#so inevitably the other person always ends up being like
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17 Jance mayhaps (if you already did it I'm sorry, I love ur style and reading your prompts!!)
Thank you so much 🥰. I think I've officially lost the battle with my “I'm keeping these short” thoughts because this is almost 1.8k oops 😅.
As always, ao3 link at the bottom if you prefer to read it there <3
(Rating: Mature)
Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss
17. … to distract.
“Please, Nacko,” Jan begged from his place on the couch.
Knowing that they had an interview the next morning, Nace had offered Jan to stay at his house. After all, it was no secret that the guitarist was by no means a morning person and, being the one who lived closest to where the interview would take place, it seemed only reasonable to offer him a place to sleep without the need to drive from Vrhnika to Ljubljana in the early morning.
And maybe – and just maybe – something inside his chest was also tickling under the pretext of seeing Jan's gorgeous face when Nace inevitably woke up before him, his features relaxed and his hair tousled. No one needed to know that, though. He was more than willing to take the secret to his grave. It wasn't like someone like Jan would ever look at him that way, anyways.
Once they arrived at the apartment, Nace offered Jan a glass of wine. The bassist himself didn't drink anymore, but he liked to always have something to offer to his guests – in this case, a bottle of red wine.
And that's how they had gotten to this situation, Jan sitting cross-legged on the couch, an empty glass on the small table in front of him and looking up in the direction of Nace, who was standing on the other side of the table, with his pajamas already on and holding the bottle in his hand.
“I've already told you, Jan,” he said, a hint of tiredness in his voice. “You know that on any other occasion I wouldn't mind you drinking more, but we have an interview tomorrow and we can't risk you having a raging hangover because you drank the whole bottle of wine by yourself.”
“...Please?” Jan asked again, pouting and looking up at him with those beautiful dark puppy eyes that had no right to be so adorable. That, combined with the fact that his improvised pajamas were his boxer shorts and one of Nace's old t-shirts that was definitely too big on him – the length reaching almost halfway down his thighs and the collar being so wide that it left one of his shoulders exposed, as well as a bit of his chest hair – was definitely not helping Nace keep his thoughts pure.
He thought about how his hands would feel exploring the skin under the t-shirt or pulling on those gorgeous black locks, how he'd look up at him with his big brown eyes just like that while Nace fucked his mouth, taking it all like the good boy he knew he could be; how he’d love to kiss and bite and mark that exposed skin on his shoulder and neck until everyone knew who he belonged to, how he'd beg even prettier for Nace to touch him, to make him feel good; how he'd look all sweaty and ruined with his head thrown back, moaning Nace's name at the peak of his pleasure as he pounded into that sweet spot inside him over and over and-
Nace really needed to stop his train of thoughts right there before this ended in a terribly embarrassing situation.
“I'm sorry, okay?” He smiled at him apologetically, setting the bottle down on the table as he took a seat on the other side of the couch, hoping the other didn't notice the slight blush he felt creeping up his cheeks. “I know you probably don't want to go to sleep yet so… anything else you want to-”
The question died on the bassist's lips as he suddenly felt Jan straddle his thighs, resting his hands gently on his chest.
Nace simply remained still, his body a bit tense and his eyes wide open in surprise. He still didn't look at the guitarist's face, a million questions running through his mind when all of a sudden the weight of the younger man in his lap and the burning touch of his hands on his chest clouded his senses.
Eventually, he dared to look up, finding Jan's eyes, those eyes that made Nace's knees go weak and that accompanied him in his most sinful fantasies, looking back at him with that smirk he always had plastered on his face when he had an idea. He knew exactly what he was doing and Nace had fallen right into his trap.
“Hello there, Mr. Jordan,” Jan said, his deep voice reverberating in Nace's brain, as his hands went up to cup his cheeks.
He didn't respond, his own hands moving to Jan's thighs, over his t-shirt, while his eyes were flicking from the other's eyes to his lips and then up again and oh how much he'd like to send it all to hell and close the distance between them and-
Before he knew it, Jan's lips were on his.
Nace didn't move his hands, the uncertainty of not knowing how far Jan was willing to take this surpassing the urge to touch every single part of the other's body; but he started to reciprocate the kiss, taking everything Jan had to give him and trying to burn it into his memory, almost as if he was afraid that it was all a dream product of his treacherous imagination and he might wake up at any moment.
Their lips moved slowly against each other, his mouth opening in a silent invitation that Jan didn't hesitate to take, tongues dancing together in a rhythm known only to them.
Everything was so sultry, so sensual, so… Jan. It was intoxicating. And Nace didn't think he would ever get enough of this.
All too soon, the guitarist broke the kiss, pulling away completely and taking his place back on the couch. Nace immediately missed the warmth of his body pressing against his own.
“W-what was that for?” he asked after a few seconds, trying to sound nonchalant despite the deep blush he felt covering his face.
“Nothing,” Jan shrugged. “Can't I just kiss my really hot friend?”
At that, Nace looked up, meeting that mischievous grin before his gaze finally fell on the bottle that had somehow ended up in Jan's hands. Little shit.
“Oh hell no, come here,” he tugged at his arm and in one swift motion took the bottle from him, setting it safely on the table, and took him back into his lap, making him let out a surprised gasp.
“Well, I guess this will do too,” Jan smirked, moving his arms up to wrap them around Nace's neck, tangling his hands in the soft curls at the nape of his neck and drawing him into another kiss.
Nace didn't hold back this time, all the blood he had been trying to suppress from traveling south now rushed to his cock as his hands began to caress the body of the man on top of him.
The touch of his cold hands against the warm skin of his thighs sent a shiver down Jan's spine. Nace's hands traveled up his thighs, slowly slipping under his shirt until they reached his waist, grabbing it and moving his body so they could start grinding against each other.
Deep groans escaped their mouths the moment both of their already half-hard dicks brushed against each other, making them break the kiss, their foreheads pressed against one another as they breathed heavily into each other's mouths.
Without halting his movements, Nace leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Did you just want to distract me so you could get another glass or are you just a horny little slut, baby?”, catching the lobe between his teeth to emphasize his words before starting a trail of open-mouthed kisses and little nibbles along his jaw and neck.
The sound the younger man let out and the way Jan's hips jerked forward of their own accord, beginning to grind down more desperately, told Nace everything he needed to know.
It was still fun to tease him, though.
“I need words, honey. Or do you want me to stop?” he said teasingly. As if you'd be able to stop now that you finally have what you've been dreaming about for so long, the rational part of his brain told him.
“Please don’t stop.” Jan whined. “F-fuck, God knows how long I've been waiting for this.”
That sound, that plea, the meaning those words entailed all sent an electric jolt straight to Nace's cock. He sounded so beautifully desperate and– God. Jan Peteh was going to be the death of him.
“Oh yeah? Do I make you hard, baby?” he punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust of his hips.
“So damn much, you have no idea. Fuck, have you seen yourself?”
Jan buried his face in Nace's neck, exploring his skin with his lips and teeth, careful not to leave marks in a place that would be visible during the interview and paying special attention to discover the bassist's most sensitive spots. Nace tilted his head to the side to grant him more access.
Neither of them could stop the soft little noises escaping their mouths, getting increasingly louder as Nace's hands started to roam all over the younger's back. They came to a stop at his ass, cupping Jan's cheeks over his boxers and pulling him even closer.
The increased pressure on his crotch caused the guitarist to pull away from Nace's neck, throwing his head back and exposing his throat as a sinful moan escaped his lips. It was probably the most erotic thing Nace had ever seen in his entire life.
However, as heavenly as the dry humping felt, Nace wanted – needed – more. He needed to feel skin on skin with the man that had been occupying his every thought ever since he officially joined the band.
He slowly licked a strip up his deliciously exposed throat, a smug smile spreading across his face at the shudder that ran through Jan's body.
“Shall we take this to the bedroom, kitten?” he asked, his deep voice accompanied with a little squeeze on his ass making Jan blush furiously.
Instead of answering, Jan smashed their lips together in a hungry, passionate kiss.
Nace took that as a yes, placing his hands under Jan's thighs and lifting them both off the couch to start the short walk to his room, grinning into the kiss when he felt Jan's dick twitch at the casual demonstration of strength as he wrapped his legs around his waist.
As he closed the bedroom door and threw a very flushed and now fully hard Jan unceremoniously on his bed, Nace made a mental note to treat him to all the red wine he wished for the days to come.
masterlist | ao3
#i'm actually proud of this one hehe hope you like it 🤭#also this is the 20th prompt like WHAT :O#joker out#jan peteh#nace jordan#jance#ask#mine#maca writes#kiss prompts#i just think jan should be called kitten in fics more often and i couldn't help myself
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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning
ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev
chapter synopsis:
'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”
You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'
'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”
“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”
“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.
---
You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).
You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.
word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)
17-6-2018
The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there.
At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway.
There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before.
If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky.
“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.”
“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.”
You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t.
It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter.
And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all.
Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself.
That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes.
Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road.
“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you.
Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears.
“You and that Itadori seem close.”
“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so.
You’ll make sure not to do that again, though.
Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.”
“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.”
“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?”
“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse.
He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess.
“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.”
“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.”
Who’s ‘them’?
“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.”
“What?”
“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?”
“...why would you need one?” he questions.
You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.”
He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything?
“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.”
The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was.
“Hi, Mummy.”
She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy.
The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there.
Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from.
Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.”
“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?”
“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.”
“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.”
“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.”
“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.”
Silence.
“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.”
“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time.
She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway.
“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving.
“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.”
“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—”
“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years.
“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.”
Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father.
“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?”
“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did.
Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue.
“You should go get that first,” she says.
“...okay.”
You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now.
You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?”
“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.”
You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.”
“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.”
“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—”
Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically.
You’d sworn to put that past you.
Your immaturity strikes once again.
“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name.
“Okay. Sorry.”
You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room.
“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.”
“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room.
“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.”
“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?”
“Something like that,” Megumi explains.
“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?”
He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage.
“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.”
“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.”
He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.”
Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—”
“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.”
“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—”
Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.”
“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.”
“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi.
He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be—
He opens the box.
Holy shit.
“Where is it?”
“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!”
Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself.
You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound.
It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for.
Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock.
“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?”
Sasaki and Iguchi?
The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such.
“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.”
“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!”
It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for.
Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger.
You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that.
The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen.
“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?”
“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil.
“Yuuji!”
“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him.
“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!”
“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.”
He climbs over the gate.
He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone.
You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all.
(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.)
“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?”
His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying?
“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?”
“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!”
He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now.
Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.
The emergency contact.
You snatch your phone out, resolute.
“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says.
You’ve heard it plenty before by accident.
When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from.
The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead.
“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—”
“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…”
“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!”
“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender.
“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!”
“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.”
“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.
“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind.
“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.”
They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.”
Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.”
“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.”
“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?”
The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone.
“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.”
Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams.
You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest.
At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this.
Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.”
You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told.
You should’ve done more to protect him.
Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines.
Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge.
“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.”
“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.”
“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.”
You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”
It’s time to get to work.
Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work.
Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.”
“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold.
“By the way, Mr Gojo…”
“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.”
“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?”
“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.”
Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.”
“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.”
“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.”
“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”
“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.”
You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared.
“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”
“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.”
“...oh.”
You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…
“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.”
You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.”
18-6-2018
The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed.
Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi.
(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—)
Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally.
You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen.
“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.”
“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up.
For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl.
You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years.
There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not?
Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way.
But you wouldn’t put it past her.
“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point.
“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down.
“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.”
“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere.
You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.”
“I promise.”
“And keep your promises.”
“I will.”
“...want to come inside?”
He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him.
“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?”
They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours.
When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time.
You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them.
“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji.
“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.”
“Where, though?”
Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.”
“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts.
The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you.
“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.”
‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him.
You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?”
You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that.
“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!”
Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice.
Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity.
This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it.
Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him.
“Megumi.”
He turns around.
“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?”
“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn’t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.”
“Oh.”
“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.”
“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.”
“Okay. That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.”
Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward.
“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”
“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”
“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.
“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.”
“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.”
“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.”
“Let’s just… change the subject.”
“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.”
“Okay. How… how are you?”
“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?”
He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].”
“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.”
Sounds pretty familiar, huh.
“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.”
“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.”
“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi…
“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.”
All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end.
“I’ll explain it all one day.”
“You don’t have to if it’s hard.”
He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.”
“That’s okay.”
The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore.
“I guess this is goodbye again, then.”
“Not really.”
“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again.
“Promise.”
“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.”
“I will.”
“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.”
“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his.
“Wait—!”
His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago.
His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].”
“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to.
You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been.
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.”
“Thank you.”
Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open.
2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie.
You want to cry as you walk back home.
You’re pretty sure you do.
taglist:
@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored
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#ohhh my goodness i'm so sorry this took so long#aaa but life's going to get very busy quite soon#so i just decided to post the next two chapters on tumblr first because writing chapter 8 and posting it on ao3 will take a while....#take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#megumi fushiguro#megumi#fushiguro megumi#megumi fluff#megumi angst#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#jjk x fem!reader#fem!reader#ruer writes#megumi x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#megumi imagine#adding more tags this time hope it works out#fanfiction#jjk fanfiction
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I've been an Invader Zim fan since 2011.
I was 15-16 at that time, and though I did thoroughly enjoy the show, I was not mature enough to really get it. Sure, it was funny, but I didn't pick up on the subtleties and style of humor beyond the surface level. I liked the wackiness and the characters, but I SURELY wasn't at a point of being able to deconstruct themes or analyze character motivations and narratives (like I very much enjoy doing now). I remember discovering an artist on DeviantArt who drew cute ZaGr stuff, so that was the pairing I liked too. I didn't think too deeply about much, and honestly, I don't think the majority of fans (if they were my age or younger, that is) did either. Everything was taken as dumb and silly for the most part, and that IS truthfully a major component of the show itself.
Getting back into Invader Zim within this past year though, I'm looking at it through a WILDLY different lens. I like Invader Zim for what it is and how it's intended to be perceived. I like that the show is meant to be dark, satirical, and tragic at the same time that it's silly, chaotic, and nonsensical. Almost everything that happens onscreen is written in to be funny above all else. (I've mentioned before that I've been watching Jhonen's Twitch streams for a while now, and I have a MUCH better understanding of his sense of humor bc of that. IZ makes way more sense if you can sorta see things from JV's perspective, lol.)
But at the same time, I also like Invader Zim for what it offers in terms of interpretation and what it can imply (intentionally or not). There is genuinely SO MUCH DEPTH to this dorky lil cartoon that a casual viewer wouldn't immediately pick up on. And a lot of that depth, I think, was not woven in purposely. The show itself was never meant to be taken so seriously. Nevertheless, I'm constantly fascinated by what IZ implies about good and evil, the nature of general society, and especially how it goes about demonstrating the devastating effects of social isolation and bullying. Meta for this series is always pretty damn *chef's kiss.* And what's even more interesting is how viewers manipulate canon to expand upon this world and these characters.
Given that I've come to understand Invader Zim better, I've also grown very fond of ZaDr. Now, while I wouldn't want to see this pairing happen in canon material, I love the potential it possesses in transformative contexts.
In reality, I get that these characters were intended to have a deep hatred for one another and a never-ending rivalry for the sake of comedy and not much else. It's an extraterrestrial perpetually throwing hands with a 12 year old because he's incompetent and his plans often fail. And that's funny. That's the point. But beyond that, canonically, these are two characters who are mirrors of each other; they're both treated like garbage by their respective peers, and they both crave acknowledgment, validation, and a sense of purpose. Throughout their story, they find they're only able to obtain these things from each other, so as a consequence of their similar personalities, they become utterly, unhingedly obsessed with each other (to a sometimes unhealthy degree). They are undeniably forever intertwined by design of how the show is set up.
And because of that, shipping of these characters was, frankly, inevitable in fandom spaces. I myself fell victim to their appeal too. (Sorry, Jhonen. 😅)
I'm not gonna go into any discourse surrounding this pairing because there's already PLENTY of that to go around online. Everyone has their own opinion on the subject, and that's fine. I respect that. Point is, even though I understand and appreciate what Zim and Dib are supposed to be in the context of the show, I also enjoy the idea of them as friends and romantic partners outside of and beyond the confines of canon.
And that's something that I think many fans who are biased toward ZaDr would also agree with! Actually, I'd say the majority of people who ship characters in ANY media would concur. We like the idea of seeing how specific relationships could develop over time and/or within different settings and circumstances. It's NOT always about wanting to see a relationship unfold on screen or in fan works strictly adhering to canon. It's about stretching canon, or in some cases, scratching canon entirely however you see fit! Who cares! It's fiction!
For me personally, I enjoy ZaDr because its attributes fall into so many trope categories that I've come to adore over the years (ones that I either wasn't aware of when I was younger, or that I didn't enjoy in the same intensity as I do now). Zim and Dib are, or could be, depending on context:
Codependent toxic soulmates
Human/non-human
Shared history
Classic enemies to lovers (or, as I often prefer it, enemies to friends to lovers)
Bicker couple
Battle couple, when put in the right setting for it
Violence as a love language
Smol and tol
The wild card paired with the rational one, the best part about this being that sometimes the more rational one is Dib, and sometimes it's Zim bc they're both a special flavor of insane
Make each other worse/stupider when together, tho oddly, they also kinda bring out the best in each other too
And, my personal favorites, the potential for hurt/comfort and angst with a happy ending, with the comfort and happiness aspects ultimately coming from each other
I like what these characters could be, to and for each other, apart from their roles in the show.
I would never want to explore a dynamic between Zim and Dib that goes beyond "frenemies" territory in canon (because that doesn't fit what the show is, and I do appreciate the integrity of Jhonen's vision). The subtle foundation for them is there, it's just that it can't really work unless a few key details are changed or manipulated, and, well...
I sure as hell like exploring every bit of that expanded potential in fan works because it's fun to imagine the various directions things could go if they were different!
This isn't me, like... trying to defend my (or anyone else's) enjoyment of this particular ship or trying to convince people to like it. Or the show for that matter! To each their own, truly. And I'm obv aware of the controversy ZaDr often incites and why. Everyone has valid reasons for liking OR not liking it, and I accept differing viewpoints on it. It's a touchy, nuanced subject to be sure. But this isn't about that.
I don't really know what this is, actually, aside from a very long very weird essay, lol. I just wanted to process why and how all of this works for me with my changed perspective from when I was first introduced to Invader Zim in my teens up until now.
It's strange, looking back. I didn't get ZaDr years ago. But I do now, and so much of it, at least from my perspective, has to do with taking the crumbs present in canon (that are undeniably there, whether you choose to acknowledge them or not, and whether they're intentional or not) and absolutely running with them to the ends of your own wild imagination.
#invader zim#invader zim meta#zadr#iz zadr#zim#dib membrane#my posts#this is... A LOT but i just needed to work thru it for my own sanity lol#said it before and i'll say it again: pls utilize the tag blocking function however you need to bc i KNOW this can be very Yikes for some#but at the same time this is my blog and i'm gonna do what i want :P
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I wish I could post some of my photography from today, but it's a bit too specific so I don't wanna dox myself shkfkgkg but ahhhh man I love taking pics whenever I go to the city 🥰
#i love taking pics when im w other people#cause theres a group mentality w taking pics yknow?#<- like if you see someone take a pic of smth your brain is automatically like 'ah! i should take a pic too!!'#but i picked my phone particularly for the camera#so inevitably the other person always ends up being like#'ill leave the photography to you. send the pics later?'#the pics i took today are such good wallpaper material#but unfortunately im p attached to my f1 backgrounds#but my friend said they were good wallpaper material#and i finally got back home and checked and ahhhh not to brag but my framing is so good :)#*also abt my day out 🤭#i love classical music and its so cool seeing it live BUT#unless its a loud dramatic piece(ex. Holst's Mars) or one you know pretty well#oh my god it puts me to sleep i feel so bad 😭#its just too cozy and dark in the concert hall and i kept feeling myself drifting off#also i will say. i usually think that: European city architecture > american city architecture#but theres some really beautiful historic buildings in my city#and i realize its really silly for me to think that theres no great sights in america bcs#i get that same 'wow' feeling whenever i see certain buildings here#catie.rambling.txt
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bigass vent over general life things
things in general are really not great i don't really have any optimism for the future or making a life for myself. like i don't really have any drive or ambition to look forward or work towards anything good/meaningful because as time goes on there are going to be really bad life events that i just don't think i can keep facing anymore. and theyre going to be worse. i'm just dragging along life solely on the basis that i was plopped here to just Exist and that's my task at hand that i'm reluctantly upholding. just exist until it's over
#when i say 'i'm 25' 'i'm going to be 26' it does not feel right coming out of my mouth. i do not feel just 25 or 26 i feel far far older#mentally and physically#when i'm around other people my age i just feel on a completely different plane of experience from everyone else#idk. i've always been a naturally anxious and socially stunted person & def have some kind of lingering trauma that keeps me from connectin#w people. but also having no family members or relatives anywhere near my age (~17 yrs older than me at the least) while i was growning up#probably did something to me as well. my entire life has just been witnessing family members decline and die like dominoes over the course#of 25 years. like i know all about end of life care and legal paperwork and shit like that. i know what grief is like and#seeing how it affects people. i know the stages of dread and worry and numbness & guilt-ridden relief that comes with being terrified 24/7#for an ailing family member over the course of years. knowing what it's like to grieve people who arent dead yet but you know it's coming#and then when the inevitable happens it's horrible. but also you're so exhausted from the strain that you're mostly numb. and then you feel#a sense of relief that the worst is over they're not suffering anymore you don't have to dread it anymore. which obviously makes you#question if you're some kind of deranged asshole for feeling that way. idk#25 for me has been a very eye-opening age where i'm fully realizing how fast time passes. i thought i was at around 18-20 but i was really#just first becoming aware of it.#i know how to view the world from that lens bc that's all i know. i only see life as a preparation for the end#instead of a beginning. or at least see it as a beginning at this current point in my life#covid/lockdown has definitely been a source of mental drain on me as well. the constant fear and paranoia of getting sick AND what sort of#long term consequences i could have due to getting it twice. and what i could have if i get it more than twice#add that with the general social and political climate right now and it's just...so very bleak. home life is bleak & outside world is bleak#vent
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bestie you once mentioned offhand an au of pdd where christen sleeps with alex and it has stayed in my head ever since - what would be the context! when! does tobin find out! hit me with your thoughts if you’re into it, I love a rare pair!!
I do vaguely remember saying that but I also cannot find it so everything I'm saying now could totally contradict what I said then but. I think like. if C's relationship to T (not with her but towards her) is based in feelings of grief and anger then her relationship to Alex is much more acidic. They do have a lot of history but most of it is just time spent in the same vicinity of each other, coldly ignoring one another, sharing friends and being jealous. So I feel like them hooking up would be a much more viscous overflow but also much less weighted for them.
Probably it would be one of them getting the role the other wanted in studio company and having sex about it. If it was an ongoing thing I could see it being a moment after a Grand Prix where one of them won and the other messed up—probably with a lot of goading and also I do believe in this AU Alex is the kind of character who would wear her Grand Prix medal while having sex with C in the hotel afterwards. I don’t think it works as well as a dynamic between the two adult versions of the characters but I can still see some level of that bizarre psychosexual staunch avoidance thing they have going on.
Body and your relationship to your body and your connection to other peoples bodies and peoples perceived ownership or entitlement to your body is at the heart of a lot of pdd and because C and Alex have both been basically raised in that environment I think them hooking up would be very much about acting out frustration in a way they both understand. Like; Move like this because you feel this.
Like I sincerely don't mean for sex in this story to be about power. It isn't—even when power is a dynamic within it—but it is kind of about a feeling of being present in your own body for the first time, manipulating your body for someone else’s pleasure while getting to be the object rather than the subject of that pleasure.
I think how Tobin would react to it depends on any number of factors which would change with the context. Like if C and T were sleeping together the way they are in the actual story I think it would probably mean the end of the sexual part of their relationship, at least for a while, because T feels very invested in what she does with C and it would feel cheapened by finding out about Alex. If it was something that happened as teenagers I think she’d be kind of weirded out by it but hey we’ve all had weird overly invested hate sex with christen press so. actually this makes tobin very feel normal and usual and regular and it’s fine.
#I do think it’d be fun with some weird sex after one has gotten one over the other dynamic#because I think for the person who’s just lost it’s a sense of control back in the situation#and for the one who’s lost it’s a validation of that feeling and a level of like. somewhere to put the looming ‘this isn’t worth it’#if someone else wants what you have so badly they’re willing to do *this* then surely it’s worth it. surely. surely.#also now that I’ve come up with it the image of Alex wearing her medal while they fuck isn’t getting out of my head#and of course they’re kind of narrative foils and the path is so inevitable and we’ve been here a million times before.#the story is finished before you’ve even opened the book the ending has already happened#so Christen comes back to New York and Alex has a baby and a room full of trophies and an undignified desire for more. more of anything.#and you were both always going to end up here. a hundred million miles apart even though you can sit across the table at a dinner party#or kiss her cheek in greeting or even mean it a little when you say congratulations#but you still remember being nineteen and lying next to her when your rent was too much to keep on top of#and you weren’t sure you’d ever be anything and you’re not sure that you loved her#but you’re not sure what else to call the gaping black hole of the year and even if#you didn’t love her it still seems so horribly unfair that you never got the chance to#because the story was already over before it begun and she was gone the first time you ever kissed her#asks#pas de deux
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Sometimes i look at statistics for # of ppl who have had suicidal thoughts / etc & I'm just kinda like. "There's No Way it's that low, right?"
Guys I think I have a normalized mindset that might not be entirely healthy
#speculation nation#suicide ment/#NO IT'S NOT HOW IT USED TO BE. im fine for the most part.#but it still feels so normal to me lmao and apparently it is not in any way normal#or at least. shouldnt be.#majority of people apparently never even consider it as an option#meanwhile theres me with my longstanding philosophy of like#'if i lose literally every single person who cares about me then yea im killing myself lol'#BUT it works the other way too where so long as i got ppl who care about me. even just one person. imma keep living#that's what got me outta my teen years and im just keeping going with it#the underlying idea being that if i get to the point where i have lost literally every person who cares about me#i probs have some Pretty Big Problems so the wish would inevitably be there anyways lol#but yea uhhhhh yea. it's much more quiet than it was when i was a teen and thank god for that#it's annoying to deal with lmao#but it's still so normalized in my mind. i can end up muttering some rly concerning shit to myself when im really really mad or frustrated#primarily at work lol. as it goes.#then again ive always had a screw loose & bad ex just rly knocked it out of order lol#patched it up with duct tape and gorilla glue. slaps the top of this hunk of barely functional meat. this babey sure can brain#....in theory lmao#sorry for the dark topic i promise im feeling fine. aside from the muscle soreness and fatigue lol#just saw a post that got me thinking about how weird & skewed my perspective is. And So It Goes.
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SO FUNNY I was just about to write in complaining that I got sick a day after you posted your last comic... I caught it... yet I don't have an Arakawa to take care of me... [<- I started writing this when you answered my last ask]
OH BUT NO WORRIES AT ALL I always love reading your responses and these were no exception :) It really means the world to me to have you guys listen! I believe I've [probably] mentioned the headcanon is a bit personal [In Other Words projection galore but. Believable Enough. Please DO dare to think... It'll work out...]; I was more or less expecting to keep it to myself forever because I felt the Venn Diagram of people who would know what I'm talking about and be interested had no overlap. I'm incredibly grateful to be able to have these talks and the assurance that's not the case :) and also I just kinda don't wanna Mansplain Jo To You so I'm glad that doesn't seem to be the case as well
AND I MEAN... LOL... LMAO EVEN...
it would be a pretty fair to pursue that line of thinking given he has both visible symptoms of sleep deprivation and things to lose sleep over... reminded of Debt [TWISTING AND WAILING AND CONVULSING] but also the counterpart to Matrophobia you were thinking about...
I absoluuuutely get what you mean by the mirror thing too I see you in the kitchen I smell what you're cooking... same here... very excited to see what he's like when he doesn't have to be a bullet as well... here are those for the sake of completion [If I May I think perhaps he wouldn't feel the need to change his name, just feel a disconnect if it's his father's family name and/or his given name was chosen by his father. Like an ambivalent Aoki I guess; he knows he'll answer to it so why fix what ain't broke and "inconvenience others"...]
SORRY FOR RAMBLING MYSELF HGLDJLKDJG again No Worries At All since you shouldn't be saying much with your Gameritis anyway... I hope your wrist gets better soon, rest up and take care!
NOT MY SILLY COMIC GIVIN YOU THE FLU (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) hope youre doin better now gettin sick SUCKS (╯x╰ )
oh but yaya of course : i have a cockroach for a brain so im glad star can supplement a lot more valuable commentary (╯▽╰ ) even if i have bugs for brains im still happy to see what you (and star should they write again) have to say :)
#snap chats#my only contributions to anything is illustration and now im gettin people sick 😩 horrendous..#in any case... as a serial Nightmare Haver its only logical id inevitably project that onto people in Way Worse situations than i#if im upset bout the littelest things then i can only IMAGINE The Horrors with what jo- not to mention arakawa- have to deal with#jo esp when he outright confessed to being haunted by masato's outburst for. 'Who Knows How Long'#And Lest I Neglect Ikumi. she also gotta have it bad... everyone gets nightmares its like an episode of oprah in my mind..#oh but i dont think you mentioned it was a personal topic- i had A Feeling tho thats also why i feel unprepared to touch on it#i generally try not to talk bout things i dont know about and while i know SOME things i certainly wouldnt want to start gettin into it#esp if someones dealt with it themselves i dont wanna say nothin STUPID. more than usual anyway#not without doing studying beforehand with a sensitive topic as such BUT LIKE I SAID im still very much open to listening#onto topis i am familiar with.. i GUESS..i still very much think of jo's potential fear of ending up like his dad#i just wish i knew what to do with the idea.. again my brain is very small and ive accepted that bout myself. at most i can draw but that i#on that note tho About His Name. yeah not many notes on that LMAO I Agree in other words#esp at his age its just a. Well I'll Die Soon Anyway There's No Point In Changing and the whole#The Few People Who Know Me Already Know Me By This So I Shouldnt#just sort of something to be numb to by this point#anyhow... i think thats all my gumball dome can rattle out... now to . drastically shift the tone of my blog with a post BYE TY FOR WRITIN#i always feel bad for apologizing since apologies are like promises and Apparently Im Very Bad At Keeping Promises so.#Forgive Me for having pool noodles for braincells.. i can only try to make up for it with works...#works that I Hope do convey the fact i Try to think and i take everythin sent to me to heart..#ok bye bye i TRULY must get moving along (╯▽╰ ;;)
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it's hard to explain because inevitably you sound like an asshole, but some people are allowed to lose their temper, lose their mind - you're not, though.
when your friend never texts you first and misses your birthday and never makes an effort; you don't mind. you know she's struggling, and you want her to get the help that she deserves. you give her every excuse and every chance.
it shouldn't matter to you so much that people are always coming through for her. you want her to be happy, you love it for her. you love that her community rises up to the occasion. why does it bother you that when she snaps at someone, says horrible mean things - but two hours later, everyone is comforting her while she's crying. you know she's stressed. why do you kind of hate that she is welcomed back to her job, that her parents are endlessly wiring her money.
and you're - fuck, are you envious?
but when you don't text back, someone sits you down and says i know you're struggling, but you're being a bad friend. when you're too numb to show up for work, your boss just shakes his head. i'm sorry. i can't approve more time off. we have the company to protect. when you finally snap back at your family for making that shitty comment again, you're forced to apologize for being too sensitive.
god forbid you need something. people aren't used to you being the one asking. you're the giver like the book you hated; your pages all open and rumpled. you always have the answer, always have the solution. you are reliable, trustworthy. people like you don't struggle with things. you're supposed to be lifted by tragedy. you are given a maximum of 24 hours to grieve, and then you need to just behave at the party.
you can't read the giving tree without feeling like crying, and even that feels like it's too much emotion. like, nobody looks at you and assumes you're the tree; they'd name five other people before even considering you in the running. you're just there, never-asking.
your friend gets to say mean shit, that's just her personality. when you make a snide comment, you're just being petty. people laugh when your friend stands you up for another event; they say she's just like that. you were 5 minutes late to a meeting with friends and they were mad about it for the rest of the evening. your friend sets everything on fire; everyone applauds her through the ashes. you so much as light a candle: and suddenly now you're an arsonist.
you don't want your friend to suffer, though. the thing is that you just wish that the empathy and kindness your friend gets - you wish you had that option, that everyone offered you grace and money and a gentle reception.
the other day you were fighting down the bad urge; the void call, the end note. you tried-anyway. you went to the family event, tried laughing at the right moments. nodded and smiled and all of it. one of your siblings threw a fit, but she's allowed to, so everyone just rolled their eyes about it. you took 3 whole minutes to stand outside when you got overwhelmed. you literally set a timer about it.
in the morning you woke up to a text from your parents: you were a complete disgrace last night. idk what your attitude problem is, but you really need to fix it.
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i'm being forced by myself to make a proper post for this poll. may gojo reign as a codependent king for years to come.
Cuteness Aggression With The Yan!JJK Boys.
Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Mahito, and Sukuna.
TW: Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, and Implied Non/Con.
Gojo is near-violent. Expect to be constantly covered in bruises from his habit of full-body tackling you whenever he notices you're wearing one of his shirts or curled up in his bed or quirking your lips in the way he's never been able to resist. Tends to hold onto you for a while, too, keeping you pressed against him while he squeals and coos about how adorable his partner is, making you sound like more of an especially beloved pet rather than a live-in captive. No amount of squirming will distract him, either - he's going to be there until someone literally pries him off of you which, because there's a good chance he's already got you locked up tight in that luxury penthouse of his, isn't going to be anytime soon.
Geto is more used to receiving affection than dulling it out, so he doesn't really know what to do with himself when he's suddenly overwhelmed with the temptation to wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stop laughing in a way that makes his heart want to beat out of his chest. In the end, he sorta just,,, picks you up and starts carrying you around like a giant cat. Maybe pinches your cheek when you inevitably start complaining and ask to be put down. Cult members who ask why you've been slung over his shoulder for the past hour and a half are immediately done away with and curse-users don't fair much better.
Nanami, as the only (relatively) emotionally-regulated person on this list, takes it in-stride. He tries not to force affection onto you, so he'll settle for a few headpats and maybe a kiss to your forehead, if you aren't absolutely terrified of him at that point. If you catch him in a more vulnerable state, either injured or exhausted, he might be a little more forceful - wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you against his chest, where he can hold you until you eventually give-in and stop struggling, but at least he tries to hold himself back. Sometimes. Maybe. If you're lucky, that day.
Toji is almost as bad as Geto, but not quite as awkward. He tends to scoop you up, drag you away from whatever you're doing, and lay you down where he can pepper your face with kisses and whine when you shove at his chest. He usually lets you go after a few minutes, but it's in your best interest not to squirm too much until he does. He'll just smirk and kiss your neck and say something about how precious his little sweetheart is being, today. The fondness-motivated aggression is short-lived. What he'll do if you give him the idea that you might need more of his affection won't be.
Mahito is twice as unhinged as Gojo and only half as self-conscious. His only saving grace is that, by the time he gets genuinely overwhelmed by something you do, you're going to be used to weathering his constant attempts to suffocate you via forty-five minute hugs. When he realizes how cutely you wince when he pokes a fresh bruise and decides he has to dig his teeth into your shoulder and refuse to let go about it, you'll probably be too used to his ""affection"" to do anything other than sigh and make sure he doesn't severe anything important, this time.
Sukuna is, in his defense, rarely gentle about anything, so you really can't expect him to have a gentle reaction when he sees what an adorable reaction you wear as you wait for him to take his first drink from the chalice you laced with you most recent poisonous fixation. You can kick and thrash all you want as two of his arms loop under yours and pull you onto his lap, as he cups your face and shoves tongue down your throat and wonders aloud if you taste as endearing as you look. He always keeps you by his side, but for the rest of the day, he won't be satisfied unless you're practically on top of him, riding on his shoulders or straddling his thigh. He'll even drink your deadly little elixir straight from the bottle, if you ask him to. It won't work, but you know, it's the thought that counts and all <3
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk imagines#jjk x reader#yandere jjk#yandere gojo satoru#gojo x reader#yandere geto suguru#geto x reader#yandere toji#toji x reader#yandere mahito#mahito x reader#yandere sukuna#sukuna x reader
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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.
⟣ sypnosis. you had been in your first ever relationship with suguru for a couple months now. neither of you have taken your relationship to the next level; suguru was extremely patient and never brought the topic of sex up until you one day decide you were ready.
⟣ note. first fic for my event :3 i spent way too much time on this fic so it turned out very detailed, long, romantic and fluffy. i hope you all enjoy and appreciate it teehee. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk ! wc: around 6.1k
⟣ tags. soft dom!geto suguru x virgin!female reader. fluff + smut. slow burn. age gap (reader 20-ish, suguru around 29/30), little talks about insecurity, loss of virginity, breast play, edging, teasing, fingering, lots of praise, dirty talk, size difference!, p in v — unprotected (dont b like reader and use protection please), creampie, aftercare, suguru’s really romantic and just a softie for u, suguru being a good ‘dad’ to mimiko and nanako and teeny tiny bits of him secretly being a pervert.
never in a million years had suguru expected his girlfriend to be so upfront about such a big, personal decision. the thought of having you say those words had never crossed his mind.
“can you repeat that for me, sweetheart?”
could you blame him for asking you to clarify the words you’ve uttered? that man has seen you as an oblivious and innocent woman ever since the start of your relationship. of course, unbeknownst to him, your thoughts were anything but that.
you may be a virgin, but your mind was a place for the most lewd and nasty thoughts. it’s just that you’ve been scared of being intimate with a man—it’s frightening, especially when having heard the many online stories about how badly it could hurt. some say that such descriptions were over exaggerating, however your inexperience still lead you to believe everything you’ve read about the topic.
and then you started dating an older man named suguru. you’ve met him by chance at a mall in kyoto and he was the first one who approached the other. you remember how suguru politely asked you for some advice regarding what type of presents he should get for ‘two teenage girls’. of course, you agreed to helping him out and that’s how you two eventually ended up brainstorming about possible ideas in a cozy café.
once seated, chosen drinks in both your hands, you asked the man whether the gifts were meant for his daughters. somehow, that’s the first connection the neurones in your brain had made once suguru told you about the two teenagers he was picking out presents for.
you remember it vividly; the sweet, gentle sound of the laughter that accounted as your answer, the eyes of the then stranger looking rather nostalgic as they stared into the liquid in his cup. suguru responded vaguely; “i guess you could say that, yes.”
that little ‘date’—if you could call it that—ended on a wholesome note. suguru thanked you for your time and made sure that you safely got into the train you needed to take home. he did want to offer you a car ride, however he kept that question to himself since he knew that no woman would voluntarily agree to be taken home by a stranger. even if suguru had the purest of intentions.
there were a couple more dates that followed after that one; all where you both gradually got to know each other better. you’ve found out so much about suguru—the details about his own life being both fascinating and sad at the same time. likewise, suguru had also learned much about you. he always shows great interest in what you tell him, even if it’s a minuscule detail. he remembers it all as well—a feature which caused you to feel funny things in your stomach.
you realised you were catching feelings for that mysterious yet sweet and loving man; it was inevitable. the way he makes you giggle, his respectful and easygoing manner of speaking, the slight touches you two shared on accident.. all of it added to your little crush.
however, you didn’t actually think suguru was falling for you too. you only met up for a few times, plus, you seem out of his league—both due to your age gap and difference in the things you’re pursuing at the time. you were in college, trying to get your degree whilst he already had a job as a powerful leader of an organisation and was trying to achieve one of many goals with them.
there’s not a chance he’d like you, right?
wrong. you were confessed to a couple weeks after your first meeting and have been in a relationship for over 4 months now. it still felt like a dream; having your first boyfriend be such a gentleman. it truly felt like you already met the love of your life whenever he was near.
suguru’s been nothing but sweet and caring to you, has never asked you to engage in any sexual activities nor even ever dared to touch you in places you haven’t consented to. the furthest you’ve gone in terms of intimacy in those four months, were make-out sessions. just some tongue action here and there—adding sprinkles of neck kisses and hickeys.
there were times where you wanted to let things escalate, however you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to ask your lover. suguru wasn’t the person to decide your feelings for you either—if there was no verbal consent coming from your lips, he’s not going any further. even if he wanted to as well.
you were grateful that suguru was that willing to wait for you, no matter how long it might take. not only were you anxious of the possible pain the sex would bring, but it was partially due to the fact that your lover was much more experienced in that field.
what if you were lacking? what if it wasn’t satisfactory enough for him and he’d eventually leave you for it? it’s obvious that suguru wasn’t the type of man to actually do that, however you couldn’t stop the many possibilities from running free in your brain.
your change of mind was rather spontaneous; it was today when you suddenly came up with your final decision. you were staying over at suguru’s, the sun was out and he was sitting on his balcony, reading a book whilst sipping on his coffee. what caught your eye was his bare back and the muscles which were on display to you.
suguru was shirtless and the seams of light were making his skin glisten—the view making your own body hot and bothered. you bit your lip and approached your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before kissing his neck. that skin-to-skin contact made you sure of your decision; you needed him. in more ways than one.
that’s how you ended up saying what you said. the statement left suguru baffled since you uttered it in his ear out of the blue. he couldn’t deny one thing however; the idea certainly did send a shiver of excitement down his spine.
“i said,” you repeat with a little mischievous grin, leaning in closer to your lover once he turned around to face you properly—as if searching for any hints that your words were indeed not his imagination, “i wanna lose my virginity to you.”
it wasn’t. you actually said it—the words that would take your relationship a step further. although, suguru couldn’t help but wonder where your sudden decision came from. his hands found their way to yours and he held onto them like they were two delicate flowers.
“i’m happy to hear that, though i’m curious,” your lover starts off carefully as he places chaste yet soft kisses on your palms, “why so sudden?”
you shrug nonchalantly like you didn’t feel that twinge of nervousness in the back of your mind as you felt suguru’s lips on your skin. ‘it really was happening now, was it?’—that kind of feeling was the cause of your subtle anxiousness.
“well, ehh— you just looked good.. sitting there.. i guess.” you mumble, voice trailing off in embarrassment whilst your eyes darted around the balcony in attempt to avoid suguru’s gaze. your flustered expression and adorable confession makes him laugh gently. it was not a mocking laugh at all—more of an amused one;
“just when i thought you couldn’t get any cuter..” the long-haired man muses, the locks of his bangs grazing ever so slightly against your hands as he keeps holding them, “you never fail to surprise me, do you know that?”
suguru had a way with words that made you weak in the knees. or maybe it’s simply because he’s shirtless and kissing your palms so romantically. you don’t know which one it was.
“but, love,” suguru continues carefully as he stands up, your eyes following his as he towers over you, “are you a hundred percent sure? i don’t want to do anything you aren’t comf—“
“yes.” your answer cut your boyfriend off and he’s left in shock once more. your eyes were filled with determination, yet the faint glint of nervousness in them didn’t escape suguru’s sight. you’ve given your verbal consent and are even the first one to suggest the idea— what more could he ask of you?
there hung a silence between you two, the breeze blowing through suguru’s dark locks making him look even more majestic than he already was. you had no doubt about it; today was going to be the day. it had to be.
“then, if you’d let me have this,” his low voice sounded more sensual than it had ever been as his hand found its place on your cheek, fingertips rubbing against your ear, thumb softly pressing onto your skin—
a slow and romantic kiss followed straight afterwards. it had caught you slightly off guard, even when knowing fully well that this was what you were longing for.
his lips moved in tandem against yours, the soft touch making you feel certain emotions that you hadn’t even thought existed. this man whom you called your lover had never been unable to expose you to new sensations. and soon, he’ll grant you another one. a much pleasurable one.
one arm circled your waist, the other held up, hand on the back of your head to deepen the passion-filled kiss you shared. his lips parted your lightly trembling ones, the tips of your tongues attentively rubbing against one another as if to test the waters; was it fine to go further? are we actually doing this?
you were. it was set in stone as your throat formed soft noises of satisfaction, shaky breaths being exchanged by the two lovers on the balcony—not one of you realising that the weather was changing in the background. the sun was setting, creating the perfect mood for the situation as you were still engrossed by each other’s moves and touches.
it was only for the sake of catching your breath that you had pulled away. your cheeks felt hot, as did your entire body which was still pressed against suguru’s—chest to chest. the proximity was one you both had enjoyed many moments before, however this instant was unlike any other. you both knew as you stared at each other in silence, your quick breaths doing the talking instead.
“will you let me..” the voice of which you have grown to adore spoke to you, the owner grasping your attention once more by holding onto your hand. suguru’s fingers smoothly slid across your skin until they found the puzzle they were meant to complete—that being the gaps between your own fingers. once your hands were tightly intertwined, the man finishes his sentence;
“will you let me love you?”
his face was still close to yours as he uttered those beautiful words to you, warm breath lightly fanning the thin strands of hair on your cheeks to the side, lips subconsciously trying to brush against yours once more. but, they could wait. they could wait until the agreement leaves your mouth.
“of course.” the answer escapes before you could even register it properly. this makes suguru smile against your lips as he captured them in another sweet kiss. he muttered a small ‘thank you’ and then swept your legs off the floor—strong arms placed under your thighs to hold you up against his body whilst the hungry kisses continue.
suguru doesn’t know how he got there; carrying you over to his bed, settling you down onto the soft mattress, his body caging yours underneath him, eyes fluttering over every detail of your exposed skin. he hadn’t had you like this ever before; he hadn’t had you in his bed for a reason as sinful as this, only ever for cuddles or sleep.
“you’re beautiful.” the dark-haired man whispers as he carefully takes off the clothing covering your figure—the gorgeous skin his hands still have yet to explore. suguru can’t remember the last time he has treated anyone like this; like a treasure he’s had the honour to find and keep to himself. there hasn’t been a single woman in his life that he’s cared for this much—you’re the only one capable of mellowing him and his heart.
“stunning,” another compliment; another breath spent to praise you. your lover’s fingers teased the edges of your bra, lips kissing down your collarbone and towards the centre of your chest—each touch being done with precision. your bra became undone a second later and you let the straps fall of your arms, all the way until your breasts were fully revealed.
suguru’s breath hitches, mouth forming more saliva than in any previous instants, the liquid being pushed down his throat with a gulp. you didn’t have the chance to feel conscious of yourself in a moment like this; the dim light of the bedside lamp shone on suguru’s face, his lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva whilst his gaze was lingering on the new sight in front of him—he was utterly obsessed.
“may i?” his hands were already reaching out for the plump flesh and they came in touch once you nodded shyly. his palms were warm as they kneaded your breasts and his fingers brushed against your nipples, which made you whimper from how sensitive they were now that someone else has finally touched them.
suguru took notice of your reaction and put pressure on both small buds once again, thumbs rubbing your areolas in circular motions, “that good, princess?”
“mhmm— y-yes,” you mutter through a moan. your body was pushed further onto the mattress as your lover put more of his weight on you, your entire chest area getting covered by licks and kisses, slow and deliberate ones that left you yearning for more. suguru’s eyes gazed up at yours for consent once his parted lips hovered just above your sensitive nipples, his breath on them alone making you squirm already.
with another nod, suguru wasted no time taking one nipple into his warm mouth—wetting it with his saliva as his tongue slid around the area. his long fingers squeezed, twisted and pulled on your other nipple to give you both stimulations at once.
“mm, so good.” his muffled voice caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. suguru slowly lets his lips travel across your tits, sucking on them, even kissing down the curves until he reaches your torso. he gives that area the same amount of love and attention whilst your fingers were tangled around his smooth, long hair. suguru clearly seemed to enjoy the sensations; he let out small moans and hums against your bare skin to indicate that you should continue playing and tugging at his locks.
his tongue abruptly came to a stop right above the waistline of your panties—the barrier he was about to reach past for the first time. the hesitation was visible in his body language, however his fingers eventually tugged at the fabric, preparing to take it off.
your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched suguru slowly pull the last piece of cloth away. your thighs pressed together on instinct, stopping your panties from exposing your bare cunt.
“should i stop?” suguru asks with a raised eyebrow, fingers pulling away from your underwear now that he’s seen you close your legs. you didn’t want him to stop—it’s just the nerves that made your body move on its own command;
“please— no,” you shake your head, biting your lip as you swallowed your own saliva out of pure desire. you craved him now that it’s come this far, “need you. need you so bad, suguru.”
those words caused suguru’s brain to shut down. any irrelevant thoughts were thrown out of the window; the only thing his mind was telling him to do, was to take care of your needs. your body was laid out on his bed—trusting eyes looking up at his in anticipation, pretty hands grasping onto his sheets like it’d calm you down.
“i’m all yours, sweetheart.” suguru sighs, fingertips slightly shaking as he pulls your panties down to your ankles, eyes pausing on the revelation. to say that suguru was simply rendered speechless, was an understatement. that man was on the verge of letting loose of any self-control and just dive his face right between your thighs, eating you out like he’s fantasised of doing for a while now.
“fuck.” your boyfriend closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself before opening them to smile down at you—the handsome smile that was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him, “i’ll be careful. i promise.”
naturally, you nodded along. you’ve built up enough trust between one another during the past few months to let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. the palm of his hands patted your thighs slightly before spreading them apart, once again showing your glistening folds, a slight wetness to them from your own arousal.
suguru couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. he’d already have devoured your dripping cunt if it wasn’t for his self-control. but, it was your first time. he couldn’t rush into things just yet.
“thank you, baby.” the dark-haired man whispered under his breath. he was showing his gratitude for the sight you allowed him to see—a sight only he had ever seen before. the only man to be able to witness the beauty before him. that fact alone made his eyes darken in lust ever so slightly.
his fingers carefully slid across your vulva, your bodily fluid coating the skin which makes him shiver and his fingers get bolder. the cute sounds that filled his ears were only making this even better for him.
the way your hips bucked up slightly into his touch—just asking for suguru to take you right then and there—was driving him insane. every vein in his body felt like it could pop with how much he was restraining his own self from acting out of line. his finger easily slid into the little hole and suguru almost couldn’t believe it; your pussy was clamping down on his finger, your insides tightly wrapped around him to the point that even he wouldn’t know if his dick would fit in.
“hnnngh, suguru, please— wan’ your cock already,” that dirty sounding sentence was one he didn’t expect to hear from a virgin. it made him shake his head with a small, delighted chuckle; you really never failed to surprise him.
“i know you do,” suguru purrs, pressing kisses against the curves of your tits whilst another finger of his joined to stretch your pussy out properly, “but i need to prep you enough if you wanna take my cock. can you be patient for me, sweetheart?”
“m’kay. gonna try..” his fingers pumped in and out of you, the feeling of them curling up deep inside you made your walls squeeze against them. you’ve played with yourself before, of course, however it was then that you discovered that nothing could ever compare to the real thing: suguru’s long and slightly girthy fingers.
just when you thought that it couldn’t get any better, you felt a third finger—not inside you--but on your clit, rubbing the small bundle of nerves like you could’ve never done to yourself. suguru was so precise and exact with his actions which showed his experience. that’s another reason of why you’ve put all your trust in him. getting your virginity taken by a sweet, older and experienced man was probably ten times better than losing it to any guy your age, who were probably only out for sex.
suguru was there to make love to you.
your back arched once you felt suguru’s fingers increase their pace, the wet and squelchy sounds echoing through the room as they got louder the more your pussy got played with, his thumb almost overstimulating your clit to the point of release already—that’s how superb your lover’s hand movements were.
“no, no. can’t have you cum on my fingers like that.” you whine once you felt suguru take his fingers back the same moment you were about to reach your first orgasm by someone else’s hands. the older man smirks at this and kisses you on the lips, pulling away slowly with your bottom lip between his teeth, letting it lightly flop back into place as he lets go; “i wanna have you cum together with me, okay?”
you couldn’t refuse such a romantic request, thus you nod. suguru smiles back at you once more before his hands move to take off his sweatpants, tossing the piece of clothing to the side. your eyes widened as you were propped on your elbows, gaze lingering on the massive bulge formed at the crotch area, his boxers not hiding much of the shape.
once the underwear was off as well—that’s when you realised that your underlying anxiousness was not for nothing. suguru’s cock sprung free, it was slightly curved near his pink tip, drops of pre-cum flowing down the length. you haven’t ever seen a dick in real life, only ever on the internet, so this had left you stunned. you didn’t know what the average size was for a man, but there’s one thing you knew for sure: suguru was definitely way above the average size.
“cat got your tongue, princess?” he teased, his hand absentmindedly pumping his cock to the sight of your naked body underneath him. suguru didn’t even know that he started doing that in front of you; it was out of pure instinct. he couldn’t hide the excitement in his body, his shaft twitching in his hand as if it desperately wanted to feel your tight cunt around it.
“uhm, s-suguru..” you stammer a bit, biting your lip as your eyes followed his hand motions which got faster once your sweet voice called out to him. something about you looking a tad bit intimidated by his size made him want to destroy your insides to mush—have you beg him to fuck you as he bullies his whole length into your poor, small cunt.
“i know, i know..” suguru reassures you, free hand giving you a few consoling head pats, “i’ll try to make it as less painful as possible, okay?”
you hum and watch how your lover settles between your legs, spreading them enough to kneel before you, upper body bending forward to place soft pecks on your forehead; he was encouraging and preparing you more in his own way.
your arms instantly wrapped around his back, sweaty palms set underneath his shoulder blades—you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, just waiting on that moment. that feeling you’ve been craving, yet also have been avoiding.
you waited for a bit, however the only sounds heard and sensations felt were the slight dent in the mattress near one side of your body, the bed creaking faintly. suguru was leaning on side of his body, one arm stretched out to open a drawer, apparently searching for a condom.
once you realised what he was doing, you shook your head and tapped his back twice to regain suguru’s attention. his gaze immediately flickered over to yours and his head tilted to the side in curiosity; “i want the full experience—no condom, please.”
his eyes widened at the request. you seemed to be dead serious, eyes glinting determinedly, lips forming a little pout— it was impossible to refuse you, although suguru knew that he had to play the role of the older, more wise and experienced lover in the back of his mind.
he parted his lips to list off the reasons why you should let him use a condom, yet the words died on his tongue. you were impossible to say ‘no’ to. not when you’re looking up at him with those pretty eyes.
“whatever princess wants, princess gets.”
suguru prodded your entrance with the fat head of his cock, circling the hole and wetting it more by using a mixture of his pre-cum and your own arousal. you took another deep breath and tried your best to hold tightly onto your boyfriend, arms wrapped tightly around his back with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck—bracing for impact.
“tell me if it hurts too much,” suguru whispers in your ear, leaving one last kiss on your temples before pushing his hips forward, folds stretching out and apart to allow his cock through and into your pussy.
did it hurt like you expected? yes. it most certainly did. maybe even worse than you were prepared for.
“fuck— nhhh, fuckfuckfuck!” you hiss whilst your nails dig into the skin of suguru’s back, probably leaving red marks because of how much you’re clinging onto him—like your life depened on it. that’s quite literally what it felt like to you; body being forced to part and make way for suguru inside you, pussy feeling like it was burning by how big of a stretch it was to fit him in—if he actually would be able to push all of his inches into your tight hole.
“sshh, shh, it’s okay, try to relax for me, yeah?” your lover comforts you the best he could, stilling his movements for a couple seconds before gently slipping his cock further into you. it pained him to see the discomfort written over your face, however you hadn’t made any clear signs of wanting this to come to a halt. in fact, you were encouraging him to continue whenever he stopped at any indication of hurt.
“i can take it.. p-promise,” you manage to moan out. suguru breathed in deeply at your words and nodded, kissing your lips in hopes to distract you from any pain you’re feeling, “you’re too good to me, sweetheart. really.”
both of you exhaled deeply as suguru finally bottomed out, a long minute of reassurance and pushing now behind your back. your eyes had watered up a little, chest heaving as you tried to accommodate to the new feeling inside of you.
“take your time.” suguru utters gently, voice sultry and sweet whenever its directed at you. his lips graze against your cheeks, smothering the area with pecks to take your mind off anything else. the locks of black hair tickle your chin and nose, the hairtie that usually kept a good chunk of his hair in a bun now out of sight.
suguru hadn’t taken anyone’s virginity before and that’s what also made this opportunity special to him. he didn’t know how to thank you with words, so he showed his gratitude throughout his actions; lips kissing your shiny tears away, moving across your face to your forehead and eventually to your own round lips which had formed a cute pout.
you could feel suguru smile against your mouth, his tongue gently tracing the outline of your lips whilst mumbling words of affection and praise; “you’re taking it so well, baby. such a good girl for me— love you so much.”
you giggled lightly at your lover’s appreciative remarks, focusing on returning the kiss instead of the tingling feeling in your lower body. you pulled away after a bit and looked up at him with nothing but pure adoration; “i love you too, suguru.”
if suguru had the ability to freeze time, he’d want to do it during this moment, just to relive this bit over and over. he’s sure that this exact instant will be engraved into his memory for the many years to come.
and once you’ve given him the green light to move, he did it with caution, slowly but surely. his hips moved back and then forwards, girthy cock dragging along your walls at a leisurely pace, but just enough to make your pain transform into pleasure.
suguru’s big hands were placed on your hips, sometimes they’d leave their position to cup your chin and make you face him. he doesn’t want you to look away from his eyes; he’ll think you don’t like this if you do. besides, the thing he loves most about being in the missionary position, is that he’s able to hear how good he’s making you feel whilst looking into your eyes to see your face scrunch up in satisfaction. it’s so romantic and perfect. just like you.
“my little princess is so pretty.” suguru sighs in content and kisses your tears away, thrusting into your tight cunt in a comfortable pace—not too fast but not too slow, “the way you take my cock and still manage to look beautiful while doing it— you’re incredible.”
if the physical pleasure wasn’t enough, his added commentary would certainly be. you moan and whimper phrases that sound like his name over and over again; you didn’t know what else to say as your mind was foggy with the amazing sensations your body was experiencing for the first time. that was fine with suguru since all he wants was to see you enjoy yourself—this moment was for you. everything he did was for you—every thrust, every kiss, every touch.
“nhhg, too good, so good!” you mewl and leave more scratch marks across suguru’s back, ones which he didn’t mind at all. it only served as further proof of this special moment. the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of your insides, puffy folds parted widely to make room for more of his length until it felt like he actually was balls deep.
“mhm—you’re, haah, tight..” the once calm and collected man seemed to let loose of himself the more he felt your cunt swallow him all the way, gripping onto his dick as if you didn’t want to ever let go. suguru grunts and moves down to leave a couple hickeys across your neck, hips non-stop pushing against yours, “don’t think i can last long—fuck, yeah—you feel amazing, baby.”
your eyes roll back as the pleasure seems to build up in your stomach as well. it felt like a coil that threatened to snap at any moment and it’d release another immense wave of pleasure upon breaking. your body was on fire, sweaty and hot, just like suguru’s.
“can you cum with me, princess? can you wait and hold on for me?” he asks, and the questions sound impossible, however you could at least try your best to fulfil his desires. you’d also want nothing more than to reach your peak together with the man you loved.
“okay—mmhh—together.” you nod and your body tenses up, legs subconsciously moving to wrap around suguru’s waist, heels of your feet simultaneously tapping against his lower back along with his hip movements. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out for as your breathing patterns changes, whiney gasps and choked up moans escaping the back of your throat as your clit bumps against his pelvis over and over.
“almost, almost—“ suguru curses through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching while yours did the opposite. your body rocked back and forth and the bed felt like it was shaking along as well. you could tell by the way suguru’s hips rolled against yours that he was close—his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes half-lidded but not closed to still hold contact with yours and his hands clutched onto your waist. all indications of his nearing climax.
“mnph, gonna cum— shit, shit, shit, i’m gonna cum—“ suguru swears under his breath a couple times more before snapping back into reality at the last few seconds. he realised once again that he didn’t have a condom on, so his first rational thought was to pull out and finish himself outside of your body.
you were also nearing your own orgasm, not thinking rationally due to the intensity of the moment, any other thoughts except for the man on top of you were thrown out of the window. you felt suguru try to pull his twitching and throbbing cock out before it could spurt its cum inside of your dripping cunt.
you whined and shook your head, pulling suguru in for a deep kiss while tightening the grasp your legs had around his hips; “w-want to feel you cum in me— want you to fill me up while i finish too.”
suguru’s breath caught in his throat, almost choking on his own saliva from your bold requests. his only rational thought instantly vanished from his mind, now all that’s left was pure love, pleasure and desire. the mental image of his cum spilling and filling your pussy to the brim drove him to the edge.
“all yours, i’m going to give it all to you, princess, yeah? fuck !” both of you relinquished in the feeling of bliss, the warmth and build up reaching its designated ending— the expected waves of pleasure washing over you both. series of soft moans, whimpers and groans filled the room as your pussy was flooded with lots of hot cum.
it was like suguru hadn’t came in years—that’s how incredible that orgasm was experienced by the dark-haired male. the same thing goes for you; your legs were shaking, hips squirming up in aftershocks as you squeezed down on suguru’s cock, quite literally milking him dry of every drop.
“nhh, haah— suguru, love,” your tired and powerless whispers caught his attention immediately. your trembling hand held onto his cheek in attempt to make him look at you. suguru’s fingers curled around your wrist, turning your hand away from his face and to the side so he’ll have access to your palm. his lips left a ticklish trail of pecks on them until his mouth found its home: your lips.
the two of you exchanged deep, exhausted breaths, your boyfriend eventually pulling out and rolling onto his side to cradle you into his arms—hand placed on the back of your head to rest your body against his chest. the following seconds were spent cuddling as you tried to regain composure.
“you were amazing.” suguru sighs, chin resting on top of your head whilst his hand rubbed your bare back in comfort, “are you okay, sweetheart? nothing feeling off or anything of that sorts?”
you shake your head and snuggle up against your lover, content with how things are right now. the afterglow of your little session—of your first time, made you happier than ever. you couldn’t believe it’d feel this good. maybe it’s due to the one you’ve lost your virginity to.
“i’m okay.” you mumble and lift your head up to look suguru in the eyes, faces only inches away from each other. there were no words in the dictionary that could describe how you two felt. the closest word to explain it would be flawless.
“i’m glad, baby. thank you for trusting me.” suguru flashes you a small smile and strokes your head. you stay like that, bodies intertwined in a deep and comfortable hug, whispers of sweet nothings filling your ears and subtle gestures of love making you feel secure.
a couple minutes later and suguru noticed how you started to doze off. he chuckled to himself before pulling away from your hug and standing up, only to have you pout and complain about the loss of warmth.
“i’m just going to clean you up, love.” the soft-spoken man utters to you, laughing quietly at the adorable state you were in at the moment. you were so dependent on him.
“should i prepare us a warm, relaxing bubble bath as well?” he asks, squatting down near the edge of his bed and taking your hands in his, maintaining eye contact as per usual.
“that’d be nice.” you nod and feel your eyelids close slowly, “can’t promise i won’t fall asleep, though.”
suguru lets out a soft exhale through his nose, corner of his lips curling upwards at your little comment. he couldn’t believe he ended up dating such an unbelievably wonderful girl. it’s a blessing in his life of curses.
“i’ll make sure to at least clean you up if you do fall asleep, don’t worry. you’re safe with me.”
you were sure he was an angel sent down from heaven. it was more than clear to you—even if it may not be to many others out there.
“thank you, suguru.” you murmur as your body relaxes into the soft mattress, “i love you.”
“i love you too. more than you could imagine.”
#ෆ : choose your fate.#jjk smut#jjk x reader#geto smut#geto x reader#jjk x you#geto x you#getou suguru x reader#jjk fic
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Revenge - Tommy Shelby
Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy
Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any
Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖
MDNI, 18+ only
You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.
Scratch that.
You knew exactly how it had happened.
Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.
You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.
Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.
It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.
Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.
It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.
“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.
Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.
“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.
Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.
The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.
You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,
“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.
Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.
“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”
You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,
“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.
Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.
The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.
Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.
Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.
You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.
I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.
You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.
As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.
The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.
“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.
The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.
You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.
You needed Sabini to notice you.
You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.
The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.
You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.
It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.
“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.
A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,
“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.
“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“
“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”
His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.
“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”
You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.
“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.
Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.
“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.
He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.
Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.
“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.
“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.
You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.
“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”
“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.
“And how do you see it?”
“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.
“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.
“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.
His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.
“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.
You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.
“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”
“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.
“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”
His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.
“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”
In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.
You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.
Revenge is a scorned Shelby
As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.
Sabini is dead.
That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.
But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.
You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.
You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.
When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.
You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.
He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.
Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.
“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.
Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,
“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.
“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”
Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”
“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.
“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”
Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.
“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.
“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”
“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.
“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.
“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”
“Explain.”
“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.
“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.
“Yes.”
“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.
You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.
“Yes.”
“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”
“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.
In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.
“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.
You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.
“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.
“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.
“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.
“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.
“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.
“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”
You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.
He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.
“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.
“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.
He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.
He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,
“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.
You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,
“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.
“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”
The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.
“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.
“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.
You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.
If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.
His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.
It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.
His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.
Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.
Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.
“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”
Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.
You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.
Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.
You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.
If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.
And then your third.
Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.
He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.
“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”
You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.
“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.
Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.
Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.
The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.
Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.
He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.
His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.
The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.
“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.
“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.
“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.
“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.
“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”
“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.
“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.
You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.
His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.
“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”
“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.
His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.
Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.
“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.
“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.
“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.
“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.
“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”
His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.
“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.
“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.
“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.
“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.
“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.
A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.
He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.
“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.
“I’m yours and you’re mine.”
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The long-awaited part 2 for ragdoll!reader.
I’ll be honest, I never intended for there to be another part, so I hope this is alright! I might add more in the future if the worms demand it, but for now let’s consider this the last part. Sorry!
If Price had any optimism that Ragdoll’s reaction to Konig was just a fluke - or perhaps some sort of initial, fleeting interest - he’s quickly proven wrong.
She’s utterly infatuated with him.
Constantly pressing herself close, rubbing her cheek against him and his clothes, bumping her head against his. She chirps and chitters and purrs at him, pupils blown out. Never seems bothered that he has trouble verbally responding; or seems to, though Johnny mentions they might be communicating at a frequency only cat-hybrids can hear.
Price has the briefest notion of keeping them separated. After all, Konig is a big combat placement that doesn’t seem much indulgent of his non-violent instincts. More human than cat - a complete opposite to their sweet companion kitty. It seems inevitable that something goes wrong and someone - likely the 141’s precious girl - gets injured. So naturally they try to keep the hybrids apart.
Try to coordinate schedules to keep her and Konig from passing each other, ending up in the same rooms or at the mess hall together.
It’s futile.
For one, she may be the sweetest little thing around, but she’s still a cat (or cat-hybrid anyway). There’s really no stopping her from going somewhere, especially on a base she’s had free run of for over a year already. Closed doors are blasphemy, and locks are a personal attack against her.
For two, her only job is to be a companion. She is not beholden to most military protocols like rank, SOPs, schedules, or duty. Meaning that, while she usually keeps to the 141’s routines out of desire to be with them, there’s nothing forcing her to follow along. Even as an emotional support placement, she isn’t required to be around them at any time; she always just wants to be. It’s why she’s so good at it.
And finally, mostly importantly here, there’s really just no telling her “no.”
Not with those big eyes that get so watery so fast. That sad curve to her mouth. The fucking mournful cries when she’s been denied and she doesn’t understand why - nor does anyone really have a good reason.
(“He’s twice your size” is apparently not a good reason. Neither is “he could crush your skull in one hand.”)
Worse still, it’s not even that she’s misbehaving as a reason to keep them separated.
While she does present more cat than human in a lot of ways, she understands English perfectly. She can read and even write if needed. Vocalizing human speech is beyond rare, but she has once or twice.
So she knows the hard and fast rules. Understands that she can’t interrupt drills or exercises. That there are regulations for the range should she ever venture out there. That she has to be quiet during briefings. And she does all of this - just while also being as close to Konig as possible.
She sits in the grass or on a perch watching the boys run and call to each other. And as soon as they’re done, she’s up and flitting to his side, head tilting this way and that. She shifts into her full-cat form during briefing to sit on his lap. Even follows him out to the range, lying in the grass next to him with tail swishing and headphones on, while he fires the rifle.
Never mind any free time.
Members of both their teams keep finding them cuddled up together all over the place. In the rec room on a couch, in patches of sun beneath windows, in the grass by the running tracks, even in Konig’s room on base. Most often with Ragdoll lying on him, plumed tail curled around his arm or leg while he rubs her back or ears.
Sometimes they hear him talking to her, low and quiet. She meows back on occasion, but he doesn’t seem to mind the lack of verbal response while he rambles.
And the first time anyone sees them wrestle is nerve-wracking. They hardly make a sound the entire time, rolling around on the floor in a tangle of limbs and fluffy tails. Konig always lets her win - even laughs when she gets her sharp little teeth in his arm. (It’s the first anyone on his team has heard him laugh like that and they’re a bit startled.) The entire 141 pretends not to be on high alert - except Johnny, who watches with ears perked, eyes darting between the two cats.
Price doesn’t know what to make of it. Of course he’s not upset that she’s connected with another hybrid. Johnny is usually the only one on base, and while they’re close, Price knows it probably isn’t the same as her own species.
That she’s so… preoccupied with Konig is, well.
“Is she… ya know…?” Gaz asks at one point.
When Price arches an eyebrow, he makes a vague, nonsensical gesture.
“In heat,” Gaz mumbles awkwardly.
“Shouldn’t be,” Price answers. “She has an implant.”
A hormone implant keeps a hybrid from going into mating cycles or getting pregnant - but it doesn’t stop them from bonding.
Kate is the one to bring up the possibility after speaking to her sister in law. Ragdoll spent time around other cat-hybrids before she was placed with the 141, but never reacted to them like she does to Konig.
It’s confirmed when TF-141 and the KorTac squad deploy for their mission. Ragdoll is near inconsolable. Not actively crying (most of the time) but lethargic and sad, with low appetite and lots of big, long sighs. Her ears never perk more than half-mast for the month they’re gone. Even taking her off-base back to Kate’s sister-in-law for a little while doesn’t seem to help.
The day they come back, she’s the most lively anyone’s seen in a month. Bounces between her four team members incessantly, checking that they’re okay, making little noises in the back of her throat. They happily drop kisses on her head, let her nuzzle up beneath their chins, hug her close. Rub at her ears and squish up her cheeks. Price even picks her up, rubbing his bristly cheek against her temple.
Then Konig steps out.
She wiggles, making a nervous, upset noise. Price sets her down and she bolts into Konig’s arms, crying loudly and pawing at his hood. And to everyone’s shock, he lifts it enough for her to wriggle under with him.
If there was any question that he felt the same way - it’s answered.
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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART ONE !
summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.
chapters :: the masterlist.
word count :: 7.5k
content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, yandere!noir, yandere!hobie, reader death, gore/violence, murder, electrocution, fire, guns, alcohol, cigarettes, suicidal tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, physical restraint, child abuse/neglect, allusions to a child's death, physically abusive ex-boyfriend, infidelity, & torture.
──── October 17th, 2099 — Miguel O'Hara remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. August 24th, 1934 — Peter Parker remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. July 3rd, 2020 — Hobie Brown remembers the day the same way he will never forget you.
Y/N L/N. Miguel O'Hara, Peter Parker, and Hobie Brown will never forget them the same way they will never forget how it felt to lose them.
The inevitable fate of your demise is a cannon event for all spider-people. To love this person with every shred of their being only to live the rest of their lives without them; to love this person with all the might their body can contain only to let go of their hand in the end. It crushes their soul. Countless people are forced to live with the consequences of being bitten by a spider, not one had suspected it would be so detrimental.
Not when it is your life that has been taken.
Written in the stars is this destiny. How they will never love another again, but vow to be a hero and refrain a similar fate from falling onto anyone else. Many have been able to crawl out of the bottomless pit that is grief, but others have succumbed to the unforgiving anguish and let their life escape them. Just the way yours had. After all, what is life if you are not present? What is the point of living if there is no one there to patch up their scars and praise them for their heroic acts? There is no point, which leaves these three particular spider-people here. Their body is stuck in the past, reliving each moment with you up until they lost you forever.
October 17th, 2099. It was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't let his violent tendencies toward anyone who isn't you slip through the seams, maybe if he had been more persistent in his reminders of how loved you are. Maybe if he had tried harder, Miguel O'Hara would still have you here at his side.
Miguel's attempts to make this sudden transition in your life as easy as possible turned out to be disastrous. He is not stupid; he knows this upbringing into this new lifestyle you claim to be "kidnapping" was blunt. He knew this, yet still, his plans on easing you through this change had collapsed right before him. Time had passed, and he naively assumed your fear had depleted, far too caught up in the sheer delight that came from holding you in his arms. Days and nights spent trailing his fingers down the expanse of your skin and kissing away the bruises his fangs had left upon your lips. This is a dream, Miguel always catches himself thinking.
And his sweet daughter, Gabriella. How she adored you so much. Even more so than her own father, he often joked. Coming home to find you both brushing the hair of her numerous dolls, baking treats that were rich with far too much sugar, or fast asleep on the couch while some whiny kids show plays on the television. His heart hammers like a fluttering hummingbird at the sight of you so soft and calm with his daughter. However, your guard then builds itself back up, brick-by-brick, faster than a gust of wind when he makes his presence known. In a way, Miguel found himself... jealous of Gabriella. That gentle and loving nature of yours, why couldn't he have it for himself? Why couldn't you give him some of that attention, even just a blink? What could that crybaby brat possibly have done to deserve such an amazing thing!?
No matter what kind of thoughts suffocate his mind, Miguel always tried to keep himself composed in front of you. With his tall, muscular physique, it makes sense why you are so intimidated by his appearance. If he were to ever let this satiating envy bleed through the bandaids, however, you'd certainly never open your heart to him. The prospect alone makes his chest tighten with dread.
And he had been so negligent towards his daughter, it only makes sense why she would turn to you. With how breathtaking, elegant, brilliant, electrifying you are, Miguel can understand why she loves you so much. Still, this does not refrain him from tightening his jaw whenever his daughter does something as trivial as hug you. That should be me with Y/N. Let me hold them, let me hold them, let me hold them like that.
It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his envy through sharp gazes, a towering frame, and muffled shouts through the thin walls. It's his fault he never assured you these ugly emotions were never your fault, since you could never do any wrong in his eyes, after all. It's his fault he didn't drown you in even more heaps of affection, to further remind you of just how much he needs you.
It is his fault you are dead.
Overcome with drowsiness, Miguel heedlessly packs his daughters lunch for school that day. Despite how you are usually the one who does this task, since you have always adored looking after the little one, you needed your rest. And he was insistent on treating you with even more intensive care, all to prove that he is the right one for you. No one else. Meanwhile, Gabriella sits at the kitchen table with her backpack on, swinging her short legs back and forth. She is bright with full energy that contradicts her father's state in a comical manner.
"Y/N/N always cuts my food into cool shapes! Yesterday, they made my sandwich star-shaped!" Gabriella exclaims to her father with admiration.
The mere mention of your name from someone else makes Miguel freeze. A sudden surge of anger wraps around his lungs like a sheen layer of morning dew resting on Spring grass. You treat her with such attentive care, why can't he get any of that? What is so special about her that he doesn't have? What does he need to change about himself in order to get you to love him the way you so fatuously love her? Miguel casts his gaze across the counter and finds several bottles of cleaning products you must have forgotten to put away. So endearing, so adorable. An idea then sparks. While Gabriella continues to babble about how cool and amazing you are, Miguel finds himself considering something he will never be able to take back.
Just a dash of some drain cleaner in her sandwich and this problem will fade away.
"Y/N/N!" The sound of your nickname shouts through the air upon your arrival. Gabriella is more than elated to greet you, but your eyes remain locked on Miguel. In other circumstances, he'd be thanking the heavens above for this bit of attention you have given him. At this moment, however, there is a disturbed gleam of horror in your expression that makes his stomach twist with apprehension.
The energy is not directed towards Gabriella, as you caress her cheek and gift her that smile of yours that rivals sunlight. Miguel inadvertently rolls his eyes at the sight, envious as ever. As she continues to ramble to you about her success at a recent soccer game, you retrieve all the cleaning products and return them to their respective place underneath the sink. Not without shooting a burning glare at Miguel, however. Had he made his intentions that obvious? You wave him aside from his stance at the pink, glittery lunchbox and he obeys. Pretending to finish up his original efforts, you examine every snack inside for anything this crazed man may have tampered with.
"Good morning, button..." The nervous tremble in Miguel's voice doesn't tarnish the sheer adoration that seeps from his tone.
Your short response of "'morning" could barely be heard over the thunderous sound of his heart shattering. Yet again, you have broken his heart. And still, he will crawl back to you every time, aching for any inkling of your regard. Soon, you're saying your goodbyes to Gabriella and wishing her a wonderful day at school. Planting a quick peck to her cheek, Miguel's talons grow and dig crevices into the steering wheel while he waits for his daughter to join him in the vehicle. Oh, if only you could give him the same act of affection, he would never ask the universe for anything ever again.
And if only he had known how the rest of the morning would play out, he never would have left the house.
When Miguel finally pulls out of the driveway, giving you a quick wave that is not reciprocated, you let your guard down. You almost watched this man murder his daughter. Tears begin to form in your eyes as the revelation simmers like boiling water. With more time here, who knows what lengths he'll travel to?
Fortunately for you, with how occupied he was with his daughter and his own inner turmoil, he had entirely forgotten to lock the door to his office. The one place neither you nor his daughter were allowed to venture into. You were unaware of what is within the room or how anything inside could aid you in your attempts to escape. What you were aware of, however, is how paranoid he was in his efforts to keep you out of there. Peeling back the curtain and taking a fearful glance out the window, just to ensure this psychopath who claimed to be your soulmate wasn't lurking, you embark on your journey into uncharted territory.
Miguel had mentioned several times in his late-night talks with you about his job at Alchemax. His boring explanations about the technology he was working on there did wonders in lulling you to sleep. Now, seeing the scatterings of machinery that littered the room made you gasp from their futuristic appearance. One contraption had caught your attention, however. It seemed to be a current project, evident in the numerous tools and papers inked with equations littered around. Upon stepping closer to the contraption, a holographic screen sputters to life. You find several distorted, glitching files that all attain to you in some shape or form. Y/N's wish list, Y/N's checking account, and Y/N's security camera footage. Curiosity does spark, but with how swiftly Miguel is able to drop his daughter off and speed home to return to you, the time you had was not versatile.
If I can piece together how this gadget works, I may be able to call for help and get Gabriella and I as far away from this man as possible, you think to yourself.
The machine continues to stammer pathetically as if it were desperately chasing its own life. Trying to peruse through the technology to find anything useful, its poor performance prevented you from any fruition. In a fit of frustration, you pull your hand back and deliver a harsh smack! to the side of the machine. With how little time you have, you can feel your opportunity for freedom begin to fade away with every glitch that erupts. With one final, violent slam to the machinery, the metal borders protecting the numerous open wires inside fall, and a sudden wave of electricity surges through you. Your entire body goes rigid before you splat harshly against the ground. You are now left entirely lifeless, except for the electric shocks that cause your stiff form to twitch in response.
With that, your life was over. October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.
August 24th, 1934. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had stayed with you more and neglected the city, maybe if he hadn't been so careless with expressing his love for you. Maybe if he had tried harder, Peter Parker would still have you here at his side.
Peter, too, attempted vigorously to make your transition to this new life with him as smooth as possible. At the very beginning of this new adjustment, hope had still plagued your mind. As days turned into weeks, soon months, the forest fire that was your persistence had slowly been snuffed out like an old candle. Now, all you can do is sit at the window seat of his apartment and just pray that someone will recognize your face. From the numerous missing persons' posters that were now left behind in dumpsters and rain puddles, you could feel your luck grow thin. Everyday looked like this, all with this lovesick maniac at your beck-and-call, deluded enough to believe this fantasy of being your doting partner to be reality. The amount of egg-creams you've drank is bound to make you vomit at some point.
At the end of the day, you had gotten what you had wished for. You were once a journalist, putting all your time into unmasking the famous Spiderman. The truth of his identity was now in the palm of your hands. However, there were far more consequences to this wish than you had originally anticipated. And Peter is overcome with guilt when he thinks back to how disastrous his efforts to give you his heart turned out.
It's his fault he had so carelessly exposed his acts of heroism through the stench of gunpowder and chunks of blood beneath his fingernails. It's his fault he didn't spend more time showering you in the affection you truly deserved. It's his fault he never assured you the inevitable fate of the bastards that hurt you was never your fault, just so you can realize that everything he does, no matter how calamitous, was all for your benefit.
It is his fault you are dead.
Slow dancing with you in the gentle haze of the moonlight peaking through the window, swaying along to some romantic melody echoing from the saloon across the street, amorous words that you'd hear from the lips of a poet whispered into your ear — this is where heaven is. This is all that he has ever dreamed of; this is all he has ever wanted for the two of you. This is what makes him happy.
"My heart is bleeding in your hands, dollface. It's all yours, I'm all yours." Peter's breath tickles your neck, the infatuation-stained harangue finally coming to an end as he continues to sway you along to the harmonies outside.
You often joke to yourself that you could stab Peter in the heart, give him even just a sliver of the turmoil he has forced into your life, and he would still give you a smile with blood painting his teeth and that revolting gleam of pure, unadulterated devotion in his eyes. With this devotion, however, comes dark, dark side effects. This was not a surprise to you, considering how you've been locked up like a bad dog for these past several months. Still, when you inhale and the sharp odor of iron poorly masked with bleach overwhelms your senses, you find yourself taken aback.
The clamoring sound of the bolts to your prison cell your captor claims to be your love den being unlocked brings you out of your thoughts. When the door opens and Peter walks in, all you see is a euphoric, hopelessly-besotted partner. With the sudden stench that is still heavy in the air, however, you feel a new, sudden sense of dread with his presence. He is elated to see you, as he always is. An impassioned kiss to your lips and an ardent compliment are essential to your everyday encounter with the man you thought once to be a superhero. Sometimes, a gift of fresh, blood-red roses may accompany him in his attempts to woo you further, as well.
Through the whiff of cigarettes sitting on his trench coat when he envelops you in a much-needed embrace after his long day of work, you sense something else. The tang you had inhaled from outside the bedroom is now stuck to his form, nestled beneath the aroma of late-night brume and smoke. You force a gag down your throat and reciprocate the affection, trying to push your suspicions to the back burner in your mind. The rest of the evening is like any other: listening to some tunes from the radio as the two of you play a card game, all that Peter deems as a "romantic date". Your winning strike against him (he always lets you win, but he won't tell you this) falters when your brain can't help but wonder what he was so occupied with outside that door.
As devastating and exhausting as the truth is, coming to terms with reality is the only chance you have of returning to the life you once had. Hoping he'll wake from his delusions and let you off your leash is nothing more than a pipe dream, you realize. If you want freedom, you'll have to take it by the neck and claim it as yours. So, as the hours of the night fade into dawn, you conjure a plan in your head while the man beside you snores in a deep slumber (not without a few sleepy mumbles of flattery for you, though).
The scheme you had so flawlessly crafted was quick, simple, and easy. You would do something you have never done before: initiate affection with Peter.
This was your ploy: fulfill all the fantasies his lovesick brain was infested with and watch with a newfound sense of hope as he forgets to lock the door, too dazed from the pleasure your sweet attitude had brought him. And it worked marvelously. Not only did this man forget to lock the bedroom door, he had entirely forgotten to lock the front door of the apartment altogether. The prospect of this mistake being a test of your loyalty lingers, but when you watch through the window as he swings away from building to building, you let out a roar of laughter.
After your fit of hysterics, a smile sits on your face as you tread to the front door. Something stops you in your tracks when your hand hovers over the doorknob. When you leave, you will have nothing but months of memories to defend yourself with. Who are the authorities going to believe — you, a mischievous journalist, prone to bending the rules for a good headline, or Peter, the famous superhero, notorious for his restless efforts to save the city? Despite the freedom you have dreamed of being right in your palms, you step away from the door. Instead, you look around for any evidence deemed beneficial. Whatever can put him under the negative limelight is satisfactory to you.
No stone was left unturned in the apartment, all besides a single door at the end of a long corridor. The night before, Peter had been so frantic with his time inside (all in order to get back to you sooner) that he was sloppy with his efforts in cleaning his mess. The spilled bleach he had accidentally knocked over was still lying in a puddle; the nauseating scent of fresh blood still satiated through the air like a fragrance. And lastly, the latch on the door had been left unlocked.
Without so much as a second thought, you enter the room and let your curious eyes soak in the sheer horror that resides within.
A metal chair rests in the middle of the room, leather straps tightened around a body that sits motionless. Two tables are located on the sides of the room where all sorts of gut-wrenching tools reside. And there is blood everywhere. What was once a second bedroom for buyers of the apartment has now been morphed into a torture chamber of sorts.
The person restrained in the chair, you weren't sure if they were even alive. Everything is drowned in so much heaps of red, attempting to use your mere first-aid knowledge is impossible. What is most perceptible, however, is the way their eye had been forcefully torn from its socket. It resembles a runny egg how it causes bodily fluids to cascade down their face. The amount of flesh on their body that had been torn asunder, the gag in their mouth that was oozing with tears and saliva, the gushing blood that continues to hastily seep from infected wounds. Everything makes your eyes blur and your stomach churn with nauseau.
With the career you once had as a journalist, you've seen some disgusting sights. Sneaking onto crime scenes from a brawly saloon fight gone too far or snapping pictures of the result of Spiderman's "heroic" acts to save citizens, you've become desensitized to gory scenes. But, this. This wasn't like anything you have ever seen.
"Y/N?" You hadn't realized how deafening the silence was until the poor victim is able to speak out.
With one eye practically staring daggers into you, the revelation hits you like a train. That voice, that eye. This is no other than the man you had called your boyfriend before this mess had snuck into your life. Or, ex-boyfriend, as you'd prefer to refer to him as. The status of your relationship was left a mystery after the night he had come to your home drunk and reeking of someone's perfume. Your insistent demands for him to sober up and inform you of his recent whereabouts earned you a harsh slap across the face. With a loud shout of how much of a “shitty partner” and "piece of cityside trash" you are, the person you thought to be the love of your life storms out of your home. Never to be seen again.
Hastily, you unclasp the restraints that left his skin numb and bruised. With how malnourished he had become from his time spent here, it was fairly easy to support his weight. You swing his battered arm around your shoulder and help him stand on his emaciated legs. After only two steps, he pushes you off of him harshly with what little strength his body was able to garner. His attempts served well, as you feel your stomach hit a table adorned with blood-stained utensils that make you sick to imagine how they were used.
"You... How could you...?" As his weak voice fills the air, you feel your stomach fold into itself. Does he think you did this?
Opening your mouth to begin stammering your way through what you intended to be a thorough explanation, a loud bang! then pervades the air. Without a second to process his actions, the man grasped the pistol left on the table and pulled the trigger. A stream of smoke now stems from the barrel. The betrayal, the aversion, and the debility in his expression tell you everything you need to know. You were so close to the finish line that would grant you freedom, but when you shift your gaze down, you're devastated to find a bullet hole protruding through your chest. You then slump to the ground and your killer falls not long after you, the act of merely standing too much for his abused body.
With that, your life was over. August 24th, 1934 — the day Peter Parker inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.
July 3rd, 2020. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had been more attentive to your safety, maybe if he hadn't exposed how soul-crushing the love he has for you is. Maybe if he had tried harder, Hobie Brown would still have you here at his side.
As opposed to the others, Hobie did little to ease you into this new life with him. The transition was curt, violent. With you as a bartender, drunken customers are most certainly not a rare sight. However, when you rejected a man who had one too many drinks and he reacted with violence, it caught you off-guard. And Hobie, the lead singer of the band that consistently played at your bar, had become blind with rage. Through the mess of the blood on your head when the beer bottle shattered against you and the apple-red matter staining Hobie's guitar as he smashes it relentlessly into the man's skull, these events somehow landed you where you are now.
An abandoned building on the outskirts of town, that's where you had woken up. The debris around the room was masked with string lights and band posters adorning the walls, as well as a rickety bed frame scarcely supporting a lone mattress. With bleary vision and an even fuzzier head, you gain consciousness abruptly. You find yourself on the bed with thick, itchy blankets draped around you, clothes that certainly do not belong to you on your body, and spiky belts used to restrain your limbs. Barbed wires and decaying planks of wood board the windows; the lack of passing cars and loud pedestrians outside cause you to worry about how far you are from the lively city you called home.
A lanky figure makes their presence known, dressed in those all-too-familiar garbs. Spider-Punk, the man you'd always see performing at your penurious bar, despite how widespread their band was. Much to your shock, his large hand finds the trim of his mask before tearing the garment off. Beneath is a gorgeous face embellished with piercings and a wild head full of hair. Large, wet eyes overwhelm you. And there is only one discernible trait you could read clearly through his expression: desire.
The way your plump body pools from the hems of the small clothing he dressed you in from his closet, fuck. Hobie has thought of this moment plenty of times — finally being able to take you away, just the two of you. He swore up and down he'd keep his fervid cravings at bay. But, when you're truly here in front of him, looking like that. He has to dig his long nails into his palms to physically restrain himself from lunging for you like a feral animal in heat. God, you look too fucking good.
From here on out, the relationship you have with Hobie sprouted into something only you would call treacherous, something only he would call rapturous. Being trapped within the small expanse of this grimy room, your new life has shown how perceptibly different your reactions are from one another. You are entirely dumbfounded at these new circumstances you've been forcefully thrust into. Meanwhile, Hobie attempts to put space between you both to avoid giving into his irresistible hunger. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice how his hands always find their way to your naked skin and how his eyes linger on the intimate parts of your body. And it most certainly doesn't take a genius to notice the sheer terror and confusion stuck to your expression.
The discomfort the residence brings does little to ease you, as well. How your body is restricted against the firm mattress has your limbs aching with cramps. Your neck throbs from no support, considering the lack of pillows. But, Hobie always remarked that his chest is more comfortable to lay on, anyway. His clothing reeks of alcohol from the numerous bars and parties he’s attended, but also from the expensive perfumes, lotions, as well as the skin and hair products he received from his time being a runway model. The scent now clinging to your skin fails to bring you any of the tranquility he wished you would feel. Meals shared between you two were often dowsed in grease and cheap in flavor. Your captor never put much effort into making your dinnertime together anything reminiscent of a romantic date in Italy or something along those themes. He would much rather eat something else for dinner, after all.
This is what life looked like for the next several months. Records spinning and filling the air with headache-inducing songs he says he had written about you; Polaroid pictures scattered around the room that display different variations of the same scene: you sitting pretty with Hobie's hands and lips all over you. Never, never, has this man ever felt so much bliss in his entire life. He has always preached about how the idea of "love" is nothing more than propaganda meant to earn greedy, capitalistic companies more money with their cheesy movies and Valentine's Day garbage. When you entered his life in all your glory, however, he was ashamed to put his pride aside and admit those irritating pop songs may have been correct.
"I don’t need nothin’ else. 'Long as I have you here, birdie." He fidgets with the necklace he had given you that was currently draped upon your neck. His lucky guitar chip is swung upon the chain, since it always belonged to you, anyway. You will always be his muse.
With how carelessly he let himself be swathed in the warm blankets of love, how carelessly Hobie had let you slip from his fingertips.
It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his protective nature through blood-stained bar floors and constricting arms encompassing your body. It's his fault he never assured you these conflicts weren’t your fault, it was only the monsters outside who wished to separate true love. It's his fault he had disciplined himself so heavily for his big heart, fearful of losing self-control with the love of his life.
It is his fault you are dead.
You regret not tallying the days you've spent locked up in this birdcage. Carving lines into the deteriorating walls to represent the slashes this new life has left in your sanity. It feels as if lifetimes have tread by you, the same day repeating itself like your own personal nightmare. Mere months have gone by and unbeknownst to you, the sweet escape you so despairingly crave is sitting upon the horizon. The circumstances of your freedom were the absolute last thing you had wished for, however.
Hobie’s history of being a heartthrob and heartbreaker were no secret to you, but his newfound loyalty to the innocent person he had taken from their previous life was even more evident. All the possessive, delusional fans that were convinced they'd marry their favorite singer, it was just so easy for Hobie to indulge in some casual fun before leaving them behind in his dust. As the story of all Spider-People goes, however, Y/N L/N is the tool that throws this man into a whirlpool of enamoring disarray. Embracing this newfound happiness was exhilarating for him, but Hobie was so dazed from it, he never had thought that karma would slither itself between you two.
A certain groupie, wholly convinced she and Spider-Punk are soulmates, was devastated to see how carelessly the love of her life abandoned her. Her mind had sprinted to all sorts of gut-wrenching conclusions. Am I not enough? Is he moving on? Is there someone else? Her worst nightmare materializes into reality when she stalks behind his tall figure and follows him to a building one late night, an odd pep in his step as he enters. What she assumes is just another exclusive club location with more taboo forms of partying, she is left stunned when she catches sight of what sights lie within.
The man of her dreams is found in the depths of infidelity. Through the crack of a rickety door coated with locks, there he was. Chest pressed against the back of someone else, who was sound asleep beneath an array of blankets like a baby in a crib. With his arms locked around them like a lifeline, Spider-Punk presses long, intimate kisses to their face. The words she had begged to hear from him, he was so frivolously drowning this stranger in such, despite their unconscious state. Every syllable was dripping with lust and smitten-induced hysteria. Tears brim in her eyes from how desperately she covets to be you in this moment.
With a shattered heart and a festering rage, she comes to the conclusion of what she must do. She will take him back, no matter what it takes.
Rarely did Hobie ever leave the expanse of your room, he wanted to stay with you forever. When he did, however, it was for some quick cash at yet another gig he and his bandmates had landed. Singing his lungs out, knowing every lyric revolves around the one waiting for him back home — you have brought him ecstasy he still cannot fathom the sheer weight of. A Friday night like no other, Hobie would spend the evening beneath the blinding spotlights, drinking the hours away, before returning home and cuddling with the only reason he chooses to live.
Through the barricaded windows and doors, a sudden stench of what appears to be smoke invades your senses. A big city like this, something along these lines is nothing out of the ordinary. After all, you were so thrilled to finally be granted a night to yourself, anything that would jeopardize this gift from the universe is seen as insignificant. When the heavy smell becomes more perceptible and the unmistakable sound of fire cracking gets louder, you feel dread tickle down your spine. The fear settles into your bones before you can think of a logical way to escape. Hobie did everything to ensure you wouldn’t leave his side, after all.
Air soon becomes precious, your lungs begin to squeeze, your skin is burning with scorching pain. It brings you the hell you had carelessly thought you felt before. A final cry of help into the suffocating air and you feel your life begin to fade. Meanwhile, the lost groupie stands near the entrance, holding back a satisfied smile. An onslaught of concerned pedestrians and firefighters accompany her. And Hobie was still far away, alcohol heavy in his system and the joy of returning to you seeping through his body like a drug. So blissfully unaware of what awaits him when he comes back to the place he had called home only with you.
With that, your life was over. July 3rd, 2020 — the day Hobie Brown inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.
The effects your departure has left on these men are all nothing short of disastrous. No longer do they have the vibrant, loving souls they once held. Day by day, they are dragging the dead carcass that is their own body, suffering through every second and hoping it will be their last. The paths your death have led these three are unique from one another, but they all find themselves in one specific space. Spider-HQ, within Nueva York on Earth-928. The story the multiverse has written for them had so selfishly taken their happiness away from them. Taking the pen for themselves and creating the most beautiful fairytale where you are alive and back in their embrace is the only purpose they now have.
Now, Miguel O'Hara stands at the office he earned from becoming the leader of this society. Upon the various monitors displayed around him are scenes taken from numerous different universes. Lethargy sits like bags of bricks beneath his eyes, slowly blinking as he ensures no minor mistake is present. If the multiverse were to crumble, his sole objection to save the only important person in Spiderman's life will fall with it. When he verifies all is well on Earth-1610, something perceptible then catches his gaze and he does a double-take. Any sign of fatigue within him is snatched out of his body, leaving him more awake than ever before.
Within this universe, Miguel finds you.
Before, these universes have only displayed the effects your death has left on all the spider-people. Today, however, is the first time he has seen you alive since the day he lost you. Lyla snickers and accuses him of having a cute, teenage-like crush when she takes notice of the sheer captivation in his expression. Little does she know how much history lies in your mere face. It is heart-crushing, how much the simple sight of you enjoying a cup of coffee (with one too many sugars, as he knows you've always preferred) has such catastrophic effects on him.
Piles of schoolwork are scattered around your desk, covered in information adhering to your current college major. Even with your lack of sleep, school-induced annoyance, and general exhaustion over everything in your life, Miguel has never seen something quite as breathtaking as you in this moment. An epiphany sprouts in his brain as quickly as the sight of you caused his soul to blossom, just like it did all those years ago.
Maybe he can stop it. Maybe he can get you back.
Your death is inevitable, and even though Miguel was aware of this, dread still pervades his stomach at the prospect and churns with his breakfast. What really makes him shudder is when he reads through the cannon events assigned to you. A flare of jealousy ignites within him when he finds an unfamiliar name in the midst of your story.
Miles Morales, the Spiderman you are meant to fall in love with. What good is he? He's just some stupid kid, what more could he possibly do that Miguel can't? Why would you choose this loser when he can give you everything you have ever wanted!? In a sudden fit of rage, he grasps hold of whatever matter was closest to him and uses all the strength within his muscular arms to hurl it across the room. His chest heaves with infuriated huffs; his claws slice into the meat of his palms. He is enraged, yes, but he is mostly devastated that the beautiful face on his screen will soon meet their inescapable demise.
Not only will he do everything in his power to stop your death, but Miguel also vows to put his blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring you do not fall for this boy. Additionally, he will formulate a plan to bring you back into his arms without destroying the multiverse as a whole. With that being said, this does not change how reality on Earth-1610 continues to play out in front of him. It’s like a television show; a show he'd give a 1-star rating out of sheer pettiness.
In his last year of high school, Miles Morales' life was thrown into a tornado when his parents enrolled him in a new school to finish his last semester. And the 18-year-old boy absolutely dreaded this. New people, new location, new clothes that poke and jut at his skin uncomfortably. With the hefty responsibility of being Brooklyn's sole hero and hiding this truth from his loved ones, this sudden alteration in his environment does not relieve any stress. Swiftly, Miles conjures a plan to convince his parents to send him back to the way his life once was. Slack off, play dumb, and bring home report cards that are absolutely atrocious and his parents will have no choice but to give their son what he wants.
However, this is not what happened. Much to Miles' dismay, the grand idea his parents had was to not let him continue his education comfortably. Instead, they hired a tutor to aid him through his final months of high school.
Rio and Jeff had invited this tutor for dinner at their home, which Miles had flaked on entirely. Mostly due to his duty as Spiderman, but partially from how sour he was about the state of affairs. When he returned home, their anger was practically palpable. However, this disappointment soon shifted into a long, insufferable tangent about how marvelously smart, mannerly, and kind this tutor was and how embarrassed they were because of him. That Saturday, he was expected to join this tutor in the school's library or his parents may consider grounding him once again. Miles has to refrain from rolling his eyes at their never-ending lecture.
March 11th, 2023. It will be all his fault. This day is the day Miles Morales will inevitably meet the only thing that will ever matter to him.
To earn some extra support through your time in college, you had decided to take up tutoring in your free time. The myriad of students you had met all possessed the same attitude — the kind of attitude you'd expect from teenagers whose parents forced them to do schoolwork in their free time. Miles fit this category well, at first. And how your situation developed, it was oddly refreshing to finally meet someone who isn't repudiating every second with you.
15 minutes late, open backpack spilling with paper, tie loose around his neck, the student most certainly made his presence known when he stumbled into the silent library. Attempting to fix his untied shoelaces, you rush over to help him and save him from any further embarrassment he was already enduring. You are able to catch the folder that had tumbled out of his bag before it hit the ground, to where he mumbles a quick "thanks" in response. His gaze is still locked to the strings of his shoes he was attempting to tie together as swiftly as possible. Nearly tripping, Miles makes it to the table you had once organized thoroughly, but was now cluttered with everything this boy had thrown onto the surface.
Oblivious to you, the boy whose parents described as having a "heart of gold," was doing everything in his power to appear as rude and ill-mannered as possible. Deliberately arriving late, making a fool of the two of you, messing up the neat array of lesson plans and pencils you arranged. Anything to convince his parents to send him away from the nightmare that is this school. This plan of his was seized from his mind like a rug pulled out beneath his feet when he finally turns his shoulder and shifts his attention to you. What Miles expected would be the slowest, drawn-out hour he's ever experienced would actually be the most exciting, life-beaming 60 minutes he’s ever experienced.
Your voice sounds like honey as you introduce yourself to him. And that heart-stuttering smile of yours works wonders on him. Miles had already known your name, but hearing it from your mouth made him think he was listening to a symphony of angels. Since the last few stages of high school are stressful for everyone, you decided to cut him some slack and offer a kind hand for him to shake. All thoughts of his old school and the comfort it brought are all eradicated as he stares into your soul with those wide, bambi-brown eyes. After months in this new environment, you must be a gift the universe sent to compensate for all the misery he has endured. And fervently, Miles accepts you as the best gift he has ever received.
"I'm Spiderman." His mouth moves before his brain can compute. Your brows furrow in response, scrutinizing the confession for some sort of punchline.
“I mean- shit, uh… I mean, I’m Miles... You-You know, like- kilometers, yards, feet. Except, it's Miles this time... Y-... Y'know?"
His relentless stammering to try and prove himself worthy of your time while also acknowledging he accidentally told you his deepest secret earns him a quick giggle. And the sound bouncing from your lips is nothing short of paradisiacal, especially when he is the cause. A sudden wave of silence then rests between you both. You, laughing nervously to lighten the awkward tension. Miles, entirely flabbergasted at how he could have ever wanted to miss out on something as profoundly magnificent as this. His mind runs rampant while his wide eyes remain locked on your averting ones. Do it, do it, do it. Just do it already, Miles!
He pulls his hands up, your eyebrows furrowing once more trying to consider his intentions. He then lands his touch upon your shoulder.
"Hey..." Miles' voice drops several octaves, a fiddly excuse of a smirk forms on his lips, and he squints his twitching eyes that still hold the same crazed wonder they've had since they first landed on you.
"Hi...?" Your response expresses nothing but sheer confusion, not your face burning from the attention like Miles had initially strived for.
Wrapping your hand around his, your mere physical touch sends flares of electricity down his skin. Goosebumps bloom across his arms and his entire body halts in place, tense with shock and nerves. In an attempt to forcefully remove his hold on you, you're startled to find how he is now stuck to your hand. As if he had lathered his hand in heaps of glue before touching you, the efforts you took to get this boy off of you only resulted in your skin painfully stretching.
So enveloped in the way his heart lurches from holding your hand, a sudden, hushed whimper of "you're hurting me!" and Miles feels a gasp involuntarily escape his throat. Attempting to pull away from you, as much as he wishes not to, only intensifies your pain. What had Peter told him to do when this happened? Oh yeah, just relax! But, how on Earth can he possibly relax when your hand is in his!?
People are staring, exclaiming in annoyed distress over their interrupted study time. You're trying to piece together how Miles had managed to cement his hand to yours and why he refuses to let go of you. Meanwhile, Miles is apologizing profusely for inadvertently harming you, while also soaking in how rhapsodic it is to have your hand in his. He knows he has fully fallen into oblivion when the prospect of letting go of you hurts him more than the relentless pull and twist of his flesh.
So much for first impressions, right?
⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ
❝ MANY LIVES THAT COULD HAVE
BEEN ENTANGLED FOR ETERNITY . . . ❞
gif credits :: miguel, miles, peter, & hobie.
tag list :: @honey-beeuwu, @hex-touchstarved, @thel0v3hashira143, @cailey1011, @mickxxstxvxns-blog, @flaming-vulpix, @puthypirate42069, @dolliemoons, @mikalovesnoodles, @explosiongamora, @thegalacticnacho091, @brinleighsstuff, @shinsou-hoetoshi, @uselessbutinteresting, @amortentor, @fried-milkfish, @officiallypoopoo, @lu-lupe, @belladonnashifter, @forgottenbynature, @marooseshawnash, @gothika-spacech1k, @funtimefoxybae, @ethnicbratz, @painpainflyaway, @shadepelt4673, @vivacioussaint, @palepettycharmer, @rqdior, @clownwiki, @clever-username96, @bisoudoll, @darlingdontwe, @naiomiwinchester, @weskennedysgirl, @chubbuart, @simpfo, @neytirisarrow, @leilani04, @lizzymizzy-blogg, @sublimesoulmagazine, @minimari415, @hcmay, @jinuaei, @altusha, @daisygirlll, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @islandgyal06, @the-hufflebird-girl, @laucoeurs, @nepherawinchester18307, @tiredao3reader, @decadentlawyerapricotcowboy, @kitisb0red, @gabiacee, @reneuv, @letmegetthestrap, @krentkova19, @ayupfrogg, @vita-nire, @emmbny, & @realifezompire
#moonfairy#atsv#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miles morales#spiderman noir#hobie brown#atsv x reader#across the spiderverse x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miles morales x reader#spiderman noir x reader#hobie brown x reader#atsv imagines#across the spiderverse imagine#miguel o’hara imagine#miles morales imagine#spiderman noir imagine#hobie brown imagine#yandere atsv#yandere across the spiderverse#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere miles morales#yandere spiderman noir#yandere hobie brown#yandere#gn reader#gender neutral reader#Spotify
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CRUSH CULTURE.
ft. college au!leon x reader
synopsis. you fuck up at being leon’s wingman, ruining his chances of getting a valentine’s day fuck. he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on you.
tags. 2.8k words. smut. mean!leon, lowk angsty, reader is kinda pathetic, angry fuck, dry humping, cunnilingus, dom!leon, rough sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, name calling (bitch, whore etc.), happy ending (?).
note. i’m sorry for being so inactive and rarely being online. school sucks so bad. i hope you guys can accept this as a formal apology. (let’s ignore that this is 2 days late.)
masterlist. reblogs & comments are highly welcomed :3
You aren’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. You're sick of seeing everyone fall in love, watching lovers exchange cheesy gifts and bashful smiles. You’re sick of people pretending they love each other more than they actually do. No, you’re sick of being left out.
You were a hopeless romantic, chasing love only for it to fall flat. You were obsessed with finding your other half, the person who would cherish you as much as you treasured them. You didn’t know if you loved love or just the idea of it, but it wouldn’t matter.
You’re only hopeless as you help the man you liked hook up with someone at a shitty college party.
It’s pathetic, truly, chatting up some sorority girls and putting a good name out for Leon while he stood beside you. You didn’t get why he couldn’t do it himself. He was handsome, albeit a bit awkward, but so were you. It’s why you two got along anyway. Leon was watching as you tried to get the drunk girl’s attention on him. Throughout the night, your wingman skills had only failed. They either did not pay attention to you or paid too much attention to you.
You were sick of it. You would have preferred staying in your dorm room and rewatching one of your favourite rom-coms. But you were only a fool, trying to help your friend out. It hurt more being there with him as he lamely tried to pick up girls in front of you. You didn’t know what was more pathetic, his terrible jokes or the state you were, absolutely heartbroken that he wouldn’t give you the time of day he’d give to random girls.
Maybe it’s faith’s cruel way of commentating on your desire for love by making you play cupid for the only person you seem to care about more than yourself.
You and Leon had something special, or you had hoped so. You met in your first year of college. You were both fucking awkward that you had to initiate the first conversation. Majoring in similar subjects, you both had gotten along well. You would even say you were best friends, but you knew deep down you always wanted more.
Ever since you first met, you found him enthralling. It only got worse as you got closer. Learning more about him seemed to solidify your pining for him. You were the only person he talked to, and vice versa. You confided in each other, maybe more than what close friends should, so it was only inevitable that he would share with you that he wanted to lose his virginity.
You had looked at him perplexed. Leon was pretty attractive, and maybe you were biased, but how had no one fucked him? You’ve seen the way girls look at him, blushing when he even glances at them for a second.
That is when Leon told you he planned on trying to hook up with some girl at the party, and he wanted your help because he knew he would fuck up somehow. You had humoured him. Nothing more romantic than taking a random girl home on Valentine’s Day and fucking her brains out.
–-
“It’s not that serious, Leon,” you groaned for the umpteenth time. You were both walking back to his apartment after unsuccessfully trying to hook him up with some sorority girl. He was grumbling behind you, pissed and sexually frustrated.
“It was your fault.” You roll your eyes at his statement. When you reach the door of his flat, you observe as he clumsily takes his keys out, trying to open the door. He finally manages to open the door, and you enter, taking your shoes off before settling on his couch.
You watch him beyond amused at his predicament as he paces back and forth in front of you.
“Why did you have to mention that? They were so into me before you fucked it up,” he huffs, stilling his movement to glare at you.
“C’mon, Leon. I’m sure they couldn’t give a fuck that you’re a nerd,” you said, repeating the same word you had let slip when you were praising your beloved best friend. You peered back up at him, acting casual as if his icy gaze didn’t have your heart beating wildly against your chest. You rarely saw him angry, and when he was, he never directed it to you.
“You ruined my chances at finally getting laid. I don’t know how to talk to these girls. You’re the only person I have.” He’s frustrated with you for fucking up whatever chance he finally had at popping his cherry. Even though logically it’s not your fault nor your duty to get his dick wet, he didn’t want to take responsibility right now.
“I think you’re overreacting,” you sighed, standing up and moving towards him. You try to put a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder, and he shrugs your touch off him. You don’t take it to heart. He’s a few inches taller than you, head slightly tilted as he looks down at you.
“Yeah? Well, now I have no one to fuck tonight.”
“I can change that,” you quip, and you instantly freeze at your own statement. You part your lips lightly in shock as you observe Leon’s reaction. It was a freudian slip, and it seemed to be happening more often than you’d like.
He continues looking down at you with furrowed brows as he tries to comprehend what you said. He thinks this might affect your friendship if you even mean what you said. He was horny, being teased all night by pretty girls in skimpy dresses, only to be denied, fucking furious too.
“Really?” He responds, somehow stepping closer to you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you try to back up, only to be pushed against the wall by him. His stare is still cold, piercing through you. He’s still pissed at you.
“Are you still mad?” You mumbled, your back flat against the wall of his living room. You knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it. Maybe you found his mean side more attractive than you’d like to admit. It was so rare to see him like this — a usually composed man so broken.
“Yes, I’m still fucking angry. Do you want me or not?” He seethes. You squeeze your thighs together at the tone he uses. You were so pathetic, getting wet at him berating you, but any attention was good attention.
He notices your reaction, grinning to himself. “You backing down?”
You shake your head no in response.
“Beg for it then. Beg for me to fuck you. That’s what you want, right?” He says, mocking you. It’s as if he knows how deep your desire burns for him, how badly you’d do anything for him if it meant he noticed you. His hands grasp your face, his fingers squishing your cheeks together as he forces your head back against the wall so you look up at him.
“Please, Leon. Fuck me. ‘M all yours.” You plead through pursed lips. Your eyes are glossy, and he’s laughing at your desperate nature. He would have never expected his best friend to be a whiny mess within his grasp.
He lets go of your face before leaning down, capturing your lips into his for a needy kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, and a surprised gasp escapes you. Teeth clashing, you’re whimpering desperately against his lips as you entangle your fingers into his soft golden locks. His hands trail down to your hips, gripping them as he moves his body against yours.
You let out a soft moan, and he pulled apart from the passionate kiss. Both your lips are swollen and covered with your shared saliva. He continues to grope your body eagerly as he pushes you further into the wall. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you.”
Biting your lip, you try not to let any moans slip free while he toys with your sensitive body through your clothes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip while he explores your body. He grinds his hardening cock against your crotch, and the action does little to quell the ache inside you.
Your back arches off the wall, your head tipping back as you try to buck your hips to his. Digging your nails into his shirt, he hisses slightly, but your movements don’t get past him.
“So fucking desperate,” he moans loudly.
He continues to rock his clothed erection against your cunt. The rough fabric of your pants provides enough friction through your damp underwear to your clit. Your hand clamps around your mouth shut, suppressing your whines as you near your climax.
Leon’s eyes close while he groans lowly at the pleasure coursing through him as he ruts against you. He wants so badly to feel your dripping cunt against his throbbing length. Just as you’re about to finish, he pulls away, panting, and the feeling in your core dissipates.
“I want to fuck you properly.” You’re unsure if he knew what he had just done, but with the smug look he’s giving you, you’re positive it’s on purpose.
You push yourself off the wall of his living room, and with trembling legs, you follow him to his bedroom. You were familiar with the area and used to the messy appearance while you two were either doing work or binging shows. But it’s different now, he’s going to fuck you dumb in it.
You both begin to rid yourself of your clothes once you’re inside. You’re fully nude, lying flat on Leon’s mattress, and your skin feels tacky with sweat as it clings to his soft sheets. Leon is only in his boxers, precum staining the fabric, as his strong palms spread your bent legs apart to admire your bare pussy.
You realise that this is most likely his first time seeing one other than in porn videos he jerks himself off to. He marvels at how wet you are, your folds glistening with your slick. Leaning down, he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you.
His tongue teases your entrance before slowly moving to your clit. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive nub and lapping at it slowly. He looks like he’s concentrated as he focuses on pleasing your cunt, his brows furrowed and his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs.
You can’t help the moans and sighs that slip past your lips while he eats you out. The pleasure is nearly dizzying as you grip the sheets. Your hips are bucking against his tongue, and Leon groans as you use his face. He’s not so subtly grinding against the sheets, his cock painfully hard as he fails to relieve the sensation.
Tentatively, he slurps at you, drinking in your essence. The wet, sloppy noises your cunt makes are embarrassing, but he’s obsessed with it and your taste. It’s addictive. He sucks at your clit roughly, adoring the reaction you give him. Your tummy clenches as he pays attention to your throbbing bud. Your sounds are getting more frequent as your orgasm quickly approaches you.
When you finally come undone, your thighs are quivering around his head as he revels in your release. He parts from your cunt, his lips coated in your cum like lip gloss as he licks them clean. Trying to collect yourself, your chest heaves as you pant heavily.
Leon slips his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. His cock was flushed red and dripping with precum as he stroked it. It was average in length but quite thick and prettier than you had imagined. But you shouldn’t act surprised.
You let out a whimper when he slid the tip of his cock through your folds stained with your cum and his saliva. Your pussy was overstimulated, spasming as he teased your entrance with his head.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he groans, gripping your hip to steady himself. The heat of your cunt was welcoming as it tried to suck him inside you. His tip touches your overly sensitive clit. He was quickly losing his composure, desperate to fuck you open.
You both moan simultaneously when he fully enters his length inside of you. Your walls were sucking his cock deeping into you, filling you up to the brim with nothing but him.
You had not imagined your first time with Leon like this. You daydreamed of him taking you out on a cute date before undressing you and then fucking you slowly on a bed littered with rose petals. You did not anticipate that he’d split you open on his cock as a last resort taking his sexual frustration out on you. You can’t complain with how good he’s fucking you, even if it’s out of spite.
He begins thrusting his cock in and out of tight pussy, groaning. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks the shape into you. You sometimes forget how well-built he is, usually concealed by his clothes, sweat dripping down his muscular frame.
“Your cock feels so fuckin’ good, Leon,” you gasped out loud, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you out of his fat cock.
“This was your plan, huh? You wanted me to fuck you, whore.” He says as he punctuates each word with a thrust.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock presses against you deliciously. You did want him all to yourself, but you wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage him. You’re unable to answer him, too drunk on his cock bullying into that one spot inside of you.
“Answer me, bitch.” He huffs, gripping your jaw and positioning your face to his. He looks into your eyes only to note how they can barely stay open. His hips stutter at your fucked out expression. He was so fucking close, his abs flexing, only holding out so you can cum first.
“Y- Yeah, Leon. Want to you all for myself,” you stammer incoherently, tears collecting at your waterline as he pounds into your oversensitive cunt. Your walls grip around his cock sporadically as you near your climax.
“You like me too, then?” he mocks through clenched teeth. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he thinks he might never want to leave your warm embrace.
“I’m so close,” you cry out, your body squirming in his hold. Your peak was rapidly approaching as he continued his assault on your pussy.
“Answer the question then you can come,” he whines, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks as he nears his peak.
“Mhm! Yes, I’ve always fucking liked you, Leon.” You cried out, eager to expose all your secrets to him if it meant you came. As you climax, your pussy milks Leon’s cock as it gushes around him.
“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Leon moans, his voice breathy as his orgasm crashes after yours. He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of your confession or the whimpers that escape your throat that send butterflies in him as he spills into you. He kisses you one last time, moaning into you as he rides his high.
Pulling out, he collapses right next to you. You’re both panting, covered in cum and sweat. A wave of exhaustion overcomes you, and you hope he doesn’t bring up what you said amidst fucking. You’re content pretending it didn’t happen if it meant you wouldn’t get to face your fears.
“Thank you for uh,” Leon trails off, and it's like a switch flipped. He’s bashful at mentioning that he had just lost his virginity as if he wasn’t calling you a whore a few minutes ago. Turning to his side, you come nearly face-to-face with him once again.
“Mhm, you’re welcome, I think.” You’re still unsure how you feel about the situation. Finally, you had fucked him, but what significance did it hold to him? Your eyes flutter shut, sleep finally overcoming your wrecked body. You expected the same would happen to Leon, but you were wrong. Leon was in deep thought.
Leon calls your name, cutting your sleep short. You snap your eyes open, sitting up, you await his question with your arms crossed. He looked uneasy, but you’re too drained to question why.
“Did you mean what you said? That you liked me.” His voice is quiet as he gazes at your form.
“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. What was even the point of lying anymore? His cum was dripping between your thighs. What is the worst he can do? You think you can already guess his response. Guilt was eating at you. He wouldn’t be in this position if you did what he wanted. You added, “Sorry for fucking up your night.”
It’s quiet, and you’re nervously trying to gauge his reaction until he breaks the silence.
“I think I found someone better,” he responds. You laugh at the mere absurdity of the entire situation.
“It took fucking me to find that out?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon kennedy smut#gender neutral reader#resident evil 4#resident evil#re4 smut#idk how to do conclusions#✩‧₊˚ fics
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𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 🥂
1. 2. 3.
Do I dare ask how 2023 has been for y'all?
Pick the image you feel the most pull towards or have been seeing around you a lot, if you feel drawn towards multiple, so be it. 🤍
To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at [email protected]
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𝓟𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 1
Your central theme is rising from the ashes. You're in the process of the most intense metamorphosis yet. A new dawn, a new day, a new life.
You'll feel empowered, passionate and obsessive about your pursuits. You'll allow the old skin to be ripped off of you and you'll no longer be scared to be you.
This year brings you connections, admires, collaborations, unions both in personal and proffesional life.
There's a certain duality in you that you haven't explored yet, but you will in the coming months.
You'll have good health for the most part compared to the previous year. Your family will be taken care of. The hope and assurance you may have lacked from them will come through. It will feel warm and refreshing. (Goes for chosen family too)
Romantically, you may be focused on your career or just living your life a lot. But someone might want to build a legacy or long term relationship with you.
If you're already coupled, the focus goes to building what you have and looking after domestic affairs and see things bloom.
Proffesionally, you will have your most successful and blessed year. Money shouldn't be a problem and even if it seems like it, your needs will always be met and you'll still have more.
Some of you might enjoy ghe fruits of your labour extensively. This goes for the ones who work solo or run their own business etc
Academically, you might feel a bit disinterested. Might move out from your home or change subjects. Take up something completely new. Might face your fears and push through but make it a point to follow your inner calling for the most part.
Themes centered around relationships and partnerships are significant this year as well opportunities coming out of the blue that call you to heed your intuition and step out of your comfort zone or limiting mindsets, that will inevitably lead to travel, progress and new experiences.
Make the best of this year, it'll feel like you're finally on the journey you've been preparing yourself for all this time.
𝓟𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 2
Your central theme is using your emotions as your guiding force, using it as fuel and not seeing it as weakness. Quieting your mind so you can listen to your instincts more. Healing from things you don't speak of, that you've felt have persistently held you back from your potential and finally taking the lead. You'll feel like the main character in your life finally, instead of seeing everything through the lens of a side character no one remembers.
You'll feel motivated to follow what makes your heart happy. You may be faced with choices a lot this year, a lot of this or that in several aspects of your life. Trust yourself to make the right decisions.
You'll be learning about your mind and body this year, so incase you go through ups and downs in your health you'll be able to manage it but also guide others too.
Romantically, you might as well get your happy ending. I see that you're mostly focused on the complete picture. Not bothered with what is going on in between too much. So you'll get what you're manifesting eitherway.
Proffesionally, a rebirth or evolution will take place. Something new that will grow overtime. You'll be driven about it. So success will be imminent.
Success in academics as well, feeling proud of your achievements.
Themes around revolution, personal development, healing generational trauma, humanitarism, technology as well being open to the unknown will also be prevalent this year.
Learn to make amends and embrace the breakthroughs this year has to offer you.
𝓟𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 3
Your central theme is related to wealth, inheritance, change of lifestyle, receiving help, building a legacy and feeling more secure. Some of you will see a success or change they did not see coming, it was hidden for the longest time.
Some of you may even be leaving poverty behind for a more financially secure life.
You'll find yourself blooming, physically especially. A glow up in your looks and quality of being is going to be imminent. Focus on health, beauty, food, routine etc as well. A lot of you will be experiencing vivid dreams, strange synchronicities etc too will be learning about esoteric subjects, occult or the subconscious mind a lot. You'll also be receiving success and recognition or you might be building your steps towards it that will eventually pay off in the long run.
You'll feel like this old self or image of you has died. You may even mourn it for some time but will feel more powerful, confident and self assured once you're past that.
Romantically, you'll be feeling desirable and might attract a lot of suitors. Your self concept will improve exponentially, so will your standards. So nothing less than what you want. Your intuition will be at all time high. Fear no one and nothing. Some of you might also be moving to a new house too or might end up owning something in your name.
Proffesionally, although you might deal with competition you won't be too worried. You know your skills, you'll have your resources, your work will speak for it self and you will stand out.
Friendship, community, discoveries and gains are also some of the themes surrounding you this year.
Let your imagination create for you. You'll soon realize there's so much power in allowing yourself to receive what you desire by simply being instead of doing too much.
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