined that her favorite child would deceive her like this.

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze steady. “I could’ve had a son or daughter by now. Nate could’ve had a cousin. It would’ve created the perfect image.”

Caroline’s eyes filled with dramatic tears as the weight of his words hit her. She had never anticipated this level of defiance from her son.

Bucky’s expression softened only slightly as he watched his mother’s tears fall. “Mother,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “stop with the crocodile tears.”

Caroline’s tears abruptly ceased, her eyes rolling in exasperation.

Bucky, before turning to leave, fixed her with a final, stern look. “If you want to see me win, stop poisoning us with your venomous words.” With that, he closed the door behind him.

As he stepped out, he noticed you leaning against the table, arms crossed and a knowing look on your face.

“You’re too late,” you remarked dryly. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Bucky let out a small, tired smile. “Anything for you, babe.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car moved steadily along the dark streets, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you and Bucky in the backseat. The city lights blurred outside as you stared out the window, your reflection barely visible against the glass.

“Are you angry?” you finally asked, your voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Bucky turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “For what?”

“For witnessing me fight with your mom,” you clarified, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and uncertainty.

Bucky leaned back in his seat, his eyes briefly closing as if gathering his thoughts. “To make you feel better, I won’t blame you at all,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She had it coming.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “I’m so confused,” you admitted, your brow furrowing as you turned to face him. “What changed? You used to listen to her and do whatever she said without complaining.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he let out a long breath. “She’s the main reason why we separated.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart clench. The man sitting next to you was different—more reflective, more burdened by the past. It was as if the Bucky you once knew had been buried under years of silence and unspoken pain.

“You caught me by surprise when you quickly signed the divorce papers,” Bucky continued, his voice tinged with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders evident. “Back then, I took everything for granted. I was used to you being patient and supportive, no matter what.”

He paused, his eyes staring straight ahead, as if lost in a memory. “Having a mother like Caroline, who’s super ambitious, and a father like Julius, who’s quiet but just as driven—it’s exhausting. It drained me mentally. The only anchor I had in this world was you.”

His voice cracked slightly, and you saw his hand clench into a fist on his lap. “The second mistake I made was turning a blind eye and shutting my ears when it came to your feelings. As long as I provided for you, I thought you’d stay. But you didn’t.”

His words cut deep, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You had loved him so deeply, yet he had been so blind to your pain. You had been patient, supportive, always there for him, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. The loneliness you felt in the marriage, the constant pressure of living up to his family’s expectations, had finally broken you.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, looking away as your eyes stung with unshed tears. You turned your gaze back to the window, unable to face him.

Bucky chuckled softly, though the sound held no real amusement. He looked at you, his eyes tracing the curve of your profile, even though you refused to meet his gaze. You could hate him, kill him even, but at least you were here beside him. That was enough for now. He knew he could win you back—he had to, for his own sanity.

The upcoming election loomed over him like a dark cloud. Everyone knew that the Vice President was just a figurehead, an accessory to the real power, which was Steve. Bucky had this gut feeling they were going to win, that victory was within reach. But he also knew the price of that victory—he would have to stop thinking of himself and put the country first.

But before he lost the chance to be selfish, he was determined to use this time to get you back. He knew the methods he had used were wrong—manipulative and unfair.

But he needed you, desperately. The one thing you and Caroline had in common was persistence; once you made up your mind, no one could change it.

He had to try. Because losing you again wasn’t an option.

The car slowed as it approached your apartment building, and Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest. This was just the beginning—he knew that. But he was willing to do whatever it took, no matter how long it took, to win you back.

Even if it meant going to war with the one person he could never afford to lose.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next morning, Greg arrived at the apartment, his nerves evident in the way he hesitated at the door. He took a deep breath before stepping inside, where he found Bucky already awake, sipping coffee by the window. Bucky's demeanor was calm, yet his eyes held a storm just beneath the surface.

Greg tried to ease the tension with a light question. "So, how are you and the missus?"

Bucky's expression was unreadable as he replied, "Hanging on the cliff. While she’s waiting for me to fall."

Greg cleared his throat, a chill running down his spine at Bucky’s ominous words. He couldn't help but think that this situation was far more precarious than he had imagined.

Just then, you emerged from your room, fully dressed and determined. Your eyes lit up when you saw Greg. "Oh great, you’re here. I want to talk to you."

Greg straightened up, ready to listen. You didn’t waste any time, your tone sharp and to the point. "Everyone's bored if we keep talking about politics. We need to show something relatable."

"People love candid moments," Greg offered, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded, appreciating the idea. "Exactly. We need to create moments that make us look more human, more like them. A small argument over breakfast, a shared laugh, anything that shows we’re not just politicians."

Bucky listened silently, his face impassive, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes. He trusted you to handle this. You had a way of making people see what they wanted to see.

Greg, catching the subtle nod from Bucky, continued, "We could arrange some casual outings. Maybe a visit to a local diner, something low-key. Capture those moments and share them. It'll make people feel like they know you both personally."

Bucky finally spoke, his voice steady but with an edge of finality. "Whatever works. Just keep it natural. No over-the-top stunts."

You met Bucky’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. “We’ll make it work,” you said, confidence in your voice. “This will make people not just like us, but feel invested in us. They’ll want to see us succeed.”

Later, at the campaign headquarters, Steve approached Bucky, a rare smile on his face. “I’m impressed,” he admitted. “The way you and your wife have drawn the younger generation into this election—it’s brilliant.”

He never thought that you and Bucky could put your differences aside and make it work. From the outside, no one would know that the two of you had been separated for years. You both played the role of a married couple too well.

Bucky gave a slight nod, his eyes narrowing with the weight of the responsibility. “You can count on her.”

But the moment of pride was short-lived. Steve’s expression turned serious as he motioned for Bucky to follow him into his office. Once inside, Steve closed the door behind them. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Bucky, sensing the shift in tone, asked, “Bad news?”

Steve hesitated, then sighed. “Well… kinda. My team found a comment online that mentioned the divorce between you and her.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock. “How? Nobody knew except you and me.” He had only told Steve about the divorce that was never finalized.

Now, only the Secret Service, Greg, and Steve knew, and they had all sworn to keep it a secret. His family and the Rogers couple wouldn’t reveal it because it would damage their image.

“Did the comment get deleted?” Bucky asked, his voice tight with concern.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Steve reassured him. But then he paused, his voice dropping. “What if…?”

Bucky knew what he was hinting at and immediately dismissed the thought. “It can’t be her.”

Steve wasn’t so sure. “She thought she was divorced, traveling the world thinking she was single. She must have told someone.”

Bucky stayed quiet, his mind working through the possibilities. But outwardly, he remained calm. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. “Well, if someone really knows, we’ll just have to wait. Sooner or later, that person will reveal themselves.”

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justagirlwholikesadam · 1 year ago

Text

Hard Ren

Porn Star! Kylo Ren x Fem! Reader

Summary: Hard Ren is known for not cumming during his scenes until now.

A/N: I'm biting on the bars of my enclose while i write this.

Warning: NSFW, spitting, choking, role playing, rough, happy ending, ladies we are porn stars too!

Word Count: 3.3K

Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Anyone who watches porn knows who Hard Ren is.

Hard Ren is known to have stamina like a fucking animal. He fucks like one and he’s good at it but what he is worldly known for is he never cums when he fucks. When he does cum it’s only when he’s masturbating.

Yeah, a porn star who doesn’t cum when fucking other people. Hard Ren has done interviews about it. He jokes about it and tells them that his cock hasn’t found the right person yet. This sparks something with the female porn star community because they all want to make him cum. None of them ever succeeded.

“Kylo.” The dark haired man looked up from his phone when his manager, Hux stopped the car.

“We’re here.” Kylo follows Hux out of the car and into the studio to his dressing room. Kylo performs his usual preparation before filming. 200 pushup and crutches. He curls his 150 pounds dumbbells along with lifting his barbell while Hux tells him more about the person he’s going to fuck. Kylo was in the middle of a rep when he heard Hux mumbling the name of the porn star.

“What’s her name again?”

“She’s new, you probably haven’t heard of her but she has a fan base already. Not ugly like the last one” Hux told him while typing on his phone.

Finishing his usual preparation and getting dressed with the clothes laid out for him, Hux walks with him to the set. Kylo was fixing the sleeves of his blue jean button down shirt. He goes into the mind set as a teacher, that was the script. He's done this multiple times, he plays the college professor and the girl plays the student looking for extra credit.

His head shot up when he heard laughter. Director Phasma is standing next to a woman. Phasma is showing her the story board with a pleased look. When he saw you, he’s starstruck, since you were the one that he watches when he does his masturbating videos. He plays it cool, of course but the moment you give you a smile. His cock is already hard. His most viewed video of him masturbating was thanks to you. He came on his chest to the video of you on a bed with your legs spread and your cunt of full display. He liked your moans and how you pout while playing with yourself.

“I like your work.” You tell him as Hux and Phasma speak on the set. You look up at the 6’3 dark haired man while playing with your fingers nervously.

Excitement ran up and down your body at the sight of him. “I like yours too.”

You smile at his words. He runs a hand through his hair with a chuckle. “Especially the one with you on the bed.”

"There's a lot of me on the bed." You said jokingly and he laughs. "I like them all."

You blush at his words. He had seen your work. When the camera was ready, you and him got into place.

“Please, Professor Hard Ren. I need this extra credit. I won’t pass the semester.” You begged him as you walked towards him. Ren was leaning against the edge of the desk with his arms crossed around his chest. You played with the bottom button of his shirt

“There might be something you can do for me.” Ren said, wrapping his arm around you pulling you close to him.

“I’ll do anything.” You whispered as he leaned down, his large hands pulling the dress up to your hips.

“Anything?” He asks as he cups your ass, giving it a good and hard squeeze for the camera, making you moan. He pulls you close to his chest as he tugs the thong to the side.

“Fuck.” You hear him whisper.

About to do what you do best, you start to tug on his belt. Ren leans back when he notices what you were doing. He helps you while you unzip the black slack and goes down on your knees in front of him. Your mouth drops open as you stare up at him as you pull the slacks down to his ankles. He’s in full commando, and his cock almost smacks you in the face if you haven’t caught it first. His cock was thick and pink, his fat head is begging to be licked.

Ren groans at the sight of your little pink tongue licking his cock. He grips the edge of the desk when you spit on his cock and start to use your spit as lube to start jerking him off with both hands. He tries his best to not shut his eyes because he wants to see you. He wants to see the moment you put his fat cock inside that little mouth.

He moans out loud when you start to suck his cock, gagging, his thick girth stretching your mouth.

“Fuckk.” Ren moans when he starts to move his hips forward, he uses a hand to hold the back of your head. He feels his balls tighten up when he sees your eyes filling up with tears. His thighs are wet from the drool and spit. He can see the spit dripping off the corner of your mouth.

“Yes, gonna give you a good grade. Keep sucking you teacher's cock.” He tells you as you bob your head up and down on his cock. He sees your pretty face start to turn red and he pulls you off of his cock. He grabs his cock and pats it against your cheek then trace your lips with the head of his cock.

“Open your mouth, show me that fucking tongue.” You obey and he taps the head of his cock on your tongue.

“You’re so fucking hot. You know that.” Ren leans down to take your arms. Helping you up, you were shocked when he cups your cheek, bringing your face up close to him. He kisses you while he gently pushes against the desk making you sit on the edge

You look at him with wide eyes when he pulls away from your lips. He takes his shoes off and removes his pants as well. For a moment you forget about the camera when he takes his shirt off. He looks so good on video but in person, this man was sculpted. You can see every beauty mark on his skin. Looking at his abs, you looked further down, passing the light happy trail, you can see a vein aiming down to his cock. It took all the strength in you to not throw yourself in the ground to lick it. His cock stood out, proud and hard.

He gets near you, grabbing you by the chin and kisses you again. He makes you spread your legs, pushing the dress up. He lets the camera panel over at your pussy when he pushes the thong to the side. Running his thick fingers run up and down your slick slit.

You don’t even pay attention to the camera behind him. His thick fingers rub your clit making you moan as he kneels down in front of your cunt. You feel those thick fingers slide into you.

He’s a messy and fast eater when it comes to pussy, he knows it but right now. He takes his time, he sees your cunt so many times while he comes. He couldn’t believe you were right in front of him. Looking so pretty with legs spread and your pussy practically pulsing. He kisses your mound enjoying the scent of your musk. He grins at the sound of you gasp when his nose hits your clit. He presses his lips against your lips. Licking your slick, he gets hard by how good you taste.

He grins against your cunt when moan loudly. Your moans are heavenly to him, it sounds real and not fake as the others. He feels your fingers through his hair as you gently push his face against your cunt. Ren is pumping himself as he licks your cunt, he savors your taste. He looks up when he hears you call for him. He feels his heart flip inside his ribcage when you look down at him. He whines when your hand on his hair goes down to cup his face. Ren doesn't let you speak, he quickly stands up from his knees to kiss you.

You look over his shoulder when he starts to kiss your neck. Phasma waves her hand at you, signaling you that it's fine you didn't have to say your line. You couldn’t do it even if you tried. Ren was taking control, removing your dress for you.

“Prettiest fucking tits.” He says as he leans down to kiss your breast. You blush when he practically pulls the desk close to him so he can get near you.

“I want to fuck you so bad.” He says as he looks at you, his hands grab a hold of your hips, spreading your legs open.

“You can.” You told him looking up at him with a smirk, batting your eyelashes.

“I’ll do anything for a good grade, Professor Ren.” You said as your hands grabbed his throbbing cock, slowly jerking him off, rubbing the tip of his cock with your thumb.

“Jesus Christ.” Ren moans when you use the other hand to grasp his balls, pulling them softly. You watched as he stood still as you kept touching him, he threw his head back, you bit your bottom lip as you watched his tense up.

“Come here.” He tells you, you gasped when he wrapped your legs around his waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he picks you up from the desk and walked over the couch on the other side of the office set. You hear him whisper close to your ear, he tells you to relax, he won’t drop you.

The camera zooms on to your ass when Ren sits down on the couch, holding you tight on his lap. His big hands grasp your ass, pulling your cheeks apart showing your holes.

“Can I ride you, please?” You asked him and he grins, nodding as he leans back a bit. He smiles when he notices the excitement on your face. Quickly getting back to work, he groans as you spit on his cock, rubbing it up and down on his shaft.

“Just like that.” He praised you when you rose up and gently sat on his cock. His eyes never left your face, he wanted to see that look on your face when his fat cock splits you open. He bites his bottom lip when he sees your face, that same face you give to the camera when your pussy is being stuffed.

He holds your hips when you start to bounce on his cock. He thrust upward making you cry out, he grins and does it again. You place a hand on his chest, making him stay in place but Ren being much bigger than you does it again making you whine.

“Can’t take it? Huh? Can't take your professor's big cock?” Ren asks you. He chuckles when you nod, pushing yourself on his chest then sliding back down. He grabs your arms pulling into his chest as he grunts sliding further down on the couch so the camera can go under him.

“Good girl.” He shouts as he started thrusting upward like crazy making you moan as he fucks you hard. Your ass bounces every time he thrusted up to you. Your poor pussy being stretched wide up, the camera zooms in to see Ren’s cock sliding in and out of your pussy. Your slick is running down his shaft to his balls.

Your face is squished against his hard chest as he rams into you. He holds you down with one arm and the other, he brings it up to your face making him look up at you.

His nose bumps with yours and you see him going in for a kiss.

“You feel so good.” You whispered against his lips then kiss him. You moan when his hand grips your hair making you wince when he pulls it.

He shakes his head, “No, you do.” He licks his lips as he continues with his thrusts. He hears you moan loudly, it sounds so soft exactly like the video he uses of you.

“Rub your pussy for me.” He doesn’t wait for you to respond. You squeal when he grabs you and pushes himself up. He lifts you and drops you on your back. The camera man moves standing behind him, zooming into your face.

Spreading your legs wide, you’re smiling at Ren as he jerks himself off. His eyes are wide as he stares at you. He gets turned on even more by how much you're enjoying yourself, looking so pretty rubbing your cunt in front of him. You bring your knees to your chest as close as you can. Your arms go under your knees and you rub your clit, giving it soft smack making you moan.

Your fingers don't feel as good as his, you finger yourself while looking at him. He’s staring at your cunt then back at your face. You stick your tongue out at him as you give your cunt another slap making him groan.

You’re giddy with excitement when he comes over to you, he man handles you pushing your knees further back and lowers himself. You squeal when he smacks the head of his cock on your cunt.

“How bad do you want an A+?” He asks you, raising a brow at you.

“Really bad, professor. I want it. Please.” You pouted at him.

You know he does it on purpose, he just looks down at you with a smug look on his face as he slides his cock up and down your slit painfully slowly. You huff at him and grab his cock, surprising him.

“I want that A+, sir!” You cry out pushing his cock at your entrance. You look at him with a pleading look and Ren thinks he just died and gone to heaven.

You keep on surprising him, taking control like that, grabbing his cock like you own it. Fuck, you practically did already. All of his masturbation videos ended with him cumming so much because he was looking at your videos. Of course the viewers didn’t know that, the cameras were always aiming at him, at his lower half.

“I’ll give you that A. Imma fucking give it to you.” You cry out when he thrusts into your cunt in one harsh thrust. Ren doesn’t pay attention to the camera under him, all he can stare is your face, your tits bouncing by his harsh thrusts. You were losing your grip under the your legs, trying your best to keep them to your chest.

Ren wants to feel you cum, he wants you to cum on his cock. What a dream would that he thinks to himself as he brings a hand to your clit, rubbing your slick over it. He’s rough with it, making you grin as you shut your eyes with pleasure.

“Chock me.” You cry to him as you open your eyes to stare up at him.

“You like that?” You nod quickly as he complies to your request. Ren groans loudly when he feels you clench around him when he grabs a hold of your neck, he can feel your heartbeat and it just makes him goes faster.

“Oh-h-h fuck! Shit!” Ren shouts he holds the couch with one hand as he goes balls deep in you. He feels you holding his arm, his grip around your neck tighten and he throws his head back when he feels you cum.

You are crying his name and that was it for him. It broke him completely.

“Can-can I cum in you?” He shouts as he looks back at you. You’re staring up at him with teary eyes still feeling the hard orgasm you just had.

“Yes.” You said meekly, he removes his hand from your neck and holds your chin. Keeping your head in place, staring up at him as he thrust into your sloppy pussy.

In the corner of your eye, you see the director and the crew staring at both of you with wide eyes as Ren groans loudly. You can’t help but whine when he does one last harsh thrust. He moves the couch and he keeps you in place as he fills your womb with his hot milky cum.

“F-fuck.” Ren moans as he releases your chin and slouches a bit. He cups your face as he tries to catch his breath. His thumb runs over your bottom lip and you do something that you have been craving to do since you saw his hands. Grabbing a hold of his wrist you stick his thumb in your mouth, sucking it as you stare up at him.

He feels his knees go weak and he pulls away and sits down next to you with a grunt. He has his head throw back over the couch as he sits there, with his limp cock.

Ren hears the camera man tell you to keep your knees to your chest. Phasma praises you and he opens his eyes to see you. You’re playing with his cum, rubbing his cum all over your cunt and mound.

“Fuck yeah.” A crew member whispers when you scoop Ren’s cum dripping from your fucked hole up to your lips. You made a moaning sound as you tasted it, licking your lips seductively as the camera pans over to your face.

You walk out of the shower, thanking god that Phasma was a saint when it came to her workers. She had a shower installed in the dressing rooms. You really didn’t want to go home with cum dripping out of you. Your manager had applaud to you and said Hard Ren just came because of you.

Feeling amazing after the hot shower, you got dressed with the extra clothes your manager packed for you. Fixing your hair, you grabbed your phone, looking at the recent messages from your manager. You frowned because she had sent you a message saying that she was waiting for you in the parking lot then a few seconds later. She sent you a message saying there’s a surprise for you in the parking lot.

You didn’t think much of it. You were still tired from having sex and you were starving. You just thought she was being like this because of the accomplishment you just did.

You walked to the exit still thinking about him, Ren. He was just as handsome in his videos and his cock was something to die for. You were feeling pretty good for making him cum. He looked so fucking hot cumming.

Pushing the door open you walked to the parking lot and frowned when you saw your manager wasn’t there.

“Hey.” You looked over your shoulder and saw Ren leaning against the building with a cigarette in his mouth. He’s wearing different clothes as well, dark jeans with boots and a graphic tee. He had a leather jacket on and his hair was damp.

“Hi.” You answered back and he gave you a soft smile.

“You hungry?” He asks, throwing the cigarette on the ground after blowing a puff of smoke.

“Starving.” You tell him as he walks towards you. He bites his bottom lip and for a moment he looks a bit shy.

“Me too. I know a place. Wanna come with me?” You nod at him and give him a smile. You start walking with him out of the parking lot when he tells you his first name, Kylo.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x you #kylo ren smut #kylo ren au #Kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x y/n

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darnell-la · 5 months ago

Text

𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗨𝗣 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗥

pairing: dark!logan howlett x bartender!reader

warnings: bar fight, breaking in, kidnapping, rough sex (slight cnc), dominating, hair pulling, etc.

note: we love him. we really do. this was a quick story. it’s late at night!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Having to lock up because the Wolverine got into a fight at the bar, was one of the craziest things y/n had to do in a while. No one got hurt, but he did slice a couple chairs.

Y/n had to kick everyone out so she could clean up and close early for the night. Tonight was a long night anyway, so people didn’t complain.

Well, one did, and of course it had to be Logan. He told her he could stay and clean up, maybe have a drink after, but she denied and told him to leave.

He got snarky with her, stepping towards her and telling her she was too pretty to close up alone. That’s when she had to threaten to call the cops.

She’s now in the bar alone wiping down the last table. Tonight was a long annoying night, but at least she was tipped well.

Y/n sang as she put the towels up before walking to the front door. She noticed in her way, that a man was standing at the front with his back towards her.

She was confused for a second until the man turned around. It was Logan. How long has he been standing there? Did he ever leave?

Y/n went to speak behind the thick glass until she saw a smile grow on his face. She instantly knew he meant no good.

She lunged at the door too, hoping she could lick it but he pushed it open, causing y/n to slide across the floor.

“Should’ve taken me up on that offer,” Logan said as he stalked towards her. She backed up on the door until her back to the bar counter. He now stood over her, eyes fully dark. “Told ya it was unsafe for a pretty girl like you,”

Logan grabbed y/n’s arm, pulling her up then slamming her upper body on the counter. “No, get off!” Y/n yelled, trying to wiggle from under him, but his body was heavy.

“Can’t tell me that when I smell your pussy from here,” Logan said, shocking y/n. What was he talking about? “I always smell you. You love dressin’ like this around men? That gets you off?” The man asked as he traced his hand up her body, pulling her dress along.

“P-Please, Logan. You’re drunk. I-I won’t tell anyone if you leave now. I promise!” She said as his lips kissed on the back of her neck. She smelled amazing. She always does.

“Ian leavin, sweet cheeks — I’m too close to you to stop now,” he said, pulling her panties to the side, wasting no time to stick his middle finger in her cunt, curling as soon as he could.

Y/n whined low as Logan breathed down her neck. “Imagine who else would’ve been on you if I wasn’t here. Had to scare off a few people tonight, like any other night. You should thank me,”

“Thank me, princess,” Logan said again, pushing two fingers into her. “L-Logan, stop!” She cried out, trying to lean up, but he pushed her back down harshly with a huff.

“Hard to get — I’ll fix that,” he said, now tugging on his Jean, pulling them down until his cock fell out. She couldn’t see, but she felt him in between her thighs. He was fucking huge.

“Please, no — Logan, I can’t do this. N-Not at work,” she said, remembering these cameras could be only. Some days, the boss turns them on while others he turns them off to save money.

“Don’t worry, princess. Ima take you back to my place after this. Already moved around the apartment to your liking,” he said, confusing y/n.

She didn’t know, but he knew where she kept her spare key. Sneaking into her home and sometimes sleeping next to her for a little while was a nightly routine.

Y/n’s thoughts were cut off once Logan’s tip pushed through her slick. She cried out, feeling him stretch her in an instant. He was too big for her. He loved it.

“Fuuuckin’ hell, y/n. You’re a tight one,” Logan grunted on the back of her neck. “So fuckin’ tight — God, Ian gonna get enough of this,” his hips began to move at a faster pace, taking her hard on the bar counter.

Y/n gripped the ends, trying to brace herself, but he was fucking her too rough. “C-Can’t,” y/n barely got out as her cunt clenched around him. “Yes, baby — Yes,” he tugged at her hair as she came undone around his cock.

“So fuckin’ dirty, Bub. You just cleaned,” Logan chuckled as y/n cried onto the counter. She didn’t know what to do until she remembered one of the panic buttons was right under the counter.

Y/n tried not to make it obvious she reached under the counter, trying to find the button she usually never misses.

This time is a different thought. She’s being pounded into by the Wolverine.

“Whatcha doin, girl?” Logan asked, looking over her shoulder until he realized. Before he could pull her hands back, she pressed the button. Alarms went off and the bar lights turned red.

“Goddamnit, y/n,” he growled as he pinned both of her wrists behind her back, hurting her shoulders. “You just can’t listen, can you? So fuckin’ bad,” Logan used his free hand to push her face into the countertop.

“Fuckin’ bitch can’t even let me fuck her at work. When I’m done with you, you’re fucked,” the man spat, snapping his hips harder to get closer to his orgasm. He wanted to ruin y/n back at his place. Back at her new place.

Y/n cried into the counter, feeling mixed emotions about this all. He broke into the bar to use her, but why her? Aren’t there other women? Is she special to him?

“Cry all you want, y/n. You’re not getting out of any punishment tonight,” the man groaned in her ear as his hips stuttered. Her mouth parted, knowing what was happening.

Logan eventually spilled in her, still thrusting as y/n shook. She tried her best, but she ended up cumming again, but this time with a moan he knew was different from the others. They sounded needy.

Logan smirked, quickly pulling out of y/n and throwing her over his shoulder. He didn’t bother emptying every drop into her. He slipped his leaky cock back into his pants before walking out of the bar.

She kicked and screamed, but not loud enough to make them look out of their windows to help. Logan chuckled at the frisk act, knowing she was going to be a cute and fun toy for him.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

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chheolie · 6 months ago

Text

"help me forget him tonight, please."

minors do not interact! angst, fluff, smut, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (dont do this), alchool, trash ex bf

as soon as you opened the door to your apartment, your friends' eyes filled with concern. "what happened, y/n?" they asked almost in unison, their voices loaded with anxiety. seokmin, who was distracted on his phone, immediately raised his head upon hearing seungkwan, chan, and jeonghan’s words.

"why are you crying, y/n?" he rushed forward, almost pushing the others out of the way. "why?" he insisted, holding your face gently, trying to make you look into his eyes. but you couldn't answer, just closed your eyes, allowing the tears to flow freely down your face.

"thanks for coming. i didn't want to drink alone," you said, your voice trembling and choked, as you made space for them to come in.

seokmin seemed restless, his concern evident. he desperately needed to know what had happened to put you in this state, but he didn't want to push too much.

"sit here, hyung," dino said, patting the spot on the couch. seokmin obeyed, sitting heavily, his gaze fixed on the floor while you took your first sip of beer for the night.

"he cheated on me," you suddenly blurted out, without preparing them.

"what?" seokmin practically shouted. "what did jiwoon do to you?"

"that's right, minnie. he cheated on me," you said with a sad smile. "i'm such an idiot for taking so long to find out."

"no, y/n," jeonghan quickly intervened. "you’re not to blame. don't talk about yourself like that."

seungkwan stared at the floor, his hand covering his mouth in shock. "i can't believe he was that kind of jerk to you," he murmured, disbelief evident in his voice.

lee chan swallowed hard, unable to imagine that something like this could happen tonight.

seokmin bit his nails, his legs shaking with anger and frustration. "i knew it! i knew that idiot was a fraud," he said, his voice choked with rage.

you looked at him, and it made your tears flow even more. what if you had listened to seokmin every time he said he didn't trust jiwoon?

"hyung, hyung, you're making things worse," dino warned him in a whisper.

frustrated, seokmin downed his beer in one go. "i need to get some air. i'll be back," he said, getting up and leaving the apartment hurriedly. he went into the emergency exit door, where he finally let it all out. he cried with rage, the confused and painful feelings overflowing.

seokmin had never approved of your relationship, but he resigned himself as long as you were happy – even if that happiness didn’t come from him. though he felt jiwoon wasn’t the right guy for you, he never imagined he’d be so cruel.

it took him several minutes to compose himself, drying his tears and checking his appearance on his phone's front camera.

when he returned, you, now calmer, quickly got up from the couch. "is everything okay?" you asked, the concern clear in your eyes.

he nodded with a shy smile. "sorry. i wasn't prepared to see you like this," he said in a low tone.

"thank you for always worrying about me," you said, touched by his sincerity.

seokmin joined you for the next rounds of drinks. the atmosphere was still heavy, but there was comfort in everyone's presence.

"i understand why you got so angry," jeonghan said to seokmin, once you were distracted listening to a story from seungkwan. "i know it’s hard to see her suffer because of another guy, but be patient," he said, patting seokmin's shoulder.

seokmin nodded, murmuring a thank you. "thanks, hyung." he knew he needed to be strong for you, even if it meant hiding his own feelings.

the boys bid you farewell with a hug, each leaving words of comfort and promises of support. when it was seokmin's turn, you noticed a sad and worried look in his eyes. "can you stay a bit longer?" you asked, your voice filled with hope.

your question surprised him, but he didn’t hesitate to respond. "i'll help the guys call a taxi and be right back, okay?" he said, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

you nodded and walked them to the door, waving as they left. "thanks again for coming."

seokmin didn’t take long to return. when you heard the door unlocking, you went to meet him with a tight hug. your arms wrapped around his waist, and you rested your head on his chest, eyes closed, remaining there in silence. at that moment, he was your safe zone.

seokmin was surprised by your gesture. initially, he didn’t know where to put his hands, but soon he took a deep breath and hugged you tightly. "what can i do to never see you like this again, y/n?" he murmured, his voice choked with concern.

you lifted your head from his chest to look him in the eyes. "help me forget him tonight, please," you said, your eyes pleading for relief.

"what?" he was startled, his eyes widening in surprise. "do you mean what i think you mean?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

"yes," you answered seriously. "tomorrow, we don’t need to remember what happened."

seokmin’s heart raced. he felt a mixture of conflicting emotions: the temptation was there, as strong as the awareness that this could complicate things. he wanted so much to comfort you, to protect you, but at the same time, he knew that giving in to this temptation could make things even more complicated.

"y/n... what about me? how would i feel after this?" he asked, his voice trembling. "you know this isn't something i can just forget."

you felt the weight of his words. you were just seeking immediate relief from the unbearable pain you felt. "seokmin, i just need a night to forget all this. i need you now."

he closed his eyes, feeling the internal struggle. he wanted you, always had, but not the way you were proposing. he knew that if he gave in, it could ruin what you had.

"y/n, i want you more than you can imagine. but not like this," he said, his voice soft but firm.

you felt the depth of his feelings for you. the reality of the situation hit you, and you pulled back a bit from the hug, feeling guilt growing inside you. "i’m sorry, seokmin. i didn’t think it through. it was selfish of me to ask that," you said, your voice filled with regret.

seeing you pull away made seokmin forget all rationality. the need to comfort you and the desire he always felt for you took over. without thinking twice, he gently held your face with both hands, his thumbs caressing your damp cheeks.

he looked into your eyes for a moment, seeing the pain mixed with hope, and felt his heart tighten. without saying a word, he guided you gently to the wall, pressing his body against yours with a delicate yet firm touch.

then, he kissed you. a needy kiss, full of repressed emotions and desire. his lips met yours with urgency, exploring and seeking comfort. he could feel the tears still present on your face, but that only intensified the moment, making everything more real and raw.

you responded to the kiss with the same intensity, your hands sliding up his arms until they intertwined behind his neck. the kiss was a mix of desperation and passion, an attempt to erase the pain, even if just for a brief moment.

seokmin felt every beat of your heart, every breath you took between kisses. he wanted to protect you, to make you forget all the sadness, even if just for that night. your bodies molded to each other, seeking the solace and connection you both desperately needed.

finally, he pulled back a little, his lips still brushing against yours, and whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "y/n... i'm here. i’ll always be here for you."

you opened your eyes, finding his, full of silent promises and deep feelings. "thank you, seokmin," you murmured, feeling a little lighter, even if just momentarily.

he pulled you back for another kiss, gentler this time, but still full of emotion. in that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you and the comfort you found in each other.

then, everything intensified again when you realized how much you needed him that night. your eyes locked with his, and you noticed his glasses, those damn glasses that you always said made him look even sexier. something inside you awakened with full force.

you pushed him gently, and seokmin looked at you worriedly, afraid he had done something wrong. but you just smiled at him as you guided him to the couch. he sat down, looking up at you, his eyes full of expectation and doubt.

you sat on his lap, your hands resting on his strong shoulders, while his hands found your waist, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts. the heat between you was palpable, an electric current passing from one to the other.

you kissed him again, and the only sound in the room was the sound of your tongues intertwining. this sound, mixed with seokmin's fingers gently squeezing you, only heightened the fervent desire inside you. damn, you wanted him so much in that moment.

seokmin held you and laid you down on the couch, his movements gentle yet filled with intensity. he removed his glasses, setting them aside, and positioned himself above you. as you felt his intimacy touching yours, a thrill of excitement coursed through your body, making your heart race even faster. you bit your lip involuntarily, feeling the desire grow.

your eyes met again, and in that instant, everything seemed to fall into place. emotions were running high, and both of you knew that this night would be different. seokmin leaned in for another deep kiss, while his hands explored your body with an almost desperate need. you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling gently.

you felt his breath on your neck as he trailed kisses down its length.

"thank you for being so amazing," you said to him, breathless. he needed to be sure he wasn't making a mistake, and you would reassure him as many times as necessary.

seokmin took your words as approval for what was to come next. his hands slid inside your shirt as he slowly removed it, planting wet kisses from your mouth down to the button of your shorts. you could see how much he desired you too.

with his hands poised to undo the button, he looked into your eyes for permission, and you smiled as you nodded.

he then removed your shorts – and your panties. he kissed the inside of your thighs, driving you crazy. in near desperation, you grabbed the couch to keep from letting out a loud moan.

you felt his warm tongue on you, and with your eyes closed, you bit your lip hard. seokmin spread your legs a bit more and positioned himself more comfortably. you were wet, and the sound of his tongue moving repetitively inside your vagina was driving you wild.

he spread you open a little more, and his tongue moved faster, causing a moan to escape your lips. in response, he bit the inside of your thigh. he was as crazy for you as you were for him.

"don't stop, seokmin, please," you begged. holding his head affectionately, you watched him brush his tongue against your clit. but you could barely control your body anymore, writhing on that couch. "i'm going to cum," you said, breathless amid your moans.

seokmin moaned too when he tasted your juice in his mouth. he knelt between your legs and took off his shirt. you quickly sat up and grabbed his hips, kissing his beautifully defined abs. it was the first time you had seen him shirtless. "you're so beautiful," he said as he fixed your messy hair. you looked at him, asking for the same permission he had sought.

he was hard, and it was entirely your fault. you were more than ready to take responsibility. you pulled down his black underwear, and his cock sprang out. you held it and slid your hand up and down slowly a few times. seokmin cupped your face with his right hand, caressed your cheek with his finger, and guided you to him. you obeyed eagerly.

you took him into your mouth, sucking and licking the tip of his member. "damn," he said, his voice hoarse. you moved your head back and forth just to tease him. "fuck, y/n," he groaned. your tongue circled the head of his penis, and you looked up to see his reaction. he watched you intently while moaning softly. you smiled mischievously with his penis in your mouth, determined to make him cum too.

you released him briefly to tie your hair into a bun and then took him in your mouth again. seokmin moaned loudly, and this time you showed no mercy.

with each movement of your mouth, he went deeper into you. you almost felt him in your throat when seokmin grabbed your hair bun tightly and began thrusting his penis into your mouth himself. you dug your nails into his thighs, tears welling up as you felt him in your throat. you were a mess, but none of it mattered since you could taste him in your mouth.

"i'm so close, y/n. you're so hot," he said with difficulty amidst moans. he thrusted so frantically that he unintentionally pushed deeper into your throat. you felt it, and a tear escaped. seokmin quickly pulled out and sat at your level to kiss you almost as an apology. he was so, so hot that you didn't mind.

as he kissed you passionately, he masturbated with the same rhythm. when you realized what he was doing with his hand, you pushed it away so you could take over. he moaned as he kissed you. and now that his hand was free, he slipped his fingers inside your vaginal lips. you were so turned on that it almost hurt.

you gyrated your hips, both of you moaning eagerly as you kissed. he finally came and moaned loudly. you felt the liquid drip onto your hand, and you couldn't be more thrilled with it.

seokmin laid you down, positioning himself above you. he kissed you more gently now, although both of you were still breathless. you barely remembered how you ended up there. he paused to study your face. you laughed, embarrassed, knowing you were a mess. but not to him. he looked at you with admiration and a smile on his face.

"seokmin," his eyes shifted to your mouth. your name had never sounded so sexy before, he thought. "i want you inside me," you said. he found it funny and laughed softly. never in his wildest dreams did he imagine you would ask for that.

he held his penis, rubbing it at the entrance of your vagina without penetrating. he needed to be ready to thrust again. "please," you begged, whining and grinding in rhythm with his rubbing.

finally, you felt him slide in erect. his fingers dug into your skin as he gradually increased the pace. the sound of your bodies colliding was so arousing. seokmin could only think about how much he loved you while hearing your moans for him. the sweat dripping from his abs was the vision of paradise you idealized at that moment.

his body was glued to yours. his moans were so frantic in your ear. he thrust so deeply, making you moan loudly. seokmin pulled out when he felt he couldn't hold back any longer. you reached your peak together, and the liquid gushed onto your stomach. you smiled, trying to catch your breath.

after the peak of pleasure, seokmin lay beside you. you rested on his chest, both of your breaths still heavy, mingling in the air of the room. he looked at you with a vulnerable and sincere expression, his eyes shining with a mix of emotions as he played with strands of your hair.

"i don't want to be just a temporary comfort for you. i want to be the person who stands by your side through the good and bad times, supporting and loving you as you deserve," he said tenderly.

you listened intently. it was new for you to know that seokmin had feelings for you. you were still unable to give him a concrete answer, but you were grateful for the affection and sincerity he had for you.

with a hopeful look, he concluded, "if you give me a chance, i promise i'll do everything to make you happy every day. i love you, y/n, more than you can imagine."

you nodded and gave him a long, soft kiss on his lips, nurturing hope in your heart as well.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt #seventeen smut #dokyeom x reader #svt dk #dokyeom fluff #dokyeom smut #dokyeom svt #dokyeom scenarios #dokyeom seventeen #dk smut #dk x reader #dokyeom x you #dokyeom x y/n

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devilstruly · 6 months ago

Text

FRI(END)S -

- 'let's put the end in friends'

pairing (drumroll please) - jason todd x f.reader

includes - mutual pining, best friend dick grayson, batfam being nosy as shit, reader is kind of camera shy/insecure, jealous jason but in a cute way, angry confession (personal fav), mild angst but with a happy ending obvi, swearing, briefly mentioned smut (like one sentence at the end) + anything i might've missed

a/n - hi hello...idk what to say honestly. this was a very random idea i got at like 3am and i can just hope that you guys will like it. also my characteristics of the fam are solely based on the webtoon. yes the title is inspired by taehyung's single what about it

@dreamingaboutsakuratrees this one's for you (and everyone else who voted on that poll) <3

'Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Gosh, the camera absolutely loves you two!'

'Thanks, Delilah ~'

Dick sends the photographer a wink, paired with that signature grin of his, and she nearly falls on her ass. You roll your eyes at the scene affectionately, focused on fixing your hair and checking your makeup for the nth time in the past hour.

'Will you quit it?'

Beside you, your best friend whines and you swat him away with your hand, eyes never leaving the mirror.

'I'm sorry! I just wanna make sure it looks good!'

'You look beautiful. You're doing great, you just need to relax. Focus on me, yeah?'

It's honestly impossible to say no to those eyes, you've learned that a long while ago. The fact that he knows the effect he has doesn't help either.

The photoshoot goes by in a blur. You've changed at least five outfits, done the couple shoots, done the single ones, had a lunch break, etc etc. Throughout the day you learn that the crew that works for Gotham Gazette is actually quite nice, which helped ease your nerves immensely.

Now six hours later, you're sitting in your comfortable clothes, in the passenger seat of Dick's car, on the familiar road towards the Wayne Mansion.

As soon as you step through the door you're greeted with a flash of purple.

'How was it?! Tell me everything! When will the cover be out?! What did you wear?! Who did you see?!'

Stephanie looks as if she's about to burst and simultaneously split her face in half with her grin.

'It went...well, it went.'

Beside you Dick rolls his eyes so hard you could almost hear the gesture.

'Don't listen to her, it was great. She was great.'

'Stoppppp!'

You immediately hide your face in your hands, much to the man's amusement. One of Dick's arms wraps around your shoulders and the three of you head for the library.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't Gotham's power couple ~'

'Gross. Everybody knows they are mere friends.'

'We know. But the rest of Gotham is skeptical.'

'You are hallucinating, Drake. This is why you should stop drinking multitudinous of coffee.'

'Listen here you little shit-'

'O-kay!'

Dick, as always, steps in between the two brothers, effectively averting what could result in another prank war between the two. And it's not even prank season yet.

'Damian, you and I need to discuss that plan for tonight, right?'

'What are you talking ab-'

'The sooner we start the better!'

With that the two dissappear from the room, a very confused Damian letting himself be led by a beaming Dick.

Allowing yourself to feel the tiredness from everything you've done today, you plop on the now empty seat on the couch and sigh deeply.

'Cookie?'

'Thanks, Cass.'

You smile gratefully at the girl, sinking into the cushions more and more while chewing on the chocolate chip cookie.

'Sooo...'

Duke begins, the suspicious tone causing you to raise a brow before he continues.

'...When do we get to see the pictures?'

With this, every pair of eyes in the room turns to you, and you have to avoid the urge to groan.

'The actual magazine comes out in a week. But they'll email us the pictures the day after tomorrow I think.'

'I can't wait to see them! I bet you and Dick had so much chemistry in the photos!'

'Honestly, next to him I don't think anyone will notice me.'

'Of course they will! Especially if you did a couple shoot and got all close and-'

A loud slam interrupts Steph and her rambling and all of you turn to look at a very annoyed Jason. Which, to be fair, is just normal Jason.

He's silent when he stands up and walks across the room, hands stuffed in his pockets. If you had to guess, you'd say he was avoiding eye-contact too.

'Awkward...'

'Not helping Duke.'

- a few days later -

Everyone is sitting in the living room, crowded around Tim's computer, with you and Dick in the middle.

'Jason!'

Dick chirps as soon as he sees his brother enter the room.

'Come look at the photos!'

'No thanks.'

That was the second time that week that Jason refused to look you in the eyes and downright ignored your existence. But you knew better than to press Jason Todd.

Besides, maybe it wasn't even personal.

This was definitely personal.

You haven't talked to Jason in days, and it was driving you insane. The worst part is that you have no idea what the fuck you did.

So naturally, as one does, you'll ask him about it. Deciding that it's best to do it after patrol, particularly after the two of you took down some thugs together and were left alone, you refuse to go back home until you two work this out.

'See you tomorrow.'

'Jason.'

Red Hood stops dead in his tracks, and despite his back being turned to you, you can see the tension in his shoulders.

'This needs to stop.'

'I have no idea what-'

'Cut the bullshit, Jay. Why the fuck have you been avoiding me?'

He inhales deeply, mustering up the courage to turn around and face you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, accompanied with a very annoyed glare.

'I'm waiting.'

'It's nothing that concerns you.'

His answer makes you at least five times more furious and you scoff.

'Oh yeah? Well I beg to differ. I think I deserve to know why my friend has spent an entire week actively avoiding me.'

Due to his helmet you can't see it, but Jason rolls his eyes in annoyance.

'Why do you care, anyway? I'd say Richard has been keeping you busy.'

This makes you splutter, completely catching you of guard. His words are on repeat in your mind as you try to piece two and two together.

'What the fuck does Dick have to do with any of this?!'

'You tell me!'

Both of your voices echo off the empty walls in the alleyway before a thick silence takes over. Jason takes off his helmet and places it on a nearby fire escape so he can run a hand through his hair.

You watch him, still mildly annoyed, but the sight of his face welcoming nonetheless. And then he looks up and you feel an arrow shoot right through your heart.

His green eyes are soft, dare you say pleading, when they meet your own.

'I-' He takes a deep breath. 'It's the damn photoshoot.'

Before you can ask him to elaborate he's already going off, arms flying every which way with gestures he uses to emphasize his points.

'All I've been hearing for days has been about you and Dick looking all couple-y and what not. I mean you looked gorgeous, honestly why would anyone pay attention to him when you're right there, but god was it getting annoying.'

You have to blink a few times before your brain catches up with his words. Much to his dismay, you don't soften, if anything you look even more pissed now.

'I still don't understand why you've been avoiding me.'

'Because I fucking like you!'

The volume of his words startles you and you swear he was heard a couple blocks away.

'You what now-'

Jason takes a step closer to you.

'I-'

Another step.

'-like-'

Another step.

'-you.'

He's gotten so close to the point of cornering you against a wall, the intensity behind his eyes rendering you unable to look away. You allow yourself a few silent moments to simply appreciate his beauty this close before putting him out of his misery. By your standards at least.

'So this whole time you've just been jealous?'

It takes all of your willpower not to laugh when he deadpans.

'I never took you for a jealous guy to be hones-'

'Shut the fuck up already and kiss me.'

'Yessir ~'

He groans at the term and you make a mental note to use it again later when you're at his apartment.

Who needs to sleep anyway?

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minnies-puppydoll · 1 month ago

Text

{ Kinkmas Day 2: }

🎁 .*• Gift Wrapped •*. 🎁

pairing: minho x reader

summary: what's the best way to spend time with your lover if you aren't tied up? minho found a new skill to teach his viewers, and you just so happen to be the test dummy.

warnings: hard dom!minho, bondage, camming, sex toys, praise, degradation, impact play, overstimulation, exibitionism, homosexual/ship implications, if i missed any let me know!!

note: IM SORRY THIS SHIT IS SO LATE🫣

dating someone like minho was sure an adventure. you were aware of his camming job before you really got official, and to be honest, it wasnt really a suprise to you.

minho has always come across as a domineering person. of course, he still has his sweet, almost motherly caring moments for you…when he isn’t forcing your legs apart and showing his viewers how to treat a slutty pussy like yours.

even his humor seems sadistic, its like in every aspect of life, he loves to see you writhing the most.

minho’s cam show is all about BDSM instruction. all of the content is based around sexual safety and health, while also keeping it pornographic with live demonstrations, starring his obedient, loving girlfriend.

tonight’s live was no different, but it was a little intimidating you have to admit. minho would go out every week to this unknown location, he wouldn’t tell you what it was about, and when you asked he just said it was a suprise.

you were about to assume the worst, till he came home with a long, tied up cord of red rope hanging out of his bag, and peered at you excitedly.

it was a face you were very familiar with, a pleased, almost shy smile lit up his face as he greeted you, before taking your hand and coaxing you into the bedroom.

he told you he has been going to shibari classes for his streams, and he wants to play with you on live and show everyone what he learned.

you were hesitant at first, till you remembered, if he’s been taking classes for this long then he’s probably good, and you know for a fact minho, being the responsible dom he is, would never try something like this on you unless he was sure he was good.

so here you sat, all pretty in a lace black set, next to the intimidating bundles of shibari rope that’ll be restricting you soon, along with a few other selected toys. but it’s fine. you trust your boyfriend to do what’s best for you.

“alright..everything is all set up. are you sure you want to do this? it’s never too late to back out if you feel uncomfortable.”

“yeah! honestly..i was a little nervous, but now i’m getting pretty excited.”

“oh? is the pretty whore already messing up her new set? such a good girl, but does she remember her safewords?”

“uh huh!”

“go on then.”

“red means stop, yellow means pause and discuss, and green means keep going!”

“good girl! such a smart little thing aren’t you?”

the large webcam setup clicks on, revealing you and minho in the reflection. the familiar system of the camsite focuses you as minho hovers over the livecam button.

“we are live in 3..2..1!”

minho sits on the bed next you, prettily fixing up his hair and taking on a serious look in his eyes, before cheerfully saying his intro as viewers flood and start commenting.

bbok.flx: omg i was first ㅜㅜ that’s a bit embarrassing..

j.onee: i had this stream time on an alarm bro

“hello everyone, you’ve just joined lee know’s weekly sexual education stream..”

you giggled to yourself, you knew lee know was just an online alias, but it was still such a cute name for an intimidating man like your minho.

“if you’re new here, i’m lee know. i work as a professional dom, and this is my little demonstration doll right here next to our topic object tonight.”

minho moved behind you, stroking his hands over your soft body to show you off. you relax in his touch, fluttering your lashes to the camera in front of you.

“there she is. isn’t she pretty? god..look at that, this whore is already wet for all of you.”

the chat moves faster, reading all of these filthy comments about you works you up even further. a few even make you laugh a bit.

fck_hyune: i love seeing her tits. the things i would do to a girl like that ughh

j.onee: i should be her god THIS ISNT FAIR.

minho cracks a loud slap to your thigh, before picking up the rope and unwravelling it slowly, making a bit of a show for the audience. he holds it up to the camera, sliding it between his hands like a pet.

“that’s right, the lesson starting tonight is bondage. i will be teaching you how to safely execute shibari ties on a submissive. this is only lesson one of this subject, so i will only demonstrate one full tie for you this stream.”

minho reads a few comments, then bites his lip, smiling devilishly.

cbbang97: cute rope lee know, but we all know who the real slut is~

he sighs before placing his hands on your shoulders and leaning down to rest his head on you, arching his back a bit behind you so the chat can see his pretty hips and gorgeous thick thighs you and the audience fantasize about.

“excited? i can feel you squirming behind your screens, but you all know the rules. i’ll only go through with the lesson if you pay the fuck up, hm? i want three hundered in donations right now, or i’ll just end the stream now and leave this slut untouched.

minho commands the chat, and you know he isn’t bluffing either. you rub your thighs together and smile when donations start to flood in. but only 105 dollars? that isn’t enough for minho.

“tch. really? you expect to excite me with that pitiful amount? seriously, pay it or i’m done.”

j.onee: SOMEONE PLZ PAY SERIOUSLY IM BROKE AS FUCK

bbok.flx: hehe i got u one sec ^o^

minho cuts his eyes at the camera, tapping his finger impatiently, before looking pleased at the large donation of 300 on its own. that’s more than what he asked for, and he swears he can feel his cock growing in his pants at the sound of the donation ring.

“good job. all of you are being so good for me, follwing directions, want this lesson now as a reward? let’s begin with a chest harness.”

minho sits behind you, he pets your hair sweetly, spreading the rope out in his hand. he sticks his tongue out obscenely before licking up the rope, his dark eyes never leaving the camera.

“start with your rope doubled by looping it in your fingers, then simply wrap it around the submissive, just under their chest.”

he follows his words expertly sliding the looped rope under your boobs, he does it slowly though, making sure he doesn’t hurt you.

“loop the end through the back, then repeat again.”

his words aren’t loud or aggressive, yet you’re sure they could make a mountain move. you say nothing and keep still, letting whatever pretty commands he makes flow out of his mouth. you swear you’d serve him for the rest of your life, your sweet love.

. . .

as the ties and teachings go on for a while, you feel yourself slipping into a familiar, euphoric headspace and the feeling of the restricting rope over your shoulders and breasts, down to your tied up wrists behind your back.

he occasionally answers questions in chat about parts of the knots, or ask you your color.even though it took a long time, you feel like it was over too soon as he tightens the final knot over your ribcage. despite streaming porn, he still leans down and kisses your head sweetly, checking on you.

“feel good? is anything too tight? just say the word and ill comepletely untie it.”

“it feels so good, min-“

he quickly puts a finger up to his mouth, reminding you to not say his real name.

“ah! sorry! it feels fine, lee know.

minho smiles and kisses your cheek, before moving up to sit in front of the camera to show you off.

“this is what the harness should look like when it’s completed. did you follow along? im sure you did such a good job. you always do, y’know?”

j.onee: it would be better if u did it on me instead food for thought

ppup_m1nnie: j.one a simp fr

cbinniwh0re: hes not letting you hit bro

j.onee: SHUT UP

“silly things. getting impatient? should we move on to the fun part of the stream?”

the chat moves at a crazy speed. a few eager viewers have already donated and sent requests, but minho already knows what he wants to do today.

minho adjust you to sit center in front of the camera. he picks up two toys to play with, and holds them to the camera. letting chat decide what he’ll use on your restricted form first.

in his left hand, he holds a pretty clit sucker with purple accents. in his right, he holds a black riding crop with a red heart.

“i’ll be nice and give you a choice today, hm? say A if you wanna see me use this clit sucker on her pretty pussy before i fuck her brains out, or B if you want me to mark her ass red with the crop. choose wisely between pleasure or pain.”

ppup_m1nnie: B

cbbang97: B for sure

bbok.flx: srry but B would be so hot god

j.onee: A PLS OMG

ppup_m1nnie: …

ppup_m1nnie: block j.one

j.onee: BRUH

“hm..looks like B is the winner. you wanna see her suffer that bad, huh?”

minho places the clit sucker on his bedside for later use. he sits back behind you, putting his hand over your eyes and dragging the smooth leather of the crop along your back.

his jaw drops with yours in faux arousal, imagining how you must feel. he takes his hand off your eyes and pushes you face down on the bed. he feels your pretty ass in his hands, you know he loves your ass.

minho stops teasing and lets the crop crack down on your ass for the first time. you yelp loud like a puppy, flinching at the sting. it hurts, but the first time only makes you wanna feel more. you swallow and relax your bdoy for him, waiting for his next strike.

“color?”

“green.”

“i love you.”

“i know. i love you too, min-“

the next hit lands right after your sentence. this one feels like fire, it ignites with pain but burns like pleasure through your dripping cunt.

“what’s my name?”

“mm’fuck..lee know?”

“wrong.”

minho pulls you up by a firm grip on the ropes tied around your arms, his mouth right next to your ear. you squirm in the ropes uselessly in his grasp.

“what’s my name, whore.

“lee know! it’s lee know!”

this time it’s his hand that corrects you, spanking you once with a harder force than the crop. he moves you closer by your neck slightly, pressing your red ass against his bulge, wetting the fabric.

“if you keep getting it wrong i’ll just keep hurting you. you know what i wanna hear from that dirty mouth, slut. you’re doing this to yourself.”

you can barely respond. his words alone have your mind fuzzy and dumb for him already, and his cock isn’t even in you yet.

“answer me. i won’t ask you again.”

you’re quickly woken up from your daze when minho lets go of you and drops you down on the bed. the ropes on your arms make you fall directly on your chest, ending with a painful hit with the crop. this one hurt the most, but it also had you crying out in pleasure for your dom.

“sir! sir- that’s your fucking name, sir..fucking feels so good..”

“ah, so you do know how to use your words.”

“please..need your big cock s’bad, sir..”

you grind your hips down on his bulge desperately as more begs spill from your lips.

“well, you know the rules. if they wanna see that, they have to give me their fucking money.”

minho grinds himself back on your pussy, letting out a few shaky breaths at the feeling of the tension in his pants being slightly relieved. he looks at the camera with a slutty expression on his face.

“fuck..you all have been so good, i think you deserve a reward. wanna see me fuck this bitch into the mattress?”

fck_hyune: god fuck yes

j.onee: fucking a dildo rn thinking of you

j.onee: wish it was your fucking cock pounding me instead while i eat her out

bbok.flx: realest take ive ever heard

i.yen.01: i wish i was HIM. her little noises are so cute jsndbn

“seems like a yes. you all know the drill, get the donations up to eight hundered and this cock is all yours.”

minho flips you over on your back restraints and unzips his pants, he makes a show out of pulling his dripping cock out of his boxers. he’s always been big, that attitude he has isn’t for nothing. he bats his lashes at the camera, while circling his thick, pink tip with his thumb.

he dips his thumb into his slit and lets out a faint moan at the feeling. he chuckles shyly at the noise he made and teases his chat.

“ah..look at it fucking dripping..this is what you paid for.”

fck_hyune: im so broke now but ts is worth every penny so far

cbinniwh0re: hey who says i need to pay rent

j.onee: fuckk i need that fucking cock in my mouth noww ur streams are torture.

minho looks down at you, he moves the hair out of your face and circles his hand soothingly along the small of your back.

“still okay, sweet girl? ropes good?”

you arch your back and squirm your arms to show him that the ropes are secure and not too tight.

“hm. okay. color?”

“green, jus’ want your cock.”

you pout. minho hums and running his cock through your folds, collecting the wetness on his tip and jerking it softly. he runs his finger up a vein and throbs around nothing till more precum drips down his cock.

all you can hear are the obscene sounds of him jerking his wet cock and letting out soft airy moans. it torture. you just want him inside you, but the ropes leave you helpless and pliant as you just whine impatiently at his sounds.

without warning, he spreads you open and slides his cock inside, forcing more in with short, forceful thrusts. he circles his hips inside you slowly once he’s all the way in.

“fuck! sir, yes! so fucking big.. mmplease fuck me please i’m such a good girl-“

minho shoves your head down into the pillows and grabs something off the counter. you feel something attach to your clit and start sucking it roughly. the clit sucker from earlier. it’s too much. you squirm your hips around, but all that does is work minho inside you deeper.

“if you’re such a good girl, then fucking take it.”

minho graps the ropes on your wrists as leverage to pull you back on his cock over and over. he just started moving and he’s already pounding the shit out of you. the double stimulation of the suction on your clit and the cock rubbing along your g-spot, already has you close.

“ah! fuck! fuckfuckfuck sir don’t fucking stop please..”

“gonna cum already? go ahead but im not stopping till i cum.”

he reaches under you and clicks the clit sucker into a higher setting that has you squirting around his cock in seconds. your eyes roll back as your thighs tremble and drip from your intense orgasm.

minho takes the clit sucker off of your puffy, wet clit and leans forward, he places his hands on either sides of your waist and fucks into you roughly. pounding your pussy just the way you like.

your brain is absolute mush. you’ve never cum that quickly before in your life, and he won’t stop.

“you like that huh? like being my little fucktoy on livestream? want everyone to see your little pussy leak my cum everywhere?”

“yes! fuck yes, pleaseplease- mark me, claim my fucking cunt, sir..”

“okay. just for you..fuck, i’m gonna cum..”

with a few more satisfying thrusts and he’s spilling inside you. rutting out his orgasm inside you and placing sweet kisses down your back.

“sweet girl..milking my cock. keep all my fucking cum, you earned it. such a good girl.”

minho pulls out, you’re about to protest till you feel something else sliding inside you. minho places a pretty, red plug in your pussy, keeping all his cum inside you.

“shh. you can rest for a second while i wrap up stream, okay? i love you.”

“i know, i love you too. minho.” you whisper.

. . .

“so! did you all enjoy the stream? did you get to cum too? i hope so.”

j.onee: i don’t think i’ve ever cum so hard in my life

fck_hyune: ..i don’t know which of you i’d rather be honestly

“im glad you did, but! it’s time to say goodbye. don’t be sad though. the next stream is in a week anyway so stay tuned. say bye bye!”

bbok.flx: awe bye bye ;(

cbinniwh0re: byebye silly

cbbang97: ill miss youuuuu

ppup_m1nnie: bye yall

j.onee: ILY SEE U IN A WEEK

ppup_m1nnie: glazer

“hm, see you soon, j.one.”

j.onee: OH MY GOD

ppup_m1nnie: oh shit

taglist: @estella-novella @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @theresstardustinmyblood @annafeebou @pancake-freckle @elizalabs3 @minniesverse @loxgirl2004 @mintymintmint251 @y-ur--i @liv1sworld

pink=didnt work

#skz smut #18+ mdni #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader #kinkmas

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daenysx · 2 months ago

Note

Okay blurb req for old money!Aemond who is ALSO a model for really expensive brands and his gf is a photographer👀 inspired by the photoshoot and that one specific blue leopard print pic🙂‍↕️🤭

oh my god i hope i did well, thank you, rue !! <33333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

cw; modern!aemond being a hopeless romantic, suggestive, kisses, no but he's really so in love it hurts, photographer!reader and model!aemond can be a new favorite wow

"are you sure this is professional?"

aemond has no shame, honestly. you don't think you can be expected to be 'professional' when your boyfriend looks like he'll ruin your entire existence by looking like the most charming being in the entire universe.

his blue eyes sparkle in the latest photos you take, a stark contrast with his platinum blonde hair. flowy strands make you want to pull aemond to yourself enough to give him a good kiss on his neck as your fingers travel in his hair. maybe you can do that when you get to be alone with him. oh, you'll definitely do that when you're alone.

"i believe i'm extremely professional." you murmur, holding his hand to make him pose the way you want. "if you stop being so distracting, it'll be even better."

he smirks. a small quirk of lovely lips, he's handsome and he knows it. he leans into your space and your hold on your camera tightens. you will not kiss him. you can't, there are other people here, and this is business. you take a step back.

"i'm only doing what you tell me to do." he says like he's the most innocent man. "you can't say i'm not being good."

you give him a small smile. he's in the mood for playing.

"i didn't say that." you say, quietly. "come on, a few more for me and we'll be done."

aemond fixes his posture, your one hand still holding his. "of course." he says, coolly. "you know i can actually be good for you. as many as you want, you'll have it."

you lick your lips to control your face expressions. not the time, not the place. just like you say to him, only a few more and you'll be done.

the clothes he's wearing make aemond look taller as if it's actually possible. you admire his poses, his confidence and his awareness of how good he looks. he turns his head for another picture, his eyes following your every move. it's like a wordless conversation between you two.

"can i get one with a smile?" you ask him, your hand directing his last pose. "not too wide, just- a subtle one, please."

"i'm afraid that's not possible if i'm going to give you a smile." he flirts. "maybe you should let someone else take the photo if you need a subtle one."

you hear two girls giggling at the corner. he really thinks he's so fun, doesn't he? it's his world here, he knows how to charm his way and he certainly knows how to be a flirt. you're thankful he's already yours, it would be impossible to handle him otherwise.

after another fifteen minutes, you're all done. you go next to aemond, leaving your camera. people around you move quickly to clean up the place, and fix all the mess that has been made. aemond takes your hand to brush a kiss on your knuckles. his eyes are warm this time, so clear under this lights.

"what do you think?" he asks. "good?"

you nod softly. "probably the best in a long time."

"kind of hard not to." he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer. "i had the best photographer."

you give him a kiss on his cheek but that's all. he's been teasing you all day long. "do you flirt with all your photographers like this, mr. targaryen?"

"absolutely not." he answers, cheekily. "my flirting skills are reserved for only one person."

"i think you owe me a drink." you tell him. "even working is easier than trying to deal with your incessant teasing."

"we'll have dinner first." he says, kissing the side of your head. he doesn't say, but he's tired. "think of what you want to eat when i'm changing, okay? i have a few options if you can't decide."

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tojjist · 10 months ago

Text

‘1-800-fix it felix !’

in which; When your boyfriend has a problem he knows who to call! Can you fix it? featuring: s.gojo x afab! reader contains: masturbation, face time s3x , reader shows her br3asts over the camera, bathroom masturb@tion, pet names (babe, baby), reader being a tease, gojo being js a little bit subby

Satoru thinks of you all the time. He thinks of the new perfume you bought last week, of the pretty dress you wore to your last date. He thinks about how pretty you look when your hair is done all up, and about how sweet your voice sounds in this voice note you just sent him.

Fuck. He’s hard.

Can you blame him? You just woke up and for some inexplicable reason thought sending him a voice message while he’s at work is a good idea. Do you not notice the way you sigh your half-coherent words? Do you not notice the way you sigh out your words, barely coherent? Satoru swears he can feel his ears tingling at the longing in your voice for him.

You’re not making this at all easy.

Just as you start to drift back to sleep, there's a buzz somewhere around your head. Curses slip from your lips as you grope around the duvet, trying to locate your device with your half-asleep senses. With your eyes barely open, you try to read the contact name.

Of course it’s Satoru. Of course it’s a facetime call. He can’t settle for a damned text. It’s his brand at this point. You appreciate the attention, of course. But you’re sure you told him you’re going back to sleep in that voice note.

As soon as your finger swipes the little green icon to answer the call, you begin to speak, “I swear to god Satoru-”

“Hey baby,” he cuts you off. It sounds like he's in a confined space. A toilet stall, maybe? You're too sleepy to dwell on it. “I missed you”

“Mhmm..” You yawn. “‘Missed you too…”

The camera on his end is slightly shaky, and so is his breath. But in this sleepy state you can barely notice it really.

“What's up...?” you ask, flipping over and adjusting the phone, ”is everything okay?”

“Yeah—fuck—” his eyebrows furrow, giving you a moment of confusion. "You're looking so pretty—hah—baby."

“Satoru…” realization dawns on you, excitement stirring within. “Show me.”

The camera trembles as it takes him nearly a minute to respond to your request. Finally, his finger hits the flip camera button, giving you a shaky view of his fist wrapped around his length, stroking himself vigorously.

Pearly precum oozes from his tip, a thumb moving to spread it slightly before he goes back at it again.

“Oh? Is this all f’me?” You grin, observing his subdued grunts. It would be such a shame if someone were to come into the bathroom right now. “This early in the morning, too? Couldn’t you wait to get home at least?”

“Sh– hah– shut up,” he picks up the pace, starting from the very base, “at least make yourself– useful.”

Your tongue glides across your lower lip, considering your next move. While you love watching Satoru struggle on his own like this, relishing at the revelation that it’s the thought of you that makes him like this, you also think a little assistance wouldn’t harm.

“What do you wanna see?” You smirk smugly, enjoying this ordeal.

“Fuck– fuck– baby,” he’s quiet resilient with it, strokes increasing in pace little by little. “Sh-show me your tits, baby.”

“Hmm? What if I don’t?” Undeniably, you’re gonna regret this later. You savor the moment nonetheless. There’s a certain sort of zest in the control you have over this moment.

“Fuck you,” his fist tightens around his dick, veins popping out. You love the view. God, you wish you were there to help. Your thighs tighten to squelch the heat growing in your core. “Please, baby, ‘wanna see my girl’s pretty– shit– tits”

That’s enough to convince you. More than enough, actually. Without hesitation, you lift your t-shirt up, showing him a view that nearly makes him faint. He can almost feel the warmth of your skin against his. He feels his climax reaching. You move your fingers, massaging your breast. That was his endgame.

A string of curses begins to slip past his lips, along with a grunted “I’m gonna- fuck- I'm gonna cum-”

Your grin widens, biting your lower lip. “Mhm… so hard for me, ‘Toru..? Wish I was there to help…” Your words come out stretched, all on purpose. It causes a robust groan to thunder through him. The view begins to totter. With a final groan, milky robes seep out of Storu’s shaft, running down his white knuckles and onto his thighs. His breathes even out as he comes down from his high.

“You’re welcome,” you hum, satisfied. You put the phone to your side, pulling your shirt back down. When you picked the phone back up, the call was hung up. You almost feel offended, rushing to text him a ‘what the fuck?’

Before you could text him the half-angry message, your phone vibrates again.

‘sorry babe someone came in’ - 8:46 am ‘ill call u later’ - 8:46 am ‘love ya’ - 8:47 am

You roll your eyes, definitely planning on bringing this up later. Going back to sleep will be hard with the stain on your underwear.

Maybe you’re going to be the one to call this time so he could fix it.

#bella writes #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #one more time hopefully

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iamgonnagetyouback · 4 months ago

Text

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You couldn't handle the fame that came with dating Timothée.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst with happy ending, Mean comments on social media, hurt/comfort

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Timothée Chalamet x reader

You never signed up for this. The flashing cameras, the invasive questions, the harsh headlines—you didn’t want any of it. You were just an ordinary person who had fallen in love with someone extraordinary.

But now, all of that was shattered.

The pictures had been plastered all over the internet overnight. You and Timothée, walking together in what you thought was a quiet, private moment. He was holding your hand, laughing at something you said, and the warmth between you was evident in every frame. Except now, it was a spectacle for the world to dissect.

"Timothée's Secret Girlfriend Exposed!" "Who Is She? Is She Just a Fling?" "Is Timothée Chalamet Hiding His New Love?"

Your phone was blowing up with notifications from friends, family, and strangers alike. The comments on social media were brutal. People were either attacking your looks, your past, or questioning why someone like him would ever be with someone like you.

And Timothée was silent. No statements, no comments. Nothing.

That night, you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, reading the cruel words again and again. You knew he wasn’t ignoring you, but it still stung.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he protecting you?

Your heart clenched as you texted him:

"I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. I’m sorry, Timmy."

It wasn’t long before your doorbell rang.

When you opened the door, there he was. Timothée, in the same clothes you’d last seen him in, out of breath like he had run all the way here. His eyes were wild with concern, pain flickering behind them as they scanned your face.

“You’re breaking up with me? Just like that?” His voice cracked slightly, but he was trying to hold it together.

Your throat tightened. “I’m sorry. I can’t handle this, Timmy. It’s too much. The hate, the rumors, the… everything. I’m not built for this world of yours.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he stepped closer. "You think I care about that? About them? You mean everything to me, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to protect you from all this. I just… I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to make it worse."

You backed up, overwhelmed by your emotions, shaking your head. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what I can handle, and I can’t handle being ripped apart by people who don’t even know me. Every time I go online, I see people saying I don’t deserve you, that I’m just some random girl. And you—you haven’t even said anything.”

He swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t want to make a statement because I thought it would just drag you further into the spotlight. But you’re right, I should’ve said something. I was selfish, I was scared of losing you, and in trying to protect you, I hurt you.”

Your chest tightened as the tears began to fall. “It’s too late, Timmy.”

“No, please, don’t say that,” he whispered, stepping forward to take your hands in his. His grip was warm and pleading. “I’m going to fix this. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll tell the world about us, tell them how much you mean to me. I’ll stand up for you.”

“I don’t want to be famous, Timmy. I just want to be with you.”

He nodded frantically, his hands shaking as he held you. “Then we’ll do it quietly. We’ll move away if we have to. I don’t care what it takes, just please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.”

You looked into his eyes, the love there breaking through the walls you’d been trying so hard to put up. “I’m scared.”

“I am too,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But I promise, I’ll never let you face this alone again. You’re not just some girl to me. You’re everything.”

His words shattered the last of your defenses. You collapsed into his arms, sobbing into his chest as he held you tight, whispering over and over, "I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry."

The next morning, Timothée made a statement on Instagram.

"To those asking, yes, I'm in love. She's not a celebrity, and that doesn’t make her any less important. She's my world, and I will not stand by while she's attacked and torn down by people who don’t know her. We are happy, and that’s all that matters."

As you read it, you felt a weight lift. It wasn’t going to be easy, but at least you weren’t facing it alone anymore.

And that made all the difference.

thank you so much for the request @idkchosseyou !!

#timothée chalamet #timothee chamalet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet angst #timothee chalamet hurt/comfort #timothee chalamet fluff #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ

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cheer-nympho · 30 days ago

Text

bit of steddie ghostface au anyone?

Nancy thought she was holding her trembling back well, but it was hard to have any confidence in the face of those dead, blank, masked eyes. Two pairs of empty holes staring up at her, waiting. She felt more trapped than they were.

Which was certainly not true, as she was stood quite freely next to a news camera supported on Jonathans shoulder, hooked up to the stolen reporter van situated to their left. Meanwhile the masked figures were tied thoroughly to the two metal chairs at both the arms and legs.

But…there was something in the slight tilt of the left persons head, like a confused dog waiting to see what would happen next. It was getting to her. Making something deep and old inside her uncomfortable and restless.

But she couldn’t look away, not now. With one last look towards Jon and a confirmation nod, she approached the figures.

“We are live across Hawkins news stations ,there is no getting out of this. Everyone will know who you are.” If the duo had any thoughts on her comments, they didn’t show it. Masks unmoving. “I need you to look into that camera knowing the families of your victims are watching.”

And that got a reaction, a small jump of the shoulders. A weird motion to place without being able to see a face, but Nancy could tell. It was a little laugh.

Any fear she had was stripped away to red hot anger, she ignored Jonathans call of ‘wait, Nancy-‘ as she reached for the mask, ripping it off with a harsh movement that made the persons head snap back slightly. And then it was done. She was holding it. She would know. They watched as the bent over stranger, who’s face was still obscured by a mess of hair, began to shake.

And the horrible, cold dread of truth seemed to weigh down on Nancy as she realised…she knew that hair. She knew that expressive body language. Knew why she could tell he was laughing, because she had seen it a thousand times. The head lifted to reveal Eddie Munson.

Local freak, dungeon master and…Nancys friend. An older sibling figure. An idol to her brother. He sat, body obscured behind a robe and looking far too pleased with himself. She was going to be sick. The mask dropped from her hand as she took a shaky step back.

“Aw Nance, I told you I had plans tonight didn’t I?” His voice was clear and calm, teasing and playful. Like he was teasing her the same as all those times before. She had to…she had to get out of there. She couldn’t even speak.

She jumped as a hand landed on her shoulder, vision spinning as she turned towards the new danger. But it was just Jonathan. He had small tears in the corner oh his eyes, but his face was twisted in determined anger. The trembling through his body seeming to end just before his arm supporting the camera, keeping it steadily fixed on Eddie who was back to tilting his head at the lens. The hand grounded her, reminded her that this wasn’t about them. That she’d have plenty of time later to scream and cry and ask ‘why?’ to an empty room.

But for now, she had to show Hawkins who they had to blame. She still had to unmask the killers-…Eddie’s accomplice. Before she could though, a movement from the right caught her attention. A full body shake seemed to have overtaken the remaining masked individual.

Eddie turned to look at his apparent partner with a look of…distain? Annoyance? Nancy didn’t know, but it confused her enough to approach the second person. When she did, she noticed the shaking was accompanied by a laboured breathing and was that…sniffling?

What the fuck was going on? The body began to sway aggressively, a panicked movement as if trying to get out of the bonds holding them there. The mask darted from side to side, as if looking around in confusion. The sight was equal parts terrifying and baffling.

Nancy hastily got a grip on the persons head from behind to steady it which earned her a panicked shout, before she grabbed the underside of the mask and pulled. And the feeling of her heart shattering seemed to line up with the echoing sound of the plastic hitting the floor.

It didn’t matter that she was standing behind him. She knew exactly who that was. “J-Jon? Man what is happening here, please you have to help! I dont, I dont know where I am-“ The terrified, shaky voice of her ex boyfriend filled the room.

His pleading fell on deaf ears, as Nancy supposed the ringing in Jonathans head must be as loud as hers. But somehow through the mess of emotions, her brain latched onto the only easy to comprehend information. The only thing she could try and deal with. What was he saying?

He…didn’t know where he was? He wanted help?

Immediately she swung to the front of him, kneeling down in front of the chair and taking his face in her hands. She turned it from side to side, as if looking for a clear answer. “Steve, Steve you need to calm down.”

“I don’t know what’s going on or where I am and I can’t breath Nancy I can’t breathe what’s happening you have to help me I can’t breath oh my God what’s happening I can’t-“ a pained gasp around tears. “I don’t understand I don’t understand I don’t-“

“Steve!” She shakes his head slightly. “Steve, listen to my voice. I’m here, Jon is here. You’re okay. We will figure this out, okay. But first I need you to calm down.” He shakes her head at her but noticeably stops swaying. His breathing evening out slightly as his eyes

Take her in. She sees him purposefully take a few deep breaths before looking up at Jon to confirm he was still there. Still stood above him. That seems to remind him of his situation. “I don’t…” He exhales a pained breath. “I don’t like this. Nancy, why am I tied up?”

“Steve…”

“I…Trust you. But I can’t handle restraints Nancy, you know that from…from last time. I don’t know what’s happening, please…untie them.” She stares up at him for a few seconds, searching his wet eyes as her hands naturally reach to undo the rope around his ankles.

But something stops her. A deep, gutfeeling prevents her from moving any further. Like something in his eyes was telling her…she shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry, not now. We will figure this out, but I cannot do that.” A look of betrayal washes over his sunken face, and she almost regrets her choice. Until she hears a little laugh from beside her. Breathy and mocking.

“Man, that was so pathetic.”

But before she can turn to look, a twitch at Steve’s mouth catches her attention. Like another mask was ripped away from him, his demeanour falls apart.

Like the shaking crying man was never there. In its place was the Steve she knew, in the worst way possible. He looked fine. Just fine. Happy, even. Like he was joking around with the kids. A genuine smile on his face as he looked over to Eddie, not caring for Nancy at his feet.

“Awe come on, I almost had it there.”

“You didn’t have shit sweetheart, your big eyes are too expressive. You’re not supposed to look happy to have apparently been at my mercy for weeks.”

“Well, we both know I’m more than happy for-“

“What the fuck is going on?”

Both of their heads swivel towards her. And she isn’t sure if its the perfect sync or the cold, dead eyes that make her freeze up and wish she hadn’t spoken. She needs to…needs to back up. She can’t be on camera for this anymore.

They both snicker at her clear retreat before looking towards each other as if to, what? Get their stories straight. In any other situation she would scoff. It’s not like they had any way to talk their way out of this one. When Eddies eyes finally return to het his look is positively taunting.

“Is it not obvious, Nancy Drew?” He tacks it on in the same tone he would tease Mike in, it makes her feel sick to her stomach. “I mean, I don’t think there is a more conclusive way to catch two masked killers. You have your big Scooby Doo moment already.”

That gets a laugh out of Steve, a real laugh like a girl twirling her finger around a phone cord while talking to her crush. She isn’t sure why it makes her want to punch him in the face. The anger helps. It lets her pretend. Put on an act for the broadcast.

“So you admit it?”

“Admit what exactly, Nance? Need some specifics here. You know I’m an idiot.” The thing wearing Steves face jeers at her .

“You killed them. You killed Fred, and Patrick. Jason and Andy. You killed…you killed Chrissy.”

Eddie makes a humming noise and opens his hand into a fist where it peeks out from behind the chair.

“Let’s see let’s see. So we have Fred first of course. Easy one really, took you all a while to notice that.”

“Yeah poor kid, you guys were really cruel to him.”

“Right? And Next we have Andy. Steve took that one for the team-“ they both giggled at the pun. “Cause I can’t take on a basketball member.”

“I don’t know, you fared pretty well against Jason.”

“4 years of repressed anger baby, absolute magic.”

“Shame about Chrissy though.”

“Yeah, nice girl. Just bad luck really, the one time she wanted some drugs was when I was halfway through her boyfriends skull…”

“It couldn’t be helped.” Steve gives him a comforting look.

“No, no you’re right. Had to be done.”

Nancy waits for them to continue but they just…don’t. They leave it there.

An eerie silence takes over the room, but the two seem quite content to stare into each other’s soulless eyes.

And it seems to piss Jonathan off just as much as her because he finally speaks up.

“And Patrick?” His voice is scratchy with held back tears and vitriol.

“What about Patrick?” Eddie cocks his head again.

“Which one of you…killed Patrick?”

Both of the men look at each other, then slowly back to Nancy and Jon. Before landing on the camera lens.

“Well, we can’t take credit for everything can we?”

And with that, the lights in the warehouse shut off.

Nancy jumps, trying to hold in the little scream as Jon drops the camera to the floor and yanks her towards him, their heavy breaths the only sound. Waiting.

“Nancy…” Jonathan whispers.

She can’t speak. Can’t open her eyes or her mouth. Can’t keep up, can’t breathe. So she nods against his chest.

“…Robin said she had plans tonight.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #mini fic #prompt #ghostface #ghostface au #au #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #robin buckley #killer au #nancys a final girl shell be fine #i love writing and reading about them as ooc murderous weirdos #my writing #stobin

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l3tm3kn0w · 3 months ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE: The Wheel of Fortune

jungkook x reader | friends to lovers | spiderman!au — link to masterlist

chapter summary: your mission to get an interview from spiderman reaches a new milestone as the arachnid vigilante acknowledges your presence during your latest chase, and the wheels of fortune are put into motion as you're faced with a devastating turn of events

wc: 8k

warning: explicit language, swearing, sexual innuendos/jokes, one joke about brutally murdering a best friend, mentions of drinking, mentions of kidapping, slow burn that’s burning slowly, jungkook has a crush tho ur just fucking oblivious sorry, other bitches wanting jungkook also deserves a warning i fear

a/n: hello world, hello tumblr!! first time publishing something here (a sister hailing from ao3 speaking) so please bear with me as i try to relearn how to navigate this website from my preteens. i’ve DMs open & believe i also opened asks????? with anon enabled???? (help????) so if you want to holler at me, you may do so there as well :)

aaaaand, welcome to the first chapter, where we’re really just setting the scene for what’s to come, hehe. please know that i don’t have a beta-reader, so please excuse any mistakes i might’ve accidentally left in 😣

hope you’ll enjoy it!! happy reading <3

You watch as the man plummets towards the ground from the 12th floor balcony.

A pretty jammed crowd of bystanders have formed on the street corner you, too, are standing on, watching with bated breath as the suited figure limply approaches the ground. You play with the voice recorder in your hand as parents cover their children’s eyes, and friends tightly grab onto each other in anticipation. The rest have their cell phones’ cameras up and ready, but the focus is not on the falling man.

You take a deep breath.

“C’mon,” you mutter under your breath. A man elbows you in the ribs, but you graciously ignore it in favour of not breaking your focus. “C’mon, c’mon, dude, show up. Show up. Don’t be a false reporting and an unnecessary trauma, c’mon.”

A gunshot is heard from somewhere within the apartment building. A window breaks, but it’s hard to say if it’s because of the bullet or the lean, male figure that jumped through it.

The crowd gasps as if one person, heads and cameras both immediately snapping towards the new person, clad in unmistakable red and blue. You allow yourself a satisfied smirk. He free falls for a moment, and someone shrieks, and you don’t bother trying to suppress your snort because, come on, it’s obvious that in the very next second, he’s going to— yup, Spiderman shoots a web, as Spiderman tends to do, and swings towards the suited man in a pleasant, even arch.

OK. Good. So, Spiderman is here.

Time to get into position.

“Excuse me, sorry,” you mutter as you fight your way through the crowd, trying to secure a nice spot around the edge, towards the closer side. People don’t really mind you, looking awestruck with their mouths slightly open as Spiderman’s hands steadily encircle the torso of the man who was previously plummeting towards certain death, very heroic indeed. And anyways — you’re a native New Yorker. Meaning you’re not above a little elbowing here and there when the situation calls for it. “Sorry, I’m coming through, excuse me.”

The crowd spits you out at the edge.

After stumbling a little, you huff, fixing the straps of your backpacks on your shoulders, and ruffling your hair.

You walk a little closer, just in time to hear the crowd erupt in a loud cheer as Spiderman touches ground, the loan shark looking man in his forties held bridal style in his arms. God, now that’s a sight. You should’ve brought your camera — if only you didn’t catch the report on Spidey-Watch so last minute while stepping off the subway.

OK. Approximately 25 seconds, now. That’s what you have.

You lean down to retie the shoelaces of your trainers. Tightly. With a double knot, and all.

Spiderman sets the man on his feet. Tentatively, the man, too, releases the hold he has around Spiderman’s shoulders.

He looks shaken, understandably. Face pale, clearly on the brink of vomiting, legs shaking as he takes a few tentative steps. The reality that his bones didn’t end up cracking into a million little pieces seems to sink in for him as he cries, hands flying back to grip onto the vigilante’s shoulders. “You saved me, Spiderman.”

“Yeah.” Spiderman nods. He pats the man’s hands on his shoulders — maybe in a show of comfort, maybe in an awkward attempt to get them off. “Please make more responsible deals in the future. Preferably not with the, y’know, uh. . . the mob.”

“I didn’t know they were the mob, Spiderman.” The man shakes his head, voice very utterly serious, before giving himself away by swallowing.

“Of course you didn’t,” Spiderman complies.

“Of course I didn’t,” the man affirms. He gasps, taking his hands off of Spiderman’s latex suit clad shoulders to rummage through the inner pockets of his suit jackets. “Wait a second.”

You take the chance to walk closer to the scene on the sidelines while the crowd is busy watching intently as the man produces a 5$ Starbucks gift card. Some gasp, some sigh in awe. Personally, you just think he’s a bit of a cheap ass loser as you grip your voice recorder tighter, fingers hovering ready over the buttons.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” Spiderman shakes his head as he declines the generous offer, holding out his palms in rejection.

“Please, take it,” says the man, pushing the gift card into the vigilante’s chest before swiftly letting it go, so that the other has no chance but to grab it before it falls to the ground. “Let me repay you. Thank you, Spiderman.”

“Thank you, Spiderman,” the crowd echoes.

The scene is a bit funny. In the same way it’s funny when people clap when a plane lands.

OK. About 10 seconds now.

Spiderman quickly says his goodbyes to his impromptu audience, throwing up a few peace signs here and there while shooting a web behind him, ready to take off.

“Goodbye, you people. Drink water and, uh, stay safe!” Spiderman starts walking backwards as he speaks, gradually gaining speed. “Oh, and wear sunscreen!”

The crowd answers, “We will, Spiderman!”

And just like that, Spiderman is off.

It’s your time to shine. In your comfortable running trainers, you take off on the pavement, right under where he swings, attention divided between evading fellow pedestrians and keeping an eye on the arachnid vigilante.

“Spiderman! Hey, Spiderman!” you shout. For a moment, you swear you see him teeter. “Spiderman, I’m ___ from the NYU Weekly, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

Nothing.

Spiderman keeps swinging. So, what to do, you keep running.

“Spiderman!” you continue, “I study journalism with a minor in communications and am writing my thesis on the presentation of superheroes in the media, and I think an interview with you could give great insight on the subject to the academics!”

Spiderman keeps swinging.

In your heedlessness, you faintly crash into one of the green, metal bins out on the street with your hip, letting out a painful yelp as you press a palm against the most likely forming bruise to soothe the pain.

But still, you keep running.

“Miss!” you hear someone shout. Snapping your head up, you see Spiderman looking down on you as he glides through the air, expression hidden behind his mask but voice a bit desperate. “Miss, please stop doing this, it’s very dangerous.”

“Give me an interview?” you try, starting to get out of breath.

You’ve never gotten this far before. Usually, he manages to shake you off pretty quickly at the first approaching street corner. This is a bit more than what you’ve been working out in the university’s gym for.

This might just be your chance, though— Spiderman actually acknowledged your presence, it’s been like half a minute and you’re still hot on his trail, and your new running shoes, although very, very fugly, are holding up great so far.

But before you have a chance to give it another try, a few — unexpected to your calculations — things happen in quick succession.

You hear Spiderman let out an uncharacteristical squeak, and the next thing you know, you’re falling back on your ass, some of the textbooks in your backpack painfully digging into your back as you collide with a news stand by the crosswalk.

A few metres from you, cars start speeding down the road as the lights turn green.

“I’m really sorry, miss!” Spiderman shouts once more. “Soak it in one part water and one part vinegar overnight! And be more careful watching where you’re going, please!”

And with that, Spiderman turns the corner, and away he swings above the New York traffic.

Well. There’s always next time.

Groaning, you push yourself up into a squat with both hands on the ground, before massaging the strain in the top of your neck where your head has jerked back upon impact with the news stand.

All over your chest, are slimy, gooey, sticky white spiderwebs. You try not to cry.

The sweater is cashmere.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

“Where the hell have you been?” Yoongi Min, a short, mint-haired communications major senior with cat-like tendencies and an endless temperament, (and your best friend since the diapers, but that’s worth mentioning only on the margins), whisper-yells as you slide into the seat next to him during the ongoing lecture.

Eyes on the presentation screen, you pull your laptop and water bottle out of your bag without any haste, trying to get an idea of which lecture of yours you are even sitting in on right now. You catch a few buzzwords like defamation, source credibility, Johnny Depp, and deep fakes on the presentation.

Introduction to Media Law, is the most feasible conclusion you can come to.

“I had a lead,” you mutter to Yoongi as you power up OneNote on your screen.

“You mean you stalked him on Twitter,” Yoongi corrects. He drops his stylus in favour of tugging on the sweater you didn’t have time to change out of, curiously touching the gooey remains of spiderwebs before wiping it back into the material from his fingers with a scrunched up face. “Ew. You look as if someone depraved just came all across your tits. What the fuck did you do this time?”

“As you can see, I had an actual interaction with Spiderman this time.” You smirk. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Details are unimportant. The point is, now I’m sure he knows who I am, and the next time he sees me he’ll—”

“Wait,” Yoongi interrupts. “What do you mean next time? Namjoon told you to give up on the article.”

“That’s only because Namjoon’s been dumped again and became a defeatist.” You shake your head. The lecturer asks a question, so you start randomly typing on your keyboard. Old man Professor Hendersson’s a softie, he wouldn’t call on a student busy in the making of the perfect lecture notes. Some person in the third row answers him, and so you continue to do the same to Yoongi. “Dude’s gonna be kissing my feet when I make him the first NYU Weekly editor who signs off on an Avengers feature.”

“Avengers-adjacent.” Yoongi corrects.

“Spiderman wouldn’t appreciate you saying that.”

Yoongi snorts. “What a relief Spiderman won’t hear shit of what I say.”

“Hey guys,” whispers a third voice.

Jungkook Jeon — shy, giggly, fellow journalism major junior with a long haircut that makes him look like a triangle kimbap — slides into the other seat next to Yoongi, only a notebook and a branded cup of coffee in hand.

He looks slightly out of breath, cheeks aflame, and clothes messy, his large black t-shirt hanging inside out on his lean figure. It’s 11:42, which might as well be the ass crack of dawn in Jungkook-terms. He must’ve slept in.

Jungkook settles in the seat, taking a sip of his coffee with the straw as he turns the pages of his notebook to the next blank. That is when he seems to remember something.

Before he could even look over and ask, you reach over Yoongi (who scratches your arm that blocks his sight of his iPad, HayDay opened, which is not very nice of him, is it, but see — the aforementioned cat-like tendencies) to hand him the pen you’ve fished out of your bag the moment Jungkook sat down.

You know him too well.

Cheeks going a bit pinker, Jungkook huffs, accepting the pen as he whispers, “Thanks, ___”

“Welcome, as usual.”

Yoongi pipes up, his interrogative gaze turning to Jungkook this time. “And you? Been on a coffee date, debating existentialism and forgot time exists? Why am I the only one taking my education seriously?”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “No offence, dude, but the only thing I see you taking seriously is trying to hack into Seokjin’s farm to sell his raspberry cupcakes to yourself.”

“I need to sell some to Greg.” Yoongi shrugs. “And I, unlike you dipshits, was here on time, wasn’t I?”

“I was at my Stark internship,” Jungkook whispers, before mumblingly adding, “In case it was genuine curiosity.”

You sigh. You look at this boy, with a hint of pity in your eyes. So young, so bright, way too cute for his own good, but just a bit too easy for this big, bad world. “Jungkook?”

“Hm?” he hums.

“Do you think you’ll ever get hired?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that, didn’t you say you’ve been interning for him since junior year of high school?” you continue. In your years of friendship with the guy, steady since the freshmen camp in Upstate NY he ditched after a day and a half, you’ve heard your fair share about this internship at whichever branch of Tony Stark’s company, both from Jungkook and his childhood friends, Jimin and Taehyung alike. “It sounds like the old Ironbag is exploiting your labour for me. Go somewhere you’re appreciated. And is relevant to your studies.”

“Damn, I just realised it.” Yoongi pipes up.

You didn’t dignify him with asking the question. Yoongi’s eyes are screaming bullshit. You’ve known your own childhood friend for a bit too long to fall for an obvious bait like that.

Jungkook, who has been looking at you with a nervous glint in his eyes, though, is seemingly not as seasoned as you are. “Realised what?”

“Thank you so much for asking, Jungkook,” Yoongi pats the younger boy’s arm, before turning to you. “I’ve realised that you’re exhibiting extreme levels of jobless behaviour and should take your own advice first.” Next, he addresses Jungkook again. “Can you believe she was chasing Spiderman down the city this morning, too? That’s jobless. Jungkookie can at least put the Stark stuff on his resume.”

“I can, too,” you protest. The only reason you’re doing any of this is for the good of your academic advancement, after all. And if you get some brownie points with Namjoon for it, too… well?

“Yeah, you can put ‘stalker psycho’ as a previous position,” Yoongi says. “Will open lots of doors for you.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when I become the first journalist to get an interview with Spiderman, like, ever, and get hired to The New York Times straight out of college, but you do you, Yoongles.”

“Correction. Put ‘delusional stalker psycho.’”

“I—”

“Why do you want it so bad, anyways?” Jungkook interrupts, quickly averting his eyes when you look over at him again and catch him staring at your chest, and. . . right. Spider goo on your sweater. As already stated, he interrupted your bickering, but good thing he did, because you already have one hand in the air ready to whack Yoongi, and killing him might not be appropriate behaviour during lecture. Even if none of you are paying attention to it, and skinning Yoongi alive would be much more beneficial to your career in the long run. “You could just get an interview with Daredevil for the thesis. I think he gives out interviews from time to time.”

Yoongi snickers. “She’s scared of Daredevil.”

“I’m scared of Hell’s Kitchen,” you correct. “That’s very different.”

“It’s understandable, though,” Jungkook says, smiling sweetly at you while he doodles on the corner of his notebook. “The crime rate is a bit high there. I get it.”

“Oh, no Jungkookie, you don’t.” Yoongi shakes his head. He has a shit-eating grin curling on the edge of his lips, looking you up and down coyly as he whispers to Jungkook in dramatics. “She’s afraid of Hell’s Kitchen because she used to think Gordon Ramsey was Daredevil. Wanted to avoid him at all costs.”

It’s silent for the while — well, silent between the three of you. Professor Hendersson has started playing some video on the screen and that’s pretty loud.

Poor man has no clue on how to control the speaker system.

“I’m… pretty sure he’s not,” Jungkook says tentatively.

“Tell that to an 8 year-old me who was awfully confused by Hell’s Kitchen, the neighbourhood and Hell’s Kitchen, the television show.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend. “You’re right, Yoongi, I don’t get it.”

Yoongi pats his arms. “No problem, Jungkook. Being weird as fuck is her only charm.”

Jungkook looks ready to either confirm or fight that standpoint, but you interrupt.

“Anyways, I want the interviewee to be Spiderman, because… Lots of reasons, actually.” You sigh, thinking about how to put it into words. “First of all, most signs point towards him being young, like, around our age. He’s part of the digital native generation so he probably has different and potentially more complex views on social media and how it affects his job than the old farts and defrosted chickens in the Avengers. We could also assume he’s very media conscious, judging by how extremely lowkey his direct presence on the internet is, and yet he has a very unique relationship with the Spiderheads.”

“And who the fuck are those?” Yoongi asks.

Surprisingly, it’s not you, but Jungkook who answers for him. “His fans.”

“Please, not you, too,” Yoongi sighs, looking at Jungkook in horror.

The younger boy is very quick to shake his head. Vehemently. “Nah, nah, it’s not like that, I’m just very. . . uh, chronically online, you know.”

“You might wanna fix that, then.”

“Also,” you butt in. If you’ve started explaining, you want to finish explaining. Men, and their short attention span, God. “He just seems like a genuinely nice guy, you know? Other superheroes tend to end up in all sorts of scandals, and despite being high-profile and being around for years now, Spiderman’s slate is spotty clean. So he either has a killer PR team or he’s really just, like, a really nice and responsible guy, y’know? But it makes him a bit. . . well, impersonal when it comes down to it. I don’t wanna do an exposé or anything like that, of course, but I think people would like hearing his thoughts on stuff.”

“And you have the hots for him.” Yoongi adds.

Jungkook squeaks, and your hands shoot out to smack Yoongi on the chest. It’s a reflex, at this point.

“I do not have the hots for him,” you protest.

“Jesus Christ, how did I not realise,” Yoongi bemoans. “You so wanna fuck him, you samaritan-sexual freak.”

“You say that like being attracted to good people is a bad thing,” you hiss.

“Okay, here we go.” Yoongi points at you with his stylus. “Fuck, marry, kill: Hulk in Hulk form, Gordon Ramsey, Spiderman.”

“Dude, that’s so rigged!” you object.

“That’s what you get.” Yoongi shrugs.

“Kill Gordon Ramsey, fuck Hulk Hulk, marry Spiderman.” You give in, listing them on your fingers. “Obviously.”

“Knew you were a monster fucker. Freak,” Yoongi says delightedly. You hit him in the chest again, but he pays you no mind — probably has a dent in the shape of your fist on his chest at this point to soften the blows — as he turns to Jungkook. “Okay, let’s move on. Jungkook. Fuck, marry, kill: Megan thee Stallion, Rihanna, and ___.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend with wide eyes, cheeks already aflame a deep scarlet as he anxiously chews on his now soggy paper straw.

“C’mon, Gigi, don’t tease him,” you scold him.

“What?” Yoongi protest. “It’s a good line up.”

“Ignore him, Jungkook.”

“— could give us an adequate answer to that, right, Mr. Jeon?” Professor Hendersson’s voice breaks through your little bubble as the rest of the heads in the auditorium turn towards your little trio in the back in unison.

Uh oh. Busted.

Jungkook gapes a little as his eyes flit between the presentation and his blank notebook, swallowing nervously before clearing his throat. “Um. . .”

“You might wanna answer him, though.” Yoongi mutters. Utterly, utterly unhelpful.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

Hari’s playlist of 5 Seconds of Summer — a nostalgia mix, strictly made up of their first three albums’ repertoire — is blaring through your student apartment.

Sitting in front of the mirror in your room, you can hear them singing along in the living room as Hari carefully braids Piper’s hair, and you have to stifle a smile during their terribly off-key high notes as you perfect your eyeliner.

Half an hour ago, all three of your cell phones pinged in unison while watching Love Island on the couch as Seokjin messaged the big communal group chat a simple, ‘seoulite @ 9? who in?’ and a quick follow up of ‘reply or like this at least if you coming fuckers’.

Which brings you to the current scene: quickly getting ready as you wait for Taehyung and Jimin to pick you guys up since they live in the same off-campus student apartment complex you do, and Taehyung doesn’t drink, but drives. (Like a maniac, really. He drives as if he did drink.)

The quickly getting ready part elongated a little bit somewhere between Hana settling on the green corduroy flares and you brushing your teeth as your phones lit up with a short additional message in the thread.

Jungkookie [20:34]: me too ^^

To his credit, Jungkook is a pretty faithful lecture-goer, and due to some cosmic coincidence, semester after semester, you guys end up in almost all of the same classes, so you, who is enrolled in the same programme he is, cannot complain about a lack of Jungkook in your life.

That cannot be said about the others, though. Piper, for one, is pretty fond of complaining about a severe Jungkook deficiency.

To put it fairly, Jungkook is not the most. . . reliable guy you know. Lacks a little bit of consistency. Too scatter-minded.

Because sometimes, the man cannot be shaken off for days on end even with some super high-tech Stark Industries scraper (for the hyperbole to work properly, please imagine that they’re producing handy tools instead of, like, weaponry).

Then, there’s the other times, the admittedly much more frequent times, when there’s just simply no sight or sign of Jungkook until he conveniently decides to pop up out of the blue again.

But to be honest, it’s the dynamic your little group always had since forming.

The first time it happened, you were worried, though. Mostly because the two of you were partnered up for a group project that was rapidly coming up all the while you couldn’t get a hold of this guy you’ve known for like three weeks at that point, but the worry, of course, extended to his person, as well.

Although, after some time, seeing how nonchalant Jimin and Taehyung — friends who have known Jungkook since the dawn of time and are thick as thieves with him — are when faced with worries over Jungkook’s where- and howabouts (‘He’s just home tending to his aunt,’ / ‘He had to travel for the Stark Internship, happens sometimes’ / ‘He sprained his ankle in the gym, no biggie’ / ‘He’s probably helping out his aunt at their restaurant for the week,’ / ‘He just travelled back to Korea for Chuseok with his family to visit relatives,’ / ‘He’s fostering a stray cat, can’t leave her alone,’ and such) you decided there’s surely no reason for you to sweat about it too much.

(And anyways, Jungkook made it up to you tenfold for that one instance. He showed up to your dorm one night with two bags of takeout from their family restaurant — amazing jajangmyeon — and braved through the assignment with you in one sitting on your shitty, spring mattress. Volunteered to hold the Q&A segment following your presentation, and stayed over late into the AMs to watch the first two Star Wars prequels with you. It really solidified your budding friendship.)

It’s probably not that easy to be all cool about any of it when you have a big fat fucking crush on the guy, though. Like Piper does, for example.

These past few weeks were also ones that have seen very little of Jungkook, so the excitement bubbling in all three of you at his message is quite understandable — it means all ten of you in the groupchat have RSVP’d Seokjin’s invitation, after all. And it’s been way too long since a get-together with everyone present.

The levels of excitement only differ where Piper got struck by a desperate need to change into a tighter pair of jeans, put on some highlighters over her eyelids, and braid her blonde hair into something called a waterfall braid.

But it’s okay. After finishing your own makeup and jumping into a looser pair of pants, you gladly join Hari and Piper in the living room to line the latter’s lips with a dark red colour. Her crush is cute.

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin and Taehyung blast up Hari’s phone with announcements of their arrival and even more messages urging the three of you to make haste. They throw in a few threats of leaving you guys to fend for yourselves in a cab if you’re not down in 10, as well, but after all this time of being friends with them, you know they’re just shooting blanks.

Grabbing your coats for the chilly September nights, the three of you lock up your apartment and make your way down from the fourth floor, and into the waiting Hyundai by the sidewalk in front of the complex.

“6.34 after the first message.” Taehyung turns to Jimin who’s sitting in the passenger seat as the three of you file into the back. “Chim, can you believe that?”

“Can’t say I do, babe. It has to be a new record.”

“Do you know who edits the Guiness’? I’m gonna call them on the way.”

“Har-har-har, hello to you, too, brothers and in-laws,” Hari chirps, poking a finger through the gap between the seat and the headrest to prick the back of Jimin’s neck with her acrylics. The boy yelps, trying to snatch his younger sister’s hand, but he’s too late. “Nice evening we have here.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice evening, pleasant breeze, picturesque light pollution,” Taehyung drones on, one hand on the steering wheel while he fiddles with the radio with the other. “Let’s get a move on, are you guys ready? Have everything, all in one piece, et cetera? I have serious business to deal with Jungkook.”

“Yeah, we can leave,” you answer him, while Piper pipes up:

“What’s up with Jungkook?”

“Got a new dog,” Jimin supplies.

“And the asshole refuses to send me a picture of him,” Taehyung huffs as he drives out of the parking lot, before pointing a thumb at Jimin. “And this asshole refuses to hack Kookie’s iCloud gallery for me.”

“After all these years, which part of ethical hacking do you still not get?” Jimin sighs.

“What kind of dog did he get?” Piper follows up enthusiastically, and that conversation entertains the three of them for most of the ride.

(Jungkook got a doberman.)

Sitting by the window on the driver’s side, you drone out their conversation and occupy yourself with the city view and your thoughts.

You’ve washed your sweater. Spiderman’s washing tip has, surprisingly, worked. Which could be a nice opener for the next time you see him.

It’s been a few days since there was any sighting of him that you could catch, though.

Two days ago, Reddit was buzzing with a store robbery the vigilante has managed to stop while you slept, and yesterday, you got an alert from a Twitter account you follow called the Spidey-Watch while eating lunch in some burger joint close to campus with Seokjin and Hoseok, but it was on the far edge of Queens and you doubted you’d even get there in time to witness anything.

But never mind. Ever since you took this on the mission at the beginning of the previous spring semester, there’s one very important lesson you’ve learned: serious journalism requires patience.

And hell, if you’re not the epitome of patience by now. (Yeah, there might’ve been some problems with your inner zen in the past, but you took up yoga over the summer).

Even if just unwittingly, you lose track of the conversation in the car as you drive through Queensboro Bridge, but then a few moments later, it’s the radio playing faintly in the background that inadvertently gets your attention.

The music on the station ends in favour of the 8PM evening news, a female voice with a bit of an irritating intonation covering a few economic and political reportings your brain doesn’t quite retain, before — “. . . so with the disappearance of Amanda Porter, we urge the young population of New York City to be particularly cautious in the upcoming weeks as the number of missing person cases increases all over the city. Especially people in their late teens to early twenties are advised to avoid remote areas and travelling alone at night. The New York Police Department’s Missing Persons Unit has yet release a follow-up statement since their press conference on —”

“Jesus Christ,” Taehyung mutters as he quickly turns the volume down, sharing a concerned look with Jimin from the corner of his eyes.

The rest of the ride over to Queens passes quietly.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The Seoulite is a small, Korean hole-in-the-wall type of bar, except it is not as much of a bar as just the owner, an old woman commonly just called Auntie Aecha’s street-front apartment with a second-hand bar from Ebay dumped into her kitchen in the place of an island, and a couple of tables and chairs scattered around her entrance hall and living room.

Don’t ask. You’re not quite certain of its legality, either.

A few things to know about Auntie Aecha:

She’s a compulsive hoarder, and the decoration (or maybe, at this point, with its excessiveness, the lack thereof) proclaims it loudly. The place is packed with rugs, vases, paintings, magazines, lamps, biblical figurines, blankets, pottery and a wide array of trinkets laying around everywhere.

She has three cats, a dog, and a parrot freely roaming around the place. You’ve never learned their names, but that’s because their names keep changing every time you're here and not because your lack of trying, even when Auntie Aecha, despite her impressive age of 70 and some mystery as she says, doesn’t display any of the typical symptoms that usually come with old age, like forgetfulness. She just simply keeps calling them different fucking names, so you’ve stopped trying to keep up.

And lastly included in this list that obviously lacks completeness — she’s a self-proclaimed psychic. No other comments on that.

Namjoon found this place accidentally (distraught from heartbreak, he was trying to go over to Jungkook’s — the only problem with that plan was that this is not the area of Queens Jungkook lives in) last year after getting dumped.

Ever since Auntie Aecha has personally nursed Namjoon’s broken heart into beating again with imported peach soju, your little group took up frequenting this bar/apartment any time the urge to get together somewhere arose. (And that was only partly because Auntie Aecha gives alcohol to those of you — Piper and Hari — who are twenty-but a little short on-one).

By the time the five of you get in tonight, everyone else is here, already sitting around your usual table by the decorative fireplace.

There’s a bit of commotion as they all stand up and everyone tries to greet everyone, before you file back into your seats. Somehow, you end up on the bench seat with Jungkook — even if you distinctly remember seeing him in the armchair, the most coveted seat, by the other side of the table — and shoot Piper an apologetic look as she dejectedly takes a seat on the puff between Namjoon and Hari.

“Congratulations on becoming a father,” you mutter to Jungkook, playfully elbowing the guy on his side.

He shoots you a confused look, eyes impossibly bigger as he peers down on you. Sitting on the small bench just enough for two people, your shoulder is pressed against his biceps. The material of his large, black hoodie is nice against the bare skin of your arms.

“Don’t look so scared, I meant your dog,” you scoff at him, teeth biting into your bottom lips as you smile. Jungkook’s gaze wanders, and you wiggle your eyebrows, “Unless there’s something else I don’t know about?”

“No, no, no, there’s… there isn’t. No,” he protests, shaking his head as spots of red freckle his cheeks.

It makes you giggle — Jungkook is rather easy to fluster, despite the many eyes that follow him around hungrily anywhere he goes. As it seems, he’s completely unaware of his own allure, when objectively speaking, Jungkook is one of the prettiest guys you’ve ever met. He has these huge sparkling eyes, an elegant nose, an endearing smile overflowing with teeth, and freckled smooth honey-skin with beauty spots to kill for. And that’s just the outside.

All in all, let’s just say that you’re not entirely blind to what captivates Piper so much.

“He’s. . . Bam,” he continues. “That’s his name. I. . . um, y’know, found him a few days ago. A stray.”

“You’re sweet, Kook,” you tell him. Seokjin with the help of Hoseok has arrived back at the table with drinks, and places your usual orders — a whiskey coke for you and wheat beer for Jungkook — in front of you guys. You quickly thank them and take a sip, fiddling with the straw as you ask, “Bam. Anything particular behind the name?”

“Yeah. It means ‘night’ in Korean,” Jungkook tells you, reaching for his own drink. “My aunt named him. You, um, you wanna see pictures?”

“Sure.” You nod, and hold your drink out of reach when Jungkook leans a bit into you to fish his cellphone out of his jeans pocket.

With two fingers, you pick the lemon out of your drink to chew on it — you’re between friends with no one to impress, so if you want to rather unflatteringly suck on the garnish, you will, thank you very much — while you watch from the corner of your eye as Jungkook unlocks his phone and starts scrolling through his gallery.

He freezes, and scrolls up and down for a long moment, before hesitantly handing over his phone to you. “This is, um,” he eloquently mumbles as a description to accomapy the picture.

You take the phone from Jungkook that’s opened on a selfie of him and a dark brown doberman in bed. The focus is clearly on the dog, given that the picture cuts off somewhere above Jungkook’s chin, and you recognise the location as his bedroom, a few Star Wars and Overwatch posters on the wall in the background giving it away.

He’s a cute dog, Bam. He looks into the camera, deep dark eyes looking weirdly intelligent, his mouth open and tongue lolling out as he’s laid back against Jungkook’s naked torso. That has abs. Like, a fucking six pack. Wow.

You know Jungkook frequents the gym, he has even accompanied you to your treadmill workouts in preparation of chasing Spiderman from time to time, but in the oversized clothes he always wears, it’s easy to forget he's not actually scrawny. Still, wow. So he has abs. Yeah. Good to know.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, so you make the executive decision to zoom in slightly on the dog as you comment, “He’s really cute, Kook. Bam looks like a smart boy.”

“Yeah, he. . . yup, he really is, very smart.”

“IS THAT BAM??!”

Suddenly, you have a Taehyung-weighted mass thrown across your lap, and two hands wrenching Jungkook’s phone out of your hold.

Caught off guard, you let out a yelp as you fall slightly over Jungkook, and you would’ve been about to spill your drink, too, if it weren’t for one of Jungkook’s hands fixing around your wrist, while the other balances both you and Taehyung by wrapping itself around your back. Quick reflexes.

“Hey, shithead!” you snap, slapping a palm over Taehyung’s back.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this cutieful little cinnamon roll from me, dude!” Taehyung cries, zooming in and out of the picture with two fingers like a boomer. “Look at Bamie! So, so adorable, look at his ey— wait. Jungkook Jeon, is this a thirst tra—”

“Tsk, children,” an accented voice chides. “Behave.”

You peek your head out behind Taehyung’s shoulder to beam up at the woman who has walked over to your table. “Auntie!”

Alerted to her presence, Taehyung assumed a position with a degree more of civility (he’s now sitting perched on your legs, back straight and legs thrown over your thighs on one side) looking up at Aecha with a toothy grin, telling her something in Korean.

The woman snorts, retorting in the same language. Jungkook fails and tries to stifle a giggle beside you.

“I brought you children a little something,” Auntie Aecha says, setting a plate of cookies on the table.

Another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: though she would never admit it to your faces, too big on that tough love shtick she has going on, it’s an open secret that your ragtag group of ten are her favourite customers.

Expressions of thanks echo around the table as all of you latch onto the cookies, Seokjin standing up to offer his seat, but Aecha denies, “No, no, sit back, sit. I won’t stay to bother you young people for long, this old lady just wanted to say hi.”

“You never bother,” Namjoon says between two bites. “Stay, Auntie, please.”

“You kids are too sweet,” she smiles, patting the boy’s shoulder with ringed fingers. Auntie Aecha has the most exquisite collection, full of emeralds and intricate silverwork, unique enough craftsmanship to match her generally eccentric style. Right now, too, she’s dressed in an elegant white blouse and a long, navy blue skirt covered in detailed patterns and a beaded shawl tied around her waist.

The conversation picks up around the table again, but Aecha lingers. “___?”

“Yes, Auntie?”

“Have you had your fortunes read lately?”

You smile at her, breaking off a piece of the cookie in Taehyung’s hand. He looks about ready to protest, if only Auntie Aecha’s presence wasn’t holding him back from whining publically. But he decided he could share your seat, so you might as well share his cookie, right? Simple and fair.

“You know you’re the only one who does me readings,” you tell her.

Sometimes when the group is fewer in numbers, or when you visit in the afternoon for a cup of coffee, you entertain her charade from time to time. You think it’s rather silly — yes, you live in a world with Scandinavian Gods and purple evil aliens, but no way in hell a random old lady in Queens is, like, an actual psychic. Who tells the future from tarot cards, of all things. Right. . .

Aecha hums. “Right. . . The Wheel of Fortune. What does it mean?”

You’re unsure whether the question is directed on the card’s meaning in general, or on its possible effect on your life. But regardless, the answer to both scenarios is:

“I don’t know.”

She does that thing. The thing that chills you to the bone sometimes, the thing when her eyes seem to dim, like there’s no sight or soul in them, and her face looks paler for a moment under the lights. She fixes her gaze on you, before it slips over to Jungkook.

You feel his fingers, that are still splattered across your back, tighten as he stares back.

“So soon?” Aecha mutters, then: she snaps out of it. A smile is back on her face, a bit weaker than before, as she says. “Very well, then. I’ll leave you kids to it. There’s a clue in the night, ___.”

And with that, she walks off.

Slowly, Jungkook retracts his hand from your waist, while Taehyung’s head whips around towards the two of you. “So, that was weird as fuck, huh?”

“Right. . .” Jungkook and you both mumble.

You break a bigger piece off of Taehyung’s cookie, and then break that into halves again before offering one of them to Jungkook. He seems spaced out, but readily accepts it.

That’s another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: she says weird, cryptic shit sometimes. But that’s how you love her.

“‘There’s a clue in the night, ___’,” Taehyung repeats in a deepened, mysterious baritone. He wiggles his fingers in your face, which you promptly swap away. “Any clue what that might mean?”

“None.” You shake your head.

“Anyways.” Taehyung shrugs, picking Jungkook’s phone back up, and giddily scrolling through his gallery. “Let me look at more of these Bam pictures.”

You sigh. You’ve long since stopped whacking your brain to figure out what Auntie Aecha’s off handed comments might mean. They’re usually just similar nonsense.

Suddenly, Taehyung is yanked off your lap just as abruptly as he came, before Yoongi’s fingers latch onto your forearm next. “Bitch, I need you at the table soccer, pronto.”

“And that’s my cue, guys,” you sigh, before standing up.

After ruffling Jungkook’s hair, you step over Taehyung who’s now splattered on the floor, then take one last sip of your drink, and leave it besides Jungkook’s beer on the table.

He’s the only motherfucker here you can trust not to drink it while you’re away.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The following Thursday evening finds you tucked away in one of the public libraries of Queens, sharing a table with Hoseok who quietly types away on his short story, while you add the finishing touches to your article for next week’s newspaper before sending it over to Namjoon for editing.

Originally, you guys came over to the neighbourhood because you accompanied Hoseok to pick up these sneakers that he found on Facebook Marketplace, which turned out to be a total scam, unfortunately.

So, in Queens and awfully unaccomplished, the two of you tried to ring up to Jungkook’s (his aunt answered the intercom, Jungkook’s apparently out) and to Namjoon’s (where you guys actually got in, but were promptly kicked out at 6PM because some show Namjoon’s grandmother is obsessed with like a teenager was starting on the telly, and she doesn’t want you kids around to make a rattle) so without any idea of what to do, the two of you decided to retreat to the next best option of a free shelter in Queens, since you’ve already made the commute here. That’s the library.

“What’s another word for ‘motivating’? As an adjective,” you ask Hoseok, taking a sip of water.

“Duh. ‘Inspiring’,” Hoseok says without even looking up from his laptop. Or stopping typing, for that matter.

“It makes me so happy that you hold my intelligence to such high regards, friend.” You kick his shin under the table, but it does little to deter him. “I meant besides that and ‘encouraging’, obviously.”

“‘Impelling’, ‘propelling’, maybe ‘provoking’ depending on the context,” Hoseok lists like the walking thesaurus he is — the pros of having a friend in the English major.

“Thanksie yousie.”

“Bless you.”

You finish typing up the article, and send it over to Namjoon’s school mail inbox. Without anything to do now, you immediately fall victim to boredom.

Hoseok seems to be in the flow, though, fingers rapidly flying over the keyboard as he mumbles under his breath, so you scroll through your newsfeed for a while — someone won the lottery this week, a politician is under suspicion of tax fraud, wow, who would’ve thought, another disappearance happened in Manhattan, a baby giraffe was born in the zoo, nothing about Spiderman since you’ve last checked — before opening up a Watermelon Game with cat pictures on the web to occupy yourself with for the time being.

Some ten minutes pass with that before the silence is broken again.

“So how’s the Spiderman thing coming along?” Hoseok asks.

After combining two large, yawning cats into an even larger, screaming and wet one, you meet his gaze over your computer screens.

“Steady,” you simply say, and it’s vague enough not to constitute a lie. You let another baby kitten fall from the metaphorical sky. “Why?”

“Yoongi told me about the spider cum on your sweater.”

“Ew, it’s not fuckin—” you shriek, earning yourself a few ‘ssh’s and a dirty look from the librarian. You nod your head in apology with an awkward smile. Bending your laptop’s screen slightly, you lean in closer to hiss, “It’s not fucking spider cum.”

“Think about it,” Hoseok argues. “It’s his bodily fluid.”

“Actually, a few people on the forums think it might be synthetic,” you tell him.

“You’re just gonna have to ask him that, too.”

Humming, you take your phone out to make a quick note of it. That’s actually a pretty relevant question — for science.

“Yoongi also told me that you left class early to try and catch him again yesterday and just ended up falling into Meadow Lake,” Hoseok continues.

“So why are you asking me then, if you already know everything?”

“I’m just curious. Unlike the others, I do kinda think that you’re gonna get somewhere.” Hoseok shrugs. He continues typing as he adds. “All this embarrassment without some sort of a pay-off? Nah. Karma is kinder than that.”

That’s. . . wow, that was actually pretty nice to hear. Impelling, if you will.

Even if it was a little — a lot — backhanded.

“Aww. Hobi. . .” You pout, kicking his leg under the table playfully. “My only fan.”

“Lukewarm supporter,” he corrects.

“Whatever,” you brush him off. “Actually, nothing much happened besides those. Taking the subway back home drenched and stinking was a humbling experience, but I’m just gonna have to keep going. For the pay-off, like you said.”

Hoseok just hums again, and turns back to his writing, his curiosity seemingly running dry. Whatever.

For the next twenty-something minutes, you occupy yourself by playing round after round of Dress to Impress with Yoongi (later joined by Seokjin and Hari, as well) and you have lots of fun downrating each other’s outfits, so you don’t really accomplish anything. But who cares.

‘ur ootd look like smthng drawn on a deflated balloon lol ugly butt @ yunkiboongi’ you type in the chat, whipping out the lame PG-13 insults in consideration of the fact that, you know, Roblox is for middle schoolers, when Hoseok unceremoniously snaps his laptop shut, standing up from his seat.

“I’m perched. A quick drink at Seoulite before we leave the ‘hood?”

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

After consulting Google Maps, the two of you make the twenty-minute walk through Queens to Aecha’s. Sharing Hoseok’s Airpods, you listen to Epic Sax on repeat on the way, while you try to bring up the topic of Namjoon as subtly as possible.

See, you and Jungkook have a running theory.

It’s not long — it’s just that Hoseok and Namjoon are in love with each other, possibly secretly dating already (this is the point where you guys usually lose the rest of your friends when trying to get them onto the bandwagon, and to be honest, your faith has wavered at this point too, but then Jungkook raised a good point: for the past six months, you haven’t even seen pictures of these people, let alone meet them, that Namjoon is apparently getting dumped by biweekly. Jungkook thinks keeping up the pretence of Namjoon being an unlucky serial dater is part of their elaborate cover-up plan) so Jungkook and you are trying to get any sort of hint or confirmation on the matter, like the nosey little bitches you two are.

Whatever. You come up empty. After droning on about Namjoon’s chest, like ‘He has really nice tits, doesn’t he?’ and ‘You kinda just wanna suffocate buried between them, am I right?’, which are not at all subtle, you admit, you come to the conclusion that Hoseok must be either oblivious, a damn good liar, or not in love with Namjoon, which you personally refuse to believe.

When you round the corner to the street of the Seoulite, the two of you step into the flashing of red and blue police lights in the pitch black night. Confused, you hand the borrowed half of the earbuds back to Hoseok, furrowing your brows as you two keep walking closer.

A smaller crowd has gathered around the block that you know houses the Seoulite, some clearly passersby and others most likely denizens of the neighbouring buildings, clad in their pyjamas and a coat in the evening hours.

“What the fucks going on?” you croak, grabbing onto the arm of Hoseok’s coat with two fingers as the two of you squeeze into the crowd.

The pavement in front of Auntie Aecha’s door is railed off with a police line, officers moving in and out of her apartment through the opened door.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Hari and Jimin were here just this morning.

A weak rumble befalls the crowd as people whisper to each other, too quiet and too much for you to overhear anything.

You rummage through your backpack, taking a deep breath before noticing two officers engaged in conversation by the police line.

“Excuse me?” you call out.

One of them turns, sparing you a look over his shoulders, before saying. “Not now, kid. Please wait for the official reports.”

“I’m ___ from NYU Weekly News,” you continue, flashing him the press card you have procured from your bag.

“School paper’s covering crimes now, girl?” The officer sighs, but walks closer to inspect your ID nevertheless.

“Always did,” you reply. It’s a bit of a stretch.

The most illegal activity you’ve written about was someone stealing a piano from the music room. Which was a fun one, by the way, because how the fuck do you steal a piano without anyone noticing, and yet. . .

“Okay,” the policeman says, not entirely convinced. “The owner’s kids from Kentucky requested a wellness check. We did it. The apartment shows clear signs of struggle, and the owner couldn’t be reached, so the NYPD is opening a missing person’s case, suspecting kidnapping. And that’s all I can tell you, kid.”

You swallow, grip tightening around Hoseok’s wrists, who has gone just as rigid as you did.

“Thank you, officer.”

The man nods, and leaves the two of you alone as he walks back to his colleague.

Hoseok looks at you, expression baffled as he reaches for your hand. His tight hold is welcome. You feel like you’re about to vomit.

“Auntie Aecha’s missing?”

NEXT CHAPTER

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