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friction // gojo satoru

tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, pet names cx i refuse to use y/n any more than necessary, mutual pining, implied age gap, gojo being a fucking tease, mentioned violence and injuries, sexual tension, unprotected sex, fingering, praise kink, dirty talking

wc ⇢ 10.4k

a/n: meh

If looks could kill, Gojo would be dead and buried 6 feet under right now. You glared at him from across the training hall, your eyes narrowed and your jaw clenched tight. The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. Just moments ago, he had casually commented on how your technique needed work, followed by a wink and a smirk that made your blood boil.

It wasn't that you didn't appreciate his guidance. Far from it, actually. Gojo was an incredible teacher, with a wealth of knowledge and experience that you could only dream of. His insights and advice had helped you grow tremendously as a jujutsu sorcerer. But sometimes, his teasing remarks and playful attitude made it hard for you to not wish he was dead.

Gojo, for his part, seemed utterly unfazed by your glare. He stood at the other end of the hall, hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy white pants, his signature smile playing on his lips. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a soft glow on his silver hair, making it look even more ethereal than usual.

"What's the matter, beautiful?" he called out, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Don't tell me you're giving up already?"

You gritted your teeth, your hands curling into fists at your sides. The nickname, as always, sent a flurry of butterflies through your stomach, but you refused to let it show. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

"Not a chance," you retorted, shifting into a fighting stance. Your feet were shoulder-width apart, your knees slightly bent, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. "I'll show you just how much my technique has improved."

Gojo's grin widened, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the light. He beckoned you forward with a lazy wave of his hand, as if he couldn't be bothered to take you seriously. "Then by all means," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Come at me with everything you've got."

You didn't need to be told twice. With a burst of speed, you lunged forward, your cursed energy crackling around you like a storm. It was a sensation you had grown accustomed to over the years - the tingling in your fingertips, the rush of power surging through your veins. You channeled that energy into your fists as you threw punch after punch, kick after kick, each one infused with all the frustration and determination that had been building up inside you.

But Gojo was too fast, too skilled. He dodged and weaved around your attacks like they were nothing, his movements fluid and graceful. It was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. Every now and then, he would reach out and tap you on the shoulder or the hip, a light touch that sent shivers down your spine and made you lose your focus.

You gritted your teeth, pushing yourself harder. Sweat beaded on your forehead and trickled down the back of your neck, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the man in front of you, the infuriating smile on his face, the way he made everything look so effortless.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally stumbled back, your chest heaving and your face flushed with exertion. Your muscles burned with fatigue, and your lungs felt like they were on fire. Gojo, on the other hand, looked as calm and collected as ever, not a hair out of place.

"Not bad," he said, his tone teasing. He walked towards you, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall. "But you're still relying too much on brute force. You need to learn to control your cursed energy, to use it with precision and finesse."

You let out a frustrated huff, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. It was a criticism you had heard before, and one that never failed to get under your skin. "I know," you muttered, looking away. "I'm trying."

Gojo's expression softened, and he took another step towards you. He was close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Hey," he said, his voice gentle. "I know you are. And you're making progress, even if it doesn't always feel like it."

He reached out and tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek for just a moment too long. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers moved a bit lower, gently tilting your head up towards him. His touch was electric, sending sparks of sensation across your skin.

"Keep practicing," Gojo murmured, his eyes locked on yours. Even through the blindfold, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "And don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. I'm always here for you, pretty."

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The nickname, combined with the low timbre of his voice and the way his fingers curled around your jaw, made your knees feel weak. It was a feeling you had grown all too familiar with over the months you had spent training with Gojo - a heady mix of attraction and frustration, desire and irritation.

With a final, lingering touch, Gojo pulled away, his hand dropping back to his side. He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your mind reeling and your skin tingling from his touch. You watched him go, your lips parted and your heart racing.

It was moments like these that made you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with Gojo. He was your teacher, your mentor, the person who pushed you to be better every single day. But he was also something more, something that made your pulse quicken and your palms sweat.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. There was too much at stake, too much you still had to learn. With a sigh, you turned back to the training dummy in the corner of the room, ready to start again.

Days turned into weeks, and you threw yourself into your training with a renewed sense of purpose. You spent long hours in the training hall, perfecting your techniques and honing your skills. When you weren't training, you were out on missions, putting your abilities to the test in the real world.

It was during one of these missions that things took a turn for the worse. You had been tasked with taking down a particularly nasty curse, one that had been terrorizing a small village on the outskirts of Tokyo. It should have been a routine mission, something you had done a hundred times before.

But you had underestimated the curse's strength, and it had caught you off guard. One moment you were on the offensive, your cursed energy pulsing through your veins. The next, you were on the ground, your body battered and bruised, your vision swimming with pain.

You don't remember much of what happened next. There were flashes of light, the sound of shouting, the feeling of strong arms lifting you up and carrying you away. When you finally came to, you were back at the school, lying in a bed in the infirmary.

Gojo was there, sitting by your bedside. He looked haggard, his hair disheveled and his clothes rumpled. When he saw that you were awake, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"You gave us quite a scare there, beautiful," he said, his voice hoarse. "What were you thinking, taking on that curse alone?"

You winced, both at the nickname and the accusation in his tone. "I didn't have a choice," you said, your voice weak. "It was going to hurt those people. I had to do something."

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know," he said, his voice softening. "But you can't keep putting yourself in danger like that. You're not invincible, you know."

You couldn't help but smile at that. "Look who's talking," you teased, your voice still weak but with a hint of your usual snark. "Mr. 'Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer' himself."

Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Fair enough," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But I mean it, you know. You need to be more careful out there."

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your hands. They were bandaged, the white gauze stark against your skin. "I know," you said softly. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

Gojo reached out, his hand covering yours. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, chasing away the chill that seemed to have settled into your bones. "Just promise me you'll be more careful from now on," he said, his voice low and intense. "I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you looked up, your eyes meeting his. There was something in his gaze, something that made your breath catch in your throat. It was a look you had seen before, in stolen moments and lingering glances. But this time, there was no mistaking the emotion behind it.

Before you could say anything, a knock at the door startled you both. Gojo pulled his hand away, and you felt the loss of his touch like a physical ache. He stood up, clearing his throat.

"I should let you get some rest," he said, his voice back to its usual nonchalant tone. "I'll check on you later, okay?"

You nodded, watching as he walked towards the door. Just before he left, he turned back, his gaze locking with yours one last time.

"Remember what I said, pretty," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Be careful out there. I need you to come back to me in one piece."

With that, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the memory of his touch. You leaned back against the pillows, your eyes drifting shut. Despite the pain and the exhaustion, you couldn't help but smile.

Because even though things were complicated, even though there were a million reasons why you shouldn't feel the way you did, you knew one thing for certain. Gojo cared about you, more than just as a student or a colleague. And that knowledge, warm and bright and shining, was enough to chase away the darkness, at least for a little while.

It was a few days before you were cleared to leave the infirmary, your wounds healing slowly but steadily. Gojo had been a constant presence during your recovery, stopping by to check on you whenever he had a spare moment. He would bring you books and snacks, regaling you with stories of his own misadventures as a young sorcerer.

But as much as you enjoyed his company, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. There was a new tension in the air, a crackling energy that made your skin prickle whenever he was near. You found yourself watching him more closely, taking in the way his muscles moved beneath his clothes, the way his lips curved when he smiled.

It was maddening, this newfound awareness of him. You tried to push it down, to focus on your recovery and your training. But it was always there, simmering just beneath the surface.

Which is why, when Gojo barged into your room one morning, you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had been in the middle of getting dressed, your sleep shirt halfway over your head when the door slammed open.

"Rise and shine, beautiful!" Gojo called out, his voice far too cheerful for the early hour. "Time to get back to training!"

You yelped, yanking your shirt down and whirling around to face him. "Gojo!" you shouted, your face flushed with embarrassment and anger. "What the hell? Can't you knock like a normal person?"

But Gojo just grinned, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Where's the fun in that?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, it's not like I haven't seen it all before."

Your jaw dropped, and you sputtered indignantly. "What are you talking about? You haven't seen anything!"

Gojo just shrugged, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into your room. "If you say so," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "But I seem to recall a certain someone forgetting to wear a bra to training last week."

You felt your face heat up even more, and you crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously. "That was an accident!" you protested, your voice coming out higher than you intended. "I was in a hurry and I forgot!"

Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure, sure," he said, his tone making it clear that he didn't believe you for a second. "Whatever you say, pretty."

You glared at him, your eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that," you snapped, your voice tight with anger. "I have a name, you know."

Gojo's grin only widened, and he took a step closer to you. "I know," he said, his voice low and intimate. "But I like calling you pretty. It suits you."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. He was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body, the brush of his breath against your skin. Your gaze flicked down to his lips, and you felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, to taste him and feel him and-

Suddenly, Gojo's hands were on your shoulders, and you were being spun around. You yelped in surprise as he pushed you towards the door, his grip firm but gentle.

"As much as I'd love to continue this conversation," he said, his voice strained and a little breathless, "we have work to do. Meet me in the library in ten minutes. And don't be late, or else there will be consequences."

With that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of your room with your heart racing and your skin tingling. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It was going to be a long day, you could already tell.

Ten minutes later, you walked into the library, your footsteps echoing on the polished wood floor. Gojo was already there, seated at one of the long tables with a stack of books and papers in front of him. He looked up as you approached, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"There you are," he said, his voice warm and teasing. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

You rolled your eyes, dropping into the seat across from him. "I'm not that late," you grumbled, pulling one of the books towards you. "What are we working on today?"

Gojo pushed a sheet of paper towards you, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. "Your essay on cursed techniques," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I've made some notes on areas that need improvement."

You nodded, your eyes scanning the page. Gojo's handwriting was neat and precise, his comments and suggestions written in the margins. You felt a swell of pride as you read through them, noting the things you had done well and the things you needed to work on.

For the next few hours, you worked in companionable silence, the only sound the scratching of pens on paper and the turning of pages. Every now and then, Gojo would lean over to point out something in one of the books, his shoulder brushing against yours as he did so. Each time, you felt a jolt of electricity run through you, a shiver of something that had nothing to do with the chill of the library.

As the hours ticked by, you felt your eyelids growing heavy, your head nodding forward. You had been up late the night before, studying for an upcoming exam, and the lack of sleep was catching up with you. You tried to focus on the words in front of you, but they seemed to swim and blur on the page.

Suddenly, you felt gentle fingers curl around the back of your neck, and you blinked your eyes open. Gojo was leaning over you, his face soft with concern. "Hey," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Why don't you take a break? You look exhausted."

You shook your head, sitting up straighter in your chair. "I'm fine," you said, your voice thick with sleep. "I need to finish this chapter."

But Gojo just shook his head, his hand still on your nape, his thumb absently rubbing your skin. "It can wait," he said firmly. "You need to rest. Here, why don't you put your head down for a bit? I'll wake you up in a little while."

You wanted to protest, to insist that you were fine. But the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure of his fingers, was too much to resist. With a sigh, you nodded, lowering your head onto your folded arms.

As your eyes drifted shut, you felt Gojo's hand move from your neck to your hair, his fingers carding through the strands. It was a soothing motion, gentle and rhythmic, and you felt yourself sinking deeper into sleep with each passing moment.

As Gojo watched you sleep, he felt a profound sense of peace wash over him. It was a rare thing for him, to feel so content, so at ease. But something about your presence, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft curve of your lips, made all the troubles of the world seem to fade away.

Unable to help himself, he reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the delicate skin of your face. He traced the slope of your nose, marveling at the smoothness, the perfect symmetry. His touch was feather-light, a whisper of sensation, but even so, he felt a thrill run through him at the contact.

His fingers drifted lower, skimming over the soft swell of your cheeks, the strong line of your jaw. And then, almost of their own accord, they came to rest on your lips.

Gojo's breath caught in his throat as he felt the plush fullness of your mouth beneath his fingertips. Your lips were slightly parted, soft and inviting, and he felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to lean down and capture them with his own.

He imagined how it would feel, to press his lips against yours, to taste the sweetness of your breath. He wondered if you would sigh into the kiss, if you would reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a heat pooling in his belly. He had kissed countless people before, had experienced pleasure in all its myriad forms. But somehow, he knew that kissing you would be different. It would be a revelation, a moment of perfect clarity in a world that so often seemed shrouded in shadow.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a ghost of a touch, and he heard you sigh softly in your sleep. The sound was like a siren's call, tempting him, beckoning him closer.

But even as the desire surged through him, hot and insistent, Gojo knew he couldn't act on it. Not now, not like this. You were his student, entrusted to his care, and to take advantage of that trust would be a betrayal of the highest order.

And so, with a herculean effort, he pulled his hand away, clenching it into a fist at his side. He took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm the pounding of his heart, the rush of his blood in his veins.

Minutes ticked by, then hours, and still Gojo sat by your side, his hand resting gently on your back. He knew he should wake you, send you back to your room to rest properly, but he couldn't bring himself to disturb your slumber.

Finally, as the sun began to set outside the library windows, Gojo knew he couldn't let you sleep any longer. Carefully, he gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stood.

You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open. "Sensei?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. "What's happening?"

"Shh," he soothed, his voice low and gentle. "It's alright. You fell asleep while we were studying. I'm just taking you back to your room so you can rest."

You hummed softly, your eyes drifting shut again as you nestled closer to his warmth. Gojo felt his heart skip a beat at the trust in that simple gesture, the way you curled into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He carried you through the quiet halls of the school, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. A few students passed by, their eyes widening at the sight of their teacher carrying a sleeping student, but Gojo paid them no mind. All that mattered was getting you to your room, making sure you were safe and comfortable.

When he reached your door, he shifted you slightly in his arms, freeing one hand to turn the knob. The room was dark and quiet, the only sound the soft whisper of your breath against his neck.

Gently, Gojo laid you down on your bed, pulling the covers up over your shoulders. You sighed softly, your face turning into the pillow, and he felt a rush of affection so strong it nearly took his breath away.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, watching you sleep. He knew he should leave, knew that staying any longer would be inappropriate. But he couldn't seem to tear himself away, couldn't stop himself from reaching out to brush one last strand of hair from your face.

"Sweet dreams, pretty," he whispered, his voice so low he wasn't sure you would hear it. "I'll see you in the morning."

With that, he turned and slipped out of your room, closing the door softly behind him. His heart was racing in his chest, his mind whirling with thoughts and feelings he couldn't quite name.

But one thing was clear, as clear as the memory of your warmth in his arms, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He was falling for you, hard and fast and irrevocably. And though he knew it was wrong, knew that he shouldn't feel the way he did, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

All he could do was hope that somehow, someday, you might feel the same way too.

The next day, you found yourself back in the training hall with Gojo, your heart still fluttering madly at the memory of his gentle touch as he carried you to bed. You tried to push those dangerously tempting thoughts aside and focus on honing your cursed techniques - but Gojo, it seemed, had other ideas.

From the moment you stepped into the hall, he was on you, teasing and taunting, pushing your buttons in all the ways he knew so well. He corrected your stances with lingering touches, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in close to adjust your posture.

"Come on, beautiful," he purred, voice low and intimate. "You can do better than that. Show me what you're really made of."

You gritted your teeth, frustration mounting with each passing moment. It was hard enough to concentrate with him invading your space, his presence an electric current setting your nerve-endings alight. But as he kept goading you, pushing and pushing until you felt like screaming, something inside you finally snapped.

With a growl of unadulterated rage, you lunged at him, hands outstretched to grab him by his shirt. Gojo's eyes widened in surprise but he didn't dodge, letting you tackle him to the mats, your body pinning his down.

For a charged moment, you could only stare at each other, chests heaving. You were suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact - the press of his strong thighs between yours, the firmness of his abdomen, the intoxicating heat radiating off him. His muscles flexed as he shifted slightly but made no move to throw you off.

He breathed your name like a prayer on his lips. "What are you doing...?"

Blinking, you came back to yourself, a hot flush creeping up your neck as you realized the position you were in. Straddling your teacher, hands fisted in his clothes, faces inches apart... Mortified, you tried to scramble off him, only for his hands to tighten around your hips, keeping you on top of him.

"I-I'm so sorry," you stammered, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me like that."

But Gojo just sat up slowly, gently letting you slide down his stomach and onto his lap as he waved off your apology. "It's alright. I pushed you too hard. I know how much your training means to you."

Glancing up, you found him watching you with a soft, almost vulnerable expression that made your heart clench painfully. He reached out, hand cupping your cheek and tilting your face up to his blindfolded one.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're doing your best and that's all anyone can ask. I'm proud of you."

Hearing those words in his deep baritone, you felt emotion welling up, threatening to spill over. Throat tight, you managed a weak smile, leaning into his touch briefly before sliding out of his lap.

"Thank you, Sensei. I think I'm done for today though. I need some time to clear my head and refocus."

His hand fell away reluctantly but he nodded in understanding, rising fluidly to his feet and offering you a hand up. You allowed him to pull you up, hyperaware of the way his long fingers wrapped around yours, the rough calluses from years of fighting scraping pleasantly along your skin.

"Of course. Take all the time you need. And remember, I'm here if you ever want to talk. Or not talk." He shot you a playful wink.

Rolling your eyes fondly, you thanked him again before beating a hasty retreat from the quickly shrinking training room. You felt his heavy gaze on your back the entire way out.

The next few days passed in a blur of intense focus. You threw yourself into your studies, determined to master new techniques and grow stronger. But no matter how hard you concentrated, Gojo lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a phantom touch ghosting along your cheek.

He remained an inescapable presence even outside of training - "accidentally" brushing against you in the halls, showing up at the library during your study sessions, barging into your room unannounced at all hours. His teasing and flirting ratcheted up to nearly unbearable levels now that he knew the depths of his effect on you.

And lord, but you wanted nothing more than to give in, to grab him by his stupid collar and kiss that infuriating smirk right off his face. However, you couldn't let your desires interfere with your duties. The world of jujutsu was dangerous and letting yourself get distracted could mean death for you or innocent civilians.

So you grit your teeth and endured his antics, ignoring the knowing gleam in his eyes and the heat pooling in your core whenever he shot you a particularly roguish grin. You had to be strong, to remember your place as his student.

Even if every fiber of your being ached to be so much more.

Matters finally came to a head one rainy afternoon during an advanced technique lesson. Soaked to the bone and exhausted from hours of practice, you found yourself pinned to the mats yet again, Gojo's knee pressing into your thigh as he loomed over you.

Blowing a damp lock of hair out of your face, you scowled up at him petulantly. "Okay, I get it. I over extended on that last kick. No need to rub it in."

But he made no move to release you, head cocked slightly as if deep in thought. There was an odd tension in his frame that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Gojo...?"

His gaze snapped back to you, unseen eyes boring into yours with startling intensity. Without warning, his free hand came up, thumb tracing along your lower lip in a slow drag that left you trembling.

Your mouth parted on a shocked gasp just as he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a ghost of a touch. "You have no idea what you do to me. How badly I want to ruin you."

And then he was gone, leaving you splayed across the floor, body throbbing and mind reeling. By the time you gathered your wits enough to sit up, the training room door was already swinging shut behind his retreating back.

Staggering to your feet, you headed for the showers in a daze, thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Did Gojo really feel the same way you did? Was he implying what you thought?

No. You shook your head, sending droplets flying. Indulging in this fantasy would only end in heartbreak. He couldn't possibly return your feelings. More likely this was another strategy to fluster and throw you off balance. Just a new twist in your increasingly dangerous game.

Still, you couldn't stop the tiny kernel of hope from taking root in your chest as you let the scalding spray beat down on you, imagining elegant fingers tangling in your hair instead.

Dangerous game indeed.

A few days later, you found yourself back in the training hall again, feeling more centered and focused than you had in a long time. You went through your usual warm-up routine, stretching your muscles and getting your blood flowing.

As you bent forward to touch your toes, you heard a low whistle of appreciation from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Gojo leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk playing on his lips. His gaze raked slowly up your body, taking in every curve and plane, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the blatant desire in his eyes.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, voice rich with amusement. "Looks like someone's been hiding a secret talent. I had no idea you were so...flexible."

You straightened up, turning to face him fully. The air between you practically crackled with tension as you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down from the challenge in his tone. "There's a lot you don't know about me, sensei," you said, voice low and teasing.

Gojo pushed off the wall, stalking towards you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Is that so?" he murmured, stopping just shy of touching you. "Well then, maybe it's time for a private lesson. Just you and me, working on your flexibility."

Your heart stuttered at the implication, desire licking through your veins like wildfire. But you forced yourself to keep a coy smile in place, unwilling to let him fluster you so easily. "I don't know, sensei," you purred. "Do you think you can handle me?"

His answering grin was positively wicked as he leaned in close, breath fanning hotly over your ear. "Oh, beautiful," he purred back, "I think the real question is, can you handle me?"

Before you could formulate a response, Gojo was guiding you into a new stretch, hands firm on your hips as he positioned you. The heat of his touch seared through the thin material of your clothes and you bit your lip harshly, fighting back a whimper.

He led you through a series of increasingly challenging poses, hands roaming your body under the guise of deepening each stretch. You arched into his touch, skin burning everywhere he made contact, desire clouding your mind until all you could focus on was the low rasp of his voice in your ear and the delicious ache building between your thighs.

At one point, he had you bent nearly in half, chest pressed to the floor with your legs splayed out in a side split. Gojo knelt behind you, hands kneading your lower back as he urged you to sink deeper. "That's it," he murmured, "Just a little further. You're doing so good for me, pretty."

The praise ran through you like a live current, sparking along every nerve and setting you ablaze. You could feel the solid heat of him at your back and had to choke back a moan, fingers curling uselessly against the mats.

Just as you thought you might actually combust from the tension, Gojo eased you up, hands gentle on your waist as he helped you stand. "I think that's enough for today," he said softly, though the roughness of his voice belied his innocent expression. "You did great. I'm proud of you."

You managed a shaky nod, not trusting yourself to speak around the lump in your throat. He was so close, radiating warmth and barely leashed power, the clean scent of him filling your lungs until you felt dizzy with it.

For a suspended moment, you both stood frozen, lost in the gravity of everything left unsaid. Your eyes traced the strong line of his jaw, the tempting curve of his lips. When his tongue darted out to wet them, your self-control nearly snapped then and there.

But Gojo stepped back before you could do something foolish, putting much-needed distance between your bodies. "I'll see you tomorrow, [Y/N]," he said, casual and cheerful once more. "Get some rest, okay? You've earned it."

With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered off, hands tucked in his pockets. You watched him go, equal parts frustrated and relieved. These stolen moments were getting harder and harder to write off as simple teasing between teacher and student.

How much longer could you keep dancing around this inferno threatening to consume you both? Sooner or later, something would have to give. You only hoped you'd survive the fallout.

Sighing, you gathered your things and headed for the showers, resolutely ignoring the persistent ache low in your stomach. Tonight would be another long one with only your fantasies for company.

The joint mission a few weeks later was grueling, both physically and emotionally. Tracking down the malevolent curse spirit took every ounce of skill and power you possessed, pushing you to your limits and then some. But in the end, you emerged victorious - if a bit worse for wear.

Stumbling into the hotel lobby, you barely registered Gojo handling the check-in process, too focused on remaining vertical. Every muscle screamed in protest and your clothes were caked in dirt, blood, and things you'd rather not think about.

It wasn't until you were standing outside the room that his words finally sank in. "I'm sorry," you said, blinking hard. "Did you say there's only one bed?"

Gojo shrugged, looking entirely too unconcerned. "Yep. Apparently they messed up the reservation. But hey, I'm sure we can make do. We're both adults, right?"

He shot you a pointed look over his shoulder as he unlocked the door, lips quirking up slightly at your gaping expression. Before you could formulate a response, he was ushering you inside the lavish suite.

You froze just over the threshold, eyes widening at the sight before you. Plush carpet, elegant furnishings, a bed big enough to fit five people - it was easily the nicest room you'd ever stepped foot in. But all you could focus on was that single, massive bed dominating the space.

Gojo, however, wasted no time making himself at home. In a few long strides, he crossed the room and flopped backward onto the sinfully soft-looking comforter, spreading his arms out with a contented sigh.

"Ah, this is more like it! Way better than those stiff dorm cots, don't you think?"

Forcing your gaze away from the distracting stretch of his body, you gave a noncommittal hum, edging further into the room. The door swung shut with an ominous click, sealing you in with the one person you simultaneously most and least wanted to be alone with.

Dragging your eyes back to Gojo, you fought down a shiver at the blatant invitation in his posture, the teasing curl of his lips. With his rumpled hair and half-lidded eyes, he looked like pure sin sprawled out on the bed, begging to be debauched.

"Well? Aren't you going to join me?" He patted the space beside him. "There's plenty of room for two."

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest at the implication, mouth going bone dry. This was dangerous territory - you were exhausted and aching, defenses worn down to nothing. If you lay beside him now...

Scrambling for some semblance of composure, you cleared your throat and looked away, deliberately casual. "Actually, I was thinking we should probably get some sleep. Separate sleep. It's been a long day."

The pout Gojo leveled at you was downright deadly, plush bottom lip enticing you to catch it between your teeth. "Aw, c'mon beautiful! The night's still young. And we've got this big, empty room all to ourselves..." He trailed off meaningfully.

Flushing, you turned your back on him completely, rummaging through your bag for something to sleep in. "I don't know, sensei. What exactly did you have in mind?"

In a blink, strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you back into his firm chest. You gasped, nearly choking on air when his lips brushed teasingly over your ear. "Come here and I'll show you," he purred, hands settling low on your hips.

You settled down beside Gojo on the plush hotel bed, your heart fluttering nervously in your chest. The mattress dipped slightly under your combined weight as you perched on the edge, trying to maintain a respectable distance. For a long moment, you simply sat there in charged silence, acutely aware of his presence mere inches away. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, hear the soft rustling of fabric as he shifted almost imperceptibly closer.

Gojo's face was unreadable behind his ever-present blindfold, but you swore you could feel the intensity of his gaze raking over you, taking in every detail. The air practically crackled with unspoken tension, the space between you ripe with possibility. Your own eyes drifted unbidden to his lips, tracing the curve of that infamous smirk. What would it feel like, you wondered, to lean in and finally taste it for yourself? Your breath quickened at the thought.

Just as you gathered the courage to break the stalemate, Gojo's hands shot out lightning-quick, long fingers finding the sensitive spots along your ribs. An undignified yelp escaped your throat as you squirmed away, body instinctively curling in on itself even as surprised laughter bubbled up.

"Gojo!" you gasped between breathless giggles and half-hearted swats, "What are you doing?"

His grin only widened, eyes glinting with mischief behind dark lashes.

"Just trying to liven things up a bit," he replied, voice dropping to a low, playful register that sent shivers down your spine. "You looked like you could use a little fun."

Two could play at that game. Narrowing your eyes in mock outrage, a wicked idea suddenly struck. "Oh, is that so?" you purred, saccharine sweet. "Well then, sensei, prepare yourself."

Quick as a flash, your hand darted out to snatch a downy pillow and, with a mighty swing, you brought it crashing over his silver head in a magnificent explosion of feathers. His shocked bark of laughter was muffled by the impromptu weapon as you pressed your advantage, raining down fluffy blows.

Thus began the most epic pillow fight to ever grace the luxury suite. You traded volleys back and forth, a whirlwind of flying bedding and unrestrained glee. Propriety utterly abandoned, you rolled about in a graceless tangle of limbs, each trying to gain the upper hand. Your cheeks hurt from grinning, lungs burning with giddy exertion.

In that stolen moment, you weren't teacher and student, sorcerer and subordinate. You were just two young, bright souls, reveling in a reprieve from the darkness constantly nipping at your heels. Here, now, nothing existed beyond this room and the carefree laughter ringing between you.

An eternity later, chest heaving, you finally collapsed side by side in the carnage, utterly spent. Glancing over, you took in Gojo's flushed, boyish face, usually perfectly coifed hair in complete disarray, a smattering of errant feathers clinging stubbornly to the wild silver tufts. Something warm and fluttering took roost behind your breastbone at the sight.

Basking in the afterglow, it took you a moment to register your compromising position - sprawled on your back, body pressed along the solid line of his, faces scant inches apart. His arm draped loosely across your middle felt unnaturally heavy, intimate.

For a single, suspended second, you forgot how to breathe, drowning instead in this strange new awareness buzzing just beneath your skin. Gojo seemed similarly affected, features slipping into something contemplative and tender as elegant fingers traitorously began tracing delicate patterns over the exposed sliver of hip where your shirt had ridden up. You shivered at the whisper-soft touch.

"Gojo," you breathed, barely audible over the roaring in your ears.

"Shh," he hushed you gently, hand coming to rest soothingly at your waist. "It's okay, pretty. Just relax."

And then, rather than pressing the burgeoning tension simmering between you, he tugged you closer into the shelter of his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin. The embrace was chaste, devoid of ulterior motive, and yet all the more earth-shattering for it. Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into his steadying warmth, lulled by the rhythmic drumming of his heartbeat against your cheek.

A huge yawn suddenly overtook you, eyelids growing heavy. The adrenaline of the day was quickly seeping away, leaving pleasant exhaustion in its wake. "Get some sleep," Gojo murmured into your hair, voice rumbling through his chest. "I'll be right here if you need me."

And though your racing thoughts screamed that you shouldn't, that this was toeing a dangerous line, you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Surrounded by comfort and safety, bonelessly relaxed in a way you so rarely allowed yourself, you drifted off into a dreamless slumber, content in the knowledge that he would guard you through the night.

The next morning, however, you awoke alone, the space beside you long since grown cold. Disappointment and uncertainty churned in your gut, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Had you simply imagined the intimacy of the previous evening? Mistaken a meaningless moment of pity for something more? With a groan, you buried your burning face into the pillow.

It was only when you rolled over that you spotted it - a folded square of hotel stationery perched neatly on the nightstand. With trembling fingers, you retrieved the note, heart pounding as you unfolded it to reveal Gojo's elegant scrawl.

"Had to run out for a bit," it read. "See you back at the school. Sweet dreams, beautiful."

A broad, silly grin split your cheeks as you traced reverent fingertips over the words, lingering on the private endearment. Clutched to your chest like a talisman, you fell back onto the bed with a giddy sigh, staring up at the ceiling with stars in your eyes. Your smile never wavered the entire trip home.

A few weeks later, you found yourself standing morosely in Gojo's apartment kitchen, every available surface covered with an explosion of baking supplies. It was a dizzying array of flour, sugar, chocolate, fruit - everything you'd need to whip up an impressive assortment of mouth-watering desserts.

Unfortunately, this wasn't some cozy bonding activity - it was a punishment. After your abject failure on a recent mission, Gojo had been understandably livid. His normally unflappable composure had fractured, revealing the sheer depth of his terror and concern.

The cursed object you'd gone after solo was more dangerous than anticipated and you'd been severely injured in the ensuing scuffle. "How could you be so reckless?" he'd demanded, voice ragged with some unnameable emotion. "You could have been killed. Do you have any idea how that would have made me feel?"

Shame had burned through you like acid, head bowed under the weight of his agonized stare. "I'm sorry, sensei," you'd mumbled, fighting back the sting of tears. "I didn't mean to let you down."

Running a hand through his wild silver locks, Gojo had deflated slightly. "I know you didn't," he'd sighed, "but you need to be more careful. I can't lose you, pretty."

Your heart had stuttered at the raw admission, eyes wide and disbelieving as you'd finally met his gaze. But he'd looked away before you could respond, expression closing off into something unreadable once more.

That's how you'd ended up here, consigned to a grueling weekend of non-stop baking. "And I expect nothing short of perfection," he'd declared with that familiar smirk. "Since you're so determined to waste your talents, we're going to put them to the test."

Countless hours in and you were ready to well and truly throttle him. He hadn't been content to simply observe your cake-fueled toil, oh no - he'd posted up in the kitchen alongside you, providing a ceaseless stream of 'helpful suggestions' in that low, melodic drawl.

Whisk clattering into the mixing bowl, you slapped an indignant hand over your mouth to muffle a traitorous whimper as Gojo materialized at your back. His chest pressed flush to your spine, breath curling sinfully around the shell of your ear as he bent to examine your handiwork. "Make sure you cream the butter and sugar together really well," he purred, palm skimming down to rest at the small of your back. "Nice and slow, just like that."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed to any merciful god that he'd attribute your full-body shiver to the chill of the refrigerator still wafting over your overheated skin. And lord have mercy, his hands - those long, dexterous fingers you'd spent far too many lonely nights imagining on your body were definitely, unequivocally sliding down to grip your hips, thumbs tracing maddening circles over the jut of bone through your thin leggings.

A sharp inhale had you glancing over, catching him in the act of slipping a digit into the mixing bowl for an illicit taste. He made a low sound of approval as he brought it to his lips, tongue peeking out to swipe broad strokes over the creamy coating. "Mmm, delicious," he sighed, hooded eyes ensnaring yours. "But I bet it would taste even better off of you."

You sucked in a sharp breath, the very air seeming to thicken with tension as Gojo's darkening gaze bored into yours. Before you could so much as form a coherent thought, his hand whipped out to capture your wrist in an unforgiving grip. Calloused fingertips skated over your knuckles before tugging your hand towards his mouth with agonizing slowness.

Heart pounding wildly, you could only look on in rapt fascination as he purposefully dragged the pad of your sugar-dusted index finger between the plush seam of his lips. The soft, lived warmth of his mouth engulfed the very tip as his eyelids fluttered in apparent rapture. An embarrassingly needy whimper punched its way past your constricted throat at the erotic display.

Gojo's stare remained locked on yours as his tongue slowly unfurled, swiping in languid, maddening stripes to lave up the sticky-sweet trail. You watched, transfixed, as his cheeks hollowed minutely on each indulgent suckle. The bolt of molten, aching want that lanced straight to your core was dizzying in its intensity, leaving you flushed and swaying dazedly into his solid frame.

When at last he released your fingertip with one final, lingering lap of his rough tongue, the tortured sound he dragged from your parted lips bordered on the obscene.

Suddenly, the once-spacious kitchen felt stiflingly small, air too hot and heavy to pull into your lungs. Unbidden, your gaze darted down to trace his mouth, lingering on the sheen of saliva clinging to his plush lower lip. What would it be like, you wondered wildly, to surge up on your toes and lick it off? To finally give into the temptation that had plagued you since that night in the hotel room and discover if he tasted as sinful as he looked?

It was only when his smirk widened into a full-blown Cheshire grin that you realized you'd been caught staring like a dog with its tongue lolling out. Heat rapidly flooded your cheeks as you whipped back around, praying to spontaneously combust on the spot. A ghost of a touch through your hair had you swallowing harshly, fingers white-knuckled against the edge of the countertop. You could practically feel the path of his gaze as it dragged up the rigid line of your spine but you refused to turn, terrified of what he might see written across your face were you to meet his eyes right now.

The press of lips just behind your ear had you jerking, an embarrassing squeak punching out of your throat. "Good girl," he rumbled, and the blatant satisfaction in his voice made you want to drown yourself in the bowl of egg whites you'd just finished whisking within an inch of its life. "I knew you had it in you."

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, losing yourself in the soothing monotony of measuring, mixing and portioning out heaping trays of dough into uniform spheres. Soon enough, you found yourself pleasantly adrift in the familiar haze of concentration that came with long hours in the kitchen. The sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled your senses as you bustled about from oven to oven, carefully monitoring pans of cookies and intricate latticed pies.

Lulled into complacency by the peaceful atmosphere, you never even heard Gojo sneak up until large palms were wrapping securely around your waist, tugging your back into the solid heat of his chest. Blinking sluggishly, you glanced down at the thick pot of bubbling caramel you'd been methodically stirring moments before.

"Careful, pretty," he chided gently, maneuvering the spoon to the far edges where a few darker swirls were beginning to creep in. "Don't let it burn."

Only when he was certain you wouldn't scald yourself or ruin the batch did he release you, though not without a teasing little squeeze that had your cheeks coloring all over again.

By the time the last tray finally emerged from the oven, golden and steaming, you were dangerously close to faceplanting right into your latest culinary creation. Gojo eased the spoon from your cramping hand, brows furrowed as he scrutinized your slumped posture.

"Hey," he prompted gently, "You okay, beautiful?"

Too exhausted to bother fudging the truth, you shook your head, fighting to keep your drooping lids from sliding shut altogether. "Just tired," you yawned, "Guess it really has been a long day."

Something soft flashed across Gojo's face then, gone too quickly to properly parse. Large hands settled on your hips as he turned you to face him fully, head cocked assessingly. After apparently coming to some silent conclusion, he bent at the knees and, without warning, hoisted you up onto the countertop in one fluid movement, fingers pressing against your hips.

"Rest," he commanded, cutting off your half-hearted protest with a stern look. Long fingers carded adoringly through your hair, brushing stray strands back from your clammy forehead. You nearly purred at the soothing contact, lashes fluttering wildly against your cheeks.

When he shifted to pull back, one of your hands shot out of its own accord, fisting in the front of his shirt to tug him stumbling into the bracket of your thighs. Wide eyes locked on his, so close you swore you could see a ring of silver around those striking pools of blue. For a charged moment, the only sound was your shared breathing and the faint bubble of cooling caramel on the stovetop.

A muscle ticked in Gojo's jaw and then he was leaning in, the warm brush of lips at your temple practically scorching in its tenderness. "I'll finish up here," he promised in a rough whisper before disentangling himself to shoo you off towards the nearby couch. Already half-asleep, you were powerless to resist as your legs moved on autopilot.

Burrowing into the plush cushions, you watched through heavy lids as Gojo puttered around the kitchen, putting away ingredients and packaging up an explosion of colorful delights. The low rumble of his absentminded humming buoyed you gently into slumber as your heartbeat slowed to match the steady cadence.

These quiet moments of care and support, you thought drowsily, were worth more than a thousand love songs blasting from the rooftops. Here, in the shelter of his presence, the world narrowed down to just the two of you, separate from the darkness and chaos outside.

Hand outstretched in hopeless yearning, you finally succumbed to sleep's inexorable pull, dreams full of silver hair and secret smiles. A single word ghosted past your lips like a prayer just before you went under.

"Satoru."

And then there was only blissful darkness.

Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of gentle fingers carding through your hair. Gojo was seated beside you on the couch, gaze soft as he watched over your slumber.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he murmured, voice a deep rumble that sent tingles down your spine. "Feel any better?"

You hummed an affirmative, stretching languidly before settling back against the plush cushions. "Much. Thank you for letting me recharge."

Gojo's smile broadened and he shifted closer, arm draping along the back of the couch behind you. "Of course. I know how hard you've been working." His tone sobered. "I don't want you running yourself ragged like that again though, okay pretty? Promise me you'll take it easier from now on."

Meeting his intense stare, you felt yourself getting lost in the molten blue of his eyes, deeper and more turbulent than any ocean. "I promise," you whispered, transfixed.

Something flickered across his expression then, tender and wanting. Slowly, giving you ample time to pull away, Gojo leaned in until his brow rested gently against yours, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. Your eyes slid shut of their own accord as his nose brushed tenderly along yours in an achingly intimate caress.

And then, softer than a sigh, his lips were on yours - a gossamer brush at first before settling in a warm, unhurried glide. Instinctively, you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until the hard planes of his body bracketed you against the cushions. He went willingly, slotting one lean thigh between your parted legs as his tongue teased at the seam of your mouth in a silent request for deeper exploration.

A low keen escaped the back of your throat as you opened for him eagerly. He surged forward with renewed fervor, mouth moving over yours in a heated glide of searing, slick heat as he coaxed your tongues into a sensual dance. Utterly intoxicated, your fingers wound into the thick strands at his nape, holding him close as your senses drowned in the taste, smell and feel of him surrounding you.

Gojo cradled you reverently, one broad palm cupping your jaw while the other mapped the dip of your waist through the thin material of your shirt. You arched shamelessly into his touch, chasing that electrifying tingle that sparked across your nerves with every heated caress. An embarrassingly needy whine slipped free when he finally pulled back, putting barely an inch between your lips as you both struggled to breathe.

"Satoru," you rasped out, practically delirious with wanting. You could feel his smile against your mouth as he reclaimed it in another breathtaking kiss, slower but no less intense.

"I've got you, pretty girl," he purred between devastating sweeps of his talented tongue. "I'll always take such good care of you."

You believed him wholeheartedly in that moment, drowning in sensation as his touch grew bolder, both cherishing and claiming every inch of newly exposed skin. Rational thought fled in the wake of his ardent worship, the world shrinking down to just his body, his hands, his sinful mouth rendering you into an incoherent, needy mess.

Distantly, you recognized this as a line you could never uncross - a point of no return. But Gojo was so warm, so solid and reassuring around you that you couldn't find it in yourself to care about consequences. Not when he was pillaging your lips with such fervent devotion, hands mapping out every shudder and whimper he pulled from your rapidly unraveling form.

All you knew was that you never wanted this to end, this sublime sublime torture of hands and lips and roaming caresses that stoked your desire ever higher into an inextinguishable blaze. Fisting in his hair, you pulled him impossibly closer with a wounded sound.

"Please," you begged against his mouth, though you weren't quite sure what you were asking for. More, everything, a lifetime of this sublime rapture - you needed it all like you needed air to breathe.

Gojo simply hummed low in his throat, the vibration doing devastatingly sinful things to your already overheated skin. "Always so greedy for me," he purred, rolling his hips in one lazy, purposeful grind that punched the air from your lungs. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to take such good care of you."

True to his word, he lost himself in lavishing every inch of exposed skin with hot, open-mouth kisses until you were trembling and writhing beneath him. Only then did he trail scorching paths lower, intent on learning exactly what sounds and caresses could reduce his normally unflappable student to a whimpering, pleading mess.

Your clothes quickly became a haphazard pile on the floor, joining the growing heap of his discarded layers. His dexterous fingers found purchase everywhere they touched, sending lightning bolts of pleasure zinging through your veins until all you could do was cling to him desperately.

Gojo was no less affected, his usually immaculate silver locks falling in a disheveled halo around his head, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide with lust. The sight was almost enough to send you careening over the edge right then and there.

His smirk told you he knew precisely the effect he was having. "Look at you," he praised in a low, silken drawl, "so beautiful and needy for me. Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?"

You nearly sobbed as his clever fingers curled perfectly inside you, coaxing you higher and higher, until you were practically vibrating with the strain.

"So perfect, my sweet girl. Such a good little slut, taking my fingers like that. C'mon, let go, beautiful. Come for me."

With a strangled cry, you shattered, back arching off the couch as his mouth latched onto one rosy peak, teeth catching on the hardened bud in a delicious bite of pain. He worked you through the waves, whispering sinful praises into the sweat-slick skin of your breasts as you shuddered and quaked around his hand.

The aftershocks still hadn't abated when he was flipping you onto your hands and knees, kneeling behind you with his cock in hand. You watched with lidded eyes, heart skittering in your chest as he pumped lazily, his other hand coming to grip your hip.

"Gonna make you feel so good, pretty," he promised, dragging the flushed head over your entrance teasingly. "Want to see you fall apart on my cock. You're gonna look so gorgeous when I fuck you full, mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to."

The words set your entire body alight, a fresh surge of arousal trickling down your trembling thighs. A breathless whimper was all you could manage, eyes rolling back at the delicious drag of his cock against your oversensitive flesh.

With a groan, Gojo sheathed himself fully in one slow thrust, burying his cock to the hilt. Your head fell forward with a breathless cry, spine curving instinctively to deepen the angle.

"God, look at you, baby," he gasped, sounding utterly wrecked. "Fuck, you're so perfect, so tight around me. Such a good girl, taking me so well."

And then, without further preamble, he was pulling out nearly to the tip before snapping his hips back home in a relentless tempo that had the couch squeaking and shaking beneath you.

The room was filled with the obscene sounds of your skin slapping together, punctuated by his rough grunts and your high-pitched keens. You couldn't even muster the strength to move, could only kneel there and take whatever he chose to give you, his grip on your hips the only thing keeping you upright.

He pounded into you hard and fast, the delicious stretch of him nearly overwhelming in its intensity. Every nerve was lit aflame, a wildfire racing through your veins. You were so close, you could feel the precipice rushing up to meet you.

"Touch yourself for me, pretty," he urged, hips slamming into yours. "Let me feel you come."

Your hand shot down to frantically circle your clit, fingers slipping over the sensitive nub with practiced ease. Within seconds, your body was locking up, vision whiting out as clear fluid gushed out of you, drenching the couch beneath you.

"That's it," Gojo groaned, hips stuttering. "Fucking squirt for me, beautiful."

With a muffled curse, he buried himself balls deep, fingers digging painfully into your waist as he pumped rope after rope of hot cum into you. You could feel every throb, the pulse of his cock as he filled you up.

Afterwards, you collapsed into an exhausted, sweaty heap, utterly boneless. You floated on a cloud of endorphins, drifting hazily through the haze of afterglow.

It was only once Gojo's breath had slowed and steadied that you finally dared to glance up, half-afraid you'd see regret or remorse etched into his features. Instead, he met your questioning gaze with a soft, tender smile, brushing the hair back from your flushed cheeks with surprising gentleness.

"I've got you, pretty," he murmured again, thumb grazing your flushed cheekbone. "Sleep. We'll figure out...this...in the morning."

Tilting your head back, you searched his lidded gaze, looking for any hint of hesitation or regret. But his striking blue eyes were clear, open and certain in a way that squeezed the breath from your lungs. Whatever came next, you realized with a strange sense of calm certainty, you wouldn't face it alone.

Offering him a small, private smile, you pressed one last lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before tucking your head under his chin once more. He tightened his protective arms around you as your breathing gradually synced.

As the world shrank down to just the two of you cocooned together on the couch, you let your eyes drift shut.

You had both crossed a line tonight, whether you were ready or not. There was no going back to the way things were before. But as sleep began pulling you under, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. Whatever came next, you would take it on together, come what may.

Nestling closer, you let out a slow exhale and surrendered to the pull of slumber, secure in that singular certainty. The rest could be figured out later.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru smut

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f0point5 · 3 days

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Jealous Emilia after they get together plss I am beggingggg cook this for us plssssss 🙏🙏🙏

Not me rewriting this no less than four times and still hating it 😂 but it’s not going to get any better haha. This was hard to write because I actually don’t see Emilia as the jealous type. I kind of drew off a lot of her known insecurities and alluded to her kind of struggling with the “wag” role a bit so it’s not just her reacting poorly to Max being fawned over by a girl because I don’t think that would be true to her character. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

✨Set in Jeddah 2024✨

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

If there’s one thing to be said for the Jeddah paddock, it’s pretty at sunset. You watch people moving through the paddock bathed in golden light. The ground looks like the yellow brick road. Even though it’s getting cooler now as it gets closer to qualifying, you still choose to sit inside Red Bull hospitality. You’re also sitting inside because Max said he wanted to hang out before quail. Even though he’s spent the last forty-five minutes talking to one of the hospitality guests.

Amy, something or other. She races GT cars in some series you’ve never heard of. You’re not sure what connections got her the invite to the garage but Max had been herded away by one of the media reps to take pictures with her so she must be someone’s daughter. They seem to have hit it off, you note. He’s in full maxplaining mode, bending down to the line of his own hand as he illustrates what looks like an apex. Amy isn’t even watching his hands, she’s watching Max. Hazel eyes just sparkling as she memorises every inch of him. Yeah, you know that look well enough.

And it’s not that you mind. He likes to talk racing, he likes racers. It’s not like you know what it feels like to driver a car at top speed, and more importantly you don’t want to know. The hot laps with Max were more than enough. You can’t be everything to him and you don’t need to be. You tell yourself you don’t want to be. It’s good he has other people to talk to, because it’s not like you can ever really understand his competitive streak. The man who knows nothing except how to win will not always be able to relate to the girl who has always been too afraid to lose.

No, it’s not bothering you that Max is talking to her. It’s bothering you that she has the most obvious crush on him since…no, actually, this is the most obvious crush ever. She’s played with her hair so many times you just know karma is going to make her bald someday. You hope you’re there somehow.

“Hey,”

You jump at the sound of Checo’s voice. He sits down at the end of the table, brandishing Kitkat, which he slides over to you.

“Max has made a new friend,” he says, nodding in Max’s direction.

You tear open the wrapper with far too much aggression. “So I see,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“She races, right?”

You nod, biting into the chocolate. “GT, apparently,”

“Lots in common,” Checo says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “You have to watch your back,”

You know he’s joking. You know that in no universe are you in competition with her. And yet, his words sink under your skin under your blood is curdling at the sight of Max laughing at something Amy says.

“I don’t have to watch anything,” you say with shrug, turning towards Checo. “If she can take him she can have him.” You push your hair over one shoulder and run your tongue over your teeth.

“Whoa,” Checo chuckles, throwing his hands up like he’s being faced with a hungry lion. You suppose since he has a wife, he knows the look well enough. “I was joking.” When you don’t react, he shakes his head. “It’s Max,”

You know what he means. It’s Max, not Chuck Leclerc. It’s Max, not Danny Ric. It’s Max, not Checo. But it’s Max. You don’t have to worry he’s going to lose his mind over the actresses or supermodels, but he sure seems to be respectfully admiring his female alter ego.

It’s like he can sense you thinking about him, it’s uncanny, really. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him walking towards your table with Amy in tow.

Fake smile, it’s fine, she’s just a fan.

Max introduces you, and you smile and shake her hand and ask her if she having a nice day, because you’re Max’s girlfriend, so you owe it to him to be polite. She has no such obligation, although you might be imagining her flinch when Max says the word girlfriend.

“I think it’s the best day of my life,” she says in answer to your question. The telltale flicker of her eyes in Max’s direction as they sit down almost making you roll yours.

Max doesn’t notice, he’s more interested in taking your Kitkat out of your hand and taking a bite. He bites it so that all four sticks have the end missing and you wear you’ve never been so disgusted by this man. For a second, you think Amy can have him.

“Amy races GT cars, like the ones we tested in Portugal,” he says to you now, his hand disappearing under the table to rest on your thigh and trace circles with his thumb like it’s a habit. “We are just talking about setting up a test for her with Verstappen com,”

Oh, great. So not only is she utterly bewitched by the ocean eyes, you’re making her dreams come true. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Ah,” is all you say, sharing a look with a smirking Checo.

“That would really be such a dream come true,” Amy says, and you almost laugh. “I’m a big fan of yours, I think it’s so cool that you’re involved with things outside formula one. You should come to a race sometime. I owe you paddock passes,”

You met him three hours ago, and he isn’t even the one who invited you. Do you owe him a blowjob as well, Amy?

“Yeah. Our schedule is a bit hectic but yeah, it would be good to fit that in soon,” Max says, turning to you. “Right?”

What am I? The secretary? Because in case you didn’t notice, she didn’t fucking invite me.

You just shrug.

“GT racing doesn’t exactly draw the influencer crowd,” you are definitely not imagining the way her eyes slide over to you before she looks back at Max to say, “it’s really good racing,”

You zone out right then and there. It’s like your brain short circuits from the energy it’s taking not to reach over, grab this girl by her stringy extensions, and rip. If she and Max keep talking, you don’t hear it. You don’t want to hear it. You notice Checo noticing your discomfort, even as he engages the other two in conversation. For all his quirks, Checo reads human behaviour much better than Max. Though you don’t need to be a body language expert to see how much this girl likes him.

She looking at him like she wants to eat him, hanging on unspoken words, fingers twitching on the table like she’s desperate to touch him. And he’s nodding along, because they’re so aligned that whatever she says he agrees with, and the maxplaining is one-handed now but no less enthusiastic, and you’re about to dig your nails into his skin because he is not going to have one hand almost up your skirt while another woman is flirting with him.

All these thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of one of the Red Bull media managers.

“Amy, we were hoping to get some pictures of you with the car, if you’re free?”

“Yeah, sure, one second,” she says, turning to Max. “Which way is the garage again?” Like she doesn’t have someone who clearly just came from the garage standing right next to her.

“Just through there, keep going straight,” Max says, pointing to the corridor with engineers walking in and out. You give the girl the benefit of the doubt that she’s not that stupid, just desperate.

Reluctantly, she gets to her feet. “So, I’ll give you a call to set up the test?”

“Yeah, sure,” Max says. “Or you can call Raymond. He’ll put your team in touch with the right people,”

“Okay, awesome,” she says, leaning down enough that you can see right down her shirt. “It was really great to meet you. And I meant it about the GT race,” and then, as if remembering she can’t be rude, she glances at Checo. “You guys, too,”

You wave her off, and your smile doesn’t even fall. Because it’s funny. It’s funny that a grown woman would behave like that in front of a man’s girlfriend. It’s funny that a woman gunning for sponsorship would behave like you does regular shifts in something called the “Champagne Room”.

And it’s absolutely hilarious that Max turns to you, without a care in the world, and says, “I’ve got such a headache. I stood up into the cupboard in the garage, it hurt so bad,”

You give him tight smile and pull out your phone to text Lily to see if she’s still with Alex or if she’s free for a catch up.

“What?” You hear Max say above you. You ignore him. “What? She the-“ You look up just in time to see that Checo is mouthing something to Max. “Jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” you snap, leaning back in the your chair to glare at both of them. They give each a mocking grin. “Yeah, very funny,” this sets them off snickering like school kids. “Fuck both of you.”

You get up and stalk through the room and back towards the garage. You don’t even know what you’ll do when you get there since being Max’s girlfriend had put an end to you just wandering down the pitlane and allowed in any garage. Maybe you’ll just try and find GP. If Max doesn’t catch up to you first. You can hear him calling you.

“Leibling, wait,” he’s right behind you now, and you hear him almost stumbling as he leans forward to catch you by the wrist.

You shrug him off, but stop at the door to his driver room and push it open, jerking your head to order him inside. He may be a dick, but he still deserve for the whole team to know his business. He steps into the room, reaching for your waist but you move out of his way and leave him to close the door while you lean against the physio table on the other side of the room.

He sighs when he sees how you’re looking at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I mean, I did. Not at you. I didn’t think Checo was being serious,” he defends, and by the end of his sentence he’s fighting an incredulous smile and you squeeze the edge of the physio bench to stop yourself pulling your hair. Or his.

How can this guy understand complex tyre strategy but not basic human interaction?

“You didn’t think he was serious that I was annoyed by someone flirting with you in front of me?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow. “And that I wouldn’t be annoyed at you making fun of me for it?”

Max scoffs. “She wasn’t flirting with me,”

“Oh, please.” You let out a scoff of your own. “You didn’t notice me flirting with you for three years, do not pretend you’re an expert,”

“I noticed,” Max argues, “I just didn’t take it seriously,”

“Which is why you have no leg to stand on,”

“Right, because I was just supposed to believe that you suddenly-“

“It wasn’t exactly sudden-“

“For God’s sake,” Max groans, an expression of abject confusion twisting his face. “What are we even fighting about?”

“You enjoying Lella Lombardi over there slobber all over you, and enjoying it,” the exasperation gets worse when Max’s eyes widen like this is the first he’s hearing of this entire discussion.

“I’m- she- what?” He splutters, his head shaking in disbelief. “Is this one of those Tiktok pranks?”

“I get that she’s a pilot and that makes her automatically interesting, but until I hear otherwise, you’re still in a relationship,”

Max looks at you like you’ve grown a second head; shock, concern, and a good amount of unadulterated disgust. “You can’t think I was looking at her…like that,”

The way he says it, like he’s afraid to catch cooties, like it’s it’s inconceivable, like you didn’t still have bruises of your hips in the shape of his fingertips, takes all the fight out of you. Checo was right; it’s Max. It’s feels like someone’s let all the air out of a balloon. Your shoulders slump and you sigh.

“Because that would be crazy?” You lift yourself onto the physio bench as you speak. You’re not even really sure what you’re asking. “Max Verstappen, who likes only one thing on earth, that one thing being racing, attracted to another driver rather than his influencer accessory girlfriend?”

“Actually, I like two things,” he says with that boyish smirk that has been making your stomach do backflips for longer than you care to admit.

“Stop laughing at me,” you whine, fighting the urge to smile.

“I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that she upset you. I’m sorry that I upset you,” he says, taking a careful step closer to you, but he stops there. “Even if I don’t know what I did,”

He really has no idea. He is painfully, adorably clueless.

“Nothing,” you say, because you don’t know either. Sometimes it’s just inexplicably overwhelming being Max Verstappen’s girlfriend. “Just you being you, I guess,”

Max frowns at that. “I didn’t know being myself was so offensive,” he mumbles, and you instantly feel guilty. You of all people shouldn’t make him feel bad for how much space he takes up. You of all people know how much that bothers him.

“No, it’s not that. It’s not-“ you struggle for a way to explain it. Max takes the opportunity to cross the rest of the room and stand in front of you, his expression telling you he’s waiting for you to finish. “It’s not about who you are, but sometimes the way people act around you is just…and you’re so used to it, you don’t even…you just forget who you are sometimes, Max,”

He nods soberly. “Yeah. I do, and I’m sorry,” he says. He hooks his hands under your knees and pulls your legs apart and slots between them as he drags you to the edge of the bench so that you’re pressed against him, leaning back to look up at him. “But I never forget who you are, which is the most important bit,”

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s so simple. And not because he’s unintelligent, but because he’s guileless, because who he is has never scared him. He smiles back, and it’s unguarded and unbridled and you almost forgive that girl because you’ll be damned if you don’t have a crush on him, too.

“Was she really flirting with me?” He asks curiously, looking down as his hands find your and entwine your fingers.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, and he frowns, the wheels working in head as he tries to figure out how he didn’t notice. “Like me at your mum’s on Christmas Eve in 2020 level of obvious,”

“Well,” he says with a huff. “She just blew her chance at a test,”

“You don’t have to-“

“Wait, you were flirting with me at Christmas at my mum’s?”

#max verstappen x reader

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weebsinstash · 1 day

Text

People keep asking me if I have any 'yandere Alastor vs. yandere Lucifer fighting over Reader' ideas, and I gotta say one of my favorite ones is uh

Ok so I just am trying to kick myself in the ass to write this in of itself, but, I really like the idea of Alastor just straight up tricking you into giving him your soul. "Oh what if Reader takes a deal from him" no what if he makes a deal for your soul and you don't even fucking realize what you're doing and it's completely unintentional. I'm talking, my specific idea, is that after a prolonged series of events where you both gain and then lose Alastor's respect, he then approaches you when you're just like DRUNK DRUNK and, you're being all social and slurring and honestly he's embarrassed for you but at least you're talking to him, and, he sets his trap: making it seem like just an innocent little game, Alastor suggests you two have some kind of drinking game, and the winner can take ANY ONE THING from the other, and he's even all "oh, you don't even have to bother yourself with thinking about it! I could simply JUST TAKE IT and not even inform you, so then you wouldn't even have to worry yourself about whatever it is I decided to... acquire for myself :)"

And here's your drunken delusionally confident ass, thinking YOU'RE gonna pull one over on HIM, YOU trick ALASTOR "oh haha there's definitely nothing I have he wants lol, what would he do, take my cellphone or some of my shitty clothes or collectibles, lmao, I'm gonna win and I'm gonna ask him for some sort of special power or cool thing or gossip, this is low stakes high reward for sure"

Cue you like IMMEDIATELY losing his challenge, and even then, you're all smiles and laughs, "aww, I thought I had you there! So what are you taking?" And he just "Ohhhh, nothing :) actually I... even already took it from you!" And he starts LAUGHING laughing and you're just like "oh, you bastard, you got me! >u< more drinks, yay!"

I like the idea that Reader wakes up the next morning STILL in compete ignorance but uh, eventually you find out exactly how terrifying having someone else own your soul is when Alastor gives you some sort of command of something you REALLY do not want to do and you can't even control your own body to stop yourself from doing it anyways. Just the... violations of privacy, the loss of autonomy. He can force every thought and secret out of your mouth, your head, and move your body to the best of its abilities, and also just, PLUCK you to his location at will

So. Lucifer finds you just absolutely BROKEN in bed, like emotionally devastated, you are as close to suicidal as you can be for someone who cannot die, and, maybe you've even self-harmed. And after some gentle prodding from the Devil, you reveal what Alastor did, but, even more than that, how it made you FEEL. Alastor had approached you as some kind of friend, then started to want to exert some kind of ... control over you, commenting on your lifestyle choices, wanting you to do things with him in HIS way, and then when you resisted, he acted like you were a disappointment, even stopped spending time with you, and THEN, after you thought he was done with you, TRICKS YOU into giving him YOUR SOUL. It's just completely destroyed your psyche. It's reinforced horrible things you've thought about yourself your entire life. It made you feel alone, and now, you don't even have your soul anymore

So naturally Lucifer is like, "That's horrible! I'm so sorry he hurt you like that, I won't let him do this!" AND JUST FUCKING UNDOES IT. Contract WHAT? Radio Demon WHO? this is HELL and Lucifer is, you know, THE DEVIL FROM UH, THE BIBLE, and he's just snapping his fingers and you FEEL your soul come back to you and now you're breaking down crying for entirely different reasons while Lucifer holds you

MEANWHILE ALASTOR, who is fucking off elsewhere, may or may not be lovingly gazing at whatever form your soul is taking within his grasp, HAS IT RIPPED AWAY FROM HIM AND STARTS LOSING HIS MIND. Some "Wait, what just happened? Ffffuck." shit for real, he's, abruptly jerking out of his chair so hard it's sliding across the floor and he's racing back to the Hotel. Charlie stands up for him and shouts down her father that he has no right to ask the Radio Demon to leave, but, Charlie "attempts" to give Alastor "a stern talking to" about how "friends don't take other friend's souls, taking other people's souls is not how we get into Heaven" which, of course, falls on deaf ears, but Charlie isn't the Morningstar Alastor is wanting to concern himself with

And of course, there's Lucifer, making sure he's standing close to you, maybe even between you and Alastor, standing in front of you protectively, MAYBE EVEN HOLDING YOUR HAND TO COMFORT YOU. Alastor just immediately putting two and two together what happened and all but grinding his teeth into dust. Not only has Lucifer interfered and taken something IRREPLACEABLE from him(which was something he took from YOU lol), but, Lucifer has driven a wedge between you ans the Radio Demon. Alastor is watching you regard him with nothing but anger and sadness and fear while clinging to the tiny fallen angel and just, ohhhh, if looks could kill, the staredown these two are having with each other over you...

You've got one yandere who had your soul within his hands and had it taken back before he even got to enjoy having it, didn't get to DO anything with it, and another yandere who, quite understandably, feels that it isn't safe to let you leave from under his protective wing, and BOTH of them are convinced you have to be protected from the other while ALSO being super powerful

You know, the perfect combination of dangerous abilities and dangerous minds :) obviously our favorite Appletini is the more powerful one, but I think our Bambi could give him a good run for his money through sheer trickery alone. If you thought it was annoying getting pulled into antagonistic musicals BEFORE--

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #Lucifer x reader #hh #sinprompts #yandere stuff

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royaltozaki · 1 day

Note

what if nerd momo x bimbo reader author I need u

failing maths, but getting the girl

synopsis: momo and y/n have hated each other ever since an incident in first year. now, y/n's failing a class and momo offers to help.

warnings: mentions of blood and cuts, overbearing parents, drugs, implied sex

w/c: 4.0k

a/n: this is kinda funny for me bcs im blonde and my dad keeps making jokes in chinese about how im ltr a blonde bimbo now. anyway i combined these 2 reqs bcs im lazy forgive me anon/s

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

"y/n!"

you turn in the corridor, almost crashing into the burly man behind you who yells a "watch where you're going blondie!" before rushing off to a class he was probably late to.

you spot your friends who had called you, grinning and waving you over, "can't go one day on campus without running someone down can you?" a friend teases.

you pout, "i didn't walk into anyone yesterday!"

"no but you got stuck in the revolving door outside the chem building."

you whine at their teasing, you were a naturally clumsy person! sometimes you'd mix up salt and sugar, and sometimes you'd lose your car keys only to find them still in the ignition keyhole of your car from the last time you used it.

"so you coming to that party tonight? i heard some famous dj from the states is playing."

"awwh really?! i can't tonight i'm failing that dumb math class i have to take and i have a quiz tomorrow so i gotta study."

"you're failing everything y/n, what difference would one night make for you anyway?" a scoff from a student passing by, who you recognise as the infamous hirai momo from the back of her head and the evil way she sends a side-eye at you and your friend group in disgust.

"i wouldn't be if it weren't for your sad ass hirai!"

"stop looking at my ass and get your eyes on some books for once."

momo was meant to be your roommate in first year. although you had accidentally locked her out in the rain for 5 hours while you were hooking up with someone you can't remember the name of anymore. that was during orientation week, safe to say she was pissed and completely drenched when you finally let her in. she filed for a roommate change not long after, citing "poor etiquette and stupidity that could infect my genius", and being the university's most promising academic scholar, she pretty much got whatever she wanted. meaning she also got you assigned to the harshest tutors and markers as her own form of personal revenge, essentially making you fail most of your first year courses. which is why you were even taking this math class again.

the problem arose however, when you find out you would actually lose your scholarship if you failed another class. so failing was definitely not an option.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

“you failed.”

“what!? but i studied all night! i even brought the right calculator model this time!”

“miss l/n, bringing the correct calculator doesn’t help you if you don’t know how to use it. and neither does studying all night if you haven’t been coming to class for most of the semester.”

you’re gaping at the professor in disbelief.

“i’m afraid you’ll lose your scholarship if you fail the upcoming final exam. take this as your final warning. good day miss l/n.”

the door is shut in your face while you're still left trying to process exactly what just happened, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

a familiar scoff behind you brings you back though, "what is y/n l/n doing here outside the staff meeting room? what? about to blow one of your professors for marks or something?"

you spin, stepping into her space, faces inches away from each other, "you jealous or something hirai? i'll blow you too if you beg."

you revel in the way her cheeks immediately flush, a slightly shaky finger pushing up the glasses on her nose as she looks away, "jokes on you l/n. i don't have a dick dimwit."

"you don't need one for me to make you feel good."

she's sputtering, moving around you quickly to escape, knocking on the staff door. you smirk, reveling in the slight win over her but immediately forgetting the feeling of triumph when you realise you're still fucked for your final in 2 weeks.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

"y/n, you know i love you, but i cannot explain this again in any other way."

you groan, hands coming up to pull at your hair.

"but you got like a high affliction or something for this class last year! if you can't teach me i'm actually royally screwed, pleaseee?"

"it's high distinction sweetie. and just because someone's good at something doesn't mean they're a good teacher. sorry to break it to you but i couldn't teach my little cousins how to multiply fractions without wanting to commit homicide."

you wrinkle your nose, "gross dude they're literally related to you."

"no babes homicide means i wanted to kill them."

"oh... i guess that's better?"

"focus! c'mon you remember how to do the cross product right?"

"i don't get ittttttt!!!!!!! isn't that just multiplication? a times b equals ab!"

"this isn't algebra it's vectors. cross product isn't multiplication y/n."

you groan again, facepalming the desk in front of you.

your friend sighs, "sorry y/n i have to get going now. promised my boyfriend i'd go watch his game tonight."

"what?! you can't leave me here!"

your friend's already packing up their stuff though, "sorry! good luck with the studying though!"

you wail in goodbye, sitting up again and slapping your face a few times, trying to hype yourself up.

two minutes later, and you're still absolutely nowhere.

you decide to go out for a quick stroll rather than start a campfire in the middle of the library with all your papers. the evening breeze feels refreshing against your skin as you take in the sky. breathing in a deep sigh and closing your eyes briefly.

definitely the wrong idea when you crash headfirst into something that yelps a "what the fuck!" followed by the sound of smashing glass and a whine of pain.

your eyes are quick to open and you stare down at a bleeding hirai momo next to what looks to be a ruined 3D print of a final project or something.

"oh shit momo! are you okay?" you crouch down quickly, trying to collect the glass pieces that have broken, yelping when a piece digs into your skin.

"has all that bleach finally reached your brain y/n? who goes for broken glass with their bare hands?" she's frowning, rubbing her head a little and inspecting the cut across her arm.

"i-i'm sorry i-"

she sighs, "save it. i've had a long enough day as it is. being around you any longer is just gonna increase my chances of dying to some freak plane crash or something." she's standing up and brushing her hands off on her pants muttering to herself, "i'll have to call security to come clean this up."

you realise then that her eyes look a little puffier than usual, slightly tinged with red, the telltale signs of crying.

you suddenly feel terrible. whatever you had just broken seemed like an extremely intricate piece of work, and she was still bleeding down her arm but she didn't seem to pay it much mind, taking a phone out of her pocket and dialing security.

you step to the side and wait for her to finish talking on the phone. she doesn't realise you haven't left yet, swearing under her breath as she assess the damage once again.

when she turns and sees you again, she scowls, "what are you still doing here bimbo? don't you have a dick to ride or some jewelry to shine?"

you ignore her, blushing instead, "you're still bleeding."'

she looks surprised at that response, glancing at her arm again briefly and shrugging, "it's whatever. i'll clean it up later."

you wrap a hand around her wrist then, still not meeting her eyes, "let me? it'll be hard to bandage it properly with your left hand. and i kinda owe you for all of-" you gesture vaguely with your other hand at the ground, "this."

she's tugging her hand back quickly though, "don't bother. you'd probably make it worse. just go home y/n."

you sigh exasperatedly, "won't you just let me help! i feel bad okay? i can't just leave you here bleeding onto the concrete waiting for security to come clean this up."

she's surprised at your outburst, eyes locking onto yours and then nodding slightly. you don't let her rethink her decision as you drag her back inside the library, heading into the storeroom where you knew they had emergency first aid supplies.

you sit her down on the chair and rummage through the small kit for some alcohol wipes to clean the wound first.

she's eyeing you with a sort of caution, but is quick to clench her eyes shut and gasp at the first sting of disinfectant.

it's quiet for a bit while you work on cleaning her wound.

"where'd you learn first aid?" she speaks up first, eyes meting yours again.

"my little sister used to play around a lot with the rougher kids in the neighborhood. so she was always coming home with scratches and cuts and my mom was at work most of the time so i had to learn to take care of her myself."

momo hums, "guess that didn't really translate to taking care of yourself then huh? i mean with the way you're always tripping over air and stuff, you're more of a danger to yourself than a serial killer would be." there's no malice to her words this time, just lightly teasing you and you smile.

"i am sorry by the way. for breaking that. it looked like it'll be pretty hard to replicate."

"nah. i can just print another one tomorrow don't worry."

you both fall into silence again as you finish cleaning her wound, going to collect a few of the bandages to start wrapping around her arm.

you clear your throat a little awkwardly, "so... long day?"

she chuckles humorlessly in response, "something like that."

"wanna talk about it?"

she bristles then, and you're quick to correct yourself, "i mean you don't have to. just... making conversation."

it's quiet for a little longer and you're finishing wrapping her up, grabbing a small adhesive to stick it all together when she sighs. "sorry. just had a lot of pressure from back home lately. my parents keep wanting me to hurry up and graduate so i can go back to japan and take over the family companies. they called earlier saying how they're cutting off my funding for next year if i continue to drag out my studies."

"what? but you're only 23. don't you have like, things left you wanna do before you're all old and unable to move anymore?"

she giggles a little, its the first time you've heard that from her, "yeah tons actually. i've always wanted to see the northern lights and stay in one of those cute little igloos in finland, maybe go to antarctica and do some research there."

"okay! do that! what's stopping you?"

she smiles at you sadly, "my parents won't allow it. they'd disown me for not taking over their companies. and frankly, i'd be broke without them. i don't have the kind of money to keep living abroad like this if they were to stop supporting me."

you tilt your head a little in confusion, "can't you find a job?"

she's laughing then, a full, nose-scrunching laugh, "not with the classes i'm taking. i'd have to either take part-time study, which my parents would literally kill me for because it's 'embarassing' and would bring shame on our family name, or... never sleep again and take a night job or something."

you frown, sitting back on your heels.

"thanks for this by the way. you're still hurt though, do you want me to do you?"

"-and don't make a weird joke about that." she interrupts you before you can even open your mouth.

you pout, nodding a little as she laughs, and grabs the first aid box from you, gently placing your hand in her lap and cleaning your fingers.

you're caught by the way her eyebrows furrow a little in concentration, her teeth biting into her bottom lip slightly, and you can't help but think she looks cute.

you're brought quickly out of these alarming thoughts though, when she asks "how come you're in the library so late on a friday night anyway? never thought the day would come."

you groan, remembering the stack of math papers you have sitting on your desk, "i have to study for a math final coming next week. if i fail i lose my scholarship and i can't let my mom pay for any of this. she's already worked hard enough getting both my sister and me through school."

momo looks surprised at your admission, "oh. i'm sorry. i didn't know you were on scholarship."

you hum, "yeah most people don't assume it from looking at me." you tease a little, flipping your blonde hair over your shoulder and giving a little jingle of your bracelets.

"i'm not materialistic or anything but i enjoy having things that make me look nice y'know?"

she rolls her eyes, placing bandaids carefully onto your fingers.

"you don't need any of those things anyway."

you're caught again, unsure whether that was a compliment or some new way of torturing you.

she clears her throat, "all done."

you look at your hand, cutely littered with some winnie the pooh bandaids she must have found in the first aid kit.

you beam up at her, "thanks!"

she blushes a little and looks away from you, shyly rubbing the back of her neck, "hey look... i can help you study for that test next week if you want. don't want you losing your scholarship over something simple like that. plus i kinda helped go through all the first year math exams for some extra credit with the head of department."

you're shocked at first, and then jumping and squealing, bringing her up with you, "what?! you will?! oh my god thank you!!!!! holy shit oh my god i'm not gonna fail oh shit i'm-"

she's shooshing you in an instant though, a hand clamped over your mouth, eyes darting behind you, "y/n! we're still in a library!"

you grin when she lets you go, whispering loudly, "thank you!"

she's rolling her eyes and letting herself be dragged over to your table, praying that she didn't make the wrong decision deciding to help you.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

momo's standing outside your lecture theatre, waiting for your class to end. you texted her saying you were getting your final results back today so she decided to pop by and make sure everything was okay.

once students start exiting the class she slips in, walking towards the professor who's packing up her stuff..

"momo! good to see you here. although i'm a little surprised. i wasn't expecting you."

"hey professor kwon. i'm just here to-"

momo's attacked from the back, you're squealing as you latch onto her excitedly, waving a test paper in front of her face, "i passed! momo look i passed! with a 62!!!!! that's higher than i've ever gotten!!!!!"

"miss l/n. i didn't know you knew momo." professor kwon is looking you up and down with a little distaste but you ignore it, squeezing momo even tighter in thanks.

"y/n- stop- wait lemme see that-" she snatches the paper out of your hand and scans it, eyes lighting up when she confirms you did in fact pass.

"congratulations! all that hard work really paid off."

you're blushing, "couldn't have done it without you hirai. c'mon, come out with my friends and i tonight to celebrate!"

"o-oh i don't know about that y/n... i've got-"

"study yeah yeah you always do. but you've gotta relax every now and then you know?"

"miss l/n is right momo. you're the most hardworking student here you should give yourself a break every now and then."

you're nodding fiercely, "right right! thanks professor kim!"

she looks at you with a glare, "kwon. its professor kwon miss l/n."

you're nodding, waving her off shaking momo, "c'mon pleaseeeeeeee? i'll pay for everything. as a thanks for helping me. and i can afford it now too since i won't be losing my scholarship which is also thanks to you so..!"

momo's still uncertain, hand at the back of her neck again, a nervous tick you've picked up on.

"oh professor i just remembered!" you're switching back to your professor, excitement and attention everywhere, "you were looking for outstanding students to tutor next semester right? how about momo? she's the only reason i passed this final and trust me when i say i'm a pretty difficult student to teach."

"oh?" the professor looks towards momo who's eyes have widened, "i had actually planned on asking you regardless but seeing as you were very successful with miss l/n it's just even more proof that you'd be a great teacher. what do you say momo? it's paid decently and great on your academic and work transcripts as well..."

you're looking between your professor and momo with full eyes.

momo looks like she's about to reject the offer, you knew it was because her parents expected her to be back in japan next year but you stop her before she's able to say anything.

"momo! this is great! this is exactly what you need! a job while you're still at uni so you can study at any time but still get paid for it!"

"y/n..."

"it's okay momo. think about it and let me know if you're interested and you've got the job 100%. i've got to get going to my next class now but goodbye girls, congratulations miss l/n but i hope i won't be seeing you in my class next year."

"oh definitely not professor kim!" you wave enthusiastically, giggling at the way the professor sighs in defeat.

you look back at momo who still looks a little stunned.

"well? what do you think?" you ask her excitedly.

"i- i don't know... there's a lot to think about..."

you tilt your head to the side a little in confusion, a gesture momo was beginning to grow fond of.

"i can't just abandon my family y/n. it's a decision that will take me some time to go over." she smiles at you gently, you can't believe this was the same girl who used to call you mean words and intentionally pray on your downfall.

"mm okay. i don't really get it but as long as you're happy in the end it doesn't matter. now c'mon! you coming tonight or not?"

she sighs fondly, "yeah yeah just this once. and we better be home by 12!"

you're pulling her along again scoffing, "riiiiiiiiight 12pm maybe."

"y/n!"

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

momo was most definitely out of her comfort zone. she mostly stuck to the bar, avoiding eye contact with people who tried to approach her. she quickly ordered another drink, hoping the alcohol could at least ease her nerves.

you were most definitely in your zone. you adored being able to dress up and let loose, especially when everyone else is so drunk you’re no longer the only person falling over themselves. you could laugh a little and have fun as well.

you could feel momo’s eyes on you and you ached to drag her out onto the dance floor and join you but she was adamant on staying by the bar when you had tried.

you’re not sure if it was the alcohol or maybe you were just attracted to her now after you’ve spent a whole week studying with her pretty much every minute of every day. but she looked good. you licked your lips as your eyes trailed down the slant of her jawline, her neck and clavicles outlined in the halter top she was sporting. your eyes politely moved past her chest but darted straight down to the abs that she apparently had hidden from the entire student body. how did she even have time to have abs when she always had her nose in a book or was in a lab conducting experiments?

you snap out of it when you realise said abs were moving closer to you for some reason, and suddenly she's all in your space, shoving someone behind you that you hadn't even realised was there in your momo-induced daze.

you turn to see a man with half his shirt unbuttoned and a look of surprise on his face. "the fuck dude?"

momo says nothing, reaching for your drink instead, sticking a finger in and swirling it around for 2 seconds before bringing it to her lips.

that was hot.

"rohypnol."

"what? what the fuck are you on about?" the guy is annoyed, drawing the attention of bystanders as they create a small circle around the three of you, you spot your friends in the crowd looking at you in confusion silently asking what's going on?

you can only shake your head, attention moving back to momo who's standing up straight, almost chest to chest with the guy now.

"rohypnol. a drug belonging to the benzodiazepine class of drugs that inhibits the central nervous system causing the user to experience extreme drowsiness and even blackout in some cases. it can also cause the user memory loss and brings the user to a higher state of intoxication in a rapid amount of time. it's street name is roofies."

the man is sputtering now, "w-what? what is this bullshit? what are you tryna say huh?"

"that you tried to roofie my friend here. do you want me to call the police? have them check this drink for traces of the drug?"

"what!? the fuck?!"

momo sighs, her eyes closing for a second, "is your vocabulary only limited to what? and the fuck? it's getting tiring talking to you."

he's gaping like a fish, the people surrounding you have called security over and they're tying his hands behind his back and he's left squirming against them, yelling more curses as momo stands stoically, watching him get taken away.

she sighs when he's out of sight and turns to you with a smile, "you should be more careful. you could've been hurt tonight."

you can't even think straight and the music is being turned back up, and momo looks so good, you can't help the way you're pulling her in by the waist and planting your lips on hers.

she makes a sound of surprise and is shocked for a second, but closes her eyes and returns the kiss, maneuvering you a little so she can place the spiked drink on a nearby table before her hand returns to you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other on your shoulder.

you're a little desperate when you claw at her abs that are now within touching distance, and she giggles into the kiss. you mutter a small shut up, reattaching your lips, feeling all the adrenaline of the night pumping through you as you mould yourself against her.

"god is it weird that- that kinda turned me on a little?" you're speaking between breaths, her lips swallowing up your words, not letting you catch a break.

she hums lightly against you, "which part?"

"the- when you were talking- about all those chemicals- and whatever-"

she breaks away from you then, an eyebrow arched and a hint of a smirk on her face, "you get off on me talking nerdy?"

you want to wipe that smirk off her face. "take me home and i'll show you what i get off on."

her eyes darken considerably, and she's tugging you towards the exit, grabbing the spiked drink and pouring it down the drain first to make sure no one drinks it. the little action of consideration even when you're both overwhelmed with lust just gets you more wet.

you send a quick text to your friends saying you had to leave early, and then you're in a cab, lips on each other's again, hands roaming and exploring every inch of available skin.

you suppose the one good thing out of that math exam was it bringing the two of you together at last.

#momo #hirai momo #twice momo #momo x reader #momo x f!reader #momo x fem!reader #twice x reader #twice x fem!reader #twice x f!reader #momo imagines #twice imagines #royaltozaki

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onesidedradiostatic · 3 days

Text

VOX'S TURTLENECK IS RED AND KNIT - a fully comprehensive post

STOP BEING IN DENIAL YOU FOOLS. the poll may be over, and red may have won, but some of you still don't understand so here's a consolidation of all my points, if you haven't noticed this discourse is VERY serious and important

----------------------------------

COLOUR

as I've brought up in that godforsaken poll, vox's turtleneck is red because it matches the colour of val's wings

as you can see, these are both taken from the section of the photo that's under the same shadow

if you want to argue that part of the turtleneck is not the same lighting as val's sleeve

you can see that comparing vox's turtleneck sleeve which is RIGHT ABOVE val's sleeve and therefore DEFINITELY the same lighting, it's still a similar colour. therefore, vox's turtleneck is definitely a similar colour to val's wings and since we know val's wings are red, vox's turtleneck must also be red.

okay but what if val was ALSO wearing orange?

possible! but also I'd put that as less likely since the wings are PART of his body and more likely didn't change colour

not to mention it matches up with vox's eyes which we also know are red, yes it's possible that vox ALSO had orange eyes because he is a screen but what are the odds that both vox and val for some reason originally had orange eyes and orange wings respectively then changed to red? it's more likely that they were always red and the photo is just washed out to make it look orange.

however, I do accept people who see all the red stuff as orange because at least you admit the colours match, also admire the dedication to doubling down on orange

THE LIGHTING ON VOX'S TURTLENECK! IT'S CLEARLY YELLOW!

yellow is easily debunked because there are actual yellow things present in the photo we can compare to! gonna be reiterating from a previous post

see the heart on val's belt? we KNOW that's yellow

now let's go back to our favourite picture

that's the boy! let's start comparing it

val's inner left sleeve matches up with the yellow heart! therefore it is also yellow, and unless val is wearing mismatched inner sleeves, this indicates his right inner sleeve is ALSO yellow

so all of these! they are yellow!

and we can see, said yellow does not match vox's turtleneck at all, not even when I pick out the lighting on it, it doesn't match the turtleneck in any of the lighting, therefore vox's turtleneck is most DEFINITELY not yellow.

it being red also matches up with vox's current colour palette being blues and reds and it makes sense that he had the same palette back then too.

if you believe vox's eyes and val's wings are both also orange, it could be orange. I can live with that. but it is most likely red.

----------------------------------

okay but what about the stripes?

THERE ARE NO FUCKING STRIPES Y'ALL DRIVE ME INSANE. MORE INSANE THAN YELLOW TRUTHERS.

THOSE VERTICAL LINES YOU SEE. those are BLACK LINES, which are the OUTLINE, REPRESENTING THE KNITTING PATTERN.

I SWEAR SOME OF YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW SWEATERS WORK.

but when I colour-pick it it's not black!

my fucking god PLEASE tell me you know how low quality black lines work. time to reiterate more points from my previous posts!

you understand that the outline around val should be black right?

but would you take a look at that, colour picking it makes it look like just a darker colour of the inner colour. why? BECAUSE IT'S A SMALL PICTURE THAT'S OVERALL IN LOW QUALITY, so the black gets thinned down to hell that you can't even see the black anymore. BUT IT'S STILL A BLACK OUTLINE. THE SAME LOGIC APPLIES TO VOX'S SWEATER

let's use a normal line as an example

here is a black line

here is that same black line resized down to a lower quality.

NOTICE HOW IT'S GREY NOW? are we going to insist it was never black now because it's sized down?? NO. IT'S JUST A LOWER QUALITY BLACK LINE THAT LOSES OPACITY AS IT'S SIZED DOWN. THIS IS THE LOGIC I GO BY.

okay but what if they were black vertical stripe--

YOU ARE KILLING ME NO IT IS NOT. IT'S A SWEATER IT MAKES MORE SENSE FOR IT TO BE A KNITTING PATTERN THAN VERTICAL STRIPES. but okay. at least you still see the same thing as me you just... interpret... it differently.

but I swear on god, the black lines represent the KNITTING PATTERN, it makes MUCH more sense for it to be that because it's a sweater.

arguments about orange or yellow going together better with vox's jacket are extremely irrelevant to this argument when 90% of red things in hazbin hotel would probably look better if they weren't red. I'm not arguing that it even looks better! I'm just arguing that it is what it is and you should ACKNOWLEDGE THE TRUTH.

AND THEREFORE. THE STUPID FUCKING TURTLENECK IS RED AND KNIT. I REST MY CASE.

#osrs.txt #vox's stupid fucking turtleneck #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #if you've been following along these probably sound familiar #I just wanted to put them all together #now when vox walks up with his stupid fucking red turtleneck in season 2 I can point to this post and say I was right

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zayne-li · 3 days

Text

Cross posted on AO3, may be edited in the future, it was written very shortly after the game actually came out.

Explicit, MDNI.

Zayne gets injured, MC saves him, and Zayne has very normal feelings about it.

Feelings like: femdom, etc.

"Zayne! Zayne! Can you hear me? Come on, get up, you have to get up, we need to go now!"

The world is fuzzy at the edges, and there's a tinny sort of ringing in his ears, but he hears his hunters voice. She's upset. Why?

Arms stronger than they should be tug at the lapels of his white doctors coat, dragging him up off the concrete, and he blinks hard several times. His head is swimming.

Zayne groans, deep and low as his awareness slowly returns, able to blearily look around and recall that right, yes, we were at my favorite sweets shop... And then...

"I know it hurts, Zayne, but I really, really need you to get up right now." That's her voice again, and then he can see her. Right in front of him, holding him halfway off the ground. There's blood smeared across her lips, cheek, and eye, and her hair is ashy with dust, no hint of the real color underneath it all.

It occurs to him that it's concerning he can't recall what exactly has happened. Was it Wanderers? Some sort of accident? A weak cough escapes him as his shoes scrape across the loose pebbles on the road.

Everything hurts. Like one giant bruise all over his body. But he is slowly regaining his senses. He does have at least that.

All around them is destruction: rubble and dust and shouts for loved ones piercing through the fog. The air smells and tastes metallic as his hunter helps him up onto shaky feet, hoisting one of his arms over her shoulder and wrapping the other around his middle.

"Can you walk? We need to get you to Akso now."

Her pupils are blown, and eyes wild. It's a look he hasn't seen on her before. Despite the pain and danger they are in, there is something about her in this very moment(maybe the blood, the adrenaline, this demeanor he's never seen before) that makes his gut clench.

Ought to dissect that later, he thinks. Then again, perhaps not.

"Akso?" His voice is rough, throat sticky with dust.

"Yes, you broke at least two of your ribs in that explosion, you need medical care, do you understand?"

His eyes drop down to hers, and he realizes just how much they are touching in this moment. All the way from their feet to her head, becoming a long line of heat down the right side of his body.

What timing, Doctor Li.

"I understand." He confirms to her, and plants his gaze firmly ahead of them, forcing his attention onto the task at hand rather than the way that look in her eyes makes him feel.

Weeks later he is still recalling that day, though who can blame him, confined to bed rest as he is? Three broken ribs and a full month of leave from the hospital, it's difficult to find ways to entertain himself.

Zayne closes his eyes and he sees her covered in sweat, that single minded determination carving deep lines into her face. If she'd had to, she would have dragged his limp body to the doors of the hospital. It was a look that told him, "I'm not losing you too. Not today." It was that look that had given him the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

It aroused him deep in his gut, somewhere he hadn't even known existed.

It was disturbing, in more ways than one.

He'd begun to have dreams.

Dreams of her coming home to his apartment, the door closing with more force than necessary, her dirty boots crossing through the kitchen with purpose. And when she found that purpose, she would have that same look on her face. In some of the dreams she'd still have blood on her face, and she'd lick the droplets away, just as she did while she labored to save his life that day.

She would grab him by the knot of his tie, stifling his surprise with a bruising kiss, plundering his mouth like a woman starved, using her unexpected strength to push him back against the wall, to cover him with her smaller frame. He would moan into her throat and her lips would curve into a smile against his.

One night, he wakes around four in the morning after dreaming of his hunters battle lust and he finds himself in an uncomfortable, sticky mess.

Zayne knows he loves her. He has since he was a boy, that has never changed, but through the years, his crush has waxed and waned, but remained fundamentally childlike. It hasn't been until they reconnected this past year that he'd even begun to let his thoughts drift to more unsavory places. And now... Well he determines that this new... Discovery of his remain well and firmly hidden.

Her presence in his life is too precious to waste with his depraved imagination.

After all, while he's been bored and cooped up in his apartment, with strict instructions from every person in his life to "Sit and rest, for once!" She has been visiting him almost daily. Usually not for long, as her own work keeps her extraordinarily busy(he supposes he's never noticed just how hard and much she works before, because he himself is often entrenched in his own), but always with an easy smile and some sort of treat for him. Chocolate, or cookies, one afternoon a little fruit tart from a vendor she passed on her way to see him.

Most of the time, it is no challenge for him to recognize that her friendship is far, far too valuable to risk losing.

Today, she knocks on his door, and when he opens it, he almost forgets.

She's a mess.

There's a fairly large, but shallow cut across most of her face, from her cheek down to her chin, her hair is pulled up haphazardly, the leather glove she normally wears is missing, and her clothes, though neat, have small tears across one of her knees, and her shoulder.

Zayne swallows before he greets her.

"Difficult day?"

She exhales a chuckle. "Just a long one, sorry. I was going to go home to clean up, but by then it would have been pretty late, and I was already nearby when I finished, so I thought I'd just uh... Drop in."

She's sheepish, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, and Zayne forces himself to look away, making eye contact with the corner of the wall instead. There's a chip in the paint.

"Really, you needn't trouble yourself on my behalf, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You require rest as well as I."

What would it feel like, right now, to have her press up against him? Warm. Solid, he thinks. Would she grab him by his jaw? Turn his face this way and that?

He imagines how she would taste. Salty and metallic, he thinks, especially now. His hunter, shoving him onto his back in his bed, she would be impatient, barely taking the time to undo their pants before sheathing herself on his cock, using her palms on his chest for leverage to fuck herself as she pleased.

"Yeah, well then we might as well rest together, huh?"

She pulls him from his depraved thoughts.

Zayne realizes that the heat between his legs, if not controlled soon, will become a much larger problem(no pun intended).

"You have quite the knack for turning phrases, you know." His tone stays even, and he turns away, inviting her inside without another word, his excuse being the television in his living room that needs muting.

"And you never have this much time off. It's kinda fun, really."

He hears the click of the door shutting, and the turn of the lock.

"I brought you something, too."

Thud on the kitchen counter. Whatever it is, it sounds hefty. While he pretends to look for his remote, he adjusts himself in his pants, burning with shame for this predicament.

"What is it this time?"

"Brownies! Salted caramel flavored. They're my favorite."

She appears quite suddenly in the corner of his vision, and he jumps, feeling his face grow hot.

"Thoughtful as always." He smiles, and hits the mute button on another story of wanderer attacks.

His hunter frowns, leaning her body around to get a good look at him.

"Something's wrong. What's wrong?" Her tone leaves no room for arguments, and Zayne's eyes go a bit wide just for a moment.

"What makes you think anything is wrong? Other than my broken ribs?" He doesn't realize it, but he imitates her in the way he tilts his head. The mirth in her eyes makes his chest ache.

"You're blushing, Doctor Zayne." Her tongue pokes out from between her teeth with her smile.

"Perhaps I'm coming down with a fever." He counters.

She squints, but moves away, rolling not just her eyes, but her whole head. "Oooh-kay. Then perhaps I should leave, huh? Keep you from spreading your virus all over Linkon?"

His mouth opens, but he has no immediate response.

"Uh-huh." She oozes with smugness.

God he wants her. Whether in his dreams, or right now, either will do. He's wanted her for so long. And now she's so close. Zayne feels his entire chest go tight with longing. He wants everything with her. For her.

He wants her to be with him always. If he could put a tiny little hunter in his pocket and keep her there he would, just so he could pull her out when he likes to soothe the ache in his soul that she both creates and fills in equal measure.

He wants her just like this, messy and stinking of rain and sweat and blood, he wants her sweetness, her humor, her easy charisma.

And God he wants her to claim him. He wants the battle lust, her fingernails deep in his scalp, the stinging on his back. He wants her to take whatever she likes from him, his body, his soul, his everything.

"I wasn't blushing. You are mistaken." Somehow he keeps his voice even and calm, though inside he fights to keep from pouncing on her.

Down, boy.

Recognition flashes across her face.

And then a flurry of emotions he has trouble naming. Confusion, shock, and something else he can't define, but it reminds him of the day they were in that explosion, and she became someone he didn't know.

His hunter steps forward, further into his space, and on instinct, Zayne steps back, his swallow loud in the quiet apartment.

She must see something on his face. Fear, he thinks. And her expression of bewilderment changes as her gaze flickers rapidly across his features, first his eyes, his mouth, the bob in his throat, the fist clenched at his side, and then back to his mouth.

Her movements are slow as she takes another step forward, as if she's afraid to spook him, like one would a wild animal. She grabs the front of his shirt, and he swallows back a whine.

His hunter sees this too.

"Why haven't you said anything?"

"You frighten me sometimes."

Do I, Doctor Zayne?" Her eyes are dark, and she pulls him down to her, tilting her head just so, and holds him a hairsbreadth away from her lips.

He can taste her breath. It makes his knees weak. God, if you are there, don't wake me from this dream.

#lads zayne #love and deepspace #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you

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mrsmarinara · 1 day

Note

“Can I sleep with you? with timo !!!

I’m All Yours || Timo Meier

Prompt: 29. “Can I sleep with you?”

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: I’m actively fist fighting writers block as I’m posting this. I also didn’t edit this so if my grammar is all over the place we should maybe focus on something else.

You were stubborn. You knew this and accepted it. Everyone had faults and some people refused to ever look in the mirror and face theirs. However, your stubbornness was not something you had to reflect on and learn about yourself. You had been a stubborn child, something that had gotten you into trouble often, and even now you were a stubborn adult.

Usually, it wasn’t a problem in your relationship.

Tonight was different, though.

Tonight was supposed to be your night together. The season had just ended and you finally had your boyfriend all to yourself. So when the two of you had gone out for dinner, just you and him in what felt like forever, you were delighted. When he looked at you with such admiration in his eyes or when he held your smaller hand within his own as he drove to the restaurant, it felt like a battle to not throw up the butterflies that were fluttering about in your stomach.

When the waitress had come to the table and made it abundantly clear that Timo was going to be at the sole focus of her attention. Every time she giggled or blushed, your heart had sunken deeper and the sips you had taken from your glass of wine had become longer. Timo hadn’t told a joke or shown any interest in her. In all the time the two of you had been together he had never done anything to make you feel as though he even thought of straying away from your relationship.

That wasn’t the point, though, and that was what he didn’t understand. He only looked at you with confusion as you slowly stopped contributing in the conversation. The confusion had turned to irritation when during the car ride back home you were quiet. Your cheeks were warm from the alcohol and there was an envious angry little monster in your chest that just wanted to rear its head.

Your boyfriend was charming, athletic and easy on the eyes. It wasn’t hard to understand the attention that he received and during the hockey season you were fine to step back and watch with a smile as people flocked to him. This was the off-season, though, and it was supposed to be your time with your boyfriend but it seemed as if you couldn’t even have that.

That was what he didn’t understand.

“I can’t control if someone decides to flirt with me,” he had said, annoyed that he even had to have this argument. He thought you would understood that and see that he never indulged those who batted their eyelashes at him.

“That’s not why I’m upset,” you scoffed, not looking at Timo. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your boyfriend and be reminded how even though you felt as though you were entirely his, he was never fully yours.

You had made your way into your shared bedroom and were struggling to undo the straps of your heels when Timo walked through the bedroom door. It only took one glance at the man to know that he was slowly losing his patience. His neatly combed hair was all over the place, probably from running his hands through it.

You looked away. You knew if you really took him in and saw the confused frustration on his face your anger would seep out of your body and for just a little while you wanted to sit in your simmering anger.

“Why are you upset then?” He asked.

When you finally managed to pull your shoes off you sighed and kicked them to the side. Timo watched, noting how you didn’t pick them up and put them in their place in the closet like you usually did.

“Did you even realize that tonight was the first night that we were spending together, alone and to ourselves in months?”

“That’s not true.” Timo said immediately.

“Oh? When was the last time we actually spent time together? Just you and me?” Your voice cracked as you asked him. You knew when the last time was and you were even more certain that Timo didn’t.

“Schatz-,” Timo sighed and took a step closer to you only for you to shake your head and step further away.

“I’ve accepted that I have to share you with everyone but it would be nice if you could actually want to spend time with just me,” you said bitterly.

You grabbed a pillow from your side of the bed when you felt a lump start to form in your throat. You didn’t want to cry but more than that you didn’t want to cry in front of Timo.

“I’m gonna spend tonight in the living room, goodnight.” You dodged his arms as you left your bedroom with your pillow and pajamas in your arms.

He called out for you again but knew better than to come after you. Sometimes you needed a minute to yourself.

However, a few minutes had turned into a few hours and you were still sitting on the couch. At this point, the only thing keeping you in the living room was your own stubbornness. You were still upset but the anger you had felt earlier had slowly ebbed away and now you just wanted to crawl into your comfortable bed and fall asleep in Timo’s open arms. You didn’t want to appear like a misbehaved dog that was coming back to its master with its tail between its legs. You weren’t wrong and a part of you needed your boyfriend to know that too.

You pulled the throw blanket you had pulled from the end of the couch tighter around yourself as you watched the clock that hung on the wall. With each tick that moved the arms of the clock you grew more antsy and after thirty minutes you finally sat up.

Grabbing your pillow and standing up you decided that you would be annoyed with your actions tomorrow. Tonight you just needed to feel your boyfriends strong arms around you.

Padding softly to your bedroom you silently hoped that Timo had fallen asleep. That way you wouldn’t have to explain yourself.

You didn’t get so lucky. As you stood in the door way to your bedroom Timo blinked back at you from your large bed. He wasn’t small by any means but looking on it seemed as if the bed was trying to swallow him whole.

“Can I sleep with you?” It was almost a whisper. You felt childish but also wary asking if. What if he was angry with you for being so upset earlier? You didn’t have anything left in you to fight again tonight.

Without hesitating Timo opened his arms for you. You wasted no time in striding over and crawling into the bed. You dropped your pillow in its usual spot and then promptly ignored it as you laid your head on Timo’s muscular chest. His arms closed around you and the warmth that enveloped you was enough to make you set out a sigh of relief.

Your eyes started to flutter shut as Timo rubbed soothing circles on your warm. You thought you were going to fall asleep without either of you saying anything but Timo whispered in the darkness, “it was during the preseason. When we went on a walk through the park and you ate the entire pretzel we were meant to share.”

You stiffened, jolted into a more awake state by his words.

“What?”

“The last time we spent time together,” he said, quiet and slowly as if he was afraid you’d turn away from him. “Just the two of us.”

“Timo-,” you said, just as quietly. You thought he had forgotten. That once the season started up again the only thing that he thought about was the game he played and those he played with and for.

“You have every right to be angry. Tonight was supposed to be about the two of us and I’m sorry that I didn’t see that you were upset earlier.”

You took in what he was saying in silence. You could hear and feel how sorry he was in the way he spoke and how he held you. The two of you definitely needed to talk more about this but that could wait until the sun was shining and you were both clear minded and awake. Tonight you only needed one thing.

“You’re all mine?”

You asked him, hating how fragile and hopeful you sounded.

He turned his head to the side so his lips brushed against your forehead as he spoke softly, saying the words as though they were a promise, “all yours.”

#Timo Meier #timo meier x reader #timo meier imagine #nhl imagines #my writing

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 days

Text

Teach Me To Dance ~ JHS

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.4K

⤜GENRE: Established relationships, reader wanting to lose weight and Hoseok being the supportive baby boy that he is, TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of losing weight, and calories

⤜PAIRING: Hoseok x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

You and Hoseok had decided to go out and spend the morning at your favourite spot by the Han River, it was a secluded area where just the two of you could relax without the fear that someone was going to capture you both in a photo. Everything about this spot was perfect, the tranquil waters, to the sound of the wind in the air and the occasional sound of water splashing around.

You'd arrived earlier that morning, spreading out a soft blanket on the grass and setting up a small picnic with sandwiches, fruits and a thermos of hot coffee. You'd spent the whole morning leisurely chatting and enjoying each other's company but Hoseok could tell that there was something playing on your mind but he knew not to push you.

If he pushed you too fast and too hard then there would be a chance you'd shut down and tell him that there was nothing wrong - even if there was. Hoseok knew you better than he knew himself sometimes and he needed you to be okay, he needed to know if there was something bothering you or not.

"I feel like we've hardly done this lately," You admit, laughing softly as you lay your head on Hoseok's shoulder, you'd been wanting to spend some time along like this for a while. With his life being the way that it was, you were either always spending time with the boys around or you were just asleep together in bed at night. It was the first time you were going to be able to be alone and actually ask your boyfriend something you'd been dying to ask for him a while.

You probably could have asked in front of the others as well but it was difficult for you to do it. It was hard for you to admit you needed help with something, you liked to think of yourself as someone who could do a lot of things alone.

"I've missed it," He admits, chuckling a little until he realised the expression on your face had turned serious and you'd gone into your head. He knew the look on your face was the one you made whenever you were overthinking.

"What's going on, baby? You've been quiet," He tells you, his voice laced with concern as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Your eyes downcast to your hands as you played with your fingers trying not to seem as anxious about this as you were.

"Yn..." He trailed off, placing his hand on top of yours. You hesitate for a moment before taking in a deep breath,

"I've been...feeling insecure lately," You finally admit, refusing to look at him. You didn't want to lose confidence or focus and you knew if you looked at him you'd never be able to admit it out loud.

"Insecure? About what?" He frowned, his mind now racing with worry at the thought of it. He'd do whatever he could to help you.

"I...I want to lose some weight." You admit, your voice barely coming out above a whisper. Hoseok's heart sank, he hated seeing you upset, especially about something like this, something he didn't think you needed to change.

"Baby," He starts, he knew he needed to approach this carefully so he didn't hurt your feelings, or make you feel worse than you already did,

"You're perfect just the way you are. You don't need to change a thing," You looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears that were threatening to spill out at any moment. You'd been feeling like this for a while now and it was getting closer to the day your relationship would be revealed and you wanted to make sure you were toned enough to be ready for it.

"But I want to, Hoseok. I want to feel better about myself." You mumble, looking down at your hands suddenly feeling silly for bringing it up and instantly wanting to take it back. Hoseok sighed softly, realizing that arguing with you wouldn't solve anything and he didn't want to start a fight over something you were insecure about.

Instead, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, squeezing softly and rubbing his fingers over your skin.

"Okay, if that's what you want. But promise me you'll be careful, alright?" Relief rushed over you as you realised he was going to help you, you nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I promise." You held your pinky out for him to take,

"Good," Hoseok said, returning your smile and wrapping his pinky around yours.

"I want you to teach me how to dance," You suggested to him, it was going to be a good way to burn any calories. Hoseok's eyes lit up as you suggested it and a blush began to settle on his cheeks.

"Yeah, it's a great way to burn calories and have fun at the same time," Hoseok expressed.

"Plus, I happen to be an excellent dancer." He winked at you, and you giggled before playfully rolling your eyes.

"Is that so? Well then, teach me, oh great dance master." You said dramatically before Hoseok wrapped his arms around you and began to tickle you, making you squeal out and wriggle away from him.

You'd been to the HYBE dance studios a bunch of times but nothing compared to Hoseok's dance studio, it was a cosy space filled with mirrors lining one wall, reflecting the sunlight streaming in through the large windows. The wooden floor echoed with the soft shuffle of your feet as Hoseok led you to the centre of the room.

"Okay, babe, let's start with something simple," He said, a grin spreading across his face as he took your hands in his. You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining with determination.

"I'm ready." You giggled. Hoseok began to move, guiding you through the basic steps of a waltz, it wasn't a huge dance but it was something he wanted to teach you to warm up into bigger dances later. He demonstrated each movement with grace and precision, his movements fluid and effortless.

You watched him intently, trying to mimic his steps as best you could. At first, you stumbled and faltered, your movements clumsy and awkward. But Hoseok was patient, offering words of encouragement and gentle corrections as you danced together. With each passing moment, your confidence grew, and your movements became more fluid and graceful. You laughed with delight as you twirled and spun around the room, lost in the music and the joy of dancing together.

As the two of you danced, Hoseok couldn't help but admire your determination, he knew that once you put your mind to something nothing would stop you and he was happy to help in anyway he thought he could. You may have been insecure about your appearance, but there was a strength and beauty in you that he found truly captivating.

After what felt like hours, you finally came to a stop, your breath coming in short gasps as the two of you grinned at each other, cheeks flushed with exertion, beads of sweat dripping down your heads as you fell onto the floor and relaxed a little.

"You did great, YN," Hoseok said, pulling you into a warm embrace as you laid your head on his chest. This had been the best idea ever, you already knew the two of you were going to have so much fun on your weight loss journey.

"I'm so proud of you." The words were like music to your ears as you beamed up at him, your eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Thanks, Hobi. I couldn't have done it without you." The two of you cuddled closer together, catching your breath and relaxing on the floor of the dance studio. You knew it was going to be a fun weight loss journey, not something that filled you with dread everytime you went into it.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok imagine #hoseok imagines #jhope #jhope x reader #jhope imagine #jhope imagines #jung hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok imagine #jung hoseok imagines

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apollodarling-writes · 3 days

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Did you know odm is like 124 pounds 😭👌🏼 that shit on HEAVY!!! But then that made me think…… do you understand the thrust strength Levi must have? Let’s be Foreal. This mane can push and pull fr fr

oh, sweet mother of pearl…. what’s happening to me…. 🚶🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🦮

just imagining how STRONG levi actually is to be lugging that gear around and still have the ability to move nimbly.

mdni !!

cws : top! levi + bottom! reader, no prns used, smut but not fully thought out, rough sex implied, manhandling, chubby! reader mentions at one point but the reader can be any body type and color, i wasn’t sure how to end it so probably an abrupt ending, bruising implications, squirting mentions 😭

like,, if you’re getting down and dirty with levi, you gotta think about how accustomed to carrying that shit and how it’s probably a bit of an effort not to be too rough with you. not to mention the fact that he’s gotta be super strong upper body wise too!! i’m a sucker for chubby bodies myself, but imagine levi manhandling someone soft and plush…….. god, this whole thought is genius.

or imagine how levi would harshly grip your hips or your waist, his thrusts knocking the air out of you. it would be impossible to stay quiet enough for the cadets to not be aware. especially when the headboard is barreling into the wall with the motion of his thrusts.

thinking about how levi would have to make it a conscious effort to not lose himself in the feeling so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. he’s just strong and while he knows his own strength, he can’t help but want you to feel good too.

thinking about how levi would pull your hips back to meet his thrusts, your legs thrown over his shoulders and his cockhead brushing against the softest parts of you.

thinking about how levi’s fingertips would dig into your skin in an attempt to ground himself, the area feeling exceptionally tender the next day.

thinking about how if you’re a squirter, it would be soooo easy for levi to make a mess of you. his hips and thighs dripping with a mixture of both of your fluids.

#levi headcanons #levi smut #aot levi #levi #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #captain levi #aot x gender neutral reader #aot smut #levi aot x reader #aot x female reader #aot x chubby reader

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johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend · 1 day

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hi hi hi! so i was wondering if you could possibly write a little johnnie Smut and fluff where maybe johnnie invites his gf (reader) to be in a video with him and Jake (possibly a Halloween type video) and jake making his silly little comments about johnnie being a virgin and getting no pussy and reader makes a lil comment agreeing w jake. Johnnie being salty the rest of the video and it leading to smut w a lil choking maybe 😜🤭🤭🤭

(i love your writing, feel free to tweak this however u please!)

𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧? - 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

contains: dom! johnnie x f sub! reader, fluff, smut, p in v, choking, fingering, spanking

word count: 1.5k

this request is mmm i needed some dom johnnie

story below the cut

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emo guy:

y/n

babe

babe.

baby wake up

you:

mmmm whats up

emo guy:

wanna be in a vid with me and jake pleease

you:

ok only bc ur so cute

y didnt u tell me this in person?

we live together

emo guy:

oh shit i forgot

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johnnie opens the door to your shared room to find you sprawled out in the bed. you see he's already ready to attack the day, which is surprising, considering he normally doesn't wake up before 2 p.m. you stare at him for a few moments, not saying anything, before playfully pretending to fall back asleep. he takes this as a challenge, walking over to the curtains and yanking them open, almost blinding himself in the process.

"aughh johnnie it's way too bright" you yawn, the light hurting your eyes. he walks back over to you, leaving a quick kiss to your forehead. "c'mon you have to wake up, jake wants to film a video." you sigh, "what are we gonna do?" he looks at the ceiling before looking back down, "i don't know, i think he wants to buy some halloween stuff or something." "okay tell him i'll be ready soon," you say while stretching your limbs. scratching your head, you get up. "we're gonna leave soon, don't be too long babe." johnnie says, walking out of the room.

you finish your light makeup, as you had already styled your hair and put on some clothes that consisted of johnnie's shirt, no name pajama pants, and socks with birks. it wasn't too much, but it was still so cute on you. johnnie watches you finish your makeup, coming up the vanity. "how did i manage to get the prettiest, loving, and sweet girl ever?" he says, peppering kisses on top of your head, putting his arms around you. "ooh someone's feeling lovey dovey today," you say, pulling him in to a longer kiss. jake bursts through the door, "i- ew, okay guys stop licking on eachother. mama bear needs some candy in her system right now, and i don't need to see all that." he says in a funny southern accent, leaving the room. you laugh a little with johnnie, as you see jake grab his keys, heading to the garage, which is a signal for you guys to get your butts out of the house.

this time, you were the designated camera man, so you held it while they walked through the parking lot. "-and this time we actually have a special guest," you turned the camera around on to yourself and waved, "hey guys, i'm gonna be babysitting these nerds because they got kicked out last time!" johnnie makes an offended expression, "um excuse me it was actually jake who got kicked out because he wouldn't stop screaming" "guys stop ganging up on me" as you film them walking in the store, jake loses spatial awareness, crashing into the metal racks behind him, causing a laugh to come from you and your boyfriend. "oww what the hell johnnie why would you push me like that?" "yeah johnnie why would you do that to poor jake?" "okay how is that fair-"

the video continued like normal, just you three being idiots and making dirty jokes. the shopping cart is almost full to the brim with junk food, random costumes, and halloween decorations. "oh my god johnnie, we have to get you this." jake says, as he holds up a really stupid costume. "that's definitely something a discord mod virgin would wear." "yeah that's exactly my point." "seems pretty realistic." you and jake say at the same time, making fun of johnnie. bursting into fits of laughter, the two of you take turns roasting him. "what do you mean dude you get absolutely zero pussy" "okay y/n help me out here-" "yeah the only girl johnnie hangs out with is you jake." you say, following up his comment. "hey!" johnnie rolls his eyes, looking away and scoffing. you and jake didn't notice, continuing to joke around about johnnie's lack of action, which obviously wasn't true because he was dating you.

typically, you guys wouldn't get mad at eachother when you took turns embarrassing the other, but for some reason he actually seemed slightly pissed. "anyways.." jake continues talking about anything he can think of. for some reason, your boyfriend still looked salty, making snarkier-than-usual comments towards his friend. you guys ended the video, as jake drove home. johnnie stayed quiet on the ride home, and you were thinking if you genuinely might've hurt his feelings. even though it was unintentional, you were determined to find out. jake walks back to his room and shuts the door, presumably going to take a long nap. you turn to johnnie, "are you okay? i'm sorry, i was just teasing you if anything." not saying a word, johnnie grabs your hand, tugging you back to your shared room.

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when both of you get inside, he immediately locks the door and pushes you on the bed. "wha-" he puts his hand over your mouth, leaving you unable to speak. "so you wanna embarrass me in front of the camera huh? i really don't get any pussy, right?", he says while pulling down your pants. you moan out, feeling the friction of his hand against your crotch. "look at you, you're already so wet. do you wanna tell them how much of a slut you are for me, or should we just keep that between us?"

johnnie starts rubbing your throbbing heat through your panties, not letting you answer. he attacks your lips with a passionate and lustful kiss. you kiss back, moaning into it and easily giving into his control. he starts marking your jawline with bruises, as he slides a finger into your soaked pussy. he groans, feeling a tent grow inside his pants. "m' please.." you whine, as he forcefully adds another finger, speeding up the pace. he takes off your lacy panties leaving you completely vulnerable. as you feel yourself getting closer, he removes your shirt. you're finally about to cum until he removes his hand, leaving you practically whimpering for more.

"only good girls get to cum, but you've been really naughty, haven't you? now you have to hold it in." "shit, please johnnie," you say, climbing on top of him while taking off his shirt. he unclasps your bra, quickly sucking on one of your breasts, making you arch your back. while he does this, you get yourself situated on top of his crotch. he takes both of his hands as he gropes your butt. being as horny as you are, you start grinding on his hard-on through his jeans. you whine his name as you start having an orgasm on his pants. "i told you to fucking wait. now you're gonna get it rough whether you like it or not." he moves you off of him, taking off his jeans and his boxer briefs. he flips you on your stomach, and pulls you hips up leaving you in a doggy position. johnnie teases you, rubbing his tip on your now sensitive and overstimulated clit. with that, he takes his hand and gives you a harsh smack on your ass, making you groan loudly.

instantly after, he pushes his full length into you, making both of you moan out. you dig your face into the nearest pillow, trying to deafen your sounds. he starts his pace, getting himself adjusted while groaning. "don't do that, i want to hear your slutty, pretty noises." "w- what if jake hears?" you manage to whimper out. he is attacking your pussy at this point, slamming into you. "then he can hear how no one can fuck you as good as i am." he slaps your ass again, and this time you fully release a moan. "mm fuck" he holds your neck, slightly choking you as he pounds into you. both of you are close to your climaxes. "cum on my dick baby." johnnie groans as he starts rubbing his fingers on your clit, helping you release. while shaking, you shudder out and squirt all over his dick. he follows after you, cumming inside you. (you're on birth control)

he takes himself out of you and stands up. you're so dead at this point that he puts on his boxers, and heads to the bathroom. johnnie comes back with a wet hand towel, cleaning you up and puts a new pair of underwear on you. he also holds you while putting one of his t-shirts on you. "thanks baby." you tiredly say, laying back down on the bed. he crawls right next to you and you cuddle up into him. "so... are you gonna stop making the virgin jokes?" you both laugh, soon falling asleep.

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you're eating cereal for breakfast next morning as johnnie is pouring himself a cup of water. a tired jake comes out of his room, the first words out of his mouth being; "okay guys what the fuck was that?" you look at johnnie, obviously embarrassed as he has a smirk plastered all over his face.

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thank you for requesting! i've been sooo so lazy and it was hard to finish this one but i did it to feed you guys xoxo

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x reader smut #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert smut #jake and johnnie #jake webber

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vivitalks · 2 days

Text

man. derek is such an interesting character in season 1, especially when you can look at him through the lens of having seen the whole show, because he's like an unreliable narrator for scott, even though he's not a narrator for the show.

the thing is, derek in season 1 is the primary vehicle for werewolf lore. as new viewers, we're reliant on his character to explain to us the rules and conceits of the genre, but once you've seen the whole show, that role is no longer necessary. but for scott, in season 1, derek is the sole source of werewolf intel. derek is werewolf jesus. which means that everything scott initially learns about being a werewolf is filtered through the Derek Hale Trauma Matrix, and neither of them know it.

for example: in 1x05, derek tells scott that pain is what keeps you human (which is a mantra that gets repeated and referenced a ton over the course of the rest of the show). scott has been a werewolf for all of five seconds, and has no choice but to take the word of this obviously much more knowledgeable werewolf. in that way, derek operates as a kind of narrator for scott, giving him information and context he couldn't really get any other way. but it's unreliable info. don't get me wrong - derek isn't trying to be an unreliable narrator; he's not aware of how much his life experience has colored his understanding of his own species. it's just that...well...derek is a twenty-something with the kind of trauma that eats other trauma for breakfast. of course he would say that pain is what keeps you human. at this point in the show, pain is all he has.

this is the same guy who, in the next episode, says this:

DEREK: You getting angry? That's your first lesson. You want to learn how to control this, how to shift-- you do it through anger, by tapping into a primal animal rage, and you can't do that with her around. SCOTT: [defensively] I can get angry. DEREK: Not angry enough. This is the only way that I can teach you.

except we know, and scott quickly learns (in that very same episode, in fact), that this isn't true. anger doesn't work for everyone, and it doesn't work for scott, who's not an angry person. the things that work for derek won't work for all werewolves - but how would derek know that? he's never had to teach someone to be a werewolf before. he's not actually werewolf jesus.

to scott, derek is the only trustworthy source of information on being a werewolf, because he's the only werewolf scott knows. and from derek's perspective, everything he knows about being a werewolf must be true, because it's true for him. derek is the narrator, and it's only as his backstory unfolds that the viewers, and scott, learn just how much his history and trauma have obscured the reality of things, even for derek himself.

pain is not what makes you human. it's what makes derek human. because the moments in derek's life that stand out to him most are all tinged with tragedy. mercy killing his high school girlfriend. losing his entire family in a house fire. the death of his sister. for derek, to be human is to be in pain, and to be angry about that is the only way to be in control. after all, he doesn't have anyone teaching him otherwise.

#stuff #derek hale #teen wolf #scott mccall #teen wolf meta #tw meta #derek hale meta #tw #expanded thoughts from a throwaway message sent in twl #hoo boy this took some brainpower to get into a coherent post with a logical series of sentences #my head hurts #i had a headache before though. i took ibuprofen in the middle of typing this post #so ironically my head actually hurts less now than it did when i started typing this #i literally saw the meta mondays thing on my dash AS i opened up tumblr to type this #and i thought about saving it for the pain day #but that is a whole entire month away and i can't delay gratification like that #anyway unreliable narrator derek i love you and im so sorry they forced you to be the narrator in your own tragedy #'pain is what makes you human' girl. animals feel pain. what do you mean. pain is one of the only things that ISNT only human

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theadorableapprentice · 2 days

Text

Nightmare

MC x Solomon Warnings: Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 1709

A/N: The song is Nightmare by Set It Off. It's one of my favorite songs and made me think of Solomon awhile back. I'm glad I finally got to write this story. It took a different direction than I thought it would, but I still like how it turned out. I hope you enjoy!

They're coming, creeping from the corner

And all I know is that I don't feel safe

Solomon doesn't talk about his past much. You knew this. Of course you knew this. You’ve tried so many times to get Solomon to tell you stories from his life. He would brush off your requests with some cheeky one-liner and that was that. So, you didn’t get to know the real reason why he’s always on edge. “We’re humans in the Devildom, MC. Why wouldn’t I be?” That’s his response whenever you asked him about it. Nevermind that Solomon managed to beat Diavolo when he was mad and actively going for Solomon’s throat. Nevermind that he walked from the Human World all the way to the underworld and then back. Nevermind that he’s fought a war against the Devildom.

The only thing that you really know is that Solomon doesn’t feel safe. You’re actually not sure if you’ve ever seen him truly relaxed. Sure he puts up this laid back facade, but you know him better than that. Which is why you’re not entirely shocked by the sight before you upon coming home.

I feel the tapping on my shoulder

I turn around in an alarming state

But am I losing my mind? I really think so

Not a creature in sight

Solomon whips around when he hears the door click, eyes wide with fear. He’s scared of something. You’re not sure what, but he is.

“Sol… Is everything alright?”

“MC, I-” He cuts himself off and looks over your shoulder and then peers out the window.

But, what you don't know

Is that my breathing gets faster and so does my heartbeat

I wish this was over, I wish that this was a dream

He can feel his heartbeat speeding up. It’s getting hard for him to breathe. This hasn’t happened in awhile. He’s usually good at hiding these things from everyone. But not now, not from you.

“MC, I don’t-” He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. Anything to get this to stop. For things to go back to normal, where he could pretend everything was okay.

“Sol, look at me. Can you look at me?”

I created a monster, a hell within my head

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own

Oh, I'm so scared

Solomon opens his eyes and there are tears forming. You’ve never seen him cry before. In fact, any vulnerability is a rare sight. It’s becoming more frequent, but the moments are few and far between.

“Here, now put your hand here,” You say, guiding his hand to your chest. “Take a deep breath with me. In.” You take a deep breath in and watch as Solomon tries to do the same. He shakes his head, unable to get a deep breath in. “That’s okay. Just keep your hand here. Can I try something?”

I created a monster, a beast inside my brain

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own

My mind impaired

Awake me from my nightmare

Solomon nods, tears falling from his eyes. His voice cracks. “Please.”

You move your hands to his face and gently pull him until your foreheads are touching. Your thumbs lightly stroke his cheeks, wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Okay, I want you to close your eyes and focus on my voice. Can you do that for me?”

Solomon nods and closes his eyes.

“Okay. I want you to think of the place you feel the safest. Think really hard about it. Do you have a place in mind?”

Solomon nods again, breathing slowing ever so slightly.

“Okay, can you describe it to me?” You ask.

“It’s your bedroom when we sleep together in there,” He responds. This makes your heart swell. The place he feels safest is with you.

“Can you tell me specific details? I want you to make this as real as possible in your mind.”

“The blankets are soft. It’s warm because you’re next to me, but it’s not too hot. The room is dark, except for the moonlight that comes through the window.” Solomon’s breathing is slowly returning to normal as he describes your room to you.

When he finishes and his breathing returns to normal, you take him into a hug.

“Thank you, MC,” Solomon says, hugging you back. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and you feel tears starting to fall from his eyes.

“I’ll always be here for you Sol. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

Wait, something doesn't feel right

No, something seems wrong

And I've been feeling this way

For far too long

“I don’t even know where to start. There’s just so much.”

You slowly rub his back, hoping to comfort him even more. “How about you just tell me one thing. One thing that’s upsetting you.”

“Okay. I don’t feel safe, MC. Something feels wrong but I don’t know what it is. It’s like this feeling that something terrible is going to happen or that something is off.”

“Solomon, you’ve lived a very long life. And I’m sure you have been through a lot of things that would traumatize most people. That’s going to have some lasting effects on you. Let me try something that works for me. Can you tell me what terrible thing you think is going to happen that has you so upset right now?”

“I’m scared I’m going to lose you again, MC. I’m scared that one day you’re going to go out and you won’t come back.”

Your heart breaks for him when you hear that. “Okay, let’s break this down. Why is that a realistic fear?”

“You’re a human in the Devildom. Most demons want to eat you.”

“Okay, and now, why is that fear unlikely to come true?”

“You’re a very capable magic user. And you have a lot of powerful beings watching over you.”

“I don’t think Diavolo would take very kindly to a demon trying to harm me, do you?”

Solomon lets out a tearful laugh. “No, probably not. Seeing him genuinely angry is a rare sight, but I know that whatever demon tried to hurt you would be in for a real bad time.”

“Okay, see? While there is always a chance I’ll get hurt, it’s very unlikely. I don’t think many demons are stupid enough to face the wrath of some of the most powerful beings in the three realms. Now, is there anything else that’s upsetting you?”

As my vision gets blurred, my skin's getting colder

Appearing young, while I'm growing older

I collapse to the floor and scream

"Can anybody save me from myself?"

“I feel trapped, MC. I stay at this physical age, but I grow older every year. Every so often I have to move around, pretending to be a new person. It’s hard to keep any human friends because they all grow older and I don’t. One day you’re going to grow old too. But I will always stay just like I am. Most people would kill to be immortal, but it just feels like a curse anymore.” More tears fall onto your shoulder.

“I can’t imagine how lonely that would be. But, I want you to remember that you do have friends. The brothers, for one. I mean, remember Asmo and Mammon fighting over what Asmo should get you for your birthday? They care about you. And, while I might not always be around, you still have me for quite awhile. And who knows, maybe I’ll stumble upon some ancient artifact that turns me immortal. With how things seem to work for me, that is a possibility.”

Walking to the ledge, I find myself looking down

Frozen still with fear, now I'm plunging to the ground

If only I knew how to fly

Then I could convince myself this isn't my time to die

Solomon laughs again. “Yeah, it is… But I wouldn’t wish immortality upon you MC. It’s truly not as great as it seems. It’s… It’s hell. You watch everything change around you as everyone you know and love grows old and dies. And then you have to start over somewhere else.”

“I have plenty of loved ones who aren’t going to grow old and die. You, for one.” You give him a comforting squeeze and continue to rub his back.

“Yeah, but what about your human family? What about your human friends? Watching the people you love die isn’t an easy thing.”

“No, but that’s a part of life. And I’m sure staying the same age while they get older is hard, but I have you guys. It wouldn’t all be bad. Getting to stay with you forever wouldn’t be bad.”

“Staying with you forever sounds nice… But I still wouldn’t wish this upon you. I don’t want you to turn into what I have.”

“What, a wonderful person who protects humanity? Someone who would do anything to help the ones he loves? That sounds like a pretty good person to me.”

“You have too high an opinion of me, MC.”

Instead, I'm rocketing faster and faster

I dive-bomb to the floor

And when my body crashes to the pavement

I'm right back where I was before

“No, I think my opinion of you is just right.”

Solomon lets out a shaky breath as a few more tears fall. “Everyone calls me shady, some even call me evil. Your opinion-”

You cut him off. “My opinion matters more than a bunch of demons who don’t actually know you. Have you done shady things? Sure. But don’t forget the ones calling you shady are literal demons. They don’t get an opinion when they’re worse than shady themselves. You’re doing great Sol. Despite what you and everyone else thinks, you’re doing great just how you are.”

I created a monster, a hell within my head

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own

Oh, I'm so scared

Awake me from my nightmare

Solomon sniffles, pulling his face back up and wiping the rest of his tears. “Thank you, MC. I love you and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smile at him. “I love you too Solomon.”

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #Nightmare

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chiaraanatra · 20 hours

Text

A Place For My Head

𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏: JJ knows just how to cheer you up after a shitty day at work.

Warnings: fluff, characters are 18+, swearing, mild angst due to mentions of mild verbal sexual harassment, pet names (cupcake, pretty girl, & kittycat), kissing, no use of Y/N.

AN: first JJ fic! Based on this post and my exchange with @starfxkr about JJ and Kitten!reader and their love for Linkin Park.

Song: A Place For My Head by Linkin Park

《 m.list || ao3 》

You spend the 15-minute ride to JJ's in silence. It was peak touron season and the bar you worked at was packed with frat boys and married 40-somethings drinking away any semblance of civility they had. The tips were good but if you had to deal with one more drunken asshole commenting on how your ass looked in your shorts, you were going to lose it.

You tried to remind yourself that none of that mattered now. Soon you and JJ would spend the rest of the day soaking in the Carolina sun, surfing, and letting the tides wash away your problems.

JJ was waiting on the porch, surfboard under his arm when you pulled onto his gravel driveway. Wasting no time he ran over, throwing his board next to yours in the back of your truck before hopping into the passenger seat. He was surprised to not be met with blaring music, but he thought little of it. "Wassup, Cupcake?"

You only shrugged before attempting to put the truck in reverse; however, before your hand could reach the shifter JJ's blocked your action. His brow was knit together in concern. When you didn’t elaborate, he spoke, “Okay, what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin'…” your hands ran over your face.

"Nah, none of that shit." JJ knew you better than anyone, he knew ‘nothing’ never actually meant nothing, especially coming from you.

Your head hit the wheel with a light thud, "Just assholes at work… The only things worse than Kooks during off-season are these fuckin' tourons..." Your head lifted to look out your windshield, "‘Nice ass sweetheart.' 'Wanna show me around after your shift?' 'Bet I can show you a good time'...” you groaned and rolled your eyes, “Fuckers..."

JJ's tongue pressed into his cheek. "Bastards... They got good taste though," he half-joked, placing an arm around your shoulder, "Maybe I should start coming by during your shift. Let all those tourons know you’re mine." A small smile graced your lips at the thought. “You know I would too.”

“Yeah, I know…” A small sigh left your lungs. “But I don’t wanna think about that now.”

JJ gave you a signature smile and moved his hand from your shoulder to your bare thigh. You couldn’t help but smile back as you made your way out of his driveway and onto the road. He gave your thigh a light squeeze, “Where’s your phone?"

You pointed to the bag sitting at his feet, “Front pocket.”

“I know what'll make you feel better." He dug through the bag trying to find your phone. Once in his hands, he quickly unlocked it and opened your music app. He grabbed the cord connected to your cassette adapter. A soft buzzing filled the cabin before you recognized the familiar sound of a guitar softly picking.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As the song picked up, you and JJ mimicked the drumbeat, slamming your hands on the steering wheel and above the glove compartment respectively. You looked to JJ in anticipation of Mike Shinoda's first verse. JJ was right on cue, his rough voice filled with enthusiasm as he rapped along.

I watch how the moon sits in the sky in the dark night Shining with the light from the sun The sun doesn't give light to the moon assuming The moon's gonna owe it one

You always had a particular music taste, loving almost anything and everything. You were thankful that JJ shared this sentiment. However, there was no denying that Linkin Park was your band, and 'A Place For My Head' was one of your shared favorites off the Hybrid Theory album. The two of you were often heard blasting the song, let alone LP's entire discography, from your truck or the Twinkie. JJ always took Mike's part, rapping smoothly along with the lyrics, while you would scream Chester's parts at the top of your lungs.

Chester’s voice rolled through your speakers and mixed with your voice. You could feel the frustration and pent-up aggression escape with each verse of the chorus.

I wanna be in another place I hate when you say you don't understand (you'll see it's not meant to be) I wanna be in the energy, not with the enemy A place for my head

The bridge of the song hit, and you both were screaming the lyrics with little care for your ears or vocal cords.

You try to take the best of me, go away! You try to take the best of me, go away!

The song faded out, being replaced by your combined laughter as you threw the truck into park.

JJ looked over to you, “Feeling a bit better, kittycat?”

“Maybe a little.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you knew your smile gave you away.

JJ rolled his eyes, “Sure.” He got out of the truck, practically sprinting over to you, muscled arms pulling you into a tight embrace while his lips pressed lightly against your hair.

“Thank you, JJ,” you whispered before wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss his soft lips.

“Any time.”

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

OBX Taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @daisydark

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

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obsessedwrhys · 2 days

Note

The Seven and The Boys with forced supe reader(like Billy’s little sister as revenge for billy and the boys constantly causing problems)

Rouge powers reader————powers turn on and off randomly

can absorb life forces and powers(which they can steal(albeit accidentally))

Very stubborn and sarcastic just like her brother

Home lander is probably extra yandere for tons of reasons and keeps the reader in a glass room(enclosure or whatever)(think a zoo exhibit or big aquarium tank without water—— that one room from You or the glass apartment In Supernova for the kid with the same sort of powers)so that he can see his pet/prize/whatever tf he plans to do with them

-🌑

I keep seeing this as a full blown fic in my mind but I don’t have the skills to pull it off so I’d like to see other people’s takes on the idea!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Rogue!Reader

ᯓ★ I read your req and I'm intrigued so this is my attempt on it, hope it meets your expectations. This is like a full on story lol (angst, gore, death, killing, looooots of cursing like I'm not even exaggerating, homelander being homelander, some fluff at the end?)

With your brother's reputation, it's hard to ever live your whole life without the constant need to look over the shoulder. You always liked to tell yourself that after cutting ties with him, it will ensure you your safety, but those words were nothing more than just lies.

Losing Becca changed him completely. You could still recall the last time you spoke to him, the talk regarding your concern escalating into a heated argument.

"I'm telling you! You have no chance against a literal superpowered person! You'll get yourself killed!" You raised your voice, standing on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, but this ain't a life worth livin' for anyways" He brushed your words off like he usually does. You watch in disbelief as he pours himself alcohol.

"Fuck you. You're such an asshole..." You said and he nods at you as he lifts his glass up.

"I'll drink to that" You scoff when he actually drank from his cup, the sound of him sipping ticking you off.

"Okay, fine, get yourself killed! But I won't stand to be here when it happens. I want you out of my life. I never wanna see you. I never even want to hear from you again! You're... you're..." You gasp as you start to sob. He turns to you, nothing but a blank expression on his face.

"Hey... take it easy—"

"No! Don't you fucking tell me to take this shit easy when you just admit to me that you're willing to throw away your life for some blonde american supe! You are a shitty brother! You're just like dad!"

"Don't you fuckin' compare me to that cunt!"

"I fucking said what I said!"

"Fuck you!"

"FUCK YOU!!"

The sound of your heavy breathing filled the kitchen. You could feel your chest rising and falling, your face burning from the overwhelming anger. Butcher sighs at the sight of you as he looks away with his eyes closed.

"You don't know half the things I know sis... you have to understand..."

"No... don't bother telling me. I already know that you'll never change..." You grabbed your things and before he could stop you, you left the house, slamming the door while you were at it.

For the next 8 years, you would find yourself living somehow a happier life. Making friends, going through relationships and heartbreaks, getting multiple jobs to pay for your apartment. It was like an ocean wave since it was never steady but you couldn't deny you've never felt more alive.

However, even on these good days, there were nights you'd find yourself waking up to nightmares. Nightmares of your brother dying. Nightmares of being abandoned. It always left you covered in cold sweats and sometimes you couldn't go back to sleep so you'd just sit by the window or watch some videos online to keep your mind off it.

Even though you convince yourself you were happier.

You never felt secure.

You always felt like something was out to get you.

Especially after you saw the news of him theorised to have killed the senior vice president working at Vought. You couldn't bother to remember her name cause the image of your brother was hauntingly enough. That's when you realised, if they were after him, what if they were also after you?

You stood at the counter of the restaurant you worked at. The job was new as you interviewed for the role of the cashier. Though all these days of dealing with rude customers and having to force a smile is making you want to rethink a different job. Just then, the door to the restaurant opens.

"Welcome!" You said as cheerfully as you can. Instead of searching for a table to sit, the customer approaches you.

"I'm sorry but where's the restroom? I really need to go" The customer spoke, he was wearing an awfully lots of layers, even shades indoors.

"It's just at the back to the right, there's a huge sign, it's hard to miss it" You smiled and the customer stares at you for a while before nodding.

"Thank you"

Finally, he leaves and you couldn't help but be relieved. Why were you holding your breath in the first place? After a couple more hours of standing around and smiling, your shift was done. You did your daily duties and cleaned up the place, making sure it was clean before you leave.

"Bye (Y/N)! Don't forget about our hangout this Friday night!" Your friend spoke as she leaves first.

"Trust me I'm looking forward to it!" You replied before heading to the back of the building to throw the trash away.

You were on your way to the huge bins until you felt the trash bag become lighter. You stare down and was annoyed the second you saw that the bag had tore. It's settled, you're getting a new job after you get your salary. You crouched down and tried to think of ways to solve the issue.

Once you stood up, you felt a sharp pain on your neck. Before you could even do anything to find the source of the pain, you collapsed. The last thing you could feel before becoming unconscious was the touch of someone catching you.

....

"Will it work?"

........

"We've only tested on rats. We're not sure sir"

...........

"Do I have to rephrase? If she dies, you fucking die with her, you understand?"

...............

"Yes sir"

.....................

"Good. Now do what you're only good for, you fucking worthless piece of shit"

...............................

Lights... knives... syringes... you slowly awoke on the floor as faint images of what you would recall as a memory began flashing in your head. Did that happen? It felt real. You opened your eyes and blinked a couple of time to register the room you were in.

You were... in a cage?

You looked around, the walls and floors made of white marbles which made it cold when your skin made contact with it. Now that you realised, you were no longer in your uniform, you seemed to be wearing some kind of gown patients would wear for surgery.

"Morning sunshine!" Your body jumped when you heard a familiar voice, a voice you only heard on the tv or radio shows. You stare at him as he walks to the center, a few feet from your cage.

It was Homelander. You never thought the day would come where you would be face to face to the person behind the reasons of your brother's rampage.

"Did you rest well?" He asks, an eary grin on his face. You looked around the inside of your glass cage.

"Couldn't you have given me a mattress?" You said. Your concern catching him a bit off guard but he didn't show it.

"Well, we tried to give you something more comfortable to sleep on but it seems like anyone who tried to even touch you ended up well... what's the word for it... withered. Dead. Nothing but a corpse suck dry of it's life" He said but you had no idea what any of his words meant.

"Is this some joke?" He chuckles.

"No. No joke (Y/N). I'm simply just giving my hypothesis on your new powers"

Powers? You have to be high right?

Did whatever pain that you felt was the mark of your death?

Is this some sick twisted illusion of yours created in hell?

"Yeah right... and I'm fucking Beyonce. Would you like to see my collection of Grammys?" You said sarcastically, clearly not taking anything seriously.

Homelander doesn't say anything but just laugh, since you were clearly convinced this was hell and that you were dead, you laughed along with him. He trembles his shoulders as if he's cold, that devilish grin still on his face.

"Wooo! You're a jokester aren't you (Y/N)? I know I'm just gonna love you. How about I bring you a gift as a symbol of our blossoming friendship?" He asked but he had already left the room. Your answer never even needed at all.

As your laughter died down, you were left alone in the room. You felt high. Too realistically high. Were you pumped with drugs? Shit... you grabbed your head as you tried to process the feeling until you heard the sound of a high pitched scream. You turn your head to find it to be your friend from work. She was shoved into the room and right when she stood up to leave, the door was shut.

"Let me the fuck out! You fucking bitch! You promised me weed!" She slammed on the door a couple of times after attempting to twist the doorknob open.

"Cleo?" She turns to you, her masacra ruined from her tears.

"(Y/N)? Holy shit what happened to your hair?" She said and you were confused until you checked to see the front strands of your hair now dyed white.

Okay now what in the actual fuck is happening...

"I don't know...? Why are you here?" You questioned.

"Some fucker promised me weed for some cash. I should have known better when I saw how cheap it was" She sighs as she sits against the door.

Suddenly the glass door on your cage sprung open. The two of you exchanged confused expressions. Is this some kind of trick? You wondered but either way you stepped out from your cage and began to approach your friend. She sighs as she curls up into a ball.

"What the fuck even is this place...?" She asks after you finally sat down beside her. You rubbed her arm to provide some comfort.

"I don't know... this feels real and fake at the same time. Hey, if by any chance we were in a puzzle just like in Saw, how much do you wanna bet who'd win—?" You nudged her playfully but instead of getting a response. She falls over.

Her face was pale white. Eyes dilated. The veins on her body growing visibly purple. The sight left you in shock and you quickly grabbed her by the shoulder to jerk her a few times. No words left her mouth except sounds of gasping, as if the air was getting sucked out of her lungs.

"Cleo! What the fuck! Holy fucking shit!" You cursed and it didn't take long until her body grows limp. Like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin left.

Afraid the same would happen to you, you quickly ran into your cage. You sat at the corner, trying your hardest not to look at your friend. That was real. This isn't some stupid trick set up by Satan. This is fucking real.

But why is this happening?

Why you?

The glass door slammed shut and the noise made your body jump. The door to the room opened but got stuck at the weight of your friend's corpse. You could hear the sound of disgust come from Homelander as he ends up kicking body aside to be able to open the door fully.

"So... did you like my gift?"

"What the fuck did you do? Did you poison her?" You said which he seemed offended at.

"Me? Oh please, I can shoot fucking lasers out of my eyes and I choose to poison some fucking nobody? I mean look at her" He chuckles, his eyes staring at the corpse of what was your friend.

His tone and words growing a small wave of anger within your chest.

"What do you want from me?"

"You know what I want" He said, the smile on his face gone. He was now serious. His gaze cold enough to send shivers down your body.

"(Y/N) Butcher. Butcher. I didn't know he had a little sister" He took a step closer, then another, until he was face to face to the glass, staring down at your figure hiding away in the corner.

"He really doesn't get scared huh? Not afraid of death, to take a life, not even me. And well... since he fucking hates supes so much, then I might as well make his beloved sister one. If I can't strike fear in him, you will" Homelander spoke, the corner of his lips twisting into a grin. As if all of this was bringing him some sick enjoyment.

"Everyone will be the pawn and you'll be the queen... so save your strength. You're gonna need it sweetheart" He turned around and as he leaves, he stares at the corpse for a quick moment. Even from inside the cage you could hear him shout for the people working to clean the body.

Fuck... this cannot be your life now...

You're now an animal kept in a cage.

Hours progressed to days then months. The only thing keeping you entertained was... the toilet? Aside from that was the visits Homelander would pay you every now and then to make sure you were alive. It almost seemed like he had expected you to be dead by now but you weren't, which he's impressed about.

You laid on the ground, staring at the ceiling. You were bored so you decided to try to count from 1 to 10000 this time. Just as you got to 482, the door opened and you turned to see it wasn't Homelander but rather a worker. Assuming he's just here to clean, you turned back to the ceiling to continue counting.

"Pssh, ma dame, do you hear me?" He knocks on the glass, his french accent caught your attention.

"I don't care. I'm not gonna strip for you"

"Nono! That's not why I'm here, your brother, Billy Butcher? He sent me here" His name striking something in you. You got up as your eyes are slightly widened.

"He knows I'm here?"

"Yes... he's here as well. He's gonna try to get you out of here"

Just as he finishes talking, the glass door sprung open. He gets in the cage and reaches for you but right as you reach for his hand, you remembered you weren't the same anymore, you were cursed, so you quickly pull your hand away. Your action causes the man to tilt his head in confusion.

"Do not worry, I'm not here to hurt you" He tries to take a few steps closer but you quickly stepped back.

"No.... no stop! That's enough!" You raised your hands gesturing him to stand where he's at.

"Don't touch me..." You added and he stares at you for a moment before taking a few steps back until he's out of the cage.

"Okay... but you must follow me. We don't have much time left" He said, walking out of the room and you hesitated for a while before following after him.

When walking down the hallway, you couldn't help but look around the area. This was your first time seeing the place you've been trapped inside for supposedly months. As you followed the strange man who saved you, you noticed that he seemed to be talking to someone over his earpiece. Was it Butcher?

After managing to sneak past several guards and having a few close calls, you two finally made it out from one of the back doors. You hurried as you followed the man somewhere. You couldn't believe it. The feel of the wind and the smell of the grass was making you wish you appreciated the outdoor more.

"Were you noticed?" His friend who's been on the look out asked. He shakes his head.

"No" After hearing his reponse, his friend turns to look at you.

"I'm M.M.... C'mon, your brother put in a lot to save you" He began walking away and the two of you simply went along.

He did?

"I haven't introduced myself. I'm Frenchie. It's nice to meet you" The man who saved you earlier said with a smile and you weakly smile back.

The moment the three of you reached a van parked in a safe area. The door slide open and your eyes widened once you were locked eyes with someone familiar. Yet he looked so much different now. He grew a beard. You had to admit, it made him look less ugly.

"(Y/N)..." He got out of the van and was ready to embrace you but you quickly avoided his grasp. This causes him to stand there with his arms hanging there awkwardly.

"Ooookay.... get in" M.M told Frenchie and they did just that, sliding the door close to give you both the privacy.

"All these years and you still hate your ol' brother" He jokes as he drops his hands down to his sides, but it was clear that he was upset at your actions and trying to hide it.

"Don't touch me"

"I got it"

The two of you stood there and you were staring at him a little too hard. Thoughts racing in your head like a racetrack. What the fuck has he been up to these years and how did he even find you?

"So... are we jus' gonna stand here and wait for 'em to realise you're missin'?" He nods at the facility nearby and you sigh.

"You're taking me home" You walked over to the passenger seat but the sound of Butcher clicking his tongue made you stop halfway in your tracks. Now you were standing in front of the van.

"Not gonna happen. Is your head loose of screws sis? They know who you are now, which means they know where you live. You're gonna be stayin' with me" He said.

Shit... there's really no chance of a normal life now. You really are cursed.

"Stay with you? With these guys?" You point at the van and from the front of the vehicle, you could see his friends all huddled in the back, the whole time they've been secretly listening to the conversation but once you pointed at them, they tried to act as though they haven't been doing so.

"They can protect you"

"I don't need protecting. The last thing I need is someone doing that"

"Oh really? Then mind sharing your experience in there? Was it a luxury? How much longer do you think you could have lasted if I hadn't found you" He took a few steps closer and you gave him a warning look.

"You're my sister... you think a few fights is gonna change that?" He tried reaching for your shoulder and you quickly dodged it. Failing to notice, tears were beginning to well up in your eyes because deep inside, you were desperately in need of comfort, a hug, anything physical but you couldn't even have that.

"You can't touch me... nobody can.... f-fuck... I killed my friend just by touching her..." You began to sob, your hands grabbing onto your face in an attempt to hide your expression. A frown appears on his face.

"What the fuck did they do to you...?"

"They made me a freak! They gave me these fucked up powers!! I don't want this...!" You cried, wishing this was another of your nightmares and that none of this was real.

"It's okay... come here..." He began to step closer to you but you were too numb from the feeling to even react.

Taking off his coat, he puts it securely around you before wrapping you in his arms. For the first time in months, you finally felt the presence of another person's embrace. The warmth felt so good. It was like you were melting from it. Your sobs grew weak as you nuzzle onto his chest, the fabric separating the contact of your skin with his. This was everything you needed right now.

"We'll get through this... these powers of yours ain't gonna scare me away" He said, rubbing your back gently.

"Thank you..." You muttered.

After you escaped and made it safely away from your prison. Homelander was alerted of your escape a few hours later. He arrives at the facility, walking down the hallway as the doctors walking by were scared to see him and trying their best to avoid his sight. Once he walks in the office of the head security, the man sprung up almost instinctly.

"Sir" He greets him. Homelander doesn't say anything but stare at him... before breaking into a smile.

"Great job, at least you're good at failing at your job. Now show me" He walks over to the guard's side who's hurrying to click a few things on his computer to show him what he came here for.

"The tracker we planted in her is working well and fine. She's currently in a vehicle heading somewhere"

"Good... it's like sending a cat to a bunch of rats" Homelander then gave the man a strong pat on the shoulder.

"Do we go after them sir?"

"No, keep an eye on her for now. I'll tell you when the time is ready" Without any further discussion, he left the office. A plan already set in his mind.

(I might make a part 2 but I'm not sure if anyone would be interested, it'll be sort of fluff where the boys figure out her powers, some angst? Idk, tell me if you think I should)

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