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seiwas · 6 months

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₊˚⊹。these traces of love, they outline you | gojo satoru

wc: 12.9k

summary: the 5 times gojo’s sure you’ve changed his life + the 1 time he hopes to change yours.

contains: f!reader, pronoun she, 18+ nsfw (not super explicit but the act is there), symptoms similar to synesthesia, reader’s cursed technique, sparring, drunk call, pet names (cutie, silly, pretty, baby, loml), nervous feelings, tummy ache, food descriptions, surprise appearance of one character, emotional tears!!, internal thoughts and insecurities.

a/n: primarily in gojo's pov! & best read if you’ve gone through the other parts in the series! (lots of callbacks and references + better context!), lots of songs as inspo (would gladly share if you’re curious!), will add descriptions for the food in the a/n at the bottom!, from conceptualisation to actual writing this piece is my baby!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) <- you are here

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Gojo thinks he might pass out.

There’s a feeling of unease sitting deep in his gut, nervous and gurgling. His hands have always been restless and fidgety but never this sweaty, and his head feels like it’s floating—even more than that first time he attempted a 24-hour stint on keeping up Infinity.

It’s eerily quiet in his office as he waits for your meeting to end, the white colon on his digital clock taunting him as it flicks on and off—16:27. 3 more minutes until you finish.

He paces around the room.

Attempts at any distraction are thwarted when everywhere he looks, he’s reminded of you. There’s a photo hanging by the door, the mix-and-match of couch cushions in varying hues—all souvenirs you’ve given him from places you’ve been to. The coffee table books hold your touch too, and as he runs his hand over his face. he’s hit with that signature scent, clean and subtle from the hand cream you use.

Waiting in his office today has been absolute torture, but what’s made it more excruciating is the fact that he knows you’re aware of absolutely nothing.

To you, this is just like every other Friday.

You’d done your usual morning routine, kissed him on the nose with the promise to meet him in his office after work, as you always do. And it feels like a big joke when he thinks about it now, because while he’s been on edge this entire day about it, you really have no clue what’s coming.

To him, this could change everything with you.

He’s been feeling it for a while now, the ripple effect of loving and being loved by you—how he can recall every time a single drop of you has shifted something deep within him, marked and colored you.

There’s not a lot that Gojo wants now that he feels like he truly has it all, but when he thinks about all the times he’s sure you’ve changed his life, he hopes that with this one thing, he can change yours.

1 — UNDER YOUR TOUCH, WHEN IT GETS TOO MUCH

The weather today is good—sunlight peeking behind cloud pillows and the occasional gust of wind passing through the space you’ve put between you and Gojo. It’s neither too humid nor too dry and though Gojo does get the occasional sniffle from his pollen allergies around this time, he woke up earlier completely fine.

So, the weather today is good, perfect even, for a brush-up on sparring practice.

You’ve kept a sizable distance away from him since it started, and every attempt he’s made to draw nearer, you’ve only moved away farther—a push-and-pull, an old dynamic that shows itself in the ways you engage in battle.

Gojo’s hands stay tucked in his pockets, his stance one you know perfectly well as relaxed but still guarded. He’s gotten a lot bulkier than the days you used to spar often, the past few years having filled in all the areas of what used to be slim, lean muscle. He doesn’t move because he knows the style you fight with, how you stay on defense until your opponent charges, utilizing their own strength against them.

It’s the only way you’ve managed to win against someone as deadly as Gojo, equal-parts lethal in speed and strength.

So when a cluster of clouds pass by and the sun glares directly into your eyes, Gojo smirks, then bends his knees as he lunges for an attack.

Your senses are sharp and reflexes quick; in the split second that a white-and-black blur appears before you, you attempt a high kick, only for it to be blocked with his forearm. He uses his other hand to twist around your ankle, trying to flip you over, but you see right through his motives. You huff, furrowing your brows as you narrowly escape, slipping your ankle out before he can fully grab a hold of it.

Most of this practice has felt like a stalemate, with the both of you waiting on the other for the most part of the hour. Gojo can see how it’s wearing you down, this entire thing being dragged out, and if he’s being honest—this is exactly what he wants.

Sparring out here with you today, while still meant for actual training, is also just an excuse to do this for old time’s sake—the way you huff and frown, jaw clenched as your fists ball up tightly like you’re doing right now.

He kind of misses seeing you like this, impatient and frustrated, so unlike the tenderness you always regard him with.

A smile threatens to form on his lips, and he bites it back down.

You only ever get like this sparring against him.

The tension breaks when you decidedly throw a punch; it’s a desperate attempt to get the fight moving but he ducks, arm securing itself around your waist as he locks your hip with his. Before you can even comprehend, your body is lifted across his back and lowered down to the grass below—the only thing in sight being two blue skies, beaming at you.

Somewhere during the commotion, he managed to remove his blindfold, hair let loose, fluffy and white almost like the clouds above you. Gojo isn’t taking this seriously at all; he’s way too soft, having cushioned your fall by carrying most of your weight instead of throwing you down like anyone seriously sparring is supposed to.

He doesn’t care though. All he really wanted this afternoon was to reminisce with you.

You’re kept underneath him, one of his arms remains wrapped around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—and it’s there, that frown on your face, that pout he’s witnessed for years evolve into what it is now. Beads of sweat collect at the crease between your brows, your temples tensing as you breathe out.

Gojo at 17 would have teased you relentlessly for this, but he feels different now, warmth settling in his chest as he stares; he can’t help it, the words coming out of his mouth—

“You’re so—”

But he doesn’t even get to finish.

Everything around him blurs, green and blue blending in motion before he finds himself on his back, completely flipped over. He’s met with the sight of you, smug smile pulled wide with your hands resting on his chest. And his heart—

Can you feel it under your fingertips? How it’s beating a mile a minute?

A shiver runs down his spine, the pinpricks of grass tickling the nape of his neck. The shock is tingling, his eyes fully open as he processes what just occurred.

In the lapse of time he’d been a little too preoccupied staring at you, you managed to inch your leg to wrap around his, locking it at the last minute to flip him over—it lands you where you are now, on his lap, straddling his hips.

“Sneaky.” he gazes fondly, grin teasing.

You catch your breath, “Do I win?”

“Only because I let you get too close this time.”

Which is a lie, he knows, because having you near him like this, with some form of touching—you could never be close enough.

You roll your eyes, his fingers grabbing hold of your thighs. The grass pricks at your knees through the fabric of your leggings, and Gojo knows that if you stay like this any longer, it’s going to start to itch.

“Did I hurt you anywhere?” you ask, already assessing him for any point of injury. Your eyes go over his face before trailing down his arms, rarely exposed today in his black compression shirt.

“Yeah,” he pouts, pointing to his lips, all pink and puckered out, “kiss it better?”

Asking for this is against his better judgment, he’s aware; with the way you’re situated on his lap, this could escalate into something else entirely. You shake your head, swatting at his chest. His grip on your thighs loosens as you get off him, but the curl of your lips is extremely telling.

As you stand up to dust your knees, Gojo gazes at you fondly. The sun hides behind you from where you tower over him, but the halo effect around your head is just as blinding.

“Lie down with me,” he pats the space beside him. You quirk your brow but follow anyway.

He requests, not asks, because the weather today is good, and it’s making him a little bit sentimental, remembering earlier days with you.

You lie down, positioning your head to align with his. And for a few moments, Gojo doesn’t speak, just looks at you once and smiles before turning to face the sky, hand placed behind his head as he sighs.

You do the same for a while, this shared silence warm and just right.

“So rude,” he jokingly tuts, “interrupting me while I was talking earlier…”

“You shouldn’t have been so distracted then,” you tease back, sneaking a glance only to lock eyes with two skies.

He wonders if you can tell—how he’s always looking at you in the stolen seconds before you notice him.

“Well, you shouldn't have been so distracting then,” he holds your gaze.

It’s incredibly cheesy but a part of you still feels like melting—he sounds so sincere; no lilt, no tease, no Gojo-typical flirting laced into it.

You scrunch your nose, shifting on your side to face him, the arm used to support your head now resting against your cheek. He follows, taking one last look around him before turning to you. His other hand rests on your hip, fingers splayed out while his thumb draws hearts on fabric.

You reach for him.

The gesture is small, just your finger running across his cheek, but it nudges something in him—a memory of you and how you’ve always touched him like this: softly, kindly.

“Remember when you used to do this?” he takes your hand, long and lithe fingers wrapping around yours as he guides them over his ear.

Your eyes widen in recognition and he blinks, taking you in as he stares, “Wanna do it now?”

Concern reveals itself in the furrow of your brows, “Is it hurt—”

“No,” he chuckles, already knowing what you’re about to say.

The last time you did this for him, he didn’t even have to ask. One look and you knew—it’d been the night of his final conversation with Suguru. His skull-splitting migraine ensued after bickering with Shoko on what to do with the body. You were there; you heard everything, and when she gave up arguing and left, there was only one thing you could do.

With his head on your lap by his office couch, you tuned out the sounds.

He doesn’t prefer you using your cursed technique this way; it takes a considerable amount of your cursed energy to focus its effects solely on another body—and frankly, it’s a waste of time for you to spend all of that on him, at least in his opinion, personally.

You’d struggled a lot with your technique back in high school, having to learn how to fully manipulate different sonic hues: white noise, brown noise, any and all of it in the entire spectrum. Being able to amplify, distort, reduce, and isolate them into their respective hues covers only the bare minimum when it comes to understanding your technique.

It’s tedious work, and when one of your senses holds so much more power over the others, the information that flows through it can be overwhelming, overloaded even. Sorting through all that noise—he gets it, gets you, and how it must hurt too.

And yet you, at 17, still figuring out how to grasp it all, came knocking on his door when you noticed he hadn’t come for dinner. Quietly, you placed your hands over his ears and selflessly offered your discomfort for his relief.

The first time you did this for him, you’d only heard of his migraines from Shoko. You witnessed it yourself when he opened his door and looked so unlike himself: blindfold secured tightly but haphazardly, strands of hair sticking out oddly; his room seemed to be blacked out completely.

Gojo Satoru is no stranger to sensations beyond what any human should be subjected to, but when you laid your hands on him that day, cursed energy tickling his ears as it flowed through your fingertips—he’d never felt more normal, more human to be able to hear things without conjuring a visual of it.

It’s almost like you silenced his mind—enough to hear himself, and you, and the buzz of the white noise you’d amplified to flow through him in his blacked out room.

You’ve gotten a lot better at controlling it now, the task in itself barely causing you any ache or struggle at all.

“Just like old times,” he nudges you.

So you keep your hand where he’s left it, covering his ear with your palm as your fingers rest on his temples. Cursed energy flows from your touch, all sounds drowning out.

He keeps his eyes on yours, watching as your expression shifts with every sonic hue you focus on—an upgrade to your abilities the more you’d gotten the hang of it.

You concentrate hard for white noise, creating your own mix to emulate radio static, transitioning out to green noise the moment you highlight the sound of birds chirping. Then, you ease it to brown noise, intensifying the soft whistles of the wind to mimic it.

It’s weird how sentimental he’s been feeling lately—without any trigger or anything, but the more he leans into your palm, the more it gets him thinking.

Touch had begun as extremely foreign to him—a god revered and valued but never really truly loved, untouchable with infinity, and the pedestal he’s always stood on.

It was never supposed to be important to him.

Until you.

From your kindness that first day, and the many more that followed: of fingers brushing and hand-holding to breaths mingling and bodies moulding, moving—you’ve always touched him in ways no one else has, in places no one’s been able to reach.

And if it wasn’t important then, completely foreign, it’s important now, so much that he looks for it everywhere, all the time, even. The way you scratch the short bristles of his undercut, fingers dragging down to the nape of his neck; the way you tap his collarbone thrice, run your fingers across his lip, and intertwine your fingers with his at random.

When Gojo thinks about your touch, he thinks about how gentle it is, with intent and purpose. How it’s always been careful for him but never of him, and that’s made the biggest difference.

He blinks, and you follow two times, focusing on him.

All he hears is a heartbeat now, a little too fast to be at rest, but still steady and grounding—

The way he feels when he’s with you.

Whether it’s his or yours, from your cursed technique or just the blood rushing in his ears, he knows this is pink noise, the one you’d so excitedly shown him when you first mastered it.

The pink noise that resounded all throughout his twenty-somethings, when he first realized that you meant more to him than what you were.

2 — WHEN YOU CALL MY NAME

The bed feels cold tonight.

Gojo’s been staring at the lights on his ceiling for the past 30 minutes, and though his pillow is cool and blanket soft, he’s wide awake—nowhere near falling asleep any time soon.

He shifts to the side, the space beside him taunting, empty.

He misses you.

For the past week, you’ve been off to a much-needed girls trip with Shoko and Utahime. He’d even offered to pay for the entire accommodation—to which you and Utahime declined, while Shoko shrugged, crossing her arms as she snorted, “If he really wants. At least he’s being useful.”

You’d compromised and agreed that he could pay for an evening out in some nightclub.

Now, he regrets it. A little bit. Maybe.

Gojo’s bed is big, a king-size that fits the height of him and all his long limbs, and while it’s comfortable and spacious–supposed good things–he feels anything but comfortable in how spacious and vacant it now feels.

He turns to the other side, facing his sidetable instead.

The digital clock reads 01:17 and he sighs; you still have a few days left.

The next time you bring up being away for this long, he’s going with you. Even if he has to spend the entire day on his own, he’ll do it—as long as he gets to end it next to you.

If he’s really thinking about it, nothing’s stopping him from teleporting there right now. He could hop in quick, give you a hug, hopefully a kiss, and maybe even get lucky if you allow him to steal you for the night. He’ll teleport you right back in the morning and it’ll be like you never left, even.

He could do it. You can never resist him when he gives you his googly eyes.

If you’re already back from—

Bzz bzz. His phone vibrates.

He reaches for it over his night stand, instantly sitting up once he reads that it’s from you—the nickname he just recently changed your contact to.

(It was always just your name, simple and straightforward, easy to find; when you return, he’s probably going to change it back because you prefer it that way—for safety purposes and everything.

But while he still can, he’s going to keep it like this: a petname with an obnoxious string of emojis that he associates with you).

1:20 a.m.

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> satoourur are u awaeke??

The corner of his lips curl up, endeared at the image of you hunched over your phone, fingers slipping as you clumsily press the wrong letters. So cute.

1:21 a.m.

< yes cutie? ( ˘ ³˘) 💕

1:21 a.m.

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> casll?

He stares at it for a good minute or two, trying to decipher this rare, drunken code from you. But before he gets the chance to respond, your face appears on his screen, a photo of you he’d taken months ago, mid-chew special Daifuku.

You’re calling.

He grins, biting his lower lip. His feet slip inside the house slippers by the side of his bed as he gets up, swiping his phone to answer before holding it against his ear.

“Miss me already?” he teases, padding out of his bedroom.

“Satoruuu,” you drawl. Definitely drunk, if not tipsy.

Even like this though, Gojo aches when he hears you speak; there’s a twinge that pokes at his ribcage, making him wish he was right next to you.

The music around you sounds muffled, almost as if you’d stepped out just to make this call—another thought that makes him ache.

He walks down the hall towards his kitchen and stops, realizing: if you stepped out of the club, does this mean you’re alone? He trusts you can take care of yourself, but if you’re this inebriated…

“Are you with Shoko and Utahime?” he asks casually, attempting to mask his worry. His hand digs deeper into his pocket, shifting his weight to his other foot.

“‘Nside.” you slur.

You don’t actually sound that drunk, more sleepy if anything, really, but his heart still picks up pace. Maybe he should just go to you already.

“You should go to them,” he urges, continuing his walk to the kitchen.

“M’be later,” you sigh, and he hears a bit of rustling on your end—a soft curse and a small thud, “w’na talk t’you.”

Another ache.

He can picture it: you, in some sidestreet, phone clutched to your ear as you tuck your hair back before sighing, legs buckling as you clumsily drop down to sit.

“Oh?” he lilts, eyebrow lifting. A smirk forms on his lips, head tilting as he wedges his phone between his neck and shoulder. He reaches for his refrigerator, “Got something to tell me, pretty?”

He doesn’t really know what he’s expecting you to say, maybe a recount of your day, or something funny that he’s bound to laugh at, whatever it is.

“Just miss you.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say this—

—in an exhale, with a slight tremble, like it’s been waiting to be let out. Vulnerable.

There’s another ache, and he nearly drops the water bottle.

He should really just go to you.

His phone nearly slips from his neck, the thump of his heartbeat on rampage as he readjusts it.

He swallows, “I miss you too.”

And it’s odd, how it sounds when he says it, a bit shaky too. A stillness settles in the room and it echoes off every kitchen equipment and countertop. He can’t even get himself to tease you for this one.

“I can go there now, if you want.” he offers, almost a whisper, before attempting a chuckle. It comes out flat, tinted a little sad, “Blink twice and I’ll be there when you open your eyes.”

You giggle on the other end, and it fills him in this moment.

When he looks around his apartment now, steel finish and walls accented black, the backsplash of his kitchen a grayish hue of iron—it reminds him of luxury fit for a bachelor, sleek in its utility.

He’s lived here since his mid-twenties, and he likes how it’s designed, the colors and feel of it right up his alley. The furniture remains simple, modern and minimalist, filling the spaces of his open floor plan down to the two bedrooms and office space.

But right now, it feels so empty.

“Silly,” you chuckle, he can hear your grin forming, affection dripping, “my silly baby.”

Now his heart really aches.

The subtle static makes you sound unreal, strung together by radio waves; it’s rare enough for you to call him ‘baby’, and for you to say it when he can’t even see or hold you while you do it—it’s cruel; a test of his restraint.

He rests his back against the kitchen counter, arm coming across his chest to rest under his elbow, supporting the one holding his phone–you–by his ear. His teasing is softer tonight, tinged by yearning, so he hums, “Your silly baby, huh? Any chance it could be your silly ‘Toru instead?”

The way he says ‘‘Toru’ is a pitch lower, slower, and exaggeratingly more seductive in his banter; it’s what you call him in bed, or by accident, and in the moments you find yourself needing him in ways he can only satisfy by being your lover.

If you say it, he’s definitely going to teleport himself over.

You giggle again.

“S’that your fav’rite one?” you mumble, words blending together. He can imagine your cheek smushed against your knee, arms curled around your legs as you sit on concrete, “‘‘Toru?’”

When he thinks about it, you aren’t too big on his nicknames—at least, not as much as he is with you. You only call him three things: baby (which truthfully, he had to convince you to), ‘Toru (first whispered in the moment, heat fueling it), and Satoru (since you were 16, weighted and grounding throughout all the years you’ve known him).

Is ‘‘Toru’ his favorite?

For obvious reasons, maybe.

But—

“I like everything you call me,” he smirks, shifting his weight.

“Sweet-talker.”

He closes his eyes, head tilting back as he leans further—and he swears, he can see you, the image of you rolling your eyes and scrunching your nose seared into his eyelids.

God damn, he really misses you.

“You love it,” he murmurs.

A beat. He hears the faint honk of a car before you drown it out, sighing.

“I do,” you whisper, admittance ringing in his ears, “I love you, Satoru.”

He hears this all the time, but tonight it just aches; the way you say things so sincerely, so honestly even in an inebriated state—how you call him Satoru and it’s still weighted, still grounding, like who he is resides right there, in the softness of your lips.

Gojo’s always been relevant but when you call him Satoru, he feels more than just the name.

If you’re asking about his favorite, he thinks this might be it—in every handwritten note you leave, his name scrawled in your hybrid of semi-print-semi-cursive letters; in every call you pick up, opening always with a ‘Satoru?’, end pitched higher, sweet and curious.

“C’n I tell you somethin’?” you ask (even when you don’t need to, even when he’s already listening).

“Let me guess, Utahime has a travel ick and Shoko—”

“Satoru.” you scold, rolling your eyes, but there’s no bite. The next bit you say under your breath, a little fragile, “‘M serious.”

The nervousness sits in his stomach; this conversation feels significant.

He takes a seat on his barstool.

“Listening.”

For a while, it’s only your breathing; knowing you, you’re probably thinking, crafting what to say carefully.

You sigh again, and—

“I worry sometimes,” you admit.

He furrows his brows, “About?”

“That maybe bein’ with me’s a lil’ boring?”

And this… this aches in a different way.

How can you even think that?

You chuckle anxiously; he can bet you’re biting your lips, a habit you’ve picked up from him.

He rests an elbow on his kitchen island, leaning onto it as he tilts his phone closer to his ear.

“Apologize right now,” he commands, sternness making him feel a little guilty, “that’s the person I love you’re slandering.”

But you only laugh, real and more relaxed, nervousness dissipating.

“My bad, my bad,” you play along before mumbling, “‘m just sayin’, there’re lotsa others who are more everythin’ y’know?”

He wonders what’s got you thinking like this, if it’s triggered by seeing people at the club, perhaps younger and far livelier—how you spent those years of your life exorcizing curses and making a home for two kids.

“So what? They’re still not you.”

And he means it, genuinely.

Your breath hitches and he grins, swinging around on the bar stool.

Those years of youth were still fun, he thinks, and it’s precisely because of you—how you’d made the apartment the four of you stayed in as fun and homely as a teen barely pushing twenty could.

You had your fair share of mishaps and adventures—rushed breakfasts and Megumi’s ‘my dog ate my homework’s. Tsumiki had to miss a day of school once because you accidentally booked her a birthday gift trip to Disneyland on a weekday.

(And he got scolded a lot, ‘Satoru’ exhaled with a look. But it would only last a few moments; you can never stay mad at him, no matter how hard you try).

There was no way you and Gojo had the maturity and responsibility of actual parents (maybe more like inexperienced guardians, really), but you tried your hardest to give Megumi and Tsumiki a home.

Home, what he’s beginning to realize reminds him of you.

He looks around him now, at the details of his interior, and begins to think of yours—your apartment, a little more wooden and lived-in; there’s a lot more wear but also a lot more love, never empty like his feels right now.

“If being with you was so boring, I wouldn’t be itching to go to you right now.” he confesses, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants.

You laugh again before it falls into comfortable silence.

Muffled conversations and the occasional beep sound in your background. There’s a couple giggling around you and he thinks that could be the two of you—if only he were with you.

“Satoru,” you call him softly.

He hums, letting it sink in—the way you say his name, distinct in how you stress his consonants despite the softness around his vowels.

When you say ‘Satoru’, it always feels targeted, speaking straight to who he is.

“‘M so happy it’s you,” you whisper shyly, but it’s bright—unmistakably smiling, the visual of your eyes crinkling.

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, drunken affection and vulnerable confessions, but there’s that ache again, and all he wants to do is go to you, hold you. Be with you.

For a while, Gojo’s been resigned to the fact that there are some things he can’t give you: how you’ll never know true peace because he’ll always be linked to jujutsu society; how choosing him means choosing the tumultuous, the unpredictable.

And while you’ve already told him that you prefer this life with him better, for you to say you’re happy, that it’s him—

He’s thankful it’s you, too.

Tears collect at his lash line, pools of gratitude, “I love you.”

“Hmm? you’re coverin’ the mic w’your double-chin,” you joke, just to hear him say it again, he knows.

(There’s no way he has a double-chin from how you complain about his jawline being too sharp all the time).

“I love you.” he repeats, louder, steadier, pressing it into his phone’s microphone.

He’ll repeat it again as many times as you want him to.

You giggle and he echoes it—like that couple from earlier, your own version.

The clock reads 02:47, and he normally doesn’t like being up this late, barely getting enough sleep as is. But if you’re the reason why, he doesn’t mind staying awake.

3 — TUCKED IN BED, WHEN I LIE CORRECTED

“Satoru, you can’t keep eating sweets on an empty stomach.”

He turns beside you, the dull rumbling of the Shinkansen hardly masking how loudly he asks, “Why not?”

An old man seated across the aisle looks your way, grumpy by the folds between his brows—as if he’d been woken up by Gojo’s whining. You bow your head slightly in apology.

It’s been an early day so far, with you and Gojo catching the first train out from Kyoto to Tokyo. Departing at 06:14 doesn’t exactly leave room for food stops, so all you have are the two water bottles handed out from yesterday’s meeting and a pack of (now) half-eaten Hi-Chew that Gojo picked up from the convenience store last night.

“You’ll get a stomach ache.” you whisper, with emphasis.

He fiddles with the stick of Hi-Chew, tossing it between his fingers before popping one piece out.

The seats in the Shinkansen are spacious enough for Gojo to stretch his long, gangly legs, but despite all the free room in your row, he’s chosen to encroach on your space, sticking to you shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Nonsense,” he tilts his face, sunglasses sliding a few centimeters down the bridge of his nose, “I do this all the time.”

And his eye, clear and bright blue amidst the morning haze zipping past the windows of the train, winks at you.

Heat warms your cheeks; it’s too early for this.

The moment you look away, hiding your smile, he knows he’s got you.

Or not.

Because you seem to have gotten him—

—tucked in bed, nursing this stomach ache that could have been avoided if he just listened.

To be fair, he does do it all the time: a few candies, sometimes gummies first thing in the morning, last thing at night. So he’s right, it’s nonsense; he probably got this from something else.

(Even when you’d both eaten the same meals—how you always order to share because you like tasting a little bit of everything).

Which is why, you insist it’s from the sweets, his beloved Hi-Chew to be specific. And though he wants to, he can’t argue much when he’s curled into a fetal position, clutching his stomach while writhing in bed.

“I made you tea,” you stand by your bedside, holding out your mug—small cereals patterned all over it.

He opens an eye, hair mussed up from all his squirming. The pain in his stomach is radiating, a knot that tightens in waves; this is different from the twist-y pop-y sparks of jealousy, and is nothing compared to the sting of multiple slashes.

Still, it’s a pain he doesn’t understand: a mixture of feeling gassy and bloated, like he needs to run to the toilet only for it to turn out futile. What makes it worse is that when he catches a glimpse of you, a lock of hair perfectly out of place, the sensation in his stomach intensifies—like butterflies flapping (or maybe just another wave of radiating pain).

“S’hot,” he grumbles, half of his face mushed into the pillow.

The mug in your hand is piping hot, steam lifting from it, and Gojo doesn’t like drinking hot things; he’s burnt his tongue enough times on hot chocolate that he swears any hot liquid is out to get him.

But you don’t know that about him—he’s never told you, he thinks.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed.

“That’s kind of the point, baby.” you chuckle, tone doting with a hint of pity, “It has to be.”

Your hand rests on his thigh, attempting to soothe him. He catches your eye and whines.

“If I blow on it, will you drink?” you plead, “Please?”

At this point, he doesn’t know what hurts more: this stupid stomach ache or how nice you’re being.

You could have said ‘I told you so’ the moment his stomach started gurgling when you both arrived in Tokyo—but you didn’t. Instead, you asked him what exactly he was feeling and had him change into his pajamas as you nursed him to bed. Then, you cooked him real food, a bowl of Okayu for his stomach to digest something plain and non-irritable.

You haven’t stopped moving since you both got back from Kyoto, unpacking both your things while simultaneously darting in and out your bedroom, checking in.

How you speak to him is so gentle, caring, doting—even when you have every right to hold it against him.

He pushes himself up, leaning back on the headrest. You smile, lovely, and beautiful, and every bit healing that it eases the pain a little, somehow. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you blow on his tea, scooting closer.

A gurgling sound comes from his stomach again, but it’s manageable, and he bears it as he takes you in—how you’ve barely had the time to change out of your clothes since this morning. You’re tired, he’s sure, but you don’t mention it as you take care of him.

The bed dips as you draw nearer, bringing the mug to his lips—he’s a grown man and he can definitely do this on his own, but you always take such good care of him.

Who is he to say no?

Sips of peppermint coat his tongue, warm as it eases down his throat. He wraps his fingers around yours, drinking a third of the mug before urging you to set it down.

“I’ll heat up a hot compress,” you motion to get up, placing the mug by your bedside.

He stops you, grip loose on your wrist.

“Have you eaten?”

You stare at him, a little surprised, but you nod.

“Just stay with me, then. Don’t need that thing.”

Your brows furrow, pouting, “But it’ll help,”

“Hug me instead,” his fingers play with yours, intertwining, “or I’ll hug you. Either.”

You shoot him a look, disbelieving, but he musters up a wink, for you, despite the new wave of pain arising.

“Okay,” you sigh, knowing you can’t exactly argue. As you get up, you land a kiss on top of his head, rubbing his knuckles as you get ready for bed.

When you come back, dressed in your pajamas, he’s turned to his side, lifting the comforter to welcome you in. You lie face-to-face with him, his arm reaching out to rest on your lower back, pushing you closer.

“You sure this is enough?” you whisper, breath tickling his chin.

“Mm, yeah,” he hums, hugging you tighter as he grins, “you’re hot.”

You hit his arm lightly, and he chuckles.

It turns quiet, then he shifts, resting his forehead against yours. White strands, as pale as your pillowcases tickle your eyes.

He nuzzles your nose, hiking your leg up to rest on his hip while slotting his leg between your thighs—like a pretzel, twisted into each other tight.

“You’re too good to me.”

He’s said this before, and no matter how much you say it isn’t true—he’ll always think it, believe it.

You frown, gripping his waist, “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know.”

And he thinks you’ve always been like this: hands outstretched farther than his, offering yourself to help carry whatever pain, struggle, or burden you can. You cry for the sadness others feel, share the hurt of anyone who needs it. You’re the pillar, the support for everyone around you—from Yuuji, Megumi, and Tsumiki all the way back to Utahime, Suguru, and Nanami.

You’ve always been this way, ever since he met you.

“Does it still hurt?” you mutter, concerned, fingers grazing his stomach.

It does and it doesn’t—the pain is unfamiliar but he can take it, having gone through far worse. If he’s being really honest, a part of him just likes being babied by you.

“Better,” he inches back a little, lips curling into mischief, “would definitely go away with some Hi-Chew.”

You shoot him a look, then pout.

“Satoru.”

He figures there are still a few things you don’t know about him: how he really dislikes hot drinks, how discomfort turns him into a whiney, needy baby, and how he remains incredibly stubborn, maintaining what he stands for (but maybe you know this already).

“Hey, you should be thanking my Hi-Chew’s. It helps with energy when we fu—”

You swat at his chest in hopes of shutting him up.

He clears his throat, correcting himself instead, “—make love.”

This is hardly the time or situation to be talking about the other things you do on your bed, given that he’s been out of commission, curled in on himself the entire day on it. But you sigh, resting your palm on his cheek.

He turns to peck your wrist, hand coming up to cover yours.

“Just because you were fine doing it before, doesn’t mean you always will be.” you whisper, rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone.

And Gojo thinks he’s right most of the time, if not all the time, but—

“We’re not old, but we aren’t as young as we used to be, you know? Have to take better care of ourselves now…” you continue.

—when you talk to him like this, you humble him. Immensely.

He’s always known that if he were to give in to anyone, it’d be to you.

Things are different now, he knows; his considerations have changed too—like how to lay the foundations of a new, ideal jujutsu society, with all the political and diplomatic gymnastics he knows is necessary; what to do with all this downtime, with all this life and no more death looming overhead; there’s also you, where this relationship is headed, what he plans to do.

“What will I tell everyone when the love of my life, Gojo Satoru, the strongest, gets knocked out by sweets?”

Then you joke around like this so casually, kissing his nose and calling him the love of your life like it doesn’t bear commitment that spans your–his–entire lifetime—it shakes him a little.

He holds his breath, eyes staring at yours. You seem completely unfazed—a slip of the tongue maybe, so he lets it go.

“Okay, okay,” he pinches your nose as you scrunch it, “I’ll try, but no promises.”

You kiss his wrist in return—the softness of your lips always turning him a little delirious when he feels it. He pulls you closer to his chest, palm pressed to the back of your head as his other arm wraps around you, squeezing you tighter.

“But don’t complain if I only last one rou—”

He gets kicked in the thigh.

4 — WHEN IT'S YOUR WAY OR DOWN THE DRAIN

There’s the right way, then there’s the Gojo way.

Sometimes there’s an overlap, but most times he’s just unorthodox. Gojo’s always had his own way of doing things, but now, he’s throwing all that down the drain in lieu of doing things your way (which in this case, he’s decided is the right way).

Between the two of you, you’re definitely better at cooking.

He isn’t inept at it per se; all these years, he’s managed to get by. It’s just that, he’s only ever made quick, simple things—barely having the time or need to make things on his own when you seem to have an extra plate on standby.

Long cooks like this, for real, big meals aren’t his forte at all.

This is the fullest his kitchen has ever been, a trip to the grocery store producing bags overflowing with the ingredients he needs. He tightens his apron (yours, actually) by his waist, pale pink a stark contrast to his black shirt and gray lounge pants. It’s tiny on him, barely fitting, but it covers enough to (hopefully) save him from any mishaps.

With all the ingredients lined up on his kitchen counter, he stares, hands on hips as he contemplates where to begin.

You’ve mentioned before how his kitchen is every cook’s dream: complete equipment, all high-grade with steel surfaces for easy wipe downs and more than enough real estate to move around. It’s a shame he’s barely used it over the years, either too busy out on missions or lately, too often staying at yours.

The unease makes him fidgety.

There’s an air of confidence that normally surrounds Gojo in everything he does, but it wavers just a bit with this one.

He has to get this right.

It’s your anniversary—the third (officially), but the number doesn’t matter as much when the years have always blurred the lines of what you are to each other.

The past two celebrations were cute and fun, adventurous in how you’d spent the first one on a trail date up north, and the second one fruit picking in a farm, just west of Tokyo—things you’d both done for the first time, together. Now, there’s added pressure because this is your thing; everything on the menu for tonight’s home cooked dinner is based on your recipes.

You know all of this by heart. And though he’s aware he doesn’t have to impress you, he wants to.

He glances at the clock: 15:05 in white, 4 hours until you arrive. The table hasn’t been set up yet and he’s barely dressed, an array of ingredients on the table waiting to be transformed into four of your recipes he plans to attempt.

Gojo is no quitter, but it’d be stupid of him to underestimate how fast time flies.

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list—then he shoots a text, pocketing the device as soon as he hits send.

In the amount of time between asking for help and said help standing outside his door, ringing the doorbell, Gojo’s managed to do most of the prepwork: slice all the vegetables, set the rice cooker, and mix together all the sauces and glazes so he can set them aside for later.

“Just type it!” he shouts from the kitchen.

Four beeps sound from the door, a soft woosh following as it opens. Help enters in the form of spiky hair and a deadpan gaze, putting on house slippers by the genkan as he drags his feet to the kitchen counter.

“Megumi!”

The younger boy sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his joggers, long sleeves wrinkling higher. “Why did you call me?”

“Oh!” Gojo claps his hands together, “I need your help.”

Megumi looks him over, eyes zeroing in on the pink apron, then the bowls of sauces and chopped vegetables in front of him. The rice cooker is steaming beside the sink while empty pots and pans line the burners of the stove.

“With cooking?” Megumi shifts his attention back to Gojo as the older male nods. He mumbles, “You made it sound like an emergency.”

(“Come here now.” in proper punctuation, lacking any of his usual emoticons—only ever being used in the most dire situations).

Gojo furrows his brows, “It is!”

Megumi stares.

“Anniversaries are emergencies.” Gojo stares back, holding the silence for a few seconds before he continues, demeanor turned serious, “Think of it as doing this for your Sensei, not me.”

There’s a crack in Megumi’s resolve that Gojo knows only appears when it comes to you; a soft spot that exists because you’ve always been closer, warmer—an accumulation of all the times you were adamant on being present because the kids deserved someone there, especially when he couldn’t be.

Megumi sighs, resigned, as he pushes up his sleeves, trudging over to the sink. He turns on the tap, soaping his hands until it suds, “You should have asked Itadori.”

“Yuuji wouldn’t know how it’s supposed to taste though.”

“Sensei’s recipes?”

Gojo nods, fanning out pieces of paper from the recipe folder you keep in your kitchen drawer, “Your favorites.”

Megumi scrunches his nose, embarrassed as pink tints the tips of his ears.

His relationship with Megumi has always been a bit weird, a not-quite-parent-maybe-kind-of-distant-guardian-and-good-but-annoying-mentor-slash-benefactor kind of weird. And he’s sure that the boy isn’t too fond of the idea that he knows small, seemingly trivial things about him like his favorite food, but if there’s anything they can settle on, it’s definitely love for you.

“Do you have another one?” Megumi turns to Gojo, pointing to the hair band pushing back his hair.

There’s a different kind of care in cooking that he’s now realizing, coming face-to-face with the pot of dashi he’s just started boiling—a patience that comes with waiting and an efficiency meant for multi-tasking.

During the 30 minutes of soaking the kombu, they split tasks: Gojo takes duty rolling the Temaki on his own, while Megumi seasons the Wagyu and prepares the Sunomono. It’s not long before Megumi is directed to setting up the table as Gojo focuses on the Miso Soup.

There’s a reference photo, some picture he pulled online. The gray plates and silverware on his dining table match the iron-hued backsplash and steel surfaces of his kitchen, sleek but softened by the vase of red and white camellias from the florist you frequent.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, frankly because he’s gotten used to walking in on Gojo searching up these things: a youtube video of trail dates and articles of ‘the top 10 best farms for fruit picking’. There was also that time he found Gojo’s browser open on a catalog of lingerie.

(Megumi’s been trying really hard to forget that).

These aren’t things Gojo’s done before, much less thought of—romance and all.

But he admits, it’s hard work, wiping off the sweat on his brow caused by the heat from the stove.

“Why,” Megumi sighs, “Why are you cooking anyway?” He mumbles, adjusting the silverware on the table, “Couldn’t you just reserve some place?”

Most of the cook has been silent, with Gojo too focused and Megumi barely saying a word. So while adding the katsuobushi after the kombu boils, the older male answers.

“I would have, but she said she wanted to stay home,” he turns away from the pot, leaving the katsuobushi to soak as he shrugs.

Megumi snorts, straightening out the black tablecloth, “Don’t you have anywhere you want to go?”

It’s a simple question. Innocent.

But it hits him then, how what you say follows; how ‘anywhere he wants to go’ is wherever you are, how he’s choosing to cook this meal for you instead of just ordering in—-how he’s now considering you, in everything.

This isn’t his strong suit, far from it, really, but because he’s thinking of what you want—suddenly he’s domesticated, cooking for you in hopes of romancing you (even though he already has you).

You come first now, and he finds that he doesn’t mind.

He turns back to the stove, straining the soup through a fine-mesh sieve before adding miso paste, dissolving it into the dashi.

“I guess not.”

The thought stays with him, even as he drops in the tofu, dried wakame seaweed, and green onion. Even as he waits for it to finish cooking, moving the pot atop a different burner while grabbing a spoon to dip in it.

“Megumi, come taste,” he calls behind him.

And when the boy sidles up next to him, he feels nervous, fingers trembling as he hands over the spoonful of Miso Soup. He stares at Megumi, eyes wide open, anticipating.

The boy arches an eyebrow as he takes the spoon, blowing on it gently. He takes a small sip.

“I added less salt because—” Gojo speaks up, a bit panicked, fingers scratching at his nail beds.

“She’ll like anything you make, even if it tastes bad.”

Gojo’s brows furrow, “Are you saying it’s bad?”

“Or bland.” Megumi adds, smacking his lips.

“So it’s bland?”

The horror on Gojo’s face is laughable, but Megumi continues, deadpan.

“No, it’s okay.”

Gojo sighs in relief, then pouts, “Don’t mess with me like that.”

“I don’t.” Megumi sets the spoon down, walking back to the dining table to finish setting up.

The 18:03 on his digital clock flickers, and the rest of the cook continues: he heats up the skillet for the Wagyu—Matsusaka Beef, grade A-5, heavily marbled, meant to be tender and sweet. Some oil is drizzled onto the pan before cloves of chopped garlic are thrown in, followed by the beef, cut into bite-sized pieces. He adds a bit of soy sauce and red wine, to draw out the sweetness (or so he’s read), then finishes it up by plating it.

And, there really is a different kind of care in cooking, he’s now realizing; how, when he stares at what he’s cooked in the past hour, he’s thought of you through it all—your preferences, the way you make things. How big meals aren’t his forte, but for you, he tries anyway.

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Megumi asks, adjusting the camellias in the vase one last time. He takes off his hair band and ruffles his hair, hands tucking inside his pockets immediately after.

Gojo looks up from the spread of food on the kitchen counter, motioning for the boy to come closer, “Taste test everything with me.”

Lined up are a plate of Temaki, a wooden board of Wagyu, a plate of Sunomono, and a bowl of Miso Soup. For every bite he takes, Megumi follows. And honestly? He thinks everything tastes… okay.

The Temaki bursts with the sweet umaminess of buttery salmon dotted with ikura, the yellow daikon pickles adding a tart balance that complements the salmon well by simultaneously being sweet and salty. The avocado adds extra creaminess, while the cucumber and corn provide a freshness that lifts everything else. For some added decoration, he uses radish sprouts to mimic leaves on the filler plants of bouquets—the main reason he chose to make this: it looks like the bundles of flower arrangements you keep on your desk. What ties everything together though, is the crunchy, crispy texture of the nori, giving contrast to the creaminess it holds inside.

There’s a reason why Wagyu is so expensive, and it’s being told in the way it melts into his mouth right now, sweet and tender. He paid a pretty penny for this, but it’s worth it because he can’t wait for your reaction.

The Sunomono is meant to be a palate cleanser—with sesame seeds sprinkled on it, mild and sweet, while wakame seaweed and cucumbers serve as the base ingredients. The sauce is meant to be light, just a mixture of rice vinegar and soy sauce, seasoned to taste—and maybe his is a little lackluster compared to yours, but he swears you have some form of magic when it comes to cooking.

After each bite, Gojo looks at Megumi for his reaction—but the boy gives nothing away, face blank and devoid of any emotion. None of them are as good as yours, definitely, but for his first shot at this, they aren’t too bad. He’d pat himself on the back for it.

“They don’t go together.” Megumi regards the entire spread with his chopsticks.

All his hard work? Shattered.

Gojo is dumbfounded.

It’s too late to change everything now.

Should he just scrap everything and order takeout?

“But they’re not bad.” Megumi continues, washing his chopsticks by the sink before heading for the bathroom to change out of the house clothes he’d borrowed in lieu of an apron.

When he emerges, long sleeves and joggers, he asks one last time if that’s all he needs to do, taking Gojo’s nods as a sign to take his leave. The older male remains rooted behind his kitchen counter, frozen from the crisis he’s facing.

You arrive a little later (thankfully), giving Gojo enough time to figure out this whole debacle. He’s ultimately decided to feel around for how the night goes, then he’ll act accordingly—if you show any sign that you aren’t happy, he has the delivery app ready.

He dresses in simple slacks and a white button down, fiddling with how he’s rolled it up; the thought of you finally seeing everything he’s prepared for tonight makes him nervous—the table set-up, the ambiance, the food.

(He’s even cleaned up his bedroom).

Then he senses it, faint traces of your cursed energy by the door, and he holds his breath. The beeps on his lock count down the seconds to your entrance; and when he sees you come in, surprised and so amazed at the entire thing, the tightness in his chest eases up immensely.

All he told you was to wear something nice.

And, by god you did.

You walk up to him, pretty and smiling in the simple dress you’d opted for tonight—a midi slip-on with a cardigan thrown on top. Black has always looked good on you, uniform or not, ever since up to now.

But in white, you’re radiant. Glowing.

He reaches for you.

The grin on his face is lovesick as he grabs a hold of your waist. You instantly tiptoe up to kiss him, hands on his shoulders as you land a soft peck that transfers a light sheen of lip gloss onto his lips. The view behind him shows the table set-up, a pop of white and red amidst all the food he’s prepared for tonight.

Your eyes widen, gasping, “Did you make all of that?”

He nods, pulling away from you as he grins cockingly, “Call me chef.”

But he immediately bites his lips, restless as he shifts his weight. He hopes you don’t notice how nervous he is—if you weren’t able to tell from his heartbeat, pressed against his chest.

“You didn’t have to,” you pout at him, eyes watery as you swipe your thumb across his lips, wiping off the residue of your lipgloss.

“Guess I’ll just undo everything then.” he chuckles, hands sliding to rest on your lower back, fingers tapping against silk.

You roll your eyes, and before his hands get the chance to grab you lower, you’re whisking him away, holding his hand as you lead him to the dining table.

He pulls out your chair and you sit, the rare gesture making you giggle. As he settles in the seat across you, there’s a disconnect between the expression on his face and his body language—eyebrows wiggling and lips smirking, meant to be lighthearted and teasing, but he won’t stop fidgeting, shifting as he readjusts his seating.

As you reach for the Temaki, he sucks in a breath, entirely hyper aware of every move you’re making. When you bite into it, he’s waiting. Anticipating.

Your eyes fall shut as you chew, humming, then you grin. But when you open them and they catch his, it’s like you can tell—what he’s feeling. The furrow on your brows deepens as you look at him, concerned, “Hey, what’re you thinking?”

How he hopes he hasn’t fucked this up, this dinner. What if the Miso Soup is too bland? Isn’t at all to your liking? What if the Wagyu’s dried out? Isn’t cooked properly?

If he can’t get this right, this seemingly simple thing, how can he do everything else? Consider you the same way you’ve always considered him?

He’s so sure of you his heart could burst at it, but what if he can’t ever come to terms with himself? With what he’s able to—

Then he feels it, your hand on his as you reach for him across the table, rubbing the back of it, soothing.

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s worrying.

“Megumi said it doesn’t go together,” he stares into your eyes, breathing slowly, grounding. It’s been a while since he’s given you a non-answer, but you accept it, patiently.

“Megumi was here?” you ask gently, brow arched curiously.

He nods, “Asked him to help a bit.”

You hum, looking back at the food on the table before taking his other hand, soothing, “Well, that’s Megumi’s preference. Mine will be different.”

The smile you give him is warm, like the Miso Soup you’re reaching for right now. He watches you take a sip.

“S’good, better than mine.” You hum and he knows you’re lying but it’s still comforting, the fact that you’d do this for him.

So if this is your effort for him, he isn’t going to waste it.

The rest of the dinner has you making the most exaggerated sounds, your ‘mmm’s and ‘ooo’s emphasizing how good the food is if he still doesn’t believe it. Your reactions are over-the-top and definitely overplayed, but it makes him laugh—has him grinning in his seat the more he relaxes.

You help clean up, even though he insists that you shouldn’t.

“It’s our anniversary, Satoru.” you bump his hip, shooing him away from the table as you stack up the dirty plates.

When he finishes washing the dishes and turns to find you, sitting atop his kitchen counter, nibbling on a piece of strawberry from the special Daifuku he put out for dessert, he approaches you.

“Don’t be greedy now,” he rests his hand on your knee, coming to stand in between your legs. You hike your dress up a little bit, just to give him some space.

You chuckle, cupping your hand under his chin as you feed him; he eats the entire thing, half-bitten by you already. And as the tips of your fingers touch his lips, sticky and syrupy from the strawberry coating, he takes them in his mouth, sucking lightly.

He holds your gaze.

“Thanks for doing all this,” you blink twice as he releases your fingers, interlacing them with his, “s’not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life.”

You say it again—how you call him that so casually.

What do you mean it’s not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life?

You do it for him all the time.

He hums, moving closer. His other hand rises higher, kneading the flesh of your thighs through the smooth silk of your midi dress.

“Thought you were going to spit it out for a second there,” he swallows his nerves.

“Stop,” you frown, grabbing him by his belt loops before pressing your lips against his forehead, landing a loud ‘smack’, “go away silly thoughts.”

He chuckles when you blow a raspberry on it, laughter easing up as you drag your lips down to the center of his brows, tense from all the worrying earlier.

You always seem to get it right, he thinks, this whole relationship thing—always knowing what to say.

He tilts his head up, leaning closer to kiss you on the lips, fully. The breath he lets out mingles with yours, sweet with hints of strawberry, and when he catches your bottom lip you lean back, hands coming to rest on his cheeks.

You nip on his upper lip, playful but lightly, and he groans, hand reaching up to slot itself by your neck.

It’s there, underneath his fingertips, the pounding of your heartbeat.

As you squirm on the kitchen counter, you pull away for a moment, restless from the growing heat. The action is subtle but dangerous as your cardigan slips off your shoulder, revealing the strap and lace of your lingerie.

Blue eyes land on familiar pink, one he’s certain he’s caught you in before, but seeing it now, under white, it does something to his brain—blood rushing, ears ringing.

He leans closer, grabbing you by the waist as he runs his lips against along your neck, nipping on sensitive skin.

“‘Toru,” you gasp, breathy as you grip his shirt.

“Tell me what else you want,” he murmurs against your skin, muffled. He sneaks one glance at you, pupils blown, before hovering over your temple, lips barely touching, tickling as he whispers, “anything.”

Your fingers trail lower, pinching at his shirt before you tug, untucking it from his slacks. You turn to him, finding his lips, sliding them over his as you match his rhythm. It’s careful and slow, the way you unbutton his shirt, but it’s like he said—

This is your way; he’ll follow anything you say.

5 — WHEN ALL I SEE IS ME AND YOU

Gojo never thought he’d make this decision all because of your joint streaming subscription.

It’s a normal weekend, regular in every way possible—just a night in for the both of you. He usually stays over at the end of the week, but it’s been bleeding into the weekdays too, lately.

The sound of splashing water against tile echoes along the hallway; you normally play songs when you shower, but he guesses today isn’t that kind of day.

He plops on the couch, pointing the remote to the TV as he selects the streaming app. Normal weekends consist of movie nights, half actually paying attention to the screen, and half paying attention to other things—either way, it ends in falling asleep.

When the homepage lights up on the screen, he spots two accounts: yours and his. And it’s joint, under one household—your home.

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s been thinking about this more lately: how the past months have been a slow realization coming to terms with himself, and where he sees this relationship going, but the visual in front of him sparks an influx of things he’s been noticing.

The pajama pants he’s wearing now exist as a pair to a matching set he has with you, but tonight, he’s opted for a white t-shirt because his pajama top is tucked somewhere in the drawers of your bedroom.

(You keep it with you because you like how it fits more, you say, but he thinks it’s because it smells like him, and you sleep with it when he’s away).

There’s another pair of chopsticks you always wash now, too, plain bamboo with a ring around the handle, light blue. You’d bought it from a market down the street a year ago, and told him it reminded you of him—how it’s his from now on, in the container of utensils by your kitchen sink.

He’s always known how intertwined your lives are, a decade and more of learning one another is bound to entangle you somehow. But the past few years have caused knots, impossible to unravel—a thought that doesn’t scare him as much as it used to; a thought he now thinks doesn’t sound so bad as long as it’s with you.

As long as it’s with you.

The creaking of the bathroom door snaps him back, the soft pads of your footsteps growing louder as it reaches the living room.

“Oh, you haven’t picked a movie yet?” you ask, ruffling your hair with your towel.

He puts on a smile, facing you as he hands over the remote, “You pick tonight.”

You barely pay attention to the movie, snuggled up against his chest, constantly looking up to kiss his neck. He’s the same, distracted, but not for the same reasons you are.

It’s a lot to resist, the way your hands creep under his shirt, warm against his stomach, but the sinking feeling in his gut makes it impossible to focus anywhere else.

“Not the time?” you tap his cheek, and he tilts his chin down, acknowledging you. The look on your face is anything but disappointed, and it tugs at him, makes him feel guilty that he’s making you worry. That he can’t give you what you’re looking for right now.

“Maybe later,” he takes your hand, lips grazing your fingertips, “I’ll get ready for bed.”

You nod, sitting up as he taps your hip. He knows you can tell something’s bothering him—it’s impossible to hide anything from you at this point, but this realization feels like a long time coming, like it’s been brewing, now spilling.

He gets up, kissing the top of your head before walking to the bathroom.

When he steps in, it still smells like you—the shampoo and bodywash you use. (Technically, it smells like him too—he’s started using yours because it feels like keeping you with him, everywhere he goes).

As he finishes brushing his teeth, reaching for his towel hooked beside yours, he remembers how none of this existed when it was just you. You only ever had one hook for one towel, how he used to share it with you only to realize that it would never dry in time for the next use.

Then he found it, some time last year, when he walked in to take a shower and saw a hook installed right beside yours, presumably his.

The lights are adjusted for him too; fluorescent white too bright, a pain for his Six Eyes. You noticed when you caught him washing his face in the dark, so you changed the bulbs to soft white, tinged a bit yellow, warm.

And the thing is, he never asked you to do any of this.

You just… did.

Because that’s you.

And it’s making him realize even more how he wants to keep it this way, how he wouldn’t mind if this was the rest of his life, everyday.

The mood shifts when you both get in bed, and if you notice it, you don’t tell him. Whatever was bothering him before has settled, his head clear, more focused to reciprocate your earlier advances.

He’s gentle when he touches you, taking the time to love you. Your clothes come off one by one with no haste at all, slowly, almost painfully.

But he kisses you all over, leaves marks on places only he can see—by your hip, at the center of your chest, and another one, visible, on your neck below your ear. This is more than what he usually does, but he feels determined tonight.

“Off,” you whisper, as you tug at his shirt, pulling it off before throwing it to the side of your bed.

He holds his breath when your fingers land on his chest, dragging across his collarbones before you tap thrice. This is a spot you’ve loved so intently, he’s become sensitive to it every time you come close. You leave kisses along it, some wet, others dry pecks, but it makes him shudder all the same, every time.

As he hovers above you, arm bent by your head, his fingers trace your lower lip, tugging only to let it bounce back; he kisses you, noses bumping, softly at first before it turns hungry—lips overlapping, biting. His tongue runs over your lips, smooth and warm.

There are more touches, more gazes; lips brushing and breaths mixing. The heat between you is shared, intermingling, and when he’s in you—

—it’s too much, how he feels looking at you right now, like you’re everything, the only thing seared into his memory.

There’s a life he wants to give you, and though he knows there are others who might be more able to—he can’t let go of you, refuses to. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else being this close, doesn’t even want to think about someone else waking up next to you—the bed hair he always looks forward to, the lazy smile against squished cheeks, the hands that always reach for him, first thing.

These traces of you have made him want the whole of you, and if this is him being selfish, then so be it.

His arms wrap around your back, hoisting you up as your legs wrap around him, and you’re both moving, timing in sync, and he’s crying.

He tucks his face into your neck, and he’s sure you feel everything—wet tears, shuddery breaths, but you don’t say anything. You hold him tighter, fingers scratching his undercut as he gets closer and closer.

Gojo Satoru is a man of impossibilities.

And this life he thinks you deserve—he wants to be the one to give that to you.

+1 — WITH MY KNEES ON THE FLOOR, WHEN I ASK FOR MORE

He shouldn’t even be feeling this way, because what’s the worst thing you can say?

It’s just you.

It’s just you—

And… maybe it’s because it’s you, that the .01% possibility of you even saying no—

—it makes him feel sick.

He looks back at the clock: 16:30. The walk from the conference room to his office will take an extra 3? 5? minutes.

The room feels tighter, smaller, floorboards practically worn down from how much he’s paced around it.

He’s rehearsed what he wants to say, how he’ll grab your hand and look you straight in the eyes as he does it. Fear and excitement churn in his belly, how he’s imagining the look on your face.

If you were here, you’d tell him to breathe—to follow you with every inhale and exhale.

If you were here, you’d smile at him, lips curled up softly, gently, the one he loves.

If you were here—

—the door opens, and you step into the room.

Now that you’re here, he doesn’t know what to say.

You stand before him in your uniform, smiling, just as he imagined you’d be. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, sparkling, the way he’s noticed they have since you were 17.

He must be doing a terrible job hiding how he feels because your demeanor instantly shifts, face contorting into worry, brows furrowed and frown forming. You drop your bag as you walk to him, hands reaching to cup his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice hushed and delicate, “Did something happen?”

Your fingers are warm on his cheeks (or is he too cold?), tilting his head lower so you can look him in the eyes. He can’t breathe, can’t hear you properly; you’re drowned out by the thumping of his heartbeat.

“Need to tell you something,” he manages to mutter.

Your eyes widen before you nod, lowering your hands as you speak slowly, “Okay, do you want to sit first? I have water—”

He shakes his head, hand reaching for your wrist, “I think… you should sit.”

The pause alarms you, your body turning rigid. He has no idea what’s going through your mind, and you give nothing away as you mumble an ‘okay’ while walking to the couch.

He stays beside you, not too far but still placing a bigger distance than he normally would—for the 0.01% probability that this isn’t what you want, that he isn’t too close, forcing you into an answer you might not want to say.

The words float in his mind, but none of them string together to form the sentences he wants to tell you. Does he take it from the start? How this whole thing has always terrified him? How he never thought this was meant for him, but here he is, still learning but loving every second of it?

There are things he’s never had to consider before that he cares so much more about now—all because of you, how it’s for you, how he wants to do better by you.

You call him the love of your life and he hasn’t told you, but you’re that and more for him, too.

He practiced this, damn it.

Why can’t he remember a single thing?

The silence between you is tense, tainted by overthinking on both ends. You look like you’re waiting for bad news, and Gojo’s too stuck in his head, turning over the right words to say instead of reassuring you.

“I’ve been thinking lately,” he starts, fiddling with his fingers. His feet won’t stop bouncing, knee fidgeting. He’s biting his lips, a tell-tale sign that there’s a lot he isn’t saying.

You place your hand on his knee to calm him down, and he stops bouncing it, looking at you as you muster up a small smile—far from being genuine, but it’s the fact that you’ve mustered it, as if to say: ‘it’s okay, you can tell me; i’ll always want to hear all of it.’

He swallows, “This arrangement isn’t working.”

Your face drops, brows furrowing, “What arrangement?”

His heart is pounding.

“I stay over at yours too much.”

Too much, that mine doesn’t feel like I belong there anymore, he fails to add.

“I think we need more space.”

Your hand slides off his knee as you tuck it between your thighs. There’s a frown on your face he can’t seem to figure out, and the fact that you’re giving nothing away, whatever you’re thinking—he’s turning even more nervous right now.

“Okay,” you finally say, tone flat, “when do you want me to return all your things?”

He tilts his head at you, confused, “What—”

“Actually, can I…” you shift around, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before clearing your throat, “can I ask if it’s something I did?”

And his heart drops, straight into his stomach.

It’s not like that at all.

He’s hit with déjà vu; this conversation feels so familiar, so similar to one he’s had with you before—on the sofa chair across this couch, laying himself bare the same way he is now.

The couch dips as he scoots closer to you, reaching for your hands.

“It’s not—”

You scoff sadly, “Please don’t give me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing,” then your tone drops, blinking away your tears, “if you’re going to break up with me, Satoru, just tell me why. Honestly.”

He blinks.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he once told himself he’ll never tell you.

But now seems like it’s fitting—the right time to say it.

“You remember when I was unsealed?” he moves to the floor, getting down on his knees in front of you. You nod as he rubs circles over your knuckles, “When I first saw you, it was pretty scary.”

He brings one hand to your cheek, catching a tear with his thumb. You pout, the crease between your brows growing deeper.

“You ran yourself dry because of me.”

When he thinks about it now, he still feels guilty.

He believes that people are accountable for their own actions, and he still believes that with you, definitely—but he knows your reasons, why you acted that way, desperate for hope everyday. And for that, he takes responsibility.

“I didn’t want that for you, still don’t.”

Your frown deepens, tears welling up even more.

Do you still think he wants to do this without you?

He can’t take this, seeing you cry; he promised himself he wouldn’t be the reason behind this anymore.

“I’m not breaking up with you.” he tells you firmly, surely.

You blink.

Then your shoulders drop as you breathe out—what he hopes is relief. When your eyes meet, a little less sad, he sees the stars in them, glinting like they do when you look at him.

This should be his answer already, how much you brighten at the thought of staying with him. But—

“I still think you deserve more,” he brings your hands to his lips, brushing them against it, and as you’re about to interject, he chuckles, “but I’m also too selfish to leave that up to someone else, you know?”

“Soooo,” his hand reaches for his pocket, fishing around until he feels for what he’s looking for. He takes out his phone, swiping and scrolling until he finally stops, placing it on your lap for the both of you to see, “I’ve been thinking lately…”

He looks up at you, the two skies you’ve always been drawn to, waiting. The unease in his stomach returns, churning.

It’s a compilation of properties: houses, apartments, plots of land—all scattered around Tokyo, some central and some further on the outskirts.

Your eyes widen, tilting your head to the side as you attempt to read what’s on his screen. You turn to him immediately, eyes still watery; the expression on your face is unreadable, a mixture of surprise and confusion, like you don’t exactly know what he means.

“We don’t have to choose from these, it’s just a few brokers I talked to recently. We can look for others if you want, in quieter areas too—”

Then you smile, beaming, tears falling from your eyes, “Satoru,” and you breathe out his name but it sounds like I love you.

There’s a quiet life he can’t give you, but he likes this one with you much better too. He takes your hands, placing one on his chest, over his heart, and the other on his cheek. Then, he leans into it, kissing the insides of your wrist before staring back at you sincerely.

His heart is beating wildly, he’s sure, but if he can continue to make you this happy—

“Make a home with me?”

a/n: food descriptions—temaki is easy hand-rolled sushi, sunomono is japanese cucumber salad.

thank you notes: @stellamancer the actual birthday gift for u :') + @em1e for listening to me talk abt the entire plot and even reading the first few scenes!! + @mididoodles @kissxcore @itadorey @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for always being so supportive when am sharing my progress posts ilu + @crysugu @soumies @augustinewrites @ufo-ikawa no reason other than i just love u ᰔ i reply so slow when am writing smth...

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #rated #shotorus.writes #col

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star-anise · 2 months

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It's been a hot minute since I looked at Canada's National Occupation Classification system. I learned about it when studying career counselling in grad school, and it's pretty useful in terms of job-hunting and getting information on what different types of jobs require and pay.

A friend asked me for advice about becoming a therapist so I went and looked. They redid it since I last visited, and oh man there are some chef's kiss decisions.

There are 9 top-level categories, with 1 being legislative and senior management, 5 being arts, culture, and sport, and 9 being manufacture and utilities. So I was looking for my old job's classification, which used to be 4153 - Family, marriage and other related counsellors. Knowing that made searching the government job bank really easy back in the day, because instead of searching "counsellor" "counselor" "psychotherapist" "mental health therapist" "clinical counsellor" etc etc etc to find them all, I just typed "4153" and hit enter.

Anyway, they redid the system and now that job is parked at 41301 - Therapists in counselling and related specialized therapies. Here's the tree to get there:

Cool cool cool. It's tidier, even if the occupations are still a bit messy. (When I dropped out of the field, the different counselling subdivisions were tapping their toes impatiently waiting for the provincial government to let them form their own professional regulatory college. Which still has not happened. Last week my shrink said he'd got an email from the College of Psychologists announcing that it would be gathering all the smaller counselling fields into its own downy breast instead. I have no idea what's happening anymore.)

Anyway. I scrolled down to another job I once worked and HAHA WHAT

Yes. There are only three sub-units of category 44:

Nannies:

In-home caregivers:

And,

Combat specialists

I find this grouping of professions hilarious, appropriate, and deeply validating. No notes. 🧑‍🍳👌💋

#staranise original #advice on therapisting #that was the job I still have a scar on my arm from #i badgered my supervisor to death to get that fucking gentle self-defense course because of now unsafe it felt sometimes #man that job broke me #only good thing about that year was my cat and nacho movie night with my roommates #here's to never having to live that year again #sláinte and amen

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genshin-impact-updates · 1 month

Text

"Two Worlds Aflame, the Crimson Night Fades" Version 4.6 Update Details

Dear Travelers,

Below are the details of the Version 4.6 update "Two Worlds Aflame, the Crimson Night Fades" and the update compensation.

〓Compensation Details〓

Maintenance Compensation: Primogems ×300 (60 Primogems per hour the servers are down)

Issue Fix Compensation: Primogems ×300 (please refer to the relevant compensation mail for more details)

〓Scope of Compensation〓

Maintenance Compensation: Travelers who have reached Adventure Rank 5 or above by 2024/04/24 06:00 (UTC+8).

Compensation must be claimed before the end of Version 4.6.

Issue Fix Compensation: Travelers who reach Adventure Rank 5 or above by 2024/04/24 06:00 (UTC+8).

Please log in and claim your compensation before 2024/04/27 06:00 (UTC+8).

Our developers will distribute compensation to Travelers via in-game mail within 5 hours after the update maintenance is finished. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the attached compensation in time.

〓Update Schedule〓

Update maintenance begins 2024/04/24 06:00 (UTC+8) and is estimated to take 5 hours.

〓How to Update Game Client〓

PC: Close the game, open the Genshin Impact Launcher, and click Update.

iOS: Open the App Store and tap Update.

Android: Open the game and follow the directions on-screen.

PS5™ and PS4™: Highlight Genshin Impact from the Home Screen, press the OPTIONS button and select "Check for Update."

Please do not hesitate to contact Customer Service if you encounter any issues installing the new version. We will do our very best to resolve the issue.

〓Update Details〓

I. New Areas

New Areas Now Available

◇ In Version 4.6, the following areas in Fontaine will become available: Nostoi Region and Sea of Bygone Eras.

※ As long as you have completed Archon Quest Prologue: Act III "Song of the Dragon and Freedom," a Teleport Waypoint will be automatically unlocked near Fontaine's Petrichor (If you have already completed this Archon Quest, the Teleport Waypoint will be unlocked after the update). You'll also receive the Primogem reward for this Teleport Waypoint when it unlocks automatically.

There will be new Fishing Points and "Radiant Spincrystals" in Fontaine.

In addition, the new area "Bayda Harbor" will be added to Lokapala Jungle in Sumeru.

II. New Character

5-Star Character "Dire Balemoon" Arlecchino (Pyro)

◇ Vision: Pyro

◇ Weapon: Polearm

◇ "The Knave," Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers. A poised, ruthless diplomat. To the children in the House of the Hearth, she is their feared yet dependable "Father."

◆ Arlecchino can utilize her Bond of Life to enhance her Normal, Charged, and Plunging Attacks, dealing Pyro DMG.

◆ Elemental Skill "All Is Ash"

◆ Deals Pyro DMG to multiple nearby opponents and applies Blood-Debt Directives to them. Blood-Debt Directives deal Pyro DMG to opponents at regular intervals. When Arlecchino uses a Charged Attack or her Elemental Burst "Balemoon Rising," she will absorb Blood-Debt Directives, which grants her a certain amount of Bond of Life.

◆ Elemental Burst "Balemoon Rising"

◆ Arlecchino's great wing of Balemoon Bloodfire beats as she absorbs and clears Blood-Debt Directives applied to opponents around her. She deals AoE Pyro DMG before clearing the CD of All Is Ash and healing herself. The healing is based on her Bond of Life value and ATK.

III. New Equipment

1. New Weapon (Examples based on Refinement Rank 1)

Crimson Moon's Semblance (5-Star Polearm)

Grants a Bond of Life equal to 25% of Max HP when a Charged Attack hits an opponent. This effect can be triggered up to once every 14s. In addition, when the equipping character has a Bond of Life, they gain a 12% DMG Bonus; if the value of the Bond of Life is greater than or equal to 30% of Max HP, then gain an additional 24% DMG Bonus.

◆ During the event wish "Epitome Invocation," the event-exclusive 5-star weapon Crimson Moon's Semblance (Polearm) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

2. New Artifact Sets

Unfinished Reverie (4-Star and 5-Star)

◇ 2-Piece Set: ATK +18%.

◇ 4-Piece Set: After leaving combat for 3s, DMG dealt increased by 50%. In combat, if no Burning opponents are nearby for more than 6s, this DMG Bonus will decrease by 10% per second until it reaches 0%. When a Burning opponent exists, it will increase by 10% instead until it reaches 50%. This effect still triggers if the equipping character is off-field.

Fragment of Harmonic Whimsy (4-Star and 5-Star)

◇ 2-Piece Set: ATK +18%.

◇ 4-Piece Set: When the value of a Bond of Life increases or decreases, this character deals 18% increased DMG for 6s. Max 3 stacks.

IV. New Domain

Domain of Blessing: Faded Theater

◇ Under the direction of an immortal musician, a certain ancient troupe once performed the elegies of an ancient civilization. With the passage of time, the ancient plays became legend. Legend became myth. ...Until one day, by chance, it was deliberately picked up once more, and became the prelude to a new dream.

◇ Unlock Criteria (satisfy any one of the criteria below to unlock):

• Reach Adventure Rank 22 or above

• Complete Archon Quest Prologue: Act III "Song of the Dragon and Freedom"

◆ Challenge the Domain to obtain artifacts in the "Fragment of Harmonic Whimsy" and "Unfinished Reverie" sets.

V. New Main Story

1. New Story Quests

Arlecchino's Story Quest - Ignis Purgatorius Chapter: Act I "When the Hearth-Flame Goes Out"

Permanently available after the Version 4.6 update

◆ Quest Unlock Criteria:

• Reach Adventure Rank 40 or above

• Complete Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act V "Masquerade of the Guilty"

Cyno's Story Quest - Lupus Aureus Chapter: Act II "Oathkeeper"

Permanently available after 2024/05/14 18:00

◆ Quest Unlock Criteria:

• Reach Adventure Rank 40 or above

• Complete Archon Quest Chapter III: Act V "Akasha Pulses, the Kalpa Flame Rises"

• Complete Cyno's Story Quest - Lupus Aureus Chapter: Act I "Sands of Solitude"

2. New World Quests

New World Quests

"Canticles of Harmony" Quest Chain, "For Yesterday and Tomorrow," "Latecoming Homecoming," "Where His Life Lies," "Daydreams Beyond Space and Time," etc.

VI. New Enemies

"The Knave"

◇ Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers.

The Knave will apply Bonds of Life to characters. After clearing a Bond of Life, characters in your party will unleash a Scarlet Nighttide the next time one of their Charged Attacks hit The Knave. This attack can interrupt some of The Knave's attacks, including Bloodtide Banquet. Some of The Knave's attacks will consume her own HP, and when these attacks hit a character, they will restore her own HP and apply a Bond of Life to the character; if the character hit already has a Bond of Life, the DMG dealt by the attack will be increased yet more.

Located in the Liffey Region

Legatus Golem

◇ This ancient Legatus Golem uses its sturdy marble body to defend against attack while using music and searing flames to obliterate its foes.

Use methods suited to dealing with Geo to break through its defenses. Apart from this, it will also set up resonators in combat that will assist its attacks. Destroy these resonators to deplete its shielding effectively.

Located in the Nostoi Region

Praetorian Golem

◇ An ancient golem infused with will that uses its resilient marble body in battle.

Use methods suited to dealing with Geo to effectively defeat its defenses.

New Recipe:

○ Café Lutece, Fontaine: Bulle Souffle

New Character Specialty Dish:

○ Arlecchino's specialty: "Hearthfire's Trail"

Adds new "Rhapsodia in the Ancient Sea" and "Challenger: Series IX" Achievement categories, and adds new Achievements to the "Wonders of the World" category.

Adds Set 31 of "Paimon's Paintings" chat emojis.

Adds some prompts for loading screens.

New Namecards:

"Arlecchino: Edict": Reward for reaching Friendship Lv. 10 with Arlecchino

"Fontaine: Attunement": Reward for completing all achievements under "Rhapsodia in the Ancient Sea"

"Achievement: Whalewrangler": Reward for completing all achievements under "Challenger: Series IX"

"Fontaine: Lucine": Reward for reaching Fountain of Lucine Favor Level 48

"Travel Notes: The Realms Rocked": Reward obtained via the BP system

Adds 17 World Quest-related avatars that will be unlocked after completing World Quests in accordance with the corresponding unlock criteria (Refer to "Paimon Menu > Change Avatar" in-game for the specific unlock criteria. For Travelers who have already completed the corresponding World Quests before the version update, the corresponding avatars will be automatically unlocked after the version update.)

Fountain of Lucine: Increase in the Level Cap of Fountain of Lucine to Level 50. After the Fountain of Lucine reaches its maximum level, Hydro Sigils can be exchanged with Mequignon at Bertin's House of Curiosities.

Adds the "Focused Experience Mode" function:

(1) This function can be enabled for certain quests in the "Quest" menu. Once enabled, Travelers can prevent locations and characters involved in said quest from being occupied by other quests, which improves the experience of the current quest.

(2) Function Access Unlock Criteria: Complete Archon Quest Prologue: Act III "Song of the Dragon and Freedom"

(3) In Version 4.6, the "Focused Experience Mode" function will be available for Arlecchino's Story Quest - Ignis Purgatorius Chapter: Act I "When the Hearth-Flame Goes Out." The "Focused Experience Mode" function will gradually be made available for more quests in subsequent versions.

"Genius Invokation TCG" Gameplay Update:

New Character Cards: Kuki Shinobu, Faruzan, and their corresponding Talent cards. Corresponding invitation duels and guest challenges have been added to the Player List.

New Character Cards: Emperor of Fire and Iron, Abyss Herald: Wicked Torrents, and the corresponding Talent Cards. The Tavern Challenge has also been added.

New Action Cards: "Rightful Reward," "Amethyst Crown," "Taroumaru," "The White Glove and the Fisherman," "Seirai Island," "Rainbow Macarons," and "Underwater Treasure Hunt" can be purchased from Prince at The Cat's Tail.

The Forge Realm's Temper is once again available. The theme of this edition is "The Forge Realm's Temper: Game of Wits":

(1) During The Forge Realm's Temper: Game of Wits, some stages will have special victory and defeat conditions. Adeptly adapt your tactics to complete the challenge and avoid the conditions for defeat!

(2) Within The Forge Realm's Temper: Game of Wits event stages, there will also be special rules that can easily exert influence on the tempo of the match. Fully utilizing these special rules will contribute greatly to your success.

Spiral Abyss

Floor 11 Ley Line Disorder changed to:

• All party members receive a 75% Pyro DMG Bonus.

Updated the monster lineup on Floors 11 – 12 of the Spiral Abyss.

Starting from the first time that the Lunar Phase refreshes after updating to Version 4.6, the three Lunar Phases will be as follows:

Phase I:

Flame-Fanning Moon

When a character triggers Vaporize, Overloaded, Melt, Burning, Burgeon, Pyro Swirl, or Pyro Crystallize reactions on an opponent, the opponent's All Elemental RES and Physical RES is reduced by 30% for 4s.

Phase II:

Valorous Moon

When a character receives healing, the character's ATK increases by 50% for 3s.

Phase III:

Tactical Moon

When a character's HP value increases or decreases, that character gains a 16% increased All Elemental and Physical DMG Bonus for 8s. This effect can stack up to 3 times, and the duration of each stack is counted independently.

〓Adjustments & Optimizations〓

● Exploration

On the Tutorials screen, adventure tutorials related to the current area will be displayed nearer to the top.

Optimizes the performance of the Treasure Compass feature: Nearby treasure chests will now be marked on the map after using the Treasure Compass, and opening treasure chests marked out on the map during the Treasure Compass's cooldown time will reset its cooldown.

● Map

Combines the "Domains only" and "Search for Players" options under the "Map Settings" button on the map interface.

Adds the "Custom Markers," "Controller > Cursor Sensitivity," and "Controller > Marker Sensitivity Range" settings under the "Map Settings" button on the map interface.

Optimizes the design of the buttons for switching between different regions on the map interface.

● Quests

Adds another button for important quest items related to certain quests in the Quest Menu.

When you are navigating to a quest objective, an icon for important quest items related to the current quest will now be displayed within the Inventory.

Updates the icon for Requests in the Quest Menu.

● Adventurer Handbook

Adjusts the criteria for unlocking different chapters in "Adventurer Handbook > Experience": Simply reach a certain Adventure Rank to unlock the next chapter. You no longer need to complete the previous chapter.

Adds missions for enhancing Prototype Rancour and Favonius Warbow to Lv. 60 in "Adventurer Handbook > Embattle."

Adds missions related to enhancing Artifacts in "Adventurer Handbook > Embattle."

● Serenitea Pot

Adds the "Quick Obtain" function on the Replica > Preview screen as well as the Furnishing Set screen in Editing Mode: You can use this function to quickly purchase the Furnishings/Furnishing Blueprints that you need from the Realm Depot, or add the Furnishings that need to be created to the "Queued List."

Adds the "Queued List" function on the Create Furnishing > Creation Queue screen. This will record your Furnishing creation requests from using "Quick Obtain" and tell you which materials they require. It can also be used to quickly add Furnishings that are waiting to be made to the Creation Queue.

Adds the "Obtain All" function on the Create Furnishing > Creation Queue screen. You can use this function to obtain all the Furnishings created in one go. After you click it, you can also choose to use Vials of Adeptal Speed to speed up production of all Furnishings that haven't been completed yet with a single click.

Adjusts the upper limit of the Creation Queue in Create Furnishing from 5 to 10.

Adds Filter and Search functions to the Furnishings and Furnishing Blueprints tabs of the Realm Depot.

Displays category-related information in the text descriptions for Furnishings and Furnishing Blueprints.

Optimizes the layout of the Realm Music screen, adding serial numbers and no longer showing a second confirmation pop-up when unlocking tracks.

After Trust Rank reaches Level 10, the purchase limit of all products in Realm Depot > Furnishings (except Vial of Adeptal Speed) will be raised from 6 to 20.

Furnishings and Furnishing Blueprints introduced from Version 1.5 to 2.8 will be permanently sold at a discount in the Realm Depot.

● Genius Invokation TCG

Updates the icon of the Event Card "Falls and Fortune."

Optimizes the text description for the Normal Attack of the Character Card "Neuvillette" (the actual effect remains the same).

● Other

Optimizes the "compiling shaders" loading time when logging in on an Android device for the first time after version update.

Adds support for displaying friend nicknames on the Serenitea Pot > Create Furnishing > Guest Assistance screen, as well as on various screens related to Co-Op Mode.

Adjusts the position of the stone pillars on Floors 11 and 12 of the Spiral Abyss: Now, the stone pillars will be placed outside the barrier.

After the version update, on some PC devices that use integrated graphics cards, the default "Graphics > Graphics Quality" setting will be adjusted to "Lowest" (only the correspondence between the options and the default values is changed, the actual settings remain unchanged).

Due to the addition of new regions and Teleport Waypoints, the number of Teleport Waypoints required to unlock the achievement "Forest Roamer" has been adjusted. The original total number of Teleport Waypoints that needed to be unlocked was 46, and this has now been adjusted to 47 (if the achievement has been completed, the completion status of the achievement remains unchanged).

Increases the Inventory's capacity for the Weapon Enhancement Materials "Mystic Enhancement Ore," "Fine Enhancement Ore," and "Enhancement Ore" from 9,999 to 99,999.

〓Genius Invokation TCG Balance Adjustment〓

Adjusts the effect of the status "Fiery Rebirth" of the Character Card "Abyss Lector: Fathomless Flames": "When the character to which this is attached would be defeated: Remove this effect, ensure the character will not be defeated, and heal them to 4 HP. After this effect is triggered, this character deals +1 Pyro DMG."

Adjusts the effect of "Aegis of Abyssal Flame" applied by the Talent Card "Embers Rekindled" of the Character Card "Abyss Lector: Fathomless Flames": "Provide 2 Shield points to the character to which this card is attached. After said Shield points are depleted: Deal 1 Piercing DMG to all opposing characters."

Adjusts the casting logic of the Elemental Skills of the Character Cards "Candace" and "Beidou": After the adjustment, the character that cast the Elemental Skill gains a shield and then prepares the skill (i.e. generating the shield and preparing the skill are split into two separate actions, so that if the shield is removed by certain effects, this will not result in the skill's preparation being canceled too).

Adjusts the effect of the Support Card "Yayoi Nanatsuki": "For each of your characters already equipped with an Artifact on the field, you spend 1 less Elemental Die (once per Round)." has been adjusted to "If two of your characters on the field already have an equipped Artifact, you additionally spend 1 less Elemental Die (once per Round)."

Adjusts the trigger condition for the effect of the Support Card "Seed Dispensary": The trigger condition "When you play an Equipment or Support Card with an original cost of 1 Elemental Die: ..." has been adjusted to "When you play a Support Card with an original cost of at least 2 Elemental Dice: ..."

Adjusts the number of Elemental Dice required and effect of the Support Card "Jeht": The Elemental Dice cost required has been adjusted from 2 Dice of any element to 1. The effect "If this card has recorded at least 5 Sophistication points, discard this card and generate Omni Element equal to the number of Sophistication points minus 2." has been adjusted to "If this card has recorded at least 6 Sophistication points, discard this card and attach Sand and Dreams to your active character." (The effect of "Sand and Dreams" is: "When you play a Talent card or a Character uses a Skill: Spend 3 less Elemental Dice.")

Note: The effect of the Event Card "Nature and Wisdom" will not result in the deck being shuffled. All "draw a random card of any certain type from your deck" effects will also not result in the deck being shuffled, but instead will result in 1 random card of the corresponding type being drawn and added to your hand.

〓Bug Fixes〓

● Character

Fixes an issue whereby, when certain Polearm-wielding characters performed Plunging Attacks, the position of the attack's special effect would be abnormal in certain situations (the actual DMG AoE works as intended).

Fixes an issue whereby after Xianyun's second Constellation was unlocked, the special effect on the tails of her outfit would abnormally disappear under certain circumstances.

● System

Fixes an issue whereby there were errors with certain key names on the Settings > Key Bindings screen when playing on a PC in German or French.

Fixes an issue whereby, after switching a character's outfit from the "Party Setup" menu, the corresponding character could not be switched to and deployed in certain situations.

Fixes an issue whereby, when challenging the Millennial Pearl Seahorse, the game camera couldn't be restored to the original angle after zooming out in certain situations.

● Genius Invokation TCG

Fixes an issue whereby when "Fontemer Pearl" was attached to the Character Card "Millennial Pearl Seahorse," casting its Elemental Skill would abnormally reset the Fontemer Pearl's once-per-round effect ("Usage(s) will not be used when negating DMG from Summons").

● Audio

Fixes an issue whereby there was a chance that the effect of Freminet's skill voice line would be abnormal in certain situations.

Fixes an issue whereby, when Chiori used her Elemental Skill to enter combat, there was a chance that the Elemental Skill sound effect would be abnormal.

● Other

Fixes an issue whereby there was a small probability that the model of the currently controlled character would disappear abnormally under certain circumstances when playing through Lynette's Hangout Event on mobile devices.

Fixes an issue whereby if a character unequipped and then re-equipped the weapon "Amenoma Kageuchi," after triggering the weapon's effect to obtain Succession Seeds, Succession Seeds' duration would be abnormal under certain circumstances.

Fixes an issue whereby some buildings in Mondstadt were overlapping abnormally, which was preventing characters from climbing upwards.

Fixes some text errors in certain languages and optimizes text. (Note: Related in-game functions have not changed. Travelers can view the changes in different languages by going to the Paimon Menu > Settings > Language and changing the Game Language.)

Text-related fixes and optimizations in English include:

◆ Optimizes certain English translations.

*This is a work of fiction and is not related to any actual people, events, groups, or organizations.

"PlayStation", "PS5", "PS4", "DualSense", "DUALSHOCK" are registered trademarks or trademarks of Sony Interactive Entertainment Inc.

#genshin impact #genshin impact updates #genshin impact news #official #genshin impact 4.6

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burning-omen · 8 months

Text

Kinktober day 5: Gun Play + Steven Grant

Steven Grant x SHIELD agent!Male!reader

Kinktober 2023 List | Day 1 | Day 6 | Ao3

Summary: After taking a day off, you finally get to go home to your boyfriend, Steven.

(a/n: I MISSED YESTERDAY AND IT SHATTERED MY SOUL INTO A MILLION PIECES IM SORRY I WAS TIRED AND I FORGOT)

Warning: Guns, mention of reader killing and being shot at, reader is close with Nick Fury kinda, oral, hand job, surprisingly gentle sex, obedient Steven Grant, soft top reader, Steven talks to Marc but that's not really a warning I just wanted yall to know that my bbygrl was mention in this fic

Words: 2k

SHIELD has been sending you all over the world as of recently, you didn't complain, you knew your work was important, and the amount of trust you’d gained from Nick Fury came with a lot of off-the-books missions, mostly investigating SHIELD itself. You'd asked from a break, at least a day or so, to get your gear together after you gun, which has been through many, many mission, jammed on you mid encounter. It was embarrassing, luckily the only other people who saw it happen were either dead or in maximum security prison serving life.

Your boyfriend, Steven, wasn't home when you got there, mostly likely at work, or maybe Marc was out on his a mission. Either way, you waited for him.

In the meantime, you decided to finally take care of your gear, you'd brought all of the supplies from SHEILD headquarters before coming home, setting up at Steven’s desk, and moving the book he had lying on the table and a couple of papers into a neat stack. You started with your boots, scrubbing them, changing the insoles, making sure the outsole wasn't damaged beyond a bit of wear from years of use, then setting them aside.

Moving on to your vest, you picked out the metal fragment from the various bullets that had shattered on impact, replacing the aramid padding that- even though it has yet to show signs of any extreme damage- was starting to wear. The bruise on your stomach was proof of that, the vest stopped the bullet from piercing skin, but didn't lessen the impact as it hit you. You sighed, knowing that Steven was going to fuss over it the second he saw the festering bruise.

You moved on to you knives, still pretty sharp, but not as sharp as they should have been. Using the lanksy puck that you definitely were not supposed to take to sharpen a them. Carefully putting them back in their sheaths and reattatching them to your utility belt, which sat in a duffle bag with both your uniform and you newly repaired vest.

Finally, you moved onto the main event, you gun, which was still jammed, turning the safety on before completely disassembling it, staring at the pieces of your revolver on the table. You didn't worry to much about the the bullets, they'd be gone by your next mission anyway.

You took your time with this one, getting into every nook and cranky, blood, dust, and built up metal from the bullets, just a bunch of little things. Reassembly was purely muscle memory, your gun looked and felt brand new. You took the ammo out and dry-fired the gun, it sounded a hell of a lot better- and the hammer dropped without interruption, jam officially gone, you reloaded the gun and sat it on the desk.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, letting the tension slip from your shoulders with a sigh, practically melting into the seat, finnaly able to relax.

And as if he somehow knew that you were officially off duty, you heard Steven fumble with the lock, seemingly dropping the key, a small swear leaving him, before he unlocked the door. He walked around silently for a while, setting down his bag and heading to the kitchen, muttering to himself, or more likely Marc, as he was asking questions about the morning, what they ate for breakfast and where Marc had left the book Steven had been reading before bed.

It took him maybe five minutes to walk back there. He walked straight past you, not paying any attention and b-lining to the bed, to be fair, it was late and Steven wasn't exactly the most observant. You loved him though, so you let him lay there for a moment before calling his name.

He practuscally jumped out of his skin, getting caught in the mess of blankets for moment. Steven was on you faster that you thought was possible. Damn near tackling you, the chair surprisingly holding both of your weight and Steven situated himself in your lap, his legs drapped across yours.

“You're back! When did you fly in?” he asked, a wide smile on his face.

“About three hours ago, where’ve you been?”

He groaned, flopping down against you, his head on your shoulder.

“Job hunting, again.”

“What happened to the uh, what was it, the library, right? I thought you were having fun over there?”

“I was, but they cut the budget and I was new so they dropped me.”

“Aww,” you cooed, running your fingers through his hair, “poor thing.”

He sighed, enjoying the contact after nearly a month apart.

“What about you, I thought you weren't supposed to be back for another two weeks?”

“I wasn't, but..” you grabbed you pistol off the table, you finger on the trigger even though the safety was on and you had no immediate target, “My gun jammed and I asked my boss to give me a day off in order to fix it,”

Stevens's eyes were glued to the gun as you spoke, appreciating every little detail and crevice it held.

You knew about Steven’s affinity for guns, well, you and guns, guns alone did nothing for Steven, but when you held them...

He got quiet, glancing at you only to see you staring back at him with a knowing look on your face.

“Im flying back out tomorrow..”you pointed the gun downward, nudging his legs open with the tip, he complyed without any hesitation. “…i was thinking you and I could-”

“Yes!”

You stared at the man for a moment, almost bewildered before remembering that you've been gone for nearly two months and he's probably been thinking about this since the day you left.

You hummed before saying, “Get on the bed, lay on your back, I want to see you.”

He grinned again, practically running to the bed, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the floor, laying down in the bed, hardly able to keep himself still.

You sat at the desk for a short moment, completely removing the ammo from the gun, double checking it to avoid any incidence, then walked over to Steve, who was practically vibrating in excitement.

Kneeling between his legs, you commemorated the image of him, so happy to be fully and utterly yours, to memory.

You pointed the gun on his chest, digging the tip into his shirt, watching his reaction intently, he ceased all movement, staring down at it, taking in the weight on his chest.

“Breathe, Steven.” you said when you noticed he wasn't.

He let out a long, shuttered breath.

“You know I would never hurt you? Right Steven.”

“Oh course..”

“Good, “ you slid the gun down, feeling where his ribs ended and sturdy muscle began. Stopping just below his belly button.

“Strip, slowly, I want to see you.”

He complied easily. Hands shaking as he unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, just like you demanded.

“That's it, good boy..”

Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, then moving down to his pants. Fumbling with the belt, getting it just before you could offer your help, he kicked his jeans down until they pooled on the floor below.

You stared at him, taking in his smooth skin and every sculpted muscle that you had no one but Marc to thank for.

Running the tip of your pistol lower and lower, running it over the growing tent in his underwear, he shuttered, a light gasp passing his slightly parted lips.

Dragging it across his waist, then down his thigh, Steven watched the gun just as intensely as you watched him. You let your finger hover the trigger, he swallowed hard.

You moved suddenly, lifting the gun to his head, right between his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard, he never hid how he felt, not with you, he felt like he didn't have to, or more accurately, he couldn't. You were an agent of SHEILD, you were trained to see through lies.

Moving your hand down ever so slightly, pressing the gun against his lips.

“Open.”

For the forth time tonight, he obeyed. Taking the tip in his mouth, then more, sucking and licking like the gun could feel it.

The effects it had on you were innumerable.

You hummed softly, adjusting your grip. You watched him, he seemingly never got bored, the imagined danger and thrill perpetuating him, eager to please cold steel.

You tugged slightly, and he let it go, lips wet with saliva.

The way he looked at you, his eyes low, cheeks flushed, breathing like he'd just run a hundred miles.

“You're being so good, Steven, so obedient. You must have really missed me..”

He nodded rapidly, “I missed you, I missed you so much-”

You shushed him, “I know, I know. I shouldn't have to leave you here, all on your own, I should be here to protect you at all times..”

He nodded along- you both knew that he didn't need the protection, but fuck it kept you here he’d be your damsel in distress forever.

Rubbing the wet tip down his chest, then right above his cock, tapping the trigger, watching him flinch at every move. He watched so intently, his breath shaky and loud, you were unpredictable, yet he couldn't wait to see what you did next.

Nudging the tip of the gun past the elastic waistband of his underwear, pulling them down.

Steven couldn't stay still, his brain and body running a million miles an hour. Slowly, you sunk down between his legs, your gun pressed right up against the center of his chest. You knew the position would get uncomfortable soon, so you decided to make this as quick as you could.

“Don’t move.” he didn't nod, or talk, just immediately playing along.

Taking your free hand, you guided Steven's hard cock, shiny with pre-cum to your mouth.

He was always sensitive, but your tongue had hardly even pressed the tip of his cock before he was a whimpering, whining mess. Hs adrenaline was spiked, of course he was more susceptible that ever right now. Taking him as deep as you could, feeling him press against the back of your throat. His hands balled into the bedsheets bellow, nearly tearing them in his hands.

Running your tongue on the underside of his cock, then swirling it around the tip, never taking your eyes off of him. His little whines growinh louder and more desperate.

You pulled away when you felt him start bucking into your mouth. Taking a short moment to wipe your mouth of both spit and pre cum.

You lifted slightly, wrapping your hand around his now perfectly lubed cock. Stroking him nice and slow, soft moans falling from his lips.

He whined your name over and over, obedience and his composure, the latter of which was had been already hanging on by a thread before you ever put your mouth or hands on him, waining. He loved nights like these when you were gentle but still so very obviously in control.

“Y/n- y/n, I'm so close, please, Love, please-”

You tightened your grip on the gun, pressing it harder into his chest, he moaned at the feeling.

You never sped up, watching him build up the his orgasm nice and slow, and when his mouth fell open in a long moan and his eyes squeezed so tightly shut you're sure he was seeing stars behind them.

Then- you squeezed the trigger. Nothing came out but Steven gasped hard like he’d been hit. His hips twitched up into your hand, cum pouring out all over your fingers. Even when that stopped, his orgasm still seemed to flow through him, his body drawn tight as he came down.

“Y/n..” he panted, “you're good, so good-”

Dragging the gun down, right into the pool of cum at the base of his stomach, then bringing it up to your mouth, licking it off.

“Come on, Steven, we're not done..”

#x male reader #male reader #male!reader #kinktober #male s/o #x male!reader #kinktober 2023 #steven grant x male reader #steven grant x male!reader

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tiredwitchplant · 8 months

Text

How to Use Herbs : Rosemary

Hwello there. We have talked about rosemary and its uses in a previous post. If you haven't read it, please click here: Rosemary

Now I shall provide some spells, tonics, recipes and etc on where you can utilize it. Let us begin :)

Author's Note: From I noticed a part is usually a teaspoon. You can add more according to your needs, but I would always start with that measurement first.

Alchemist Formula for Binding:

One part benzoin gum (Saturn, binding)

One part patchouli (Saturn,binding)

One part Solomon's seal (Saturn, protective)

One part rosemary oil (Saturn, protective)

One part frankincense oil (Sun, success)

Mental Focus Magical Tea:

I part rosemary

1/2 part spearmint

1 cup of boiling water

Mix herbs in a small jar

To brew, pour 1 cup of boiling water over 1 teaspoon of the herbal blend.

Steep for 5 - 7 minute. Strain and drink.

Spells:

Remembrance for Lost Love (Heartache Healer)

6 drops of rosemary oil

3 drops of peppermint oil

1 drop of lavender oil

White candle

Add the oil to the top of the candle, one at a time, in a clockwise direction around the wick.

LIght the candle and gaze into the flame

Visualize your fond memories of the person who left your life. As you do this say, "I thank you for the time we had together, I thank you for the love we shared, I thank you for being an important part of my life. We have parted, we move on, we remember. I wish you the best life has to offer and hope you have found happiness."

Allow the candle to burn out of its own and dispose of the remaining wax away from your home or bury it in the spot you and the past partner enjoyed together.

Broom Cleansing Spell

Use one or any combination of the following botanicals: broom, cedar,fennel, hyssop, rosemary, sage, vervain.

Arrange the botanicals and tie them to the bottom of a branch withraffia, visualizing, charging and knotting. (Any branch may be used,however an ash branch is considered particularly powerful.)

Sprinkle with salted water or any preferred purification formula.

Sweep the area.

Disassemble the broom outside, away from the cleansed space.

Bury the components in the ground or toss them into living waters, flowing away from you.

Ghost Keep Away Spell (Boundary Line Spell)

Place three peeled cloves of garlic in a bowl, together with one handful of sea salt and one handful of fresh rosemary leaves.

Grind and mash the ingredients together.

Sprinkle them to create a boundary, as needed.

Bad Habits Bath

Add the following to a tub filled with warm water:

Essential oil of clary sage

Essential oil of frankincense

Essential oil of lavender

Essential oil of lemongrass or May Chang

Essential oil of rosemary

Enter the bath and inhale the fragrance, and accompany with affirmations and positive visualizations.

Kitchen Witch Recipes:

Super-Quick Bonus Recipe for Gwion’s Red Onion Pickle Bliss

Fills one pint-sized jar

Prep Time: 10 minutes

Cooking Time: 20 minutes, plus 30 minutes to cool in the fridge

1 medium red onion

3 tablespoons sugar

1/2 cup water

10 black peppercorns

2/3 cup white wine vinegar,

rice vinegar, or apple cider vinegar

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1 sprig rosemary

1 clove garlic, peeled and halved

Slice the onion very thinly and place it in your clean, dry jar. Set it aside.

Add the rest of the ingredients to a medium saucepan and bring to a boil until the sugar has fully dissolved. Stir carefully so you don’t break the rosemary. The sprig is in there to add flavour, and you’ll discard it before the next step.

Let the pickling mixture (the water, vinegar, and spices) cool down for about 10 minutes. Discard the sprig of rosemary and pour the remaining

ingredients into the jar of onions. Make sure all of the onions are submerged

in the picking liquid. If you have to, use a spoon to push the onions down in the jar. Seal the jar and put it in the fridge to cool. The onions are ready to eat once they are cool, about 30 minutes.

Serve them on avocado toast, burgers, salads, or just with a fork straight out of the jar. Remember to kiss your partner or partners before eating the onions out of the jar, unless they’re into pungent kisses.

Goat for a God: Roasted Goat Leg with Grape Molasses

Great for Deities: Dionysus, Pan and Thor

Serves : 6

Prep Time: 30 minutes

Cooking Time: 2 hours and 30 minutes

1 goat leg (about 3 pounds)

1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon olive oil

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon cumin

2 teaspoons black pepper

4 tablespoons grape molasses

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon coriander

2 sprigs fresh rosemary

1 cup white wine + one glass for sipping and toasting while cooking (use mead if you're cooking this for Thor)

1 bay leaf

2 large carrots, chopped into

1" chunks

1 celery root, peeled and chopped into 1" cubes

Open the bottle of white wine or mead and take a hefty drink. (This is optional but deities do like when you drink with them but they can respect if you don't partake.)

Preheat the oven to 375° F.

Liberally season the goat leg with salt and pepper.

Rub the minced garlic all over the goat leg too. If it helps, poke a few holes in the goat leg so you can get the garlic right into the meat.

Place the rosemary sprigs and bay leaf in the bottom of a large roasting pan and put the goat leg right on top. Add the carrots and celery root around the edges. Pour the olive oil all over the goat and rub it around. Coat the carrots and celery root too.

Pour the white wine around the bottom of the roasting pan.

Loosely cover with kitchen foil and put the whole pan into the oven for 2 hours.

About an hour and forty-five minutes into the cooking process, it’s time to make the glaze.

Mix the grape molasses—which is a super-condensed syrup made of grape must—in a bowl with a tablespoon of olive oil, the coriander, and the cumin. You can substitute honey for the grape molasses if for Thor.

At the two-hour mark, pull the roasting pan out of the oven and paint the goat with the grape (or honey) and spice glaze.

Pop the goat and veggies, uncovered, back into the oven for another 20 minutes or until the internal temperature reaches at least 145° F.

When you’re ready to serve this dish, scoop the veggies into a bowl (fornow) and put the goat leg on a platter. If you have access to one, get a cedar plank and serve the goat on it.

Medical Tonics and Infusions:

Infusion- An infusion is the simplest way to prepare the more delicate aerial parts of plants, especially leaves and flowers, for use as a medicine or as a revitalizing or relaxing drink. It is made in a similar way to tea, using either a single herb or a combination of herbs, and may be drunk hot or cold.

Pot Infusion

For a cup:

1 tsp (2–3 g) dried or 2 tsp (4–6 g) fresh herb (or mixture of herbs) to a cup of water

For a pot:

20 g dried herb or 30 g fresh herb (or a mixture of different herbs) to 2 cups (500 ml) of water

Warm the pot, then add the herb.

Pour in water that has just boiled, replace the lid, and infuse for 10 minutes.

Strain some of the infusion into a cup. A teaspoon of honey may be added if desired.

Storage:

Store in a covered jug in a refrigerator or cool place for up to 24 hours.

Tonic Making

Standard Quantity:

200 g dried or 300 g fresh herb chopped into small pieces to 1 quart (1 liter) alcohol—vodka of 35–40% alcohol is ideal, although rum hides the taste of bitter or unpalatable herbs

Standard Dosage:

Take 1 tsp (5 ml) 2 –3 times a day diluted in 1 tbsp plus 1 tsp (25 ml) of water or fruit juice.

Place the herb in a large, clean glass jar and pour on the alcohol, ensuring that the herb is covered. Close and label the jar.

Shake well for 1–2 minutes and store in a cool dark place for 10–14 days, shaking the jar every 1–2 days.

Set up the wine press, placing a muslin or nylon mesh bag securely inside. Pour in the mixture and collect the liquid in the jug.

Slowly close the wine press, extracting the remaining liquid from the herbs until no more drips appear. Discard the leftover herbs.

Pour the tincture into clean, dark glass bottles using a funnel. When full, stopper with a cork or screw top and label the bottles.

Storage:

Store in sterilized, dark glass bottles in a cool dark place for up to 2 years. An amber glass jar is the best option.

Sorry this post is so long @_@ But please enjoy and use wisely. Bye byes~

Sources

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 3 months

Text

Yandere Coworker (part 5)

Tw: non-con touching, coercion, molestation, Afab/fem reader

Masterlists, part 1, part 6

Damn now that my account is blowing up cause of our resident asshole Cyprus, lemme introduce yall to my favourite Yandere oc Yves

And his respective Series featuring my cringefail yandere Montgomery

Btw vote down below

"It's five, baby. Stop working." He ruffled your hair, you whined as you fixed them with your fingers.

You looked up to see him casually leaning against your cubicle, holding his suitcase in a hand and his car keys in another.

You said you need to finish your work.

"The company paid you for your time from 9 to 5. Not 9 to 5:10. Come on, princess. I already clocked you out." He teasingly rubbed the shell of your ear, making you recoil and complain, you told him to not touch you.

And he did the exact opposite. He dropped his suitcase just so he could utilize both hands to tickle you. You tried stifling your laughter, but it was near impossible when he blew raspberries onto your neck while his hands attacked the most sensitive part of your sides.

"I can't touch you, huh? What are you gonna do about it, pretty girl?" He rapidly fired kisses onto your face. You can feel the cold frame of his glasses pressing against your skin each time he smooches you.

You relented. Saying you give up and will stop working for the day if he lets you go from this tickle torture of his.

He stopped, and you took a few seconds to catch your breath. You thank the stars that the office was mostly empty, save for a few coworkers working overtime.

You frowned, got up from your seat, and began packing. He watched you with a satisfied grin on his stupidly handsome face.

You're uncomfortably pressed against his side as your eyes darted between him and his TV. Your arms were forced to be sprawled on his broad, bare chest. He paid no mind to your squirming as his hand mindlessly rubbed your hips, towards your buttocks and locked you in place. Whenever he switches the channel, there is a brief moment where the screen would turn black. You would stare back at the reflection between the two of you. This would have seemed cozy and sweet, if only you agreed to be Cyprus's girlfriend.

He has a carnivorous diet, Cyprus fed you dinner which consisted of steak, mashed potatoes, gravy and peas. Of course, all served in a paper plate which was then disposed of. The lunch he bought you this afternoon was of similar nature.

You told him you have to head back home. It's getting late and you did what he told you. All of them.

He dangled your wallet over your head, making you do tasks that become more and more upsetting and perverted.

Cyprus started with asking you to help clean up the table while he took a shower. You agreed, thinking you could take your belongings and leave while he's busy. But only your bag was present, you later found out that he brought your precious wallet into the bathroom with him.

He then told you to take a shower too. You locked your door and even jammed the knob with the mop that's in there.

The next one was to wear one of his oversized shirts. The one that's similar to what you woke up with last Friday.

Then, he told you to give him a 30 second hug. You couldn't push him away or let go, or else he's going to reset the timer. You're tired from jumping, trying to reach the wallet. You couldn't even kick him in the groin with his lightning reflex.

So you did. You wrapped your arms around him and braced for whatever he has next. Only to flinch away when he tucked his calloused hand under your clothes, roaming his digits on your bare back and toying with the hook of your bra.

You shouted at him, feeling angry and violated. He simply rolled his eyes, called you dramatic and walked away, stowing your wallet in his pocket.

You contemplated calling the police and making them deal with him. Then you realize that he managed to snatch your phone again.

You ended up doing the 30 seconds. The entire time, he was licking the nape of your neck, groping you everywhere and grinding his crotch against yours. You cried hot tears when he slipped his hand into your underwear, caressing the vulnerable flesh underneath.

You felt suffocated when he crowded you to a wall. You couldn't jerk your hips to avoid his frotting because the wall was in the way.

However, he was a man of his word. The alarm on his phone went off after exactly 30 seconds, he allowed you to leave and handed you your wallet.

But not your phone.

He tried consoling you by cooing sweet nothings into your ear, it just sounded patronizing and demeaning despite his sugary words.

You managed to say through your sobs that you wanted your phone back. He tangled his fingers in your hair, pretending that he couldn't understand your babbling. Cyprus talked to you in a sickening baby voice, as if you're dumb and silly.

That's what got you lounging next to him on the couch as he surfs the channels. He told you that you'll earn your phone back after this.

He yawned, turning his head to give you a peck. "No. I don't think you did enough to earn it."

You let out an exasperated cry, asking him what else he wanted from you.

He stared at your face for a bit before chuckling to himself. "Cute."

You complained, whined and hit his chest with considerable force. Yet he wouldn't budge his hand from your rear.

"Princess, look at me." Commanded Cyprus as he took his glasses off. You did as you were told.

"Stay the night." He whispered before kissing you on the lips. "We could cuddle." He slid his soft, and supple pair of lips down to your neck, to the spot where he knew would make you moan the loudest.

"Or we could have fun 'till the sun rises." He breathed into your ear huskily, giving your ass a squeeze and your neck a suckle.

You whined and mewled, trying to push him off you weakly but it felt embarrassingly good. Toes were curled and cheeks were heating up while he slipped his hands under the large T-shirt, feeling every square inch of your skin.

You shoved him off you when he managed to unclasp your bra. Hands were crossed in front of your chest as you moved away as far from him as possible.

His face expressed disappointment and annoyance. But it lightened up when he saw that he gave you a very visible Hickey. It's sizable and dark enough that you would have a hard time concealing it with makeup or clothes.

"Fine, be that way then. You'll give in sooner or later, princess." He wore his glasses as he rose from the couch. While you're fixing the hooks of your bra, he was yawning and stretching his shoulders.

"Come on, let's get to bed. We have work tomorrow." He waited for you by the armrest.

You asked if you stayed the night, he will give everything back to you in the morning.

Cyprus rolled his eyes. "Sure." His hand shot out to grab you by the wrist, he yanked you towards him, making you stumble over yourself and nearly losing your balance.

He seized this opportunity to scoop you off your feet, carrying you in his strong, muscular and veiny arms effortlessly.

No matter how many times you protested or tried to hit him, Cyprus ignored you and kept walking on.

He used his foot to close the door behind him.

You were stressing over the number of eyes on you today. Cyprus was holding you by the waist as you and him ascended the elevator.

Seeing that Jane is there, souring the carefree mood of the office for everyone, Cyprus also scowled.

He clocked in for the both of you before escorting you to your cubicle, dropping your suitcase off as well. Your manager was burning holes into him, curious about the relationship between her most difficult employee and her most hardworking (yet spineless) one.

Her eyebrows cocked upwards when Cyprus pressed a kiss onto your forehead before ruffling your hair into a bird's nest.

She was mostly surprised at first, even amused. But when she saw the time that you arrived, her expression darkened. Cyprus has infected you with his disease, you would usually come in much earlier than this.

She does not need another "slacker" in the office to spread their bad influence.

She opened her mouth to comment about something to you. Sighing, you expected this to happen, it comes with the package of "dating" Cyprus.

"You got a minute, Jane?" The dreaded confrontation was interrupted by Cyprus's sudden interjection.

He led Jane into the conference room, where the frosted glass and soundproof walls gave them the much-needed privacy.

You're grateful that he pulled her away for whatever business he needs to talk about. Now, you could focus on your work, getting as much done before she comes out and starts biting your head off.

You were too engrossed in your work to notice that she came out looking quite shaken. As if she had seen a ghost.

Jane had walked away, leaving your department to work on their own without her soul killing micromanaging. Deciding to exert her power onto some other floor.

"She won't bother you anymore, princess." You jumped as you felt Cyprus's breath tickle the back of your neck.

He laughed at your reaction. "You're too damn cute for your own good."

You asked Cyprus what he told her.

"Watch my match tonight and I'll spill." He must be referring to his boxing hobby.

You asked where it is.

"Can't tell you. Won't tell you."

You said how could you attend if you don't even know where the venue is. He clicked his tongue in slight annoyance.

"I'm driving you there anyways, why would you need to know anything when I'll take care of everything?" He placed a hand on his hip as he leaned against your cubicle wall.

You asked what time it would be.

"Just get ready when I tell you to."

You said that you don't check your phone often. You need a set time when he would pick you up, should you agree to come and watch him fight his poor opponent.

"Who said you'll be getting ready at your place?" He smirked.

You said you're not going back to his place.

He displayed mock hurt, he pouted and whined softly to tease you. "You're so mean, baby."

You repeated that you're not going back to his place again.

"I guess you won't be needing this anymore then." he pulled out your ID from his back pocket.

You tried to swipe it from him as usual, but you failed. You looked up at him.

"You know the drill, pretty girl." He brought his face close to yours.

You thought about your choices. You're curious, wondering what made The Jane of your department scared shitless. You're also curious as to how a boxing match look in real life. Finally, you need your ID.

However, you could always make a new one and claim you lost it. It's not like you need your ID urgently, plus, it could send Cyprus a message that you're willing to go through this much hassle to get away from him.

You took a deep breath when you're ready to say your answer.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc cyprus #male yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x darling #yandere coworker

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weekendviking · 1 year

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Further adventures in Experimental Archaeology.

So, throughout my many years as a reenactor and aspiring bang the rocks together experimental archaeology adjacent loon, it's always interesting to be at the cutting (or bruised, bleeding or dazed) edge.

So when this paper crossed various blogs, we couldn't resist:

Collins, R., & Sands, R. (2023). Touch wood: Luck, protection, power or pleasure? A wooden phallus from Vindolanda Roman fort. Antiquity, 1-17. doi:10.15184/aqy.2023.11

After reading the various hot takes, a few of us decided that it was worth trying out the various non bodily penetrative possible uses of the item to see if we could match the wear patterns.

Construction: We don't have readily available European Ash where we are, so the green roundwood to hand this weekend was Poplar, of which I'd felled a sapling to supply billets for the spoon carvers. I roughed out the taper with a side axe, and then used one of the early medieval utility knives I made earlier in the week to whittle the phallus down to about the dimensions described, but a little larger to account for the variously cited 5-8% shrinkage of ash as it dries, and a little more for post burial archaeological shrinkage.

Part of the build montage:

It was very quick to make - around two hours from first cut to finished object. Would take a little longer in seasoned wood or hardwood.

Because the different possible uses of the object may leave different wear patterns, more than one will need to be made. First proposal: It's a Pestle, and any wear patterns are from the pounding of food or mineral materials, rather than the pounding of the denizens of Vindolanda.

As we were about to cook the evening meal, some coarse salt needed to be ground, with a spare bowl standing in for the mortar, and the freshly carved phallus as pestle:

It works really well as a pestle, and reduced 4-8mm grainsize coarse salt down to a sub millimeter size in a minute or two, and was a comfortable shape to use, with the slope of the glans against the base of one's palm, and thumb and middle finger on the underside of the shaft, forefinger on the top near the bulge of the base for control.

While a single use isn't going to show much wear, because this is fresh green poplar, the base quickly started rounding, with a distinct patch of abrasion obscuring the tooling marks from my whittling knife:

I'll continue to use this in my kitchen mortar for a few weeks, and see if it develops any more distinctive wear patterns. Just from this weekend's use, one could see a little wear and high points on the shaft beginning to pick up use marks from my hands, mostly just discolouration from soot and so forth on my hands from being busy around an open fire cooking site:

This is an ongoing project, and there will be further iterations, with each replica only used for one tool type, to see if the wear patterns are specific to the different uses:

Drop Spindle, to see if it functions as a dealgan type drop spindle. Personally, I think the detailing on the glans section is a little light to provide an effective tye point for use as a drop spindle.

Mallet, for woodworking, driving chisels, etc. Probably unlikely, as this would leave very distinct impact marks on the flared base, especially if it was used while still greenwood.

Darning mushroom, for repairing knitwear. Some of us think this is quite likely, so it's a hot favourite.

Further details will be posted here :-)

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matchagator · 11 months

Text

Clash | jjk (Mature) Ch. 5

Chapter 5 is here! Only one chapter left before the end of Clash 😭 Thank you to everyone who has shown this story some love! It's been a special project for me and the love it has received is truly appreciated! 💜 Love you guys.

{Main Pairings:} Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader

{Rating:} 18+

{Genre:} Slice of Life | Neighbors

{Summary:} You're a new resident in your very first apartment excited to enjoy the simple life of adulthood. Unfortunately for you, you continue to run into unruly neighbors no matter how much you try to keep to yourself.

{Warnings:} Mature Language, Enemies to Lovers, Hostility, Mild Angst, Sexual Tension, Banter, Smut, Mild Degradation, Sexual Content, Prank Wars, Unprotected Sex , Awkward Tension, Fluff, Oral Sex, Teasing. (This list will be updated as each part gets released)

After another weekend of rest and recovery, you’re finally able to resume your typical everyday activities since your sprained ankle is now completely healed from your unfortunate fall. Your long day at work is finally over and you utilize your free time to get in a jog to a local Vietnamese restaurant to indulge in one of your favorite meals.

The wind feels cooling against your damp skin as you power through your jog. You roam the sidewalks leading to a small strip of businesses a few blocks from your apartment, spotting the restaurant as you step up to the curb.

You slow your pace to a walk as you notice a group of dark clouds looming overhead, suddenly worried that your trip home might be in the middle of the pouring rain. You hope for the best as you pull open the large glass door leading into the establishment, a delicious aroma wafting in your direction as you walk inside.

The welcoming decor of the establishment brings a smile to your lips as you recognize some of the employees you often see on your visits. You can feel your mouth watering as you glance around for a table, your eyes suddenly finding two familiar figures sitting at a table in the far corner of the restaurant.

Your mouth practically drops open as you notice Jungkook sitting beside his friend Taehyung, dressed in his paramedic uniform. You can’t help but wonder if he is finishing work or if he is going in for the night shift. You drop your stare as you glance around to see if your usual table is available. You sigh once noticing a couple sitting together at your usual booth, shifting your gaze to seek out another location.

There is a small booth available toward the back nestled right beside Jungkook and Taehyung’s table. You hang your head down as you make your way over, noticing Taehyung make eye contact with you before you watch him nudge Jungkook gently. You steal a few glances in their direction as the two men whisper to each other.

Your focus remains on the available booth before seeing Taehyung’s arm shoot in the air to gesture you over toward them. You glance up, debating whether you should simply smile and take your seat, or actually walk over to make conversation with them. You figure it’s better to keep your distance given the fact that you and Jungkook have yet to figure out what’s going on between you.

Ultimately, it’s Jungkook’s alluring smile that draws you over, his chiseled jaw and smile perfectly exposed since his hair is tied back for work. You offer the two men a smile as you walk over, shyly waving as Taehyung’s handsome features brighten at your presence.

“Hey.” You speak softly as Taehyung stands to greet you, motioning toward the empty space beside Jungkook.

“Please, join us.” Taehyung insists, obviously way too amused to see you accepting his invitation. You hesitate, peering down to see Jungkook’s smile falter for a moment, providing you with a rare snapshot of him suddenly appearing shy.

Jungkook shifts within the booth to sit closer to the wall, allowing you some room to join them as one of the waiters make their way over to your table. You slide into the booth beside Jungkook, making sure to keep a space between you as the waiter places an extra pair of chopsticks and utensils down beside you before offering you a friendly nod of his head. “What would you like to drink?”

“Just a water, please.” You answer as he offers you a menu. You happily accept as the waiter leaves to grab your drink. You glance over to see Jungkook and Taehyung staring at you, your cheeks instantly turning red from all of the attention. “How are you guys?” You offer, watching as Taehyung leads the conversation.

You’re surprised to see that Jungkook’s usually overpowering demeanor completely vanishes, exposing a more timid version of himself. You figure it has something to do with the fact that Taehyung invited you to join them, leaving Jungkook to cope with the same awkwardness you feel when it comes to your attraction to one another.

“Good, I just got off and Jungkook’s shift starts in a couple of hours,” Taehyung responds confidently as if he’s completely comfortable with holding a conversation with you, despite the fact that you’re almost a complete stranger. Taehyung observes your athletic attire, looking toward Jungkook to see him fiddling away with his phone. Taehyung shoots him a pointed glare before turning his focus back on you. “So, did you just go to the gym?”

He must have remembered Roxanne telling them about your love for the gym, causing you to glance down at your clothing. “Oh, no I jogged here.” You correct him, noticing that your words seem to stir Jungkook from his phone. He rotates his body to face you, a surprised expression glued to his features.

“You know, it’s supposed to rain.” Jungkook finally speaks, reminding you that you may very well be walking home in the rain.

“A little water won’t kill me.” You shrug your shoulders, watching as Jungkook’s eyes shimmer with amusement.

He offers you a smirk as the waiter returns to take your order. You order your favorite selection of Pho, excited to indulge in a warm broth with rice noodles. Jungkook follows your lead except he selects a different protein for his while Taehyung opts for a rice bowl instead.

Once your waiter walks away, Jungkook lets out an amused scoff, shifting his gaze in your direction. “What?” You ask defensively, watching his shy demeanor fade as the cockiness you’re familiar with returns.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows, running his tongue over his lip piercing as he leans back in the booth. “I didn’t have you pegged for someone who likes Pho.” He’s clearly talking about your choice of meal.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, ass.” You respond in just the same manner in which he spoke to you back in the elevator earlier this week.

His smirk only widens as he stretches an arm out on the top of the booth seating, spreading his legs to slouch in his seat. There is a clear flirtatious tension between the pair of you which causes Taehyung to reach for his drink. Jungkook told him about your night of heated passion, which only serves to spur him on in trying to get his best friend to seek out something with you. It was clear to Taehyung that Jungkook couldn’t get you out of his mind and he was determined to get you two together.

“He is an ass, isn’t he?” Taehyung teases, as Jungkook glares in his direction.

“Shut up.” Jungkook barks playfully as a giggle escapes your lips.

You offer Jungkook a flirtatious stare, your eyes wide with mischief. “And kind of a brat.” You add, watching as Jungkook’s eyes darken at your teasing.

“Watch yourself, princess.” He threatens, pressing his tongue into the side of his cheek before staring you down as if a hunter waiting for his prey. A shiver courses through your spine as his eyes bore into you, similar to the stare he gave while he fucked you senselessly on your kitchen counter.

The tension is thankfully interrupted by the serving of your meals, allowing you to turn your attention to the warm broth seeping steam from your bowl. You lick your lips as the waiter places a plate of basil and bean sprouts in front of you and Jungkook before giving Taehyung his bowl of rice and fried pork belly.

You reach forward to collect some bean sprouts, suddenly feeling something brush with your hand. You quickly notice Jungkook’s tattooed fingers skim against yours as your hands collide in an attempt to collect accompaniments to your food. You both pull your hands back instinctually as Jungkook clears his throat. “Ladies first.” He gestures to the plate as you collect a few bean sprouts to drop into your bowl, alongside plucking a few leaves of basil. You finally grab a couple of jalapeños to toss into the broth before reaching for your chopsticks.

Jungkook watches as you skillfully manipulate your chopsticks to stir and collect your noodles. You lean forward to take your first taste of the savory meal, feeling Jungkook’s stare through the side of your skull. You slurp your noodles as politely as possible before raising your eyebrows in his direction.

Jungkook simply smiles as he reaches for his own toppings. “You just impress me.” He admits, causing your cheeks to ache as a large smile invades your expression.

As the three of you indulge in your meals, you and Taehyung begin discussing a specific series you’ve been binge-watching on Netflix while Jungkook happily stuffs his face with a warm delicious meal. You’re surprised to find the company is actually quite pleasurable, discovering that you have more in common with the two men than you originally expect. While you and Taehyung share similar interests in television series, you discover that you and Jungkook have very similar music preferences. You were quick to call his music shit since it’s always being blared across your apartment wall. Now that you actually take the time to discuss what genres he enjoys, you find similarities to your own preferences.

As you slurp your last bunch of noodles from your chopsticks, you gently lick your lips clean as you set the utensils down across the top of your bowl. Jungkook has already finished his meal alongside Taehyung who were now discussing something that happened at work the following week.

A loud clap of thunder pulls your attention as your eyes frantically glance toward the large windows at the front of the restaurant. “Shit.” You mumble under your breath, realizing that your only way home is now in the pouring rain. You watch as the rain pounds against the glass, the wind causing the weather outside to blur the image of the street ahead.

Jungkook hears the concern in your voice as he follows your line of vision, noticing the change in weather as Taehyung kicks his shin from underneath the table. Jungkook’s eyes flash wildly at his friend, covering his grunt with a clear of his throat. “You know, if you ask nicely…” Jungkook begins to tease, leaning into you as he whispers in your ear. “I’ll drive you home.”

You let out an amused laugh, glaring in his direction as you challenge his stare. “I don’t need your help.” You speak confidently, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I can manage on my own.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen in amusement as he brings his cup to his lips, watching the interaction unfold between you and Jungkook. Jungkook narrows his eyes, almost offended that you refuse his offer. “Don’t be stubborn, Y/N.” His voice is low, almost threatening as he motions back towards the window. “It’s thundering and lightning out there.”

“So?” You offer knowing that accepting his kindness would be your safest way home. Part of you wants to spend more time with Jungkook, however, you can’t help but continue making things challenging between you.

Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, fighting back a growl as he leans forward to invade your personal space. “Y/n, please let me drive you home.” His voice is soft yet it holds the intensity of his intentions. You falter, stunned that Jungkook genuinely seems concerned about you walking home on your own. You make eye contact with him, feeling an electric pull to the man in front of you as you seemingly get lost in his deep brown hues.

“Okay.” You finally answer, your voice almost a whisper as he smirks in triumph, his genuine concern still visible behind his irises.

—

The rain pummels against your skin as you hold your hands up over your head. Jungkook is rushing ahead of you, desperately pressing the button of his key fob to unlock the doors of the black BMW parked against the curb. He pulls open the passenger door just in time for you to crawl inside his car, shivering slightly from the cold moisture on your skin and the damp clothes clinging to your body.

You watch as he shuts the door, the sound of the rain becoming muffled from within the car as you watch him run around the front to sneak into the driver’s seat. You momentarily hear the rainfall become louder until you are both encased inside the vehicle. You laugh as you glance down at your attire, your sports bra is now fully visible through your white tank top, the fabric completely unforgiving as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

Jungkook equally shares a chuckle as he shyly smiles, passing his hands over his face to wipe off the raindrops that dripped down from his soaked hair. His work uniform is clearly completely drenched, the rain refusing to spare him from its brutal attack. He quickly presses the ignition button, listening as the low hum of the BMW roars to life.

“Damn it.” He groans, knowing it would take a good while to dry himself off before heading to work. You bite your lip nervously, shivering as the air conditioning begins to swirl around you, causing chills to rake through your body. Jungkook is quick to notice how cold you seem, his hand quickly switching on the heat as he starts to fiddle with the buttons of his uniform shirt.

You blink back your surprise, watching as each button pulls apart to reveal a white tank top beneath the fabric. Jungkook pulls the shirt from his body, tossing it into the backseat as he holds his hands out towards the vents to warm up with the hot air. His complete sleeve of tattoos is exposed to you once again, causing you to pause and admire the details up close. At first, you notice an image of a clock before finding an orange lily tattooed close beside it. You keep grazing your eyes over the canvas, noticing a microphone, snake, and the words bulletproof written in blue lettering. You want to ask him about them, but you settle with holding your hands out, sighing in relief as the cold air morphs into a comforting warmth.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks, noticing the way your body continues to shiver despite the building heat in the car. “Here.” He leans forward, reaching across you to shift the vents in your direction. You lean back from the close contact, your heart already pounding in your chest from the reality of being inside Jungkook’s car, alone with the man that still haunts your inner thoughts.

You offer him a gentle smile as your body suddenly becomes still, relishing in the comfort of the heat as Jungkook presses a button beside your seat. “That should make you warm.” He adds as you realize he turned on the seat warmers.

“Thank you.” You finally mutter out, finding his eyes once again as his pupils draw you in like a moth to a flame. You simply stare at each other for a moment, completely lost in each other as gravity seems to pull you closer together. It isn’t until you are mere inches away from each other that you realize it, moving your hands back to cross in front of you.

Jungkook’s eyes drop to follow the movement of your arms. He can’t help but notice the black sports bar peeking through the now see-through fabric of your tank top, his eyes drinking in the sight of your mounds as he fights the urge to reach out and grab them. He remembers the feeling of your body against his, his mind reeling at the thought of taking you in the backseat of his car.

He quickly snaps out of his sinful delusions, turning his attention back onto the road and focusing on getting you home. As Jungkook fastens his seatbelt, you quickly do the same, watching as he leans back into his seat before moving the gearshift out of park.

You find yourself holding your breath as Jungkook skillfully pulls the car out into the street from its parallel parking, the engine revving as you lean back in the seat. The radio is turned down, allowing you to hear nothing but the sound of Jungkook’s breathing and the rain pounding on the windshield. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth as you fiddle with one of the wet strands of your hair. “Thanks for driving me home.” You speak softly, watching as Jungkook rests his tatted arm on the gearshift, the other casually gripping the steering wheel.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his eyes remaining on the road ahead. “Better than watching you walk down the street like that.” He teases, raising his eyebrows as he flicks his gaze back onto your body. You gasp, smacking your hand across his shoulder as you use your free arm to cover your chest.

“And here I thought you were a gentleman.” You snap, rolling your eyes as Jungkook playfully chuckles at your comment.

“Oh trust me, princess…” His tone dips deeper, his voice smooth like molasses as he grips the steering wheel tighter. “I’m trying to be.”

You feel your cheeks flush in warmth, your body suddenly becomes sweltering as you desperately search for the seat warmer. Your back and the bottom side of your thighs are now significantly more comfortable as you turn off the setting, hoping it will help cool you off. “I think I’m warm now.” Your eyes find the dial of the air conditioning, moving to lower the temperature as Jungkook does the same.

You feel a tingle course through your limbs as your hand brushes with Jungkook’s, both of your eyes shooting in the direction of the other as a jolt of electricity reminds you of your attraction for him. You shyly pull your hand back as Jungkook rotates the dial to lower the heat.

The drive to your complex isn’t very long as Jungkook swiftly passes the few intersections of the busy streets before pulling into the parking garage of your apartment. You watch as the automated door opens once his sensor is close enough, the roar of his BMW echoing through the structure as the sound of rain ceases from the covered canopy.

You can’t help but let your mind dwell on Jungkook’s words. I’m trying to be. The implications of the phrase have your mind swirling with need, recalling the way he could effortlessly set your body a blaze with a single touch. You nervously chew on your bottom lip as he pulls into a parking spot close to the main lobby entrance, causing you to let out the breath you were subconsciously holding in.

“Thanks again.” Your voice cracks as you speak, causing you to shrink in embarrassment as you refrain from smacking your palm over your forehead. “For driving me.” You add once clearing your throat. You look away from him, peering out your window as you close your eyes, scrunching your face as you cringe from your obvious nerves.

Jungkook places the gear in park as he adjusts himself in the seat, turning his torso to face you. “You’re welcome.” His eyes become drawn to your chest, unable to fight off his desires to peer at your body, lusting over the memory of the pleasure you inflicted upon him. He bites down on his lower lip, playing with his piercing as a way to distract himself, the soft sting of the pressure causing him to bite back a groan as he imagines you nibbling on it for him.

He suddenly remembers that you have to walk upstairs, completely soaked from the inclement weather as you face the chilling air conditioning inside. He also recalls the fact that your shirt is see-through, completely displaying your chest for the world to see. He lifts the tattooed arm over the back of your headrest, twisting his body further as he reaches for a hoodie that was tucked in the backseat. “Here.” He grabs the fabric, handing it to you as the material covers the tempting sight beneath your wet shirt. “Cover up.”

You blink as you bunch the material in front of you, glancing down to see your bra is still showing through your clothes. You blush at the realization, glancing back at Jungkook to find him struggling to keep his eyes from wandering toward your chest. You lower his hoodie, setting it in your lap as you bravely gulp back your nerves. “Why? Does it bother you?” Your voice dips into a seductive purr as you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning up on your hip to tuck one of your legs beneath your bottom to perch yourself up as you lean over the center console.

Jungkook’s jaw practically drops as he watches you invade the space keeping him at a distance from you. You watch his breathing hitch as he sits still, allowing you to come closer as you bat your lashes in his direction. “Watch yourself, princess.” He growls, leaning his face in closer to yours as he meets your flirtatious eyes with a stern expression.

“Or what?” You ask sternly as you continue pressing forward until your lips are nearly brushing against his. “Can’t handle me?” You tease, a cocky smile exposing itself at the corner of your lips as you notice the windows of his car fogging up from the changing air temperature inside and the humidity from outside.

Jungkook bites back a chuckle, fighting every urge coursing through his body to pull you closer and crash his lips into yours. “Oh, I can handle a spoiled brat.” He counters, his arrogant smile making an appearance. “It’s you who can’t handle me.”

His words send you in a silent rage as you gasp in remembrance of the way he commandeered your body. He smirks triumphantly before you drop your eyes onto the belt buckle nestled at his hips, suddenly determined to prove that you can just as easily make him beg for more. You press the release mechanism of his seat belt, watching it retract as Jungkook’s confident expression falters out of curiosity. You barely allow him the time to adjust to your actions, your hands clawing at the belt of his uniform. “We’ll see about that.”

“Y/n?!” Jungkook’s eyes widen as his arms latch onto the door and center console, watching as you effortlessly pull the belt apart, making quick work to unzip his work cargos. “What the f…” Before he can get out his last word, you pull the fabric of his boxers down, allowing his erection to spring free as you wrap your digits around the offending member. Jungkook lets a loud groan escape his lips as he bites down on his bottom lip, completely taken back by the sight of your pretty little hand gripping around him.

A devilish grin exposes your teeth as you begin stroking your hand up and down his length, leaning over to capture his bottom lip between yours. You feel the click of his piercing between your teeth and you playfully nibble his bottom lip, relishing in the moan you drag from deep within his throat. He quickly brings his hands to grab the sides of your head, forcing your gaze directly on his as he watches your eyes grow wider from the twitch of his cock.

“You’re such a fucking tease.” He manages to choke out between huffed breaths as he pulls you into him to drown you in his affection. You manage to continue pumping your fist, your body shivering as Jungkook groans while his mouth is still savagely devouring yours. Your vision blurs momentarily as you become intoxicated by his touch, pulling yourself away in desperate attempts to maintain your composure.

“I thought you said you could handle me?” You tilt your head in a mocking manner, giggling softly to yourself as Jungkook drops his hands from your hair back to whatever parts of his car he can hold onto. He looks completely desperate for more attention from you, bucking his hips forward as he imagines fucking your pussy instead of the inside of your hand.

Your pride swells from his desperation, leading you to amp up your torment as you adjust yourself on the seat, completely leaning over the center console until your face is hovering just a few inches from his hard dick, dripping with pre-cum as it angrily awaits for your sweet treatment. Without hesitation, you latch your lips over the tip, feeling Jungkook’s head fall back against the seat with a thud as an uncharacteristic groan reverberates deep in his throat. “Fuck, Y/n.” He praises you as one of his hands rests on the back of your head. “Take my dick.”

The encouragement causes you to bob your head up and down, letting your lips glide along his shaft as you savor the taste of his pre-cum on your tongue. You confidently swirl your tongue on the underside of his cock as you continue taking him deep in your throat. You feel his fingers tangle within your hair as he guides your head up and down, completely overwhelmed by how willing you are to follow his guidance. “Shit…you’re fucking amazing.”

Your cheeks ache as you fight a smile, Jungkook’s length still completely sheathed within your mouth as you skillfully continue building his high. It isn’t until you begin twisting your hand gently down his length as your mouth follows close behind it that he releases his grip on your hair, his arms latching around the back of his headrest as he fights off his orgasm. “I’m gonna cum…” He pants, completely out of breath as he grips the headrest tightly, feeling his cock twitch in stimulation as your mouth slides down once again, sucking tightly as the feeling of his tip bullies through until it collides with the back of your throat.

Just as you feel Jungkook’s muscles tighten, you release your grip on his member, sliding him back out of your mouth with a pop as you lean back into the passenger seat. Jungkook’s eyes snap open from the sudden lack of attention, his orgasm failing to reach its peak as his dick remains needy for more of your touch.

“What the fuck?” He complains, sitting up as he frantically finds your gaze. “Why did you stop?”

You fight back the smug smirk from stretching over your lips, offering him a condescending smile. “Don’t you have to go to work?” You ask innocently, collecting your belongings as you move to exit his BMW.

Jungkook quickly reaches over you, blocking you from opening the door as his eyes fill with desperation. While the clock serves as a reminder of his rapidly approaching shift, he’s also needy for release after the biggest tease of his life. You simply push past him, opening the door to crawl out before sparing him a final glare. “Looks like you can’t handle me after all.”

“You’re asking for it, princess.” He threatens, his jaw tightening as he tucks himself back into his pants to prevent anyone from walking by and witnessing his indecency. You simply shrug your shoulders, inwardly shuddering at the thought of Jungkook taking out his frustrations on you again.

“Have a good night, JK.” You state simply, shutting the door before making your way toward the lobby door.

You hear Jungkook’s engine roar with urgency behind you, turning around as you watch him pull out from the parking spot, rolling his window down to send his glare directly through you as he chews on his bottom lip in an attempt to cool himself down. You feel your mouth run dry from the pure intensity of his stare knowing you’ll be safe from his revenge for the rest of the evening, at least until he returns home from his shift.

—

The fresh scent of your citrusy household cleaner wafts around you as you finish tidying up your kitchen and living room space, finally taking the time to complete the chores you’ve been neglecting since last weekend. You smile triumphantly as every surface is dusted and disinfected, the mess of clutter neatly sorted and stored in its proper locations. You hum happily to some of your favorite songs as your Bluetooth speakers sync throughout your apartment, the music traveling from room to room as you venture around sweeping and mopping the floors.

Your hair is still damp from your shower, your body comfortably snug in a pair of fleece pajama bottoms and a tank top to keep you warm from the shivers you can’t seem to shake off since getting drenched in the rain. Since Jungkook dropped you off, you watched a movie, took your shower, and began cleaning around the apartment.

You slide across the flooring of your apartment with your socks as you sway your hips with the music, enjoying the rhythmic beats. As you seek out the storage closet in your hallway, you notice the time displayed on the digital clock on your stove, noticing that it's already close to midnight. You pull open the door of the closet, shoving the broom out of sight as you close the door with a satisfied sigh.

The music continues playing throughout your apartment as you pluck your phone from the kitchen counter, lowering the volume to accommodate any neighbors who might be home. Thankfully, both of your direct neighbors work the night shift, leaving you with ample opportunities to enjoy your music in peace. You start singing along to the next song that shuffles through your playlist as you make your way into your bathroom.

You place your phone down on the vanity as you reach for your toothbrush, making quick work to twist off the cap of your tube of toothpaste, squeezing a pea size amount onto the bristles. You turn on the tap, gently running the brush beneath the water before beginning to brush your teeth, still swaying your hips to the music as you glance at yourself in the mirror.

The music suddenly stops as the screen of your phone changes, noticing that it darkens through the reflection of the mirror. You questioningly glance down to peek at your device, curious as to see what caused your music to turn off. You choke on the mixture of your spit and toothpaste as you examine the name displayed across the LED screen.

Asshole.

You lean forward to spit into the sink, letting the water wash away any evidence as you hear the vibrations of your phone against the granite countertop of your vanity. You freeze, simply watching as you debate answering it. Wasn’t he currently at work? Why would he be calling you close to midnight in the middle of his shift? You bring your toothbrush back up to your lips, continuing your nightly routine as you ignore the ring, your eyes occasionally flickering back until you see his contact disappear from the screen.

You finish cleaning off your mouth as you place your toothbrush away in its holder, tapping your phone to see if Jungkook texted you or if his call was merely a mistaken butt-dial. You’re slightly disappointed to see there aren’t any texts coming through as you turn your attention back onto the mirror in front of you. You lean forward once more, turning the faucet handle as you cup your hands beneath the flow, tossing the lukewarm water onto your face as you continue with your nighttime routine.

As you reach across the vanity for your facial cleanser, you ignore your phone as you snap open the lid, squeezing another small amount of product onto your fingertips as you start lathering the substance between your hands. You smear the liquid onto your cheeks, moving your fingertips in slow circles as you watch your skin become white from the suds of the product. You can feel the small exfoliating beads burst against your skin, your mind settling on the reality that Jungkook most likely accidentally dialed your number.

You cup your hands under the water once again, splashing away the cleanser as you close your eyes to prevent any product from stinging them. You blindly reach out to the side, your hand seeking the hand towel hanging on a towel rod nearby, dapping away any remaining moisture as you peer back at your reflection to see your skin freshly washed.

You toss the towel into the hamper off to the side of your bathroom before reaching for your phone, grabbing it as you turn off the light to make your way into your bedroom. As you continue shuffling your feet to the now-returned music, you unlock your phone to disconnect from your speakers. You cross your leg beneath you as you sit perched on the edge of your bed, maneuvering through your streaming app until your apartment is filled with silence.

As you go to click off your screen, you notice a small red dot near your missed calls. You click it open to find a voicemail notification from none other than Jungkook. You blink, half expecting the name on the screen to switch only to find that there truly was a voicemail from your incredibly hot neighbor that you blew earlier in his car.

“Shit.” You hiss under your breath, suddenly nervous as to the reason he even called, let alone leave you a voicemail. You lay back in your bed, all of the lights in your apartment now extinguished except for the small bedside lamp just inches from your pillows. You rest your head back as you hesitantly tap on his nickname, fearing what you might hear in the next few seconds.

“Y/n…” You hear Jungkook in your ear as if he’s laying directly beside you. There’s a small pause as he realizes he’s now recording on your voicemail. “Why didn’t you…? God…damn, I wish you would’ve picked up.” He continues as a frustrated groan resonates through the earpiece of your phone, causing your body to shudder at the deep guttural sound.

Your heart rate begins to increase as you listen to his words, his voice causing a reaction in your body instantly as your heart begins to pound against your ribcage as if it was trying to escape. God, why did he have to sound so hot?

“Fuck, Y/n.” His tone is laced with irritation and need, causing you to unconsciously tuck your lip between your teeth, gently biting the flesh as you imagine him saying it with the same intensity he used earlier in the car. “I’m on my lunch break and all I can think about is that pretty little mouth of yours.” You gasp, feeling your body ignite in the same insatiable heat you feel whenever he’s physically close to you. How could he cause your body such a reaction simply by speaking into his phone?

“You looked so fucking hot swallowing my dick like that before you left…” He continues, his voice is low and seductive, drawing you in with every vocal infliction of his tone. You hear him groan once more into the phone as a chill pierces through your spine. “Damn, princess, you’ve got me all fucked up.”

You feel your cheek burn in embarrassment and arousal at the fact that this voicemail even exists, proof that Jeon Jungkook is still thinking about you, his sexual resolve completely destroyed by your teasing games from earlier that day. You feel empowered, your pride swelling from hearing Jungkook admit that he’s wrecked by you.

There is a long pause on his voicemail, hearing nothing but silence for a good short while. The silence has you hanging off the cliffs of your sanity, feeling nervous and excited about what he could possibly say next. Your mind can’t help but entertain thoughts of what he must look like while he’s leaving you this voicemail. What could he possibly be doing? It isn’t until his voice finally breaks the silence that you find you’ve been holding in a breath, your body shivering from the intensity of his tone. “Just wait till I get home…I’m coming to ruin your fucking morning.” Jungkook leaves you with a dark breathy chuckle before your phone finally beeps, indicating the end of his voicemail.

You lay completely frozen as you stare up at your ceiling, completely dumbfounded by Jungkook’s vulgar comments and provocative threats. You feel your throat run dry, completely unable to speak or make a sound as you process everything that was said for what seemed like an eternity even though it was a quick voicemail.

Your mind flashes to memories of your encounter in his car, his dick hitting against the back of your throat as you pulled delicious moans from his lips. You recall how frustrated Jungkook appeared as you left him desperate for a release.

The temptation of replaying the voicemail overcomes you as you glance down at your phone, tapping away to begin the audio once more. His voice sends another wave of shivers down your spine, your body becoming excited from the manner in which he helplessly exposes his sexual frustrations. “Just wait till I get home…I’m coming to ruin your fucking morning.” As his words repeat, you find yourself wondering what kind of treatment is awaiting you in the morning. You can feel a dull thump between your legs, moisture collecting between your legs as your arousal only fuels your sinful fantasies with your neighbor.

Typically, you’d be scolding his brazen determination, however, the thought of him taking out his lustful agitation on your body sends you reeling. You bite down harder on your bottom lip as your hand travels against your thigh, fighting your every instinct to pleasure yourself as the thoughts of your kitchen sex with Jungkook resurface. You can feel your nipples harden beneath your tanktop, the thin material doing nothing to conceal your blatant arousal at the thought of Jungkook.

“Oh, my god.” You moan as Jungkook’s cocky grin haunts your mind, imagining him playing with that stupid lip piercing of his with the satisfaction of knowing his voicemail caused you to practically beg for his attention. “Such an ass.” You groan as you grab your phone, closing out of your voicemail to place it on its charger. You sigh as you feel your body change knowing that no matter what you tried to convince yourself, you were secretly thrilled for the morning to come.

—

After a restless night of tossing and turning, you find yourself back in your master bathroom, glaring at yourself in the reflective surface of the bathroom mirror. Your hair is still dry from the night before given that you only washed your body this morning. You have small hints of makeup strategically painted across your features to enhance your natural looks, something that you instinctually did after brushing your teeth.

You carefully pull your hair down from the loose bun sitting atop your head, watching as your strands cascade onto your shoulders. You smile at your reflection, thankful for the soft naturally pinky complexion of your cheeks alongside the mascara to enhance your eyes and the soft pigment across your lips. You look soft, a sight that Jungkook would surely welcome if he actually chose to follow through with his threat of coming to ruin your morning.

Your eyes shift down to your attire, suddenly realizing that you have clothes on for comfort, not for looks. You nibble on your lip as you contemplate your choice of clothing, pulling against the waistband of your fleece pajama bottoms to check which underwear you currently have on. You glance back at your reflection, groaning as you turn to venture toward your dresser to find something more appealing.

The black lace fabric of your favorite bra and pantie set catches your gaze as you contemplate whether or not you should change. You grab the balconette bra, holding it up as you imagine Jungkook’s reaction to your chest in such a number. The thought of Jungkook reminds you that all of this effort is going into making sure you look good for the man that has pranked you since your arrival. “Why do I even care?” You groan, tossing the bra back into the drawer.

Just as you go to push it to shut, you sigh as you give into your mild insecurities, snatching up the bra and the matching panties as you stomp your feet in defeat, knowing you were vastly overthinking this supposed morning visit he threatened to pay you. For all you knew, he could’ve completely moved on from the thought after a long night spent saving people’s lives.

Despite your inner turmoil, you change into the set, covering it with a simple black t-shirt and a pair of your comfiest jean shorts. You look at yourself in the mirror, noticing your figure is completely swallowed by the material of your shirt. “Y/n, stop stressing. This is stupid.” You complain to yourself, ignoring the urge to compulsively go pick a new shirt to better flatter you. “It’s JK. Who cares what he thinks?”

As you start walking away from the bathroom vanity, you start tugging on the fabric at the bottom of your shirt, twirling it between your fingers as you tie it into a knot that rests against your hip. “There.” You groan to yourself, completely annoyed with how invested you suddenly became in your appearance. Jungkook fucked you in your kitchen randomly and you never cared what he thought of you, why was it suddenly bothering you so much?

You walk out into your living room, admiring the way the natural sunlight illuminated the space as you moved toward the kitchen. You instantly seek out your coffee maker, plucking a pod from the display beside it as you turn on the machine, ready for a boost of caffeine to help gain some of your energy back.

The coffee maker slowly hums as the water becomes hot, allowing you just enough time to grab your favorite mug from the cabinet and place it beneath the spout. Your eyes shift toward the clock, noticing that it was almost ten o’ clock. Jungkook’s shift was from nine to nine, leaving you to ponder his intentions upon his return home since the hospital was only a fifteen-minute drive from your complex.

You let out a breathy laugh of disappointment, rolling your eyes as you turn your attention to the refrigerator. You might as well get your day started, feeling upset for concerning yourself so much with thoughts of Jungkook. You ponder your selections, debating what seems appealing to your tastebuds.

A series of loud bangs resonate against your front door, causing you to jolt back in surprise as your heartbeat pounds in your ears from the startle. You feel your body stiffen as the banging becomes louder and more consistent as if someone was desperately trying to get your attention.

The smell of coffee invades your nostrils as the coffee maker dispenses the liquid into your mug while you close the refrigerator. There is a pause in the knocking which allows you to turn the corner toward the front door. Before you can reach the lock, you hear a few more loud thumps as you suck in a breath, fully aware of who would be on the opposite end of the door.

You hesitantly pull it open, gasping at the sight of Jungkook glaring through the wood as if he could see right through it. His eyes darken at the sight of you, his facial expression completely unamused. His arms are pressed against your door frame mimicking a predator who is ready to pounce on its prey. You gulp as you take in the sight of him, his hair damp and messy as it hangs over his eyes, his large irises piercing through the strands. It’s clear that he showered after a night in the hospital.

“About fucking time.” He hisses, wasting no time in lunging forward into your apartment, grabbing ahold of your waist as he kicks the door closed behind him. His impatience is evident in his features, his jaw tight from the tension of his sexual desires. You can hardly keep up with how quickly your senses are overcome, feeling yourself crash into the wall beside your hall tree as Jungkook’s hands crawl up your body, crashing his lips into yours.

You moan at his taste, feeling the warmth of his tongue and the cold hard material of his piercing intermixing as your kiss becomes a mixture of tongue and cheek. You gasp for a breath as Jungkook trails his mouth along your jaw, his hands trailing up your waist as he pulls up the material of your shirt. “Take this shit off…” He huffs against your skin, his breath sending a wave of chills through your body, causing your skin to tingle from the sensation.

You comply, lifting your arms to aid in his removal of your shirt, tossing it down beside you as his eyes fixate on the sight of your breasts nestled into your choice of bra. “Damn, Y/n. You’re fucking perfect.” He groans, your pride only growing from his praise as his mouth begins to trail down your neck. Jungkook places open-mouth kisses along your skin, dropping his head to the level of your chest, biting his bottom lip as he moves his hands up to grab them between his large fingers.

“Why are you still dressed?” You pant, feeling drunk off of his presence as you pull his shirt from his frame, Jungkook allowing you to tug it over his head. You carelessly discard it as his muscular frame presses into you, his sleeve tattoo gloriously displayed across his arm and shoulder. “I thought you said you would ruin my morning?” You challenge, watching as Jungkook presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, fighting back his urge to bend you over and spank you.

“Oh…you have no idea, princess.” He chuckles darkly, moving to place a kiss on the fleshy part of your breast that is exposed from your bra. His kiss quickly turns into a gentle graze of his teeth, sending your head back to rest against the wall behind you. “You’ll be begging me to make you cum by the time I’m done with you.”

You feel the moisture build between your legs at his vulgar mouth, unable to respond before he drops to his knees in front of you. You blush at the realization that his face is now hovering dangerously close to your most private region, his hands grabbing at your sides as he presses your hips back into the wall. You dig your fingers into damp strands of hair atop of his head, gripping gently as his hands fiddle with the button of your jeans, gently shimming the denim down your thighs, his mouth practically salivating at the sight of your matching set.

He tilts his chin up, a cocky grin stretched across his lips. “Seems you were waiting for me.” He tuts confidently, his fingers shamelessly gripping the edges of your lace panties, tugging them down the length of your legs.

“Shut up.” You bark back, hating the arrogant smile on his face even though it compliments the fuck out of his demeanor. Jungkook chuckles, his breath ghosting over the junction between your thighs, causing your legs to quake momentarily.

“Better hold on to something, princess,” Jungkook warns, leaving you momentarily confused until he surges forward and latches his mouth over the folds of your vagina, causing a pornographic moan to escape the barrier of your lips.

You slap one of your hands over your mouth, attempting to muffle the blatant sound of your need for him as your reaction only spurs on his determination to drive you mad. “Shit…” You moan as Jungkook runs the entirety of his tongue over the length of your core, causing your legs to shake as you grab onto his shoulder helplessly.

Jungkook smirks against your pussy, bringing his hands down to the front of your pelvis, helping spread your legs apart for better access. Your head falls back, arching your back as Jungkook greedily devours your taste, his tongue swirling against your clit and probing at your tight little hole, causing more whimpers to drip from your mouth as your body rapidly climbs in ecstasy. “Oh my god…JK…”

You run your hands against the toned frame of his shoulders, feeling the coils of your abdomen tighten as Jungkook continues his torment. Jungkook begins to suck against your clit, stimulating you until you feel the edge of your orgasm teeter closer with each stroke of his tongue. “I’m gonna cum…” You warn, completely blissed out as you tighten your grip on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his tongue slip away just as your muscles tighten in anticipation fo your sweet release.

The cold air causes your arousal to deescalate, leaving you in a state of confusion as Jungkook stands back up, a mischievous grin exposing his satisfaction. “What the hell?” You complain, irritated that your orgasm was so suddenly interrupted.

Jungkook licks his lips lecherously, the sinful sight of your arousal being lapped up by his tongue as if it was sweet nectar causes your mouth to hang open. “What’s the matter?” He bites back his mischievous laughter, watching you connect the dots. He’s only returning the favor of the stunt you pulled yesterday in his car, leaving you horny and unsatisfied just as you left him.

“Fuck you.” You snarl, pushing your palms against his bare chest as he captures your wrists within his strong grip. Despite your annoyance, your tone is hardly threatening as Jungkook leans in to grab your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging the flesh gently before releasing it.

His eyes darken as he pins you with his stare, his hands still immobilizing your arms from pushing him away. “Oh, I fully intend on it.” He promises as he releases your wrist to drop his hands down to your ass. Before you can think of a response to throw his way, he lifts you up, guiding your legs to wrap around his hips as you leave the remnants of your clothes on the floor of your entryway.

The journey to your bedroom becomes a blur as Jungkook latches back onto your lips, kissing you passionately as your teeth click against his piercing, snatching his bottom lip between your teeth as another moan jumps from your lips. Jungkook groans from the reaction, pressing his hips forward so that his hardened length probes against your thigh as you finally reach the bedroom. He makes quick work of dropping you onto the bed, tossing you haphazardly as his hands drop to his waist.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your eyes instantly finding the tattooed letters on his hands as you watch him yank down his sweatpants and boxers, allowing his member to spring free. You instantly suck your bottom lip between your teeth, recalling how just yesterday you had him falling to pieces as his cock was buried deep down your throat.

“Fuck, princess. You’re such a damn tease.” He groans as he leans forward and crawls onto the bed to pin you beneath him. You suck in a breath, your body jittery with excitement as you bat your eyes innocently.

“Am I?” You comment bravely, watching as Jungkook pauses over you, resembling a predator ready to sink his teeth into his prey.

Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes dark and unamused by your sarcastic tone. “Shut up, Y/n.” He barks as he pulls you up to snake a hand behind your back, skillfully unclasping your bra with his fingers. Your eyes widen, stunned that he was able to unhinge the undergarment without any difficulty. It turns you on, causing your mind to swirl with even more lust for the man. Why did he have to be such a vibe?

As Jungkook tosses your bra to the side to expose your breast, he grins menacingly before leaning down to latch his mouth around your pert bud. You toss your head back, letting out a moan as his warm tongue stimulates the areola, leaving you a shuddering mess beneath him as the cold metal of his piercing adds an extra level of excitement.

You feel the burn of desire scorch through your limbs, the heat traveling as you fight back the urge to pull him into you. The wait was torture. You wanted him to fuck you and you wanted it now, but you knew he wouldn’t spare you that pleasure after leaving him high and dry.

Jungkook smirks against your skin as he feels your body arching toward him, satisfied that he has you right where he wants you. He brings a hand up, pinching your free nipple between his index and thumb, gently massaging over you as he extracts another moan of gratification from you.

“JK…I need more.” Your resolve to stay silent finally cracks, your hips pressing up to feel his dick pressing against your inner thigh. Jungkook simply releases your nipple with a pop, watching as it hardens from his attention and the cold air of your apartment against the moisture of his mouth.

He moves to hover his face just over yours as he dips his hand from your nipple to between your legs, pressing the pad of his finger against your swollen clit. You bite back a groan, your hips instinctually swirling against his hand to stimulate your bud. You become increasingly enraged by the smug look on Jungkook’s face, watching as he intentionally leaves you wanting more.

“You’re not begging yet.” His voice is low and taunting as he begins rubbing tight circles against your clit, causing your mouth to hang open in pleasure as your body becomes rapidly elevated to a state of bliss. You bite back the urge to plead for your release, knowing this was his way of getting sweet revenge.

Jungkook notices your hesitance, shrugging his shoulders as he releases your bud, causing your high to come spiraling back down. You groan in frustration, pushing against him as he grabs ahold of your wrists, pinning them down on either side of your head. “Come on, princess. Just admit you want me to fuck the shit out of you.” He smirks maliciously, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he licks his lips. “I’ll happily oblige.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Jeon.” You snip back, knowing every part of you wants to get on your knees and beg for him to tear you apart in every way possible.

He leans down, brushing his lips against the outer shell of your ear, causing you to shiver from the touch, “Suit yourself.” Before you can retaliate, he silences you with another soul-sucking kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and tasting every ounce of you. You moan against him as you feel him align his hips between your thighs, his length probing the folds of your vagina as his tip lingers dangerously close to your center.

Jungkook stops kissing you for a moment, watching your face twist in euphoria as he inserts his bulging tip into your pussy, just enough to tease your hole before pulling back out. You pant from the excruciating torture of his teasing, your hips desperately seeking for him to impale you fully. He dives back in to steal your breath with another kiss, smirking against your lips as he repeats his previous action, feeling your body chase after him.

“Someone’s needy.” He chuckles against your skin as he trails his kisses down your neck, stopping just at your shoulder as he gently bites the length of it.

The sensation eliminates whatever determination you have to keep from begging, feeling his tip continue to fuck your entrance teasingly. “Jungkook…please.” You moan, feeling your mind and body scream for you to submit to his desires.

“What was that?” His expression becomes more serious as if he is also fighting every urge to bury his dick deep within you. You can see the wrecked expression glimmer behind his irises as you soften your expression.

Jungkook pauses his movements, seeing you become incredibly irresistible as your eyes softly beg for him. “I need you, JK. Please…fuck me so good.” Your voice is seductive and pleading, dangerously drawing him into you as his hips surge forward, causing you both to gasp.

“Fuck.” Jungkook groans as his arms shake from the long-awaited moment he could bully his way through to your cervix. You equally let out a sinful moan, filling your apartment with the sound of your arousal for him.

He begins to pull out, pounding you into your bed as he rapidly builds a delicious yet tortuous pace, leaving you grasping at your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded to reality as you quickly elevate back to a euphoric state. “Oh my god…JK…Shit.” You choke out as he continues slamming into you, bruising your cervix as he fucks away all of the sexual build-up of the last twenty-four hours.

“You take my dick so good, Y/N.” He praises you, tightening his grip on your wrists slightly as he changes the pace of his hips, taking slower, deeper thrusts up into your core. “You’re fucking perfect.” His muscles tighten as you both near your end, his arms grasping around your torso in an attempt to keep you from moving, your breast bouncing with each aggressive thrust he sends into you.

“Make me cum…please…” You continue pleading, fully willing to admit how desperate you are as he happily impales you to the hilt. The feeling is glorious, leaving your body fully satisfied after such sweet teasing, allowing you to convulse around him as the coils in your stomach snap from your orgasm ripping through you. “Jungkook!” You yell as your vision goes white in rapture, leaving you a complete mess.

The manner in which you call out his name has him meeting his own end, feeling the warmth of his cum shoot deep within you as his body presses into you from his exhaustion. He releases the grip on your wrists, bringing one of them up to his lips as he places gentle kisses along the inside just beneath your palm. You watch his every move, entranced by the way he carefully runs his lips against the tender skin. You sigh happily from the attention, feeling embarrassed once he opens his eyes, catching you as you watch him.

His cheeks swell against his eyes as a goofy smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “What?” He asks curiously, admiring the way your hair sprawls against the bed, almost as if you are trying to lure him back in for more.

“Nothing.” You hum happily, gasping softly as he pulls himself out from within you. He kisses up your torso, leaving a few kisses against your breast before seeking out your lips. You sigh happily from the sudden uncharacteristic gesture, feeling giddy that he chose to roll over and lay beside you.

“That was fucking amazing.” He admits, blissed out as he turns his head to peer back toward you. “Best neighbor ever.” He grins, watching as you roll your eyes sarcastically. You can’t conceal the bright smile that’s radiating from your expression, your after-sex glow only causing Jungkook to admire you more.

You blush a the realization that he’s studying you closely. “You’re not so bad yourself.” You admit, knowing that despite your prank war, being neighbors is more exciting and thrilling than annoying.

Jungkook smiles through his eyes, his large pupil’s reflecting his sentiments towards you now that he isn’t driven mad with sexual frustration. You notice the exhaustion on his features, recalling that he just worked all night and must be tired beyond belief. You shift in your position, feeling the sticky residue from between your legs, cringing slightly as you turn to face him. “I’m going to take a shower.” You watch him for a reaction as you cautiously suggest your next statement. “Wanna grab lunch after?”

Jungkook’s smile remains as he nods slightly, feeling the fatigue set in. “Yeah, sounds good.” You cautiously stand from your bed, glancing toward the bathroom before looking back at Jungkook, surprised to find him blatantly checking out your ass as he fights his exhaustion. You smile shyly before moving to retrieve your undergarments and clothing from the hallway before escaping into the bathroom.

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