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#i know there's probably a middle ground between these but no
galionne-speeding · 2 years
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The urge to portray Zavok as the Team Dad who has to look after his 4 dumb children + his own Dad who is really not helping the situation VS the urge to ship him with Zazz OUUUUUUUGH PAIN
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girlscience · 3 months
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feel like I need to add a little intrigue, a little spice, a little danger to my life. I need to pick a vice.
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autistic-shaiapouf · 4 months
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Meeting someone tomorrow to potentially talk about housing and being roommates and. I'm nervous 👉👈
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akkivee · 10 months
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hitoya’s canon waistline being smaller than kuukou’s, same size at best, has always made me feel some type of way lmao
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fideidefenswhore · 1 year
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I feel like most people feel that Anne is too popular and "overrated" so they try to bring her down and say something among the lines "COA was amazing too11!!!" (COA has also been seen as a fucking saint since forever while Anne has been what? seen as the devil up until recently) and say that the other wives deserve attention and that anne wasn't all that.
I mean, it's not very palatable to refer to a woman that was judicially murdered as "overrated", regardless of your personal feelings about whether or not she was a "bad" or "good" person, so I feel like the more common approach now is just to say all her fans are dumb basic bitches (while continuing to rely on all their content for sources and reblog/RT their edits/posts, follow all their accounts.... hmmmmmmm), ‘Anne girlies’ (because you’re stupid, you must be women! I do not personally identity as a woman, and actually, a lot of Anne Boleyn stans, particularly on Instagram, are gay men, but, anyways...)
Depends on your definition of "recent", she received the romantic heroine edit in the last century, some versions of her within that mold are more morally ambiguous than others. But definitely people insist that she was evil, up to very recently, generally by misrepresenting her opponents "Queen Anne also mercilessly bullied the little Princess Mary" (even if you believe this, Mary was an adult when Anne was queen, not only by the standards of their time but our own).
With wanting to see their own favorite people featured in more things, I do get it, but I don't get seeing it like attention is a scarce resource (ie, this series about Anne Boleyn takes AWAY something from my fave, is almost the attitude, or means a project I would want won't be made...it is almost like their fave is a living person that can feel neglected?). People pay attention to what they want to pay attention to, you can't force it. The more Tudor media you consume, the more will be made, and you don't have any control what the next one will be about. At a certain point, if it's that serious, idk, boycott Netflix, or something?
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who-is-there · 12 days
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I just started watching Dimension 20’s Fantasy high, halfway through sophomore year, and I do want a fic where people realise just how used to being part of a group the bad kids are. For example-
-I fully believe every single one of them is used to Riz climbing them so he can see better. It’s usually Gorgug, but it’s happened to all of them at some point. They might hold out their arm for him to jump onto a counter, or so he can pin a clue to his board. Before they all sit at a table, at least one of them makes sure their 4’4 friend can jump onto the table.
-Every single one of them has also caught Adaine after she had a vision. Sometimes she can just shake them off, but the big ones make her falter in what she’s doing, which can be dangerous. It happened once in a fight, and now the people standing closest to her are always ready.
-Fabian doesn’t really recognise he has a blind spot with his eye injury, because the others immediately clocked it. But this also means they walk in between him and the road, in case some idiot mounts the curb. They keep an eye on anything to his right, shifting drinks and pushing chairs if they can tell his depth perception is a little off.
-Fig usually stands in the middle of the group to intimidate people into not messing with them, so it’s sort of become habit to just crowd around her. After the battle, if no one’s seriously hurt or anything, everyone just wanders over to Fig. At this point, Fig is always the first one to yell out after a fight, just so they can regroup.
-Gorgug is the go-to for lap-sits, leaning, anything to do with being physically supported by another persons body. His hoodie is soft, and his headphones are loud enough that you can kind of hear it if your leaning on him. His parents weren’t great with nonchalant physical contact, in case he was already upset, so he takes great joy in his friends not being scared to hug him for fun.
-Kristin has left her staff at every single house she could with the bad kids. She leaves her bag in classrooms, the library, the cafeteria. Whenever the group leave somewhere, they do a full scan, because Kristin has probably left something and they grab it for her. No one has any clue who her bag actually belongs to, because all of the bad kids have been seen carrying it around school several times.
The school at large know who the bad kids are, and the town recognise them, but they still don’t know why all of them double check a room before leaving, or collectively carry a small stool around with them. One student with a fantasy iron deficiency faints in class and Kristin catches her before she hits the ground. Once, Fig isn’t in school for a day and all the bad kids have this restless energy about them. It is not uncommon to see them on the field during lunch, curled up in a pile on Gorgug. One guy tries to surprise Fabian from the right and gets body checked by Adaine before it even registers.
It’s sort of uncomfortable for everyone to see any of them without the others, because it means a) the rest of them committed a crime, b) the rest of them are committing a crime, or c) the rest of them are about to run in and start planning to commit a crime. And no one wants to lose their plausible deniability here.
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sluttywoozi · 1 month
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A New Rhythm | suga x f!reader x woozi
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Yoongi has a soft spot for his protege, Jihoon, but you never thought it would extend to sharing you. Not until he tells you Jihoon is a virgin and asks if you'd like the be the one to change that.
You can't say you're opposed to the idea.
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~7.8k | Pairing: myg x f!reader x ljh | Genre: smut
Warnings: dom!yoongi, virgin!jihoon, mentor!yoongi, yoongi tells jihoon what to do and jihoon listens like the good boy he is (most of the time), mentions of f. masturbation, oral f. rec., spitting, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, piv sex with a condom, restraining, throat holding, piv sex without a condom, oral m. rec., deepthroating, cum swallowing, creampie, plsplspls inbox if i missed anything!
Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, same age as yoongi, referred to with fem pronouns/descriptors (she/her, girlfriend), has an iud, wap
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You think you’re losing your mind. 
That’s the only possible explanation as to why you’re hovering outside of Yoongi’s home studio at four in the morning, arguing with yourself about whether or not you should knock on the door. 
He’s been in there for hours, didn’t even come to bed last night, which might explain the plethora of dreams you had. They’re what woke you up, and the absence of Yoongi is what brought you out from under the warm covers and into the chilly night air. 
Yoongi’s studio is a small building in your backyard, with no windows and perfect acoustics. He had it built last year, when he finally got tired of going in and out of the city at all hours to work, and he even gave you free reign of the exterior. Now that the garden is blooming and the stones leading to the door have settled into the ground, it really feels like part of your home. 
Or it does in the daylight, anyway. 
You’ve never come out here at night before, because you’ve never had a need to. You know Yoongi will come inside when he’s finished working so you usually leave him to it, usually try not to interrupt him, but tonight, something is different. 
Tonight, you need him. 
Desperately. 
It’s not like he’s neglecting you, it’s just that he’s been working on a personal project so a lot of his time is spent in the studio, and when he finally calls it a day, all he wants to do is eat and collapse into your arms. You can take care of yourself, quite well, in fact, but nothing beats Yoongi’s touch, nothing. 
Every dream you had in your fitful five hours of rest was filled with him; his hands on your body, his mouth between your legs, his cock deep inside of you. It all felt hazy and rose-colored but somehow so real, and when you woke to an empty bed, it was almost heartbreaking. 
And it doesn’t help that it’s been ten days since he last fucked you, not that you’ve been counting…
You’d go back to bed if you could, but you already tried to satisfy your craving for him and all that did was leave you wet and wanting him even more, which is why you only feel a little bit guilty when your hand raises and raps twice on the wood in front of you. 
It takes a few seconds for the door to open, and when it does, your eyes grow wide and your fingers fly to the hem of your nightie, your suddenly freezing legs reminding you just how short it is. 
If it were Yoongi, you wouldn’t care, you’d probably even hike it up a little bit more, but it’s not Yoongi. 
It’s Jihoon, your boyfriend’s protege. 
“Um,” Jihoon starts, his eyes trailing over your exposed body before snapping back up to your face, a flush reddening the skin of his neck and ears. “Yoongi’s in the middle of a recording session so he didn’t hear the door. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yeah, um, everything’s fine,” you stammer, because what the hell else can you do?
It’s not like you can admit to someone who’s not your boyfriend that you’re dizzy with desire, especially not when that someone is your boyfriend’s adorable mentee. 
Jihoon is barely 27, but he’s been producing since he was in his teens. Yoongi kept an eye on his career for a while and eventually decided to take him under his wing when he noticed he wasn’t advancing in the field like he deserved to be. They’ve been working together for a little under a year now, and Jihoon has become a regular fixture at your house. 
You include him in your meals, in your game nights, and even in your karaoke, though he effortlessly outsings you both every single time. 
But that doesn’t mean you can tell him you’re here because you need to get fucked. 
If Yoongi were the one to answer the door, you wouldn’t have needed to speak, he would have seen that shine to your eyes and known immediately what you needed. You didn’t even know Jihoon was here or you wouldn’t have knocked at all. 
Now here you are staring at each other, Jihoon’s blush traveling down under his collar as you shiver in your nightdress, unable to think of even one viable explanation as to why you’re up at four in the morning. 
“Babe? What are you doing out there? It’s cold as fuck,” Yoongi appears behind Jihoon, his brows furrowed and his gaze bewildered. 
He takes one good look at you and that’s it. He knows. 
You can tell by the smirk that’s quirking one side of his mouth up and the heat that flashes in his tired eyes, the sight of both making you bite your lip and twist your fingers in the hem of your nightie. 
“We’re gonna take a break, Jihoon. Let’s all go up to the house for a bit, yeah?” Yoongi proposes, though you know it was more of an order than an offer. 
You turn mechanically and force one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the fact that you can feel two sets of eyes on you instead of one.
That’s the theme of the night, apparently, as you find yourself making tea for three, still clad in your pajamas. You would have gone to get a robe but Yoongi caught your hand before you left and asked for some oolong, saying that it’s never as good when he makes it. 
While the tea is steeping, you sit on Yoongi’s right side, Jihoon on his left, and try to keep from squirming at the feeling of the cold wooden chair against your hot center. You didn’t bother to put on underwear, sure that Yoongi would just fuck you right there in his studio, and you’re positive he would have, if Jihoon wasn’t there. 
But he was, he is, and you have no idea what Yoongi’s game is but you know it’s starting to make you feel a bit crazy, like your skin is too tight for your bones and your heart is too big for your chest. 
Then he speaks, and all the blood in your body reaches its boiling point. 
“Jihoon was just telling me that he feels like he can’t write sex into his songs because he’s never had it before. Why don’t we help him out with that?” 
Jihoon collapses into himself, groaning and cursing, his face buried in his arms where they rest on the table, his muscles strained with tension and his skin bright red. 
Yoongi just smiles serenely and looks over to you, raising an eyebrow and lifting his chin like he’s challenging you. 
You can’t respond yet, not with the ringing in your ears and the images in your mind, flashbulb memories of how long Jihoon’s fingers are and how voraciously he eats and, worst of all, how he looks when he comes over straight from the gym, his hair still damp from the shower and his veins still popping from the workout. 
All things you’ve thought about innocuously, no real intention behind them, now given life, meaning, by Yoongi’s words. 
You tilt your head at him, trying to figure out if this is a test, but you don’t see any hint of deception in his eyes. All you see is your boyfriend of four years, wanting to bring someone into the bed you share, wanting to teach someone what it means to give and take pleasure. 
No, not just someone, but Jihoon, specifically.
He has a soft spot for the kid and that’s obvious, but you never expected it to extend to sharing you. 
However, you’re not… opposed… to the idea. 
If anything, you feel yourself get just a bit hotter, just a bit wetter, imagining the both of them in your bedroom. 
You know Yoongi can tell how you’re feeling, you’ve never been able to hide a thing from him, and when that satisfied smile stretches his lips, you give up and give in. 
“What are your rules?” You ask softly, your eyes darting to Jihoon when he snaps his head up and stares at you, wide eyed and open mouthed. 
“He has to wear a condom,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly, before continuing, “Other than that, I have none. What about you?” 
You didn’t expect him to turn the question around on you, but you’re grateful he did. 
“Same as you,” you respond, before looking to Jihoon. “What are your thoughts?” 
He stares at you for a moment, his eyes flicking between you and Yoongi, before he answers, “I - I don’t know. I’m embarrassed, and a little bit annoyed,” he levels a glare at Yoongi. “But I’m… I mean if you’re okay with it, then… then yes, I want this. I’ll wear a condom, I’ll do whatever.” 
Yoongi doesn’t even pretend to care about the tea. 
He just rises from his chair and extends a hand toward you, waiting for you to take it before nodding at Jihoon, expecting you to reach out to him. You hold your hand out and he grasps it, your fingers intertwining as Yoongi pulls you to the stairs. In between them, you carefully move up the steps, feeling somewhat like you’re on your way to the place of no return. 
You know you can stop this at any time, but you fear you won’t want to. 
You fear that once you get a taste of Jihoon, of both of them together, that’s all you’ll want. 
Yoongi must know, he knows everything about you, and if he wasn’t okay with it, he wouldn’t have offered. So when you cross over the threshold and he lets go of your hand to sit in the chair occupying the corner of your room, you know that he must be anticipating that outcome, and you know that he must be alright with it. 
Which makes it easier to turn to Jihoon and cup his cheeks to draw him into a kiss, one that makes him gasp against your lips before he drops a hand to your hip and starts to kiss you back. 
He seems experienced enough at this, you think, his plush mouth soft against yours and his tongue tentative where it brushes along the seam of your lips. You open up for him with ease, swallowing his sounds and responding with your own soft hums to show him you’re comfortable. 
Your tongue glides against his and he moans, sucking at it with gentle pulses that make your core throb, before you pull away and press a hand to his chest to stop him from following you. 
“Let’s move to the bed?” You suggest, perhaps because your knees feel the slightest bit weak but mainly because you’ve been desperate to get Yoongi’s body on top of yours all night. Jihoon isn’t Yoongi, but you think he’ll feel almost as good. 
Jihoon nods, his chest rising and falling as he tries to regulate his breathing, waiting for you to climb up and get comfortable before setting a knee on the covers. 
“Take your clothes off,” Yoongi calls out from the corner. “She probably wants to see you.” 
Jihoon glances over and then looks at you, raising a brow. You shrug shyly and nod, your eyes lowering to his chest as he starts to pull his sweater up. More and more pale skin is revealed, and by the time the fabric clears his head, your gaze is locked on the defining lines of his abdominals. He unties his sweats and pushes them down, stepping out of the cotton and standing before you in just his boxer briefs. 
His dick is hard, pressing against the fabric, but you don’t have long to look before he settles on top of you, his elbows bracketing your head and his knees straddling your thighs. His lips find yours again and soon enough, you’re lost in him. He kisses you so attentively, adjusting to your every move, your every breath. It’s not long before you’re squirming beneath him, wanting for more. 
“You’re gonna eat her out next,” Yoongi instructs, his voice distant but consuming, echoing in your mind like a looped track. 
Jihoon breaks away from you, his eyes heavy lidded and his lips kiss-swollen. He sits back on his knees when you shift up onto your elbows, giving you room to pull your nightie up and off, leaving you bare from head to toe. 
His eyes traverse the whole of your body, lingering on your breasts before they land between your thighs, his stare weighty, nearly tangible on you. The thought that you might be the first woman he’s seen naked in person is a heady one, enough to give you the confidence to slide your legs out from between his and spread them on the bed, showing him exactly what he’ll be working with. 
His breaths come faster as he gazes at you, slowly moving down to lay on his stomach between your legs, his mouth just inches from your pussy when Yoongi says, “Spit on it.”
“What?” Jihoon questions, turning back to stare at Yoongi in confusion, missing the way you squirm at Yoongi’s instruction. 
“You heard me, spit on it. She’s into it.”
“I- No, I’m not gonna fuckin- I’m not spitting on her, that’s ru-”
“Fine, if you won’t, I will,” Yoongi rolls his eyes and rises from his seat, taking a few steps to the bed and pushing at Jihoon’s shoulder when he doesn’t move out of the way.
Yoongi braces his hands on your knees and shoves them further apart, his eyes coasting up your body before they land on yours, a wry smile stretching his lips before he purses them and spits on your pussy. His saliva trails over your clit and down to your entrance, making you gasp and making your cunt clench, your hand shooting down to weave into his hair when he starts to pull back. 
“See? Told you,” he murmurs to Jihoon, grasping your wrist and waiting for you to release his hair before stepping away and returning to his chair in the corner. 
Your eyes find Jihoon, who looks like he’s been struck. He shakes it off and fills the space between your legs again, flat on his belly with a determined glint to his eye. You can feel his breaths as his mouth gets closer and closer to you, before finally, his tongue drags over you from cunt to clit. 
He takes his time learning you, sucking at your folds and dipping into your entrance, never staying in one place for long. He’s making little sounds like he loves the taste of you, the vibrations traveling through your pussy straight to your buzzing brain, straight to the part of you that yearns to be set free. 
You long to sink your fingers into his hair and drag him where you want him, take your pleasure from him like he’s a toy, but you know this is a precarious situation, and you’re not going to be the one that tips it out of balance. 
So you let him explore, let him figure it out on his own, setting aside the fact that you’ve been aching for hours already. This is Jihoon’s first time, you can stand to not be greedy for once in your life. 
Yoongi seems to disagree, telling Jihoon, “Find her clit and suck it, or she’ll never cum.”
You would glare at him for rushing Jihoon, you really would, but then Jihoon listens, his mouth searching until he discovers that bundle of nerves and wraps his lips around it, giving experimental sucks that quickly have your back arching and your toes curling. 
“Y-you can, um, put a fing-,” You try to speak but can’t seem to get the words out, not when Jihoon’s mouth is so soft and wet and his tongue is so agile from years of playing the clarinet, the tip lapping at your clit in between pulses of his lips. 
“Baby, I’ll tell him what to do, you just lay back and enjoy, okay?” Yoongi says in a soothing tone, making your eyes flicker open so you can see him. You know he wants you to answer him so you force your head to move up and down in a nod, melting into the bed when he sends you that indulgent, proud little smile. 
“Jihoon, start with two fingers, she likes to feel full. Palm up,” Yoongi instructs Jihoon, his voice more distant, less affectionate now that he’s not talking to you.
Jihoon’s fingertips glide through your arousal, dipping into your entrance and starting to push inside. You’re still a bit stretched out from taking care of yourself earlier so there’s barely any resistance, his fingers sinking in slowly but surely. 
His tongue stutters against you, a weak groan escaping him as your cunt molds to his digits. You squeeze around them just to hear that sound again, biting back a grin when the next groan is louder. 
“Feels good, doesn’t she? Now imagine that around your cock,” Yoongi smirks smugly, his eyes caught on the blush rising up the back of Jihoon’s neck. “Gotta make her cum first.”
With renewed fervor, Jihoon sucks at your throbbing clit, his fingers twitching inside of you but not moving yet. 
“Now you’re gonna find her g-spot. Curl your fingers and tap until you feel a different texture, you’ll know you’ve got it when she gets wetter.” 
Ever the quick study, Jihoon puts Yoongi’s words to action, his fingers crooking and rubbing along your front wall in search of the patch that can make you gush. He encounters it soon enough, grazing the erogenous zone with his fingertips and tapping into it when you gasp and clench down. 
You do get wetter, just like Yoongi said, and you can’t help but move with Jihoon’s fingers as he starts to slide them in and out, the tips hooking into your sweet spot on every thrust. You should have expected him to have perfect rhythm and lithe, talented fingers just like Yoongi does, because maybe then it wouldn’t be a surprise when you feel the stirrings of heat deep in your belly. 
Would it be embarrassing to cum so soon? Yoongi can get you there in five minutes flat but this is Jihoon, should you try to hold out for longer so he has more time to practice? What if he’s disappointed that you-
“Baby, stop worrying. Just cum when you want to,” Yoongi says softly, and not for the first time, you feel blessed to have a partner who knows you inside and out. 
You don’t need his permission to cum but now that you have it, you can feel your climax building even faster, feel it growing, glowing inside of you as Jihoon moans into your pussy, as if he’s echoing Yoongi’s words. 
That and the flawless grind of his fingertips into your g-spot are what throw you over the edge, darkness eclipsing your vision as you tumble into a pleasure so deep, you can feel it in your bones. 
It races through your bloodstream, electric and razor sharp, setting all of your nerves on edge and stealing every molecule of air in your lungs. You gasp through it, clenching your fingers in the pillow beneath your head so you don’t reach down, tangle them in his hair, and hold him to you until he’s as breathless as you are. 
You think you could cum again if he just keeps his tongue curled around your clit and his fingers digging into your g-spot like this. Hell, you’d probably cum even harder, get even wetter for him, even hotter. 
It’s so close you can almost taste it, but he starts to pull away and you swallow down the cry of protest that rises in your throat, fighting off disappointment that you fear you don’t have a right to. Yoongi likes to go for more than one but Jihoon isn’t Yoongi, and you can’t expect him to behave the same way. 
Yoongi does, evidently, because he says as if it should be obvious, “Keep going.” 
“What? She already-”
“She can cum again, keep going.” 
When Jihoon looks up at you for confirmation, Yoongi heaves a beleaguered sigh and ambles to the bed, placing a knee on the mattress for stability before leaning over Jihoon’s shoulder and gripping the back of his neck, pushing and holding him down. 
Jihoon is more than strong enough to break free if he wants to, which makes it even sweeter when he closes his eyes and dives back into you, one of his hands scooping under your thigh to pull it up onto his shoulder. Now you’re the one holding him down, and Yoongi’s lips stretch in a satisfied smile, like Jihoon has finally done something to be proud of, before he loosens his grasp and returns to his chair. 
You’ve lost some momentum in the seconds without stimulation, but you can’t escape the image of your boyfriend shoving his protege’s face into your cunt and that’s almost enough to get you right back where you were. 
It helps that Jihoon seems to be insatiable now, though whether he’s desperate for you or desperate to prove himself to Yoongi, you don’t know. It doesn’t really matter either way, not with his lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue digging up under the hood to lap directly at the nerves. His fingers join in too, fucking into you harder and faster, beckoning out enough arousal that you can feel it dripping down your perineum. 
The sounds are obscene, the wet suction of his mouth and the squelching of his fingers bringing heat to your cheeks. You wonder if Jihoon can hear or if your thighs are muffling the noises, part of you hoping they are and most of you hoping they aren’t. 
You want him to hear what he’s doing to you, want him to know that he’s pleasing you, that his efforts are appreciated, which is why you finally decide to stop holding back. 
Your hands skate down your body and delve into his hair, pulling his face even deeper into your pussy as you whimper long and loud. “There she is,” Yoongi murmurs, barely audible with your voice ringing in the air. 
Jihoon groans earnestly in response, his hips twitching against the bed and his fingers spasming inside of you before they stop fucking in and out and instead start prodding your g-spot, rubbing and tapping and grinding until you lock down around them, cumming with a gush and a shout. 
He doesn’t stop this time, relentless in the pursuit of pulling every last bit of bliss out of you as if he’s learned his lesson. Yoongi always says that Jihoon takes direction well, and you’re honored to experience the evidence of it yourself. 
Honored and dizzy, if you’re being truthful. 
Your head spins, your pussy growing sensitive and your pleasure growing sharp, almost stinging as he continues to batter your front wall with his fingertips and stab his tongue into your overworked clit. 
“Jihoon,” you whine brokenly, drawing out his name and gripping his hair tighter, unsure of whether you want to push him away or pull him closer. 
“Don’t stop,” Yoongi calls out, but it sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe you are, every noise in the room muted and dull compared to the roaring in your ears, the rushing of your blood in your veins as your heart races in your chest. 
“Maybe you’ll make her-”
Time slows down when Jihoon grunts his assent into you, the vibration just enough to send you spiraling into a euphoria so acute, it brings tears to your eyes. Your vision whites out and you think you scream, and then you’re levitating, no longer on the bed, perhaps not even on the planet anymore. 
When your soul returns to your body and you blink your watery eyes open, the first thing you see is Jihoon. He’s still between your legs but now he’s bright red, his chest heaving as he fights to breathe, your arousal covering him from his cheeks down to his sternum. 
You would feel nervous about his reaction but as soon as your eyes meet his, he’s climbing up over you and pressing his swollen lips to yours, his kiss ravenous and his tongue soaked with you. 
When he pulls away, you’ve got your own essence smeared all over your mouth, and you’re not even startled to feel a familiar hand in your hair. The hand tugs your head to the side and you let your eyes flutter closed, anticipating the swipe of Yoongi’s tongue over your bottom lip. He loves how you taste, even if it’s not directly from the source. 
You can feel Jihoon’s eyes on you as Yoongi licks your face clean, and you wonder if he thinks he’s going to get the same treatment. 
He might, honestly. 
But not tonight, it seems, as Yoongi smacks a kiss onto your lips and lets go of your hair, reaching in the bedside table for the condoms you haven’t used since you got your IUD placed a few months ago. 
“You didn’t blow your load, right?” Yoongi glances at Jihoon, raising an eyebrow teasingly and laughing at the way Jihoon glares and says, “No, I’m still fucking hard, thanks for asking.”
Out of loyalty to your boyfriend, you won’t point out that Yoongi actually did blow his load the first time he ever made you squirt. 
“You still up for it, baby? Not too sore or sleepy?” Yoongi crouches next to you and cups your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone and gazing at you with gentle, patient eyes. 
“I’m still up for it,” you smile peacefully, watching as he hands Jihoon the condom and taking the opportunity to stretch, reaching your arms up above your head and pointing your toes, a soft keening sound leaving you as you relax into the bed again. 
When your eyes find Jihoon and Yoongi, both of them are staring at your tits, a dazed look on their faces that makes them appear even more alike. 
Yoongi snaps out of it first, blinking rapidly and readjusting in the chair, making you notice for the first time just how hard he is. 
You knew he’d have to be into the idea of watching you fuck someone else to propose this in the first place, but you didn’t expect him to be so wrought with desire. You can see it on his face now that you’re really looking at him, the passion in his shadowed eyes and the lustful clench of his jaw giving him away. 
You bite back a smile and turn your gaze to Jihoon just in time to watch as he slides off the bed and pushes his underwear down. His cock pops up then hangs heavily, the head blushed red and the length wrapped in veins. He’s similar in size to Yoongi, maybe a bit thicker and slightly shorter, and you’re relieved to know both that the condom will fit and that he won’t stretch you beyond your limits. 
Finally, you look at his face again, only to find him staring at you, his eyes staying locked with yours as he brings the condom packet up to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth. At first, you think he’s trying (and succeeding) to be sexy, but then you realize his hands are trembling, just a little, just enough to relay the nerves he’s kept hidden. 
“I’ll put it on,” you tell him as you extend a hand and wait for him to drop the condom in your palm, beckoning him forward with your other hand until he climbs back up on the bed and settles on his knees in front of you. 
Slowly, you reach out and take hold of his cock, not reacting to the stilted gasp and muted swear that escapes Jihoon though you want to coo and kiss his cheek, he’s so adorable. You pinch the tip and roll the condom on with ease, ensuring it’s snug at the base before giving his hip a squeeze and laying back. 
He follows you and braces his hands on either side of your head, his eyes heavy lidded and his cheeks flushed as he leans down to kiss you. His cock drags over your thigh before you spread your legs and hitch them up on his hips, one of your hands snaking between your bodies to position him at your entrance. 
Jihoon takes in a deep, shuddering breath before beginning to push forward, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth dropping open as he feels the heat of you around his cock for the first time. The condom is a foreign sensation after all these weeks of taking Yoongi bare, and the fact that it’s Jihoon inside you instead of him is even more odd, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good. 
Because it does, he does, especially when you remember that it’s been ten days since you had anything but a vibrator. Jihoon is warm, and thick, and real, and best of all, he’s holding back whimpers, his eyes closed and his face screwed up in pleasure, his hips jerking into yours in little thrusts like he can’t bear to keep still. 
When he bottoms out, he collapses to his elbows, leaving his chest pressed against yours and his face just inches away, every microscopic change in his expression obvious to you with him so close. 
You can tell he’s steeling himself to pull out, his jaw clenching and his brow furrowing as he draws his hips back slowly, his cock leaving the warm clutch of your pussy until only the head remains. You don’t even think he’s breathing, his cheeks turning red and his face growing pained, like it feels so good, it hurts. 
He slides back in and you make the mistake of squeezing down, and that’s when he stutters, “F-fuck, I can’t- ‘m sorry, I’m gonna fucking-”
His cock jerks and twitches and there’s a muted burst of warmth inside of you, one that’s contained in rubber as he tips into the abyss, his forehead dropping down to rest on your collarbone and his body shaking on top of yours. 
His gasps sound more like sobs, his beautiful, diminutive cries of pleasure making you flutter around him, prolonging his orgasm until he’s hissing through clenched teeth and digging his hips into yours as if in retribution. 
He starts to soften inside of you and you’re content to let him rest and recuperate, but Yoongi has other ideas. 
“Get up,” he commands, making your eyes flick over to him, a glower overtaking your face when he repeats himself. “Jihoon, get up.”
Jihoon reaches down and grips the base of his cock as he withdraws from you, holding the condom in place and cringing when he fully leaves your pussy. He slips the condom off and ties a clumsy knot, tossing it in the waste basket that sits under Yoongi’s bedside table before shuffling off the bed. 
He doesn’t look at you, and you wonder if he’s too embarrassed or if he thinks he’ll be met with disappointment. Maybe both, and Yoongi certainly isn’t helping the situation. You don’t know what he’s playing at, rushing Jihoon like this, being so harsh when Jihoon’s at his most vulnerable, but you don’t care for it. 
“Yoongi,” you murmur lowly, a warning in your voice. 
“Baby, I’m not doing this to be mean. I just want him to learn,” Yoongi placates you, rising from the chair and pointing at it. He waits for Jihoon to take a seat before making his way toward you, gripping the back of his shirt to haul it off as he walks. He sheds his sweats next, his boxers dropping with them, and when you set your eyes on his cock, they almost bulge out of your head. 
You think this is the hardest you’ve ever seen him, his dick a purplish rose and his balls heavy, full. You’re speechless, wide eyed, as he climbs onto the bed and reaches for your legs. He arranges you how he wants, planting his hands on the underside of your thighs and pushing them up against your body until he can get his shoulders under your knees. 
One hand settles next to your head for balance and the other grips his cock, lightly smacking your pussy with it, the weeping head landing right on your swollen clit. You squirm and gasp at the feeling, your entrance clenching around nothing, pushing out more of your arousal to drip down your ass onto the bed. 
He does it again, and again, and again, until you’re whimpering and clawing at him, ready to beg him to just fucking put it in already, and that’s when he guides his cock into place and slides home. 
You and Yoongi moan in unison, yours more high pitched than his though both ring with relief. 
Him and Jihoon don’t feel all that different but Yoongi is familiar, Yoongi is loved, Yoongi is yours,  and that heightens every sensation. He stays buried in you, his gaze locked with yours, possession burning in his eyes like a wildfire. 
You’re sure it’s because he gets to feel you bare and Jihoon doesn’t, and you wonder if he’s staying still for so long because he wants you to remember who you belong with. Then you feel him twitch inside of you and notice the tension on his face, and you know that’s not the case at all. 
It’s that he’s inches away from doing exactly what Jihoon did, except he doesn’t have the excuse of being a virgin. 
Yoongi hasn’t cum early in years, has practically become a paragon of self-control and patience, lasting long enough to get you there twice even when you first did away with the condoms. You’re almost gleeful to discover he’s so close to the edge right now, and you’re about to clamp down around him and push him even closer when his eyes harden and he mutters, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
And you try to listen, you really, really do, but you just can’t help the way your pussy responds to him, especially when he uses that voice on you. 
So truly, it’s not even your fault when your walls swallow around his cock and suck him in deeper, the ragged groan he lets out only making you clench down more. 
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you whisper faintly, taking a deep breath and attempting to relax your inner muscles as he starts to pull out. “Don’t go,” you whimper, clinging to whatever skin you can reach, one hand wrapping around the wrist next to your head and the other flying down to grasp his hip.
You’re not strong enough to hold him in place, so you know it’s of his own volition when he stops moving, your cunt squeezing around what’s still inside, your whole body begging him not to leave. 
He leans in close and narrows his eyes at you, probably trying to see if you’re playing some kind of trick on him, but you know there’s nothing in your gaze but a frantic wish to keep him inside, to finally feel him fuck you like you’ve needed for the last ten days. 
His face softens into something fond and he murmurs, “Gonna give you what you need, baby.”
Then, with his eyes still on yours, he calls out, “Jihoon, c’mere.”
You hear him padding over to the bed, and you’re sure he’s just as confused as you are at his sudden involvement. Yoongi straightens up, breaking free of your hold and sitting back on his knees before gripping your hips tightly and pulling your ass into his lap, filling you with his cock and making space at the head of the bed in one rough move. 
“Get on the bed, grab her hands,” Yoongi tells Jihoon, his stern voice leaving no room for questioning. 
It seems Jihoon has learned his lesson by now, obeying Yoongi quickly and carefully, sliding into place behind you with his legs spread under your shoulders. His hands reach for yours and you offer them with only a little apprehension, gasping when he lifts your upper body enough for your head to rest on his thigh, your hands held against his toned stomach. 
“Comfy, babe?” Yoongi asks you, waiting for you to nod before drawing his hips back until only the tip rests inside of you. He shoves forward, his pelvis smacking into your ass, a slick squelch sounding when he bottoms out. 
He doesn’t give you any time to get used to it, every thrust that follows just as deep, just as vicious. 
The rhythm of his cock slamming into you overtakes your heartbeat, your cunt throbbing and drooling around him as he rams into you, forcing your wetness out of your pussy and your thoughts out of your head. 
Soon enough, you’re mindless with pleasure and writhing in their laps, arching into and away from the wicked bucking of Yoongi’s hips, his cock plunging into you so fast and so hard, you aren’t sure you’ll survive. 
You can’t stop crying either, whining and blubbering nonsense words intercut with your boyfriend’s name, pleading for him to keep going because you’ll die if he stops but also he might kill you if he doesn’t. 
“You can take it, baby,” Yoongi breathlessly assures you, his eyes lighting up with a devilish idea. “Maybe you just need something to focus on. Turn your head.” 
Maybe he’s right, maybe you do just need to devote what little brain power you have left to something, so you turn your head and there it is, Jihoon’s bright red, rock hard cock. 
With a desirous moan, you lean forward and drag your tongue up the side of his shaft, following one of the veins that winds around his dick like a vine. He chokes out a groan, his hands holding yours tighter when you tilt your head back and whimper, “Jihoon, please, put it in my mouth.”
There are tears streaming down your cheeks as you part your lips, laying your tongue out to entice him more. Yoongi is still fucking you, hasn’t let up for even a second, and you can feel his eyes on you as Jihoon transfers your hands to one of his and grips the base of his dick, pointing it in your direction and slowly feeding it into your mouth. 
The angle is awkward but you can work with it, letting out a garbled ‘thank you’ and consciously relaxing your throat so he can slide deeper inside. 
“That’s my girl, such nice manners,” Yoongi coos with a slight tone of condescension, watching as you swallow around Jihoon’s cock and fight not to choke. 
“Wanna feel something amazing?” Yoongi asks Jihoon, who mutters doubtfully, “Something better than this?” and then he must nod because Yoongi says, “Put your hand on her throat. You can squeeze a little.”
Both of your hands are still gathered up in one of Jihoon’s, and you feel his free hand tentatively wrap around your neck, making you whine around him and clench around Yoongi. 
“Fuck, is that my-” An avid groan cuts him off, his fingers spasming on your throat, though they don’t tighten to the point of pain. 
A trickle of precum slides down your esophagus and you swallow again, your throat working around his thick cock, taking in another inch. You’re almost at the root now, close enough for your chin to brush his balls, and you’re about to get the last little bit inside when Yoongi scoops his hips on a stroke out and grinds right over your g-spot. 
You squeak and jerk between them, your back arching as he starts to aim every single thrust there, battering the patch of nerves until you think you’ll cum just from this, just from his dick inside of you. 
Then you feel his hand work itself between your thighs, his fingers cruel and exacting on your clit, and you have to pull off of Jihoon to gasp for air as an orgasm tears through you like a tornado, your pleasure wild, furious, devastating. 
He doesn’t let up for even a minute, fucking you through it and leaning down over you to sink a hand into your hair, guiding your mouth back to Jihoon’s cock. 
“Make him cum, baby.”
You bury him in your mouth again, nuzzling down until your nose brushes his skin and his cock fills your throat. He twitches and leaks, and you just know he’s close, but you don’t have the right angle to bob your head up and down, to give him any friction. All you can do is swallow and moan plaintively and hope it’ll be enough to carry him over the edge. 
Your teary eyes flicker up and lock with his, and that’s what does it. His face crumples and a strangled moan forces its way out of his mouth as his cum shoots down your throat, his cock twitching, pulsing, throbbing between your lips. His grasp on your hands is so tight, it almost hurts, but the fingers on your neck never grip harder, never constrict to the point of suffocation. 
Your throat convulses around him and he pulls out with a wounded sound, probably too sensitive to stay in the wet heat of your mouth any longer. His hand pets your neck and glides up to your face, wiping your tears away and cupping your cheek as Yoongi’s fingers start to swirl between your legs again. 
You don’t know if you have another release left in you, but if you do, Yoongi will draw it out, and he’ll do it with a smile on his face. He’s mean that way, but so nice too, and now that all you have to focus on is the feeling of him surging in and out of you, the spark of painful bliss is familiar. 
It reminds you that you’ve survived him before, and that this time won’t be any different even if you don’t feel like the same person after. 
Yoongi fucks you like he’s remaking you in the shape of him, like he wants to take you down to your nuts and bolts then build you back up in a new form, one that bears his signature. It’s raw and rough and filthy, but beautiful too, which is always how he leaves you feeling when he’s had his way with you. 
That’s the last thought you have before he sweeps all of them up and away with one final circle of his fingers on your sensitive, swollen clit. 
Euphoria and agony battle within you, your climax excruciating but rapturous, sending you into a spiral of warring sensations that have you near delirious until finally, finally, finally, Yoongi lets himself break. 
You whimper at the feeling of his cock hardening and twitching in your spent pussy but his cum flowing into you is a balm, soaking your delicate, tender walls with a warm wash of white. You breathe through the sting of overstimulation, your eyes watering again and your body shuddering between Jihoon and Yoongi. 
Sometimes Yoongi stays inside after but you think he can tell you’re too wrung out, so he carefully slides out of you and lowers your legs from his shoulders, his palms gliding up and down your thighs in a soothing manner. 
“Jihoon,” he says softly, his eyes still on you. “Go through that door and grab a washcloth from the closet, the softest one you can find. Get it wet with some warm water and bring it here.”
Jihoon is quick to follow Yoongi’s instruction, supporting your neck as he slips out from under you and brushing a thumb over your cheekbone before he leaves. 
You hear the opening and closing of a door, then running water, then the quiet padding of feet on hardwoods. Your eyes have fluttered closed but you’re not surprised when you feel gentle hands cleaning you up, dabbing the washcloth between your legs, mindful of your sensitivity. 
They fly open when you hear Yoongi say, “You can stay in the guestroom, if you want. It’s clean and ready for you.”
“You can stay in the guestroom, Jihoon is staying right here,” you assert, reaching blindly for him and clinging to his hand when you find it. 
The time after losing your virginity can be fraught with emotion, and you’re not going to make Jihoon go through that alone. You also happen to feel unbearably fond of him now, and you’re itching to give him the affection he deserves after listening to Yoongi so well. 
Yoongi just holds his hands up in surrender, muttering, “You’re middle spoon, then.”
As if that’s some kind of hardship. 
Yoongi pulls two pairs of pajamas and a big t-shirt out of his drawer, passing one set over to Jihoon before walking over to you and carefully pulling the t-shirt over your head. He reaches into the arm holes and pulls your arms through like you can’t do it yourself, and you’d tease him if you didn’t feel so exhausted, you could pass out. 
You have to get up so Yoongi can strip the comforter off the bed, and instead of putting it in the wash like he should, he just tosses it to the floor and grabs the backup from the closet. He waits for you to get under the sheets before throwing it over you, letting it float down to cover the bed and climbing in behind you. 
Clothed in his borrowed pajamas, Jihoon awkwardly hovers by the side of the bed, looking unsure. You turn down his side of the comforter and reach a tired hand out, sighing contentedly when he blushes, smiles, and slides in, snuggling up against you. 
Yoongi’s arm wraps around your waist and yours wraps around Jihoon’s, and the three of you sink into sleep easily, comfortably, warmly, even as the sun rises and seeps through the edges of your blackout curtains. 
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They’re making breakfast together and chatting about music when you limp downstairs, fresh out of the shower and starving out of your mind. You wonder if it will be awkward, but then Yoongi presses a kiss to your cheek and raises a brow at Jihoon, clapping him on the shoulder when he does the same, and that's how you know things will be just fine.
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AN: would not exist without @bbychocolat jokingly saying "woozi yoongi threesome" and the help of @highvern @whipped-for-kpop-fics @wooahaeproductions and @daechwitatamic! thank you all for sharing your yoongi expertise and holding my hand throughout this journey (and it was a journey)
i've never written yoongi before!! pls tell me your thoughts i am desperate to know 💖
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tender-rosiey · 9 months
Note
You think when gojo was training his infinity technique, he still had his slip ups where he actually did manage to fry his brain a little, resulting in a prolonged migraine? And then reader chimes in to take care of him to ease his pain?
considerate — gojo satoru x f!reader
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satoru's feet are dragged behind him as he walks into your shared dorm. the familiarity of the room welcomes him and he feels his shoulders relax just a tiny bit.
on his path to perfecting his infinity, the strongest sorcerer was bound to slip up. unfortunately for him, slip ups like these—no matter how tiny—would cause the worst migraines of his life which he is currently experiencing.
for a moment, he can’t find you, and he would like to dramatically call for you. but the migraine is limiting theatrics for now.
he knows you’re here, but he can’t see your figure yet and it bothers him.
he rubs his eyes a little harshly with a groan while his hand runs through his hair, “y/n, where are you?”
he hears your feet pad on the ground before he is finally met with the sight of you.
and despite the pain and how much he wants to close his eyes and drown everything out, he really wants to see you. a small smile—albeit pained—appears on his pretty face as he pulls you close, mumbling, “missed me?”
you pull his face towards your own and press kisses to both of his cheeks, “I always do, you know that,” your hands cover his eyes gently and his own hold yours to press them closer to his face.
he sighs, leaning further into your touch, and you frown, “tough day?”
“something like that,” he mutters, “fried my brain just a little.”
your hand moves to stroke his hair—he whines, but quietens at the feeling of your fingers carding through his hair—then you tease him, “careful, pretty boy, keep that up and you will really live up to your dumb boy reputation.”
he grins down at you. “you think I am pretty?”
“of course, that’s what you will focus on,” you grumble then move to sit on the couch. you think he will lay his head on your lap as usual with his enormous body stretching on the couch, but he doesn’t.
instead, he sits on the ground between your legs. he buries his face in your stomach and his arms wrap around you.
“’toru, I have to get you a cold wrap.”
“no.”
“you should at least drink some water so your migraine can get better.”
“I already feel so much better.”
“satoru, are you telling me that simply burying your face in my stomach is enough to magically heal you?”
he pulls away slightly to grin at you, “are you the one having the migraine?”
“no, but I am the responsible one—“
“exactly, so let me hug the love of my life,” he cheekily says before kissing the pulse point on your forearm, “thank you.”
you grumble causing him to chuckle, but he quickly goes quiet once again.
your hands are gently massaging his scalp and he lets out a soft sigh.
considering what he went through, you guess that he will probably fall asleep in a while, but then he speaks up slowly, “I…wanted to show you this new trick with my technique.”
“oh?”
he nods and continues, “I managed to teleport.”
“really? that’s awesome, ‘toru!” you beam, hands never stopping their movements.
“exactly!” he quips then grumbles, “and I wanted to teleport to that place you like so much, but I can’t right now and it’s so lame!”
this is one of the things people tend to not notice about satoru. he is an annoying idiot, sure. he reminds you of those kids in middle school that pull the ponytail of the girl they like.
but he is still so considerate to other people in his own way. he speaks a lot and loudly, but his actions always speak louder.
you feel your heartstrings tug at the sentiment so you tilt his head up and your eyes look intently into his own azure ones.
satoru is convinced you’re having a staring contest so he puts on his “concentrated” face.
you humor him for just a moment, before a helpless chuckle escapes your lips, “you silly goose,” you softly kiss his eyelids, “my silly goose.”
you gently pull his head toward you and press a kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, and then a gentle peck to his lips.
his cheeks turn the slightest shade of red as he watches you, and his ears are a tinted a light shade of red.
awestruck, he can’t help but stare at you, “I…I am caught between telling you that I fell in love with you all over again and telling you that that was so corny.”
with a roll of your eyes, you pinch his nose lightly, “then you should just go to sleep, loser.”
he gasps then huffs and looks away, “always so mean.”
“right?” you hum while you pet his hair, “whatever shall you do, lover?”
satoru is endearing when he is quiet like this, not quite flustered but just a tad bit shy. and even when he is mad at you, he always leans into your touch. so you’re not surprised about his following line.
“if I sleep right now, we will cuddle, right?”
and you smile with a nod because as much as satoru actively wants your love, you want his just as much.
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taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412
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copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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ghostbsuter · 9 months
Text
The house of Nightingale & Constantine ( P. 1 )
> next part
.・゜-: ✧ :-
You know, when Batman reassured him (was it tho? His way of using words is a bit... confusing.) of bringing in a third person for their common problem, Phantom, Danny, didn't press nor worry.
He regrets it now, just a little bit.
Dick liked Danny.
The small guy has been an absolute delight!
(He isn't grinning when he and Damian duke it out, doesnt watch fondly when Danny and Jason exchange the most weirdest ways of insulting someone or when He and Steph gossip, Cass sitting behind him with her hands in his hair.)
(He can see from the corner of his eye the way Tim hides a grin behind his hand, texting Danny someone rapidly and their Guest laughing at random times, the way even Duke, despite wearing the sunglasses, seems to warm up pretty quickly to their new brother friend.)
(It's doesn't help that he has black hair and blue eyes either.)
Danny has been living with them for some time now, temporarily as it may be, and grew on them all pretty quickly.
Bruce told them when Constantine arrived at the cave, seemingly irritated for unknown reasons, and they all were ushered to the elevator.
There is no noise as they arrive, Danny few feet off the ground and engaged on a hot topic with Steph as they go down the stairs.
The moment Constantine is in sight however, has their resident ghost snapping out of the conversation and zooming in on the man from afar.
It's kind of funny? The way his black hair fluffs up like in a Ghibli Movie, the way his eyes narrow to slits, glowing a faint green.
Many shout in alarm at the sight of agitation (?), Dick sees Constantines own eyes glow a eery gold??
It's like two cats staring down one another, a showdown.
(Someone should record this.)
The two meet down in the middle of the cave, Danny is bristling and John scowling.
"Really Bats? A Nightingale?" The blond man scoffs, pushing his hands into the pockets of his coat, hands roaming for cigarettes probably.
"Excuse me? I thought the line of Constantine died out back then, with the way you handle your stuff." The teen hisses back, a hand running through his poofed up hair.
"Hah!" The Hellblazer gives a mocking laugh, cigar already in hand and lit. "'With the way we handle our stuff'? Weren't the Nightingales out of commission not so long ago?"
The glow might have died out, but the tension only rose higher.
Danny turns to Batman, glowering.
"Asking for the help of the house of Constantine? Are you crazy? Those nutjobs have no self-preservation!"
John's eye twitches at the remark.
"No self-preservation, my ass. Nightingales do nothing but mess with stuff they shouldn't, talk about self-preservation when you have it yourself, pipsqueak."
And Danny? Danny growls.
"All you do is trick every being to do your bidding! One day all of this will catch up to your house and me? I will watch as it burns."
The blonds cigarette snaps in his grip.
"Burn? Me? Doesn't the house if Nightingales hunt the beings we 'trick'? It seems to me that your lineage is already going down as we speak."
The argument (?) continues and the batclan does nothing but watch as if its a particularly interesting tennis match.
(John looks like he's about 5 seconds away from strangling Danny and the teen about to bite off John's head.)
"What's going on?" Finally, Batman steps in.
"What's going on? What's going on?? You said you'd bring in a third person! Not a constantine!"
The bat shows no signs of anything really, when both teen and man whip around to face him.
"I thought you'd know better than to involve yourself with the house of Nightingales."
"I was here first! No take backs!"
"And yet I know bats longer, don't I, pipsqueak?"
"Foolish trickster!"
"Imprudent necromancer!"
(Apparently, beef between two houses of dark exists and they had the chance to experience it first hand.)
(This is one of the many occurrences.)
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gojonanami · 5 months
Text
"JUST A LITTLE LONGER" - SATORU GOJO
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✴︎ summary: after geto defects, you find yourself on a roof of a building wondering where things went wrong - and you're not the only one. based off another scene from apothecary diaries. ✴︎ contents: gojo x f!reader, fluff, angst about geto, gojo cries, reader does too a little, but cuddling from behind, i love this scene so much it's so cute, and jinshi is so gojo coded ✴︎ wc: 821
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This was probably a stupid idea. 
And it was, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from doing it anyway. A cursed spirit could kill you any day, so what was falling off a roof? Besides, you took another shot of sake, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care about the possible chance of falling to your death after today. 
Suguru was gone. 
Defected, after slaughtering so many people — or monkeys as he called them now. There was no changing his mind — no going back. Suguru was a person of conviction — you supposed he still was. Shoko simply went with the flow, Satoru knew what his duties were, and you — you didn’t know what you were doing, but you thought maybe it was enough if you could help just one person every day. Especially if that person was one of your friends. 
And yet you didn’t see one of your friends needing your help, did you? 
So why were you sitting up on the roof of one of Jujutsu Tech’s buildings? You didn’t know either — you had a whole suite of aloneness you could have drank in, but you choose to take a shot in the same place that you, Suguru, Shoko, and Satoru drank in on late nights between assignments. 
Shoko would tease you — too sentimental for your own good — that’s what she always told you, but you couldn’t help it. Not after a night like this. But sitting up here wouldn’t resolve anything would it? 
And you began to carefully climb down, thinking about how much easier it was when Suguru used a cursed spirit to help you up (even when he really wasn’t supposed to summon them on campus). Fuck, your eyes burn with tears. You missed him— 
Your foot slips, as you fall backwards, into the awaiting arms — more like the awaiting body of someone below. You hear a grunt as you tumble backwards into them, your body and mind in shock, wondering what person you possibly murdered with your stupidity. 
“Satoru? What are you doing here?” 
“I should be asking you that,” Satoru grumbled at you as you turned to face him, “y'know when I joked that you would be falling for me, this isn’t what I meant,” 
“Oh really? Because this is exactly what I had in mind,” you snort, and you move to get up, but he’s pulling you back with a hand around your wrist, “Toru, let me get off of you—” 
“No, it’s cold,” he pouts, and now you really take a look at him — he wasn’t wearing his glasses for once, his hair unkempt at best, and his uniform all too disheveled — and his face, porcelain skin flushed red — and the faint smell of—was that— “are you drunk?” Satoru wasn't one to drink, but you supposed it wasn't for the act of it as it was the effect.
And it may have been the moonlight, but you swore he flushed further, before he’s forcing you to turn back around, pulling you further into his lap, his arms around your middle, “Maybe,” he mumbles, “I could say the same to you,” and you spot the bottle of sake on the ground in the grass, somehow not broken, “reminiscing about old times?” he pressed his forehead against your shoulder. 
“Yeah,” you sigh, teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as his breath warmed your neck, his hair tickling your skin as he leaned closer, “when did it go wrong?” 
“More like when did i go wrong?” he mutters, words all too bitter, “I should have seen it — I should have done more—” 
“No one saw it, we didn’t realize how bad it had gotten for him since Riko,” you whispered, “none of us—” 
“You weren’t his best friend—” 
“Me and Shoko were there too,” you cut him off, “we were there too,” you say quietly, “either way, Suguru made his choices, just as we did. And there’s nothing more we can do, except for what we can do here,” and then you add, “and it isn’t your fault.” 
“Why not?” 
“Because i said so,” and he laughs then, a genuine laugh. 
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, before burying his face in the nape of your neck, his nose tickling you, and despite the cool air of the approaching fall, your body was now burning. 
“Toru—you’re tickling me—” and he’s only pulling you closer, as you finally glance back at him, “Toru—” and your words fall away, as you see a tear slip down his cheek, his eyes shut. 
“Just a little longer,” he says, barely above a whisper, his face pressed against your shoulder again, as his arms tighten around your middle, “warm me up for a little bit more,” 
You stare up at the night sky, stars dotting the night sky — such a beautiful night despite it all — as you finally let your tears slip down your cheeks silently, “I’ll stay as long as you want.” 
And you did, forever. 
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✴︎ a/n: i hope this doesn't flop like my other fics lately, but oh well lol. i wrote this quick little thing now, so forgive any typos.
✴︎ taglist: @forest-hashira, @anondrive, @neon-crow, @forest-fruits-jam, @yukuriku, @lxvegojo
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azullumi · 11 days
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“affection weaves into the letters on your screen” ; aventurine and ratio
premise — messages and calls between you and him.
content tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, texts and messages, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons
note — i needed something easy and nice because everything has been too stressful
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If there’s one constant thing about AVENTURINE is that he is an avid fan of messaging, texting, or whatever the proper term for that is. No matter where he is and what he’s doing, he’ll always find the time to type in a message for you and press send—it could be about anything, from the random thing he’ll see while he’s walking which he thinks you’ll be interested in to how his day is going and possibly, ranting about it. The only time he’ll be inactive is when he’s in the middle of something, like completely and utterly busy that he couldn’t pick up his phone to check up on you or update you on what he’s doing.
Would use the most out of everything; calls, voice messages, attachments, everything. He’ll use stickers whenever he can and would use those silly emoticons because why not? He’s very expressive overall; it’s like you can hear his voice, see his expression, and the gestures he’ll do over the screen. 
PHOTOS !! There are new ones added to the shared gallery of your conversations with him every single day. He sees something cool? He takes a photo. He’s currently having a meal? No questions asked, he’ll take a photo. The critters are in this silly position? The camera is pointed at them already and the image of them in a circle while seemingly discussing something is sent. He’ll send selfies of himself throughout the day and he’s the type to pose with random things; there was a time he sent you a photo of himself holding a potted plant (he said it was an addition to his office and he thought you should know). It’s ridiculous, you may say, but he can’t contain the smile on his face when you send a photo back.
Occasionally, it’s videos that he sends.
It’s the late night calls and messages. Aventurine has sleeping problems, struggling to fall or stay asleep no matter how much he physically exhausts himself, so when worse comes to worst and it’s already midnight yet there’s no ounce of anything that makes his eyes heavy, he’ll message you—asking if you’re still awake and if you’re doing anything. It’s your voice that guides him to his dreams, gentle and delicate as a lullaby; by then, you’ll receive no response from him as you call for his name and you’ll have to whisper to him goodnight as he sleeps.
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BONUS : on the topic of calls, he likes spending time with you in silence as you do your own thing while he also does his own. Your presence is enough to comfort him and keep him grounded.
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VERITAS RATIO is not much of a texter and if he does send you a message, it’s mostly about engineering designs for a machine, requesting that you give him a set of questions if he needs something to simulate his weary brain, sending you links to a sign-up form for a debate that is occuring, or proposals for a certain project as he asks for your input. There are times you’ll find yourself debating with him—all just casual and he won’t throw a chalk at you. However, the line of your conversation between you and him is short and is separated by intervals; he just prefers talking in person or over calls. 
He’s probably the fastest typer you know but he rarely ever makes typos, like ever. He types strictly and formally with proper capitalization and punctuations with the mixture of the words that would require you to bring out a dictionary to understand, always starting his sentence with an uppercase and ending it with a period. It feels like you’re having a corporate or business meeting whenever you’re talking to him due to how formal he is over text (you can probably hear his voice whenever you read his messages too).
“DRYEST TEXTER IN THE UNIVERSE EVER” some would say and maybe you too, however, there are traces of sweetness and affection in your (short) conversations with him. He’s the one to greet you first in the morning, so expect that the moment the sun has risen, there’s a message notification from him displayed on the screen on your phone—the time you’ll rise from your bed, your sleeping and wake-up patterns are embedded in his mind and he ensures that you always wake up with a good morning. 
In note with that, sometimes, you’ll find yourself wondering if he even thinks of you, if you occasionally appear inside his mind and distract him from his work—doubt begins to muddle your thoughts. However, you must remember that he’ll always send you reminders throughout the day, telling you of the agenda you have planned for the afternoon which you told him once or twice the day before, reminding you to finish this task you’ve been procrastinating on, or just simply telling you to take a break or to eat something (especially when he knows that you don’t take care of yourself).
Be kind to yourself, will you? He looks out for you and cares for you a lot even if you may think otherwise.
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EXTRA : doesn’t call and is not exactly a fan of it, however, if his phone were to ring and he sees it’s you calling for him, he wouldn’t hesitate to answer it.
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tagging the one and only amazing and lovely @toorurs 🗣️ first of all, i’m sorry that i haven’t replied to your tiktoks when i told you i will (plsdonthateme) and second, i actually dont have a second thing to say. anywaysss!! i think we’ve both been busy these days or maybe it’s just me (sorry finals are approaching) but do know that no matter what happens i still treasure and love you as a friend ‼️ i saw this one plant in our trip yesterday and i remembered you i dont know why i think it’s because it was pretty and the color reminded me of you 🫶🏼 but yeah, keep on doing amazing things and amazing works (DONT DIE FELI THE WORLD WILL LOSE AN ANGEL) !! you’ve become one of my most favorite people ever and remember that i will always be here for youu mwa
© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.
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evilminji · 7 months
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Oh... my god? Ghost Reporters.
Imagine it. Their office is in the Zone. They literally FEED of hunting for The Next Big Scoop! And Revealing The Truth! Every honest reporter that got silenced for getting a little too close to the facts. The bloody, beating, heart of societies underbelly.
Every Lois Lane that had no Kryptonian to stop some rich and powerful jackals putting them in the ground.
Well Death sure didn't stop THEM! They STILL want answers! But now they have co-wokers. Oh~ and SUPERPOWERS! And best part?
The newly appointed KING is going too and from the living world. That must mean it's okay now, RIGHT? Your majesty? You're not a RAGING HYPOCRITE, aaaaare you? :) 🎤
And... look. Danny knows full well what these piranhas are up too. He's not stupid. But Madeline Fenton raised a lot of things. Fool? Not one of um. That a LOT of reporters with sharp, sharp teeth and bloodlust in their eyes. He wants to half-live.
He compromises. Illusion of control and all that. Yeah, yeah, they all tooootally respect his authority etc. Give them Them Scoop! He, wisely, gets the fuck out of the way. Whoosh! Off they go!
Thats.... probably gonna be a problem. *siiiiiips his morning coffee* But it's not HIS problem. Not right now.
And? Suddenly all these politicians and business leaders are getting fucking AMBUSHED. Oh? You thought you'd get soft ball "aren't I a man of the people. Buy oil!" Bullshit questions? HA! Where were you on June 27th, 1978, at-
And "according to YOUR words, exact quote as follows-"
Just? They BEAT the leader with the STICK. "Oh but you'll lose access". They'd love to see HOW! They can go through WALLS! Answer the question, coward. "Your gonna make powerful enemies!" Oh nooooo, what are they gonna DO?
Shoot us TWICE?
Hey Mr. Family Values! How's the three mistresses your wife doesn't know about?? "No comment"? That's fine. We already have THEIRS. >:D Good luck with your upcoming election!
And like? As newspapers are shutting down and turning clickbait all across the country? This ONE(1) tiny, middle of nowhere town? Somehow has a horrid, horrid, ARMY of Satan's own Reporters. All apparently willing to die for the News. Throwing themselves at dictators and Supervillians alike.
"We see no God here but the Truth" is literally their papers MOTTO.
The damn thing is basicly a BRICK. You get a paperback of news. Entire planet AND THEN SOME. How?! How are they reporting, IN DETAIL, on the break down of talks between two planets 16 galaxies over? Hal says it's accurate. But what Earth paper would even HAVE that information?
And?? The whole town treats this as normal? There are human children, complaining about the weight of papers, because it makes their paper routes a pain in the ass. Soccer moms discussing alien celebrity drama. Farmers muttering over foreign unrest and how it will impact their corn harvest.
Fucking Lex Luthor, clearly deciding to roll with it, coming to sign himself up for a paper. Gaining a new life long Nemesis upon meeting Vladimir Master, whom he decides is both hot and unbearable. Someone is heard shouting "oh god, there's TWO OF THEM!"
And?? Look. Clark isn't MAD. Or JEALOUS. Nor is he in a secret Reporting War with Jerry from the Amity Chronicle. Because that would be petty and childish. He's just SAYING, maybe they should check the place out!
Maybe Jerry is a DICK and deserves it, is all. (Lois stop laughing.)
@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight
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bachibabe · 6 months
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— 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♡
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synopsis: oh no! what is a cursed spirit supposed to do when he gains interest in a mortal girl? probably not make sex dolls of her, kidnap her, then fuck her until she breaks. but no one told him that!
𖦹₊┆ mahito x fem! reader
𖦹₊┆ wc: 4.5k
𖦹₊┆ warnings: noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, mahito is gross, referring to the sex doll as if it was a real person
𖦹₊┆ notes: the fic ive been writing on and off for a month… she is my baby… i have birthed her. please please please read the warnings and enjoy <33 kms if this doesn’t show up in tags
18+ → minors / blank blogs dni
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Creak.
Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your safe haven.
Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.
Bang.
His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.
“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.
You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. Practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was slurred, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. So. . . so crazy.
You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself even though your hands were shaking.
You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.
How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.
It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.
You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.
He said you taste delicious.
It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.
The way you could tell that he craved more.
Craved everything you had to give.
You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.
Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.
Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.
You learned that that night.
He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.
His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monser that just got his kill.
He had.
He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanor changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.
“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.
You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.
Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.
But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.
He loves that smell.
If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.
He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.
Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.
You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.
Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Kenjaku told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!
You are already better than he ever imagined!
Bang.
The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.
Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!
He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.
The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.
“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defense but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.
You want to scream.
He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.
He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you.
“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.
Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.
How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.
“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are hard to understand…And I really just can’t wait for you any longer.”
You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.
How deep whatever he feels for you runs.
You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it color. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.
You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.
You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.
You can do this. You can do this.
The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.
Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.
Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.
Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.
You land flat on your face.
Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.
A stitched hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks disheveled. Crazed.
He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.
“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”
You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.
“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”
He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”
The simple statement makes your blood run cold.
“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”
You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.
Exactly how he wants it– wants you.
You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”
His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~ ♡”
All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.
He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.
“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.
Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to scilence.
“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”
The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.
“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”
His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just!
“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.
His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—
Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?
He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.
Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savor this… who knows when you might come around again?
Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.
Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.
You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when you’re head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.
He likes you.
He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.
Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.
He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.
The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.
“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.
He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.
You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.
You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.
“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.
“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, loosing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.
You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.
He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.
“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary. Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.
Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”
He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.
Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.
Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.
Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.
A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.
Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re full. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.
He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.
He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”
He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your hole before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.
He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.
He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.
“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”
Right. Cause this is forever. ♡
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tddyhyck · 1 year
Text
golden boy (l.jn)
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pairings ⇢ bf!jeno x afab!reader (other dreamies mentioned)
word count ⇢ 4.9k
synopsis ⇢ jeno is your sweet lovely attentive boyfriend who takes care of you publicly and privately
warnings ⇢ 18+, smut, established relationship, unprotected sex, softish!dom jeno, spit, crying, big thick dick jeno, fingering, throat fucking/blowjobs, overstimulation (reader cums a lot), fingering, semi-public (ig they’re in a car), cum eating, reader has a wap, use of slut, cum eating, teasing, overuse of the word pretty and baby (lemme know if i missed any)
playlist ⇢ skin _ mac miller / love between _ kali uchis / sanctuary _ joji
masterlist
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The music was too loud and the room smelled heavily of weed. You were thankful for the hand dancing under your large jacket from the small of your back to your belt loops when the crowd got too pushy. Also thankful for the large arm that pushed people out of the way as you tried to break through the crowd. Finally out of the middle of what could be compared to a mosh pit you sighed, turning to pull the strong protective arms to you and out the back door.
Your fingers squeezed over the leather that covered his bicep as you pulled him to the patio finding your friends around the fire pit. You felt like you were floating instead of walking over to them but that was probably from smoking earlier. Your grip on Jeno’s arm loosened as you finally made it to your friends.
“You survived!” Renjun cheered from his spot on the ground in front of Chenle who was tucked into himself to keep warm. You laughed while Jeno sat back in his chair before pulling you onto his lap and wrapping a large blanket around you both.
You curled yourself into your boyfriend. His large warm arms engulfed you as Mark was playing guitar while everyone sang along. This was the best part about going to parties. You didn’t care for the bad playlist on repeat or the dancing or even really the drinking. But sitting around a warm fire with some of your closest friends and random stragglers while listening to music was so comfortable.
Your boyfriend keeping you warm was also a big bonus, and he looked so good tonight. Black jeans with a tight black shirt tucked in under a leather jacket. You had sat on his bathroom counter earlier and styled his hair slicking it back away from his face but leaving a few strands to fall over his forehead.
He stood in front of your parted legs, torso bare, and towel hanging low on his hips while he played with a string on your shorts. He looked directly at you, never shy about you noticing his staring.
You contemplated keeping him between your legs and pulling the towel from his waist and having him fuck you against the counter but you decided against it. Somewhat of a double edge sword because you could feel your panties soaking every time you peeked over at him.
His attentiveness didn’t help; it only made you want him more. The way he went out of his way for you. When he poured and held your cup so you didn’t have to worry about it or when he led you to the bathroom, waiting politely outside before leading you back out. You stared at his hands when he pushed some guy away from falling into you. You thought about how good it would feel to have them shoved in your mouth or in your cunt or even wrapped around your throat.
You could feel your cheeks heating while you pressed your thighs together and pushed yourself back into Jeno’s lap. He rubbed soothing circles on your hip before gripping it to keep you from moving. You leaned your head back falling into his neck, lips grazing his soft skin.
“You good?” he whispered. You nodded looking up at him reaching a hand up to push the loose strands away from tickling his eyebrow. You stayed like that feeling his warmth and how his chest vibrates when he laughed at something stupid Jaemin would say between songs. his leg moved slightly up and down as he tapped his foot to the rhythm you didn’t even know what song Mark was playing. Only focused on the pretty boy surrounding you. He glanced down at you only to find you already staring back.
“Hi,” you whispered. Chenle was scolding Jisung for getting the lyrics to some song wrong.
“Hi.” he breathed out. You brought your hand to his chest playing with the necklace you let him borrow, fingers tugging slightly at his collar. Your mind drifted to it dangling over you while he fucked deep into your cunt.
“Need you,” you mumbled, staring up at him with innocent doe eyes. His hand grazed from your hip to slip under your jacket and shirt to rest on your waist.
“Let's go?” he whispered, smiling down at you lazily.
“But I don’t wanna go yet,” you admitted with a pout, eyes trailing down his jaw to his chest.
“I’m not fucking you while our friends sing kumbaya, c'mon,” he says making you giggle while he lifts you easily before turning and folding the blanket and laying it in the chair.
“We’re heading out.” he says, followed by various “noooo” and “aww.”
“You can’t leave already, it's only like 11.” haechan pouts from across the fire.
“Well, we are,” Jeno responds dryly. You hit him lightly on the stomach.
“They have to leave so Jeno can fuck y/n’s brains out,” Jaemin smirks. You flip him off and roll your eyes in response.
“How’s it going for you? Hasn’t it been 3, nope, 4 months now?” Jeno says, grabbing your bag and your hand pulling you away from your friends to the back gate.
“Damn,” you can hear Haechan and Renjun chorus. You know Jaemin won’t hear the end of this and it makes you laugh. Jeno laces his fingers in yours as you cross the patio before stepping into the grass. It's still soft and slightly muddy from the rain the previous day. He reaches around you gripping your waist to lift you slightly off the ground.
“I can walk, you know,” you say, rolling your eyes, but you're blushing as he holds you effortlessly.
“I don’t want you to get your pretty feet muddy,” he replies, unlocking the back gate and slipping through before closing it back. The front yard is far worse than the back; some kids are passed out against the front porch, a couple is fighting and some boys are playing tag. You grip Jeno’s shoulders while he leads you through the mushy grass and to the sidewalk. placing you down, hand finding its way back to yours.
“You look so fucking hot tonight,” you whine when you're far enough away from the house. He just smirks, pulling you close to him. It only made you crazier because he knew he was hot and not in an arrogant way but in a sexy confident way.
“It's because my girlfriend styled me tonight.” you laughed hearing his keys jingle before clicking to unlock the car.
“And she lets you go out like this when girls like me are drooling over you.” you look up at him as he presses you to the car door. His leg pushes yours apart before pressing against you.
“She doesn’t know how much I like it when girls like you are drooling over me.” he leans down kissing your neck and snaking his hand around your waist. Pulling you away from the car and opening the door in one motion. He leans you down into the passenger seat letting you settle while he sits your bag at your feet before grabbing the seatbelt and fastening it for you.
He was always so attentive to you; he did all the things that were so easy and mundane to you. Opening the door for you, combing your hair, tying your shoes. The driver's side opened before he got in starting the car while you fiddled with your phone to put on music.
“You can’t put on a sex playlist yet.” he huffed, bringing his hands to the wheel. You laughed, turning up the volume before leaning back in your seat. His hand found its way to your thigh before he pulled onto the street.
You stared at him one hand on the wheel and the other on you. He puffed air out his mouth making the strand of hair dance on his forehead. You hadn’t realized your legs were spreading as you watched the way his jaw tightened when he met a red light. He looked over at you.
“You look like I’ve already made you cum,” he smirked, tilting his head. He brought his fingers to your core, dancing lightly over your heat making you sigh.
“You’re so mean,” you say when he pressed the gas again. “You can’t touch me, we still have like 10 more minutes in the car.” he laughed, adding more pressure to your clit.
He continued like that and it felt like you hit every single stoplight only prolonging your trip which made your head spin. You were grinding against his hand while you gripped his forearm.
“If you don’t fucking pull over.” you whimpered, chest rising and falling swiftly.
“You can’t wait for 7 more minutes.” he teased, bringing his hand away before slapping it down, making you jerk. He just laughed at you and it made your tummy flip. you loved this side of him, your sweet adoring boyfriend taunting you. His familiar crescent eyes were replaced with a cocked brow and a lazy smirk.
“How about this,” he offered, bringing his fingers to your button. “I make you cum now with my fingers,” pausing while he unbuttoned your pants. “and then when we get back I’ll make you cum on my tongue,” pausing again to tug the zipper down. “and then I’ll fill up your pretty pussy.” You nodded aggressively when his fingers made contact with your wet panties.
“You’re so wet. All because I wore a leather jacket? So pathetic,” you whined again blushing at his words. He dipped his calloused fingers below the waistband ghosting over your clit. His fingers glided through your folds collecting the wetness before bringing his hands out of your pants and to his lips sucking your taste off of them. You stared at him with your lip between your teeth when he gathered his saliva on his fingers before bringing it back to you.
You don’t know what came over you when you grabbed his sleeve making his eyebrows furrow until you shoved his spit-covered fingers in your mouth. He groaned from his seat while you swirl your tongue over his digits. He mumbled something under his breath, pressing his head to the seat, meeting another red light before looking over at you.
You could still taste yourself on his fingers before you pulled them from your mouth spit connecting to your lips. He stared at you before moving his hand back between your legs pushing your panties to the side before pressing against your clit. You whimpered bringing a hand to cover your mouth when his fingers started going in fast circles.
“Fuck,” your boyfriend hissed when a honk interrupted him, focusing his attention back on the road but not neglecting your cunt. You felt so embarrassed what if the people behind you knew your boyfriend had his hand in your pants. You didn’t really care when his fingers hit all the right spots that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back.
You could hear the squelch between your legs over the music and your breathing. You tried to keep your eyes open to see how close you were to Jeno’s apartment but the pleasure had your eyes closing on their own. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach tightening making your fingers grip his arm tighter. He always knew you were close when your nails dug crescents into his skin.
“You’re gonna cum, baby?” he lilted. you nodded teeth digging into your bottom lip. “What if they see you?” he asked, making your eyes fly open to see a car driving steadily beside you. “You'd probably like that, wouldn’t you? such a little slut.” You whined back arching off the seat as you cum feeling yourself gush in your panties.
He doesn’t stop his fingers from pushing you deeper into a space between pleasure and pain before he finally pulls his fingers away. Glancing over at your heaving chest when he brings his fingers to his mouth with a grin.
“Taste so sweet for me baby,” he says nonchalantly, reaching over to zip your pants and button them back. Hand palming at your thigh while your body stays buzzing still coming down from your high. You feel stupid and you haven’t even seen his cock. You didn’t realize you were already on his street until he pulled into his parking spot.
He reaches over unbuckling your seatbelt and his own before grabbing your chin and pressing his lips to yours. He pulls away too quickly but kisses the side of your mouth.
“Do you need me to carry you,” he whispers against your mouth. You whimper, shaking your head and reaching for the door before he grabs your wrist stopping you. He gets out of the car quickly before jogging over to your side, opening the door, and holding out a hand to you. He helps you out before reaching down to grab your bag. He fiddles with his keys in his hand as you approach his front door.
“Can I stay over?” you question when he opens the door. He laughs nodding while he sits your bag down.
“you never have to ask,” he says, bending down to untie your shoes and looking up at you curiously. You try not to stare at the sparkles in his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle. He places your hand on his shoulder before gripping your ankle and removing one shoe and then the next.
“I know but I’m polite.” he grins at you before rising from the ground to stand over you.
“You’re very polite, baby,” he pets your head sweetly. “polite, kind, sweet, generous,” he extends, unzipping your jacket and slipping it off your bare shoulders to hang in his closet. “pretty, funny, sexy, mine,” he continues and it makes you blush. You had never been with someone like him.
“c’mere.” he pulls you into him and down the hall. Your head is pressed into his neck as you waddle with him. You giggle into him at how silly you both must look. Thankfully, Jaemin had stayed at the party so he wouldn’t see both of you like this. But Jeno never cared about how people saw him when he was with you. He didn’t care if people thought he was a simp or whipped for you he took pride in that. being yours.
He closes his door once you're both in his room, pulling you to his bed before sitting down the light from his lamp illuminating his cheekbones. Hands finding your waist when you sit on his lap without hesitation. He reaches up to brush your hair behind your ears, hands slipping down to your cheeks bringing your face to his.
You melt against his lips so soft and warm and so Jeno. You grip his jacket, the leather cool in your hands. His tongue slips into your mouth; he tastes like cherry soda. You grind down against him lightly feeling his cock pressing against your core. You whimper into his mouth at the slightest friction. He’s swallowing all the sounds you make moving his hands to your hips to help you drag against him. Your hands roam down to unclasp his belt, fingers fumbling.
“needy baby,” he smirks against your lips before leaning to press kisses against your neck. His lips distract you from getting the buckle undone, making you whine in frustration. He smiles into your neck reaching down to unclasp his belt easily.
“you’re distracting me,” you say before finally unbuttoning his jeans. He huffs out a warm laugh against your neck. He leans back onto his elbows watching you curiously as you unzip his jeans and tug at the waistband of his boxers. He shakes his head before grabbing your wrists and bringing them to your sides.
“don’t you remember my plan, baby?” he looks up at you quizzically.
“Can I add to the plan?”
“what do you want to add?” he cocks his eyebrow at you already knowing what you are going to ask.
“Can I just-“ you pause suddenly shy. He nods his head for you to continue. “want you in my mouth.”
“How bad do you want it?” you whine wiggling over him in embarrassment. You know you have to beg but it doesn’t make your face any less red.
“So bad.” you glance up at him wishing that was enough. He squeezes your wrist. “want it so bad. Can you just fuck my mouth? I've been thinking about it all night. You over me with your pretty hair and jacket and your cock down my throat.” you don’t realize but you're rambling.
“I guess I can add to the plan then since you want it so bad.” he loosens his grip on your wrists rubbing over the skin soothingly. “Let me do this first though, okay, baby?” you nod before you even know what he’s doing. He’s tugging your shirt off before his large hands grope at your tits making you dizzy.
“I love when I can convince you not to wear a bra,” he whispers against your skin before peppering kisses from your neck to your collarbone. You sigh, relaxing into his familiar touch. His tongue licking your chest before taking your nipple into his mouth making you whimper. You grip the nape of his neck tugging lightly at his gelled hair. His mouth vibrates around your nipple so you repeat the action tugging harder.
He releases your nipple with a pop before diving into the other. You hadn’t realized you were grinding against him until one of his arms reached around your back stopping your movements. you whine your nails scraping his neck. His tongue slides down at the same time he’s pushing you up to stand. Leaning forward when you stand fully in front of him you feel his tongue slide over your tummy kissing lightly at the skin. His tongue teases at your belly button nipping lightly against the soft skin before his fingers tickle at your sides lightly making you squirm.
He pulls away unbuttoning your pants for a second time that night. Sliding them over your hips and to your ankles he holds out a hand for you to grab while you step out kicking them behind you. He leans in again teeth nipping at the skin above your panties, his hands gripping your ass pulling at the cheeks while you grab his broad shoulders.
He looks up at you, his eyes glinting between adoration and mischief. He finally tugs at your panties, pulling them down your legs leaving you completely bare in front of him. There was no embarrassment or anxiety or worrying he might see something he didn’t like because he liked it all.
“You’re so pretty.” he says not directly to you but just out loud. “all mine.” he grips your cheeks again, caressing the skin. “Lay down,” he instructs standing up in front of you and turning you both around so you’re pressed to the bed.
“Want your pretty head here,” he points at the edge. You nod sitting on the bed and turning before laying back, neck hitting the edge of the mattress and your head hanging off. The view of your boyfriend towering over you gripping his cock through his underwear. He was still completely clothed while you were naked. It made you press your thighs together hoping he wouldn’t see. But when you hear him scoff you know he noticed.
“can’t wait, can you?” he taunts caressing your cheek with one hand and pulling his cock from his boxers with the other. Your mouth is already watering. You grip at his thighs opening your mouth eagerly and looking up at him. His hand smoothed over your cheek before taping his cock against your chin. Feeling his heavy length on your lip before he presses into your mouth. You lose contact with his eyes as your mouth fills up so you close them instead, relishing in the fullness.
He groans deeply when you swallow around him. He grabs the sides of your face before slowly pulling out. Spit is already collecting on the sides of your lips as he fucks back into your mouth. You whine when the head of his cock touches the back of your throat making your eyes water.
“fuck,” he hisses quickening his pace but only slightly. You move your hands up to grip his belt loops pulling him closer making his hips hit your chin. He stays there for a minute before pulling out letting you breathe only for a second before you pull him back to you.
He watched your throat bulge with each thrust into you watching his dick fill your throat. He pressed his fingers against your neck feeling his cock gliding inside and it had his eyes rolling back.
Your brain is empty, completely entrapped in him and the feeling of him. Your lips are starting to hurt as he stretches your mouth like he’s stretching your pussy. You didn’t realize you were still rubbing your thighs together wanting to be relieved of the pressure you felt at your core.
His hands start creeping down your body teasing you with pinches and flicking at your nipples making you jerk off the bed but his cock stays steadily fucking your mouth. You feel him grip the tops of your thighs spreading your legs harshly making you cough around him. He just grunts at the tightness around him and you feel his fingers ghosting over your pussy. You only grip his belt loops tighter fingers raw where the fabric digs into the skin.
“So wet,” he says, fingers dipping between your core making your toes curl. “I wish you could see yourself, fuck baby.” he groans. You whine around him when he pushes two fingers into you. Spreading your legs as far as you can as he matches his thrusts into your mouth with his fingers inside of you curling them just right bringing you closer to the edge.
“So pretty like this, all spread out and open for me. Pretty little mouth taking me so well, like a good little slut” he says pushing his cock deep down your throat. All you can do is cry, tears and spit dripping into your hair. “Are you gonna cum like this baby? I bet you could cum even if I didn't touch you. Just fucking that little mouth of yours would make you cum, huh, baby?” you whimper because he’s probably right but that’s something for you to store in your mind for later.
“I'm gonna change up the plan, baby,” he said, voice growing deeper. He pulled out of your mouth letting you catch your breath as he leaned over you fully, his spit-soaked cock resting heavily against your cheek. Your chest heaved and he sped up his fingers. His other hand pressed into your lower stomach keeping you in place.
“Can hear how wet you are,” he taunted. He was right. You could hear the loud squelch with each swift thrust and you could feel yourself tightening before your release.
“Jeno,” you whined out from below. This only made him go faster.
“oh my fuc-“ you moan before being cut off by your orgasm hitting you suddenly. Legs shaking trying to close but he wouldn’t let you. You could feel the wetness dribbling out of your pussy and onto your thighs as your mouth hung open with no sounds coming out.
“good girl,” he says, slowing down before pulling out with a slap against your clit making you shake harder. “So messy,” he teases, pulling away before kneeling in front of you. You roll onto your stomach before he brushes your hair away from your face looking into your wet eyes, swiping at the drying spit on your cheeks.
“So good,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your lips and reaching around you to pull you up from the edge of the bed.
“no,” you say when he goes to take off his jacket. He looks at you confused before realization washes over his features.
“You really like this jacket,” he says, drawing out the words with a smile. You nod shyly before laying back on the pillows and reaching up for him.
“Like it a lot. Makes you look like a sexy mean bad boy,” you say looking up at him as he walks around the bed before lifting his knee and pressing into the sheets.
“Do you want me to be a mean bad boy?” he tilts his head above you staring at you like he would eat you alive. He scoots closer to you, legs on either side of yours.
“mmm,” you hmm thinking for a second. He grips your thighs pressing them back before looking down at your dripping cunt. “only sometimes.” you confirm.
“Sometimes?” he questions gripping his length before guiding it between your folds drawing your attention from his face to between your legs. “elaborate.”
“like when,” your eyes flutter each time his cock pressed against your clit. He stops to get you to focus on his question. “when you, when -fuck- when you tease me and-“ you pause looking up at him with pleading eyes.
“And what?” he taunts further by pressing the tip of his cock into you. Your head lulls back against the pillows.
“And when you call me names,” you finish with a moan when he fully pressed into you. His cock fills you up fully, making your eyes roll back.
“What names?” he questions thrusting into you deeply. You almost want to ask him to shut up because he’s making your head spin. But he looks so hot above you, necklace dangling like you imagined almost hypnotizing you.
“When you,” you pause as he presses into the warm bundle of nerves. “call me,” you whine again as he continues to rub at the spot that has your toes curling. “pretty slut,” you finally finish with a huff.
He laughs at you tweaking your nipples and it makes you go crazy. He's filling you up so perfectly making you moan loudly gripping his leather sleeves. His hair is all disheveled now, somehow even hotter than when it was styled, more fringe fell over his forehead and bounced with each thrust into your tight heat. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stared between your legs watching his fat cock sink into your pussy.
“So fucking tight for me.” he groans. “How does a pretty slut like you stay so tight, huh?” you feel tears brimming your eyes again shaking your head against the pillows. Everything feels so intense so full, so intense, so much pleasure.
“Gonna cum, Jen,” you whimper. Reaching for his hand before he intertwined your fingers and stared into your eyes.
“You gonna cum on my cock? Slutty little pussy takes me so well,” he’s hoarse and his words are going straight between your legs.
“Can I,” you’re out of breath, eyes pleading into his.
“cum, baby,” he says tenderly. You throw your head back and whine his name as your walls flutter around him. He doesn’t let up tightening his grip on your thigh and hand, thrusting into you just as hard.
“You squeeze me so tight, fuck,” he groans watching a white ring of your cum form around his length. You feel your legs trying to close around him to push him away but he stays overstimulating you as more tears tumble down your cheeks. He moves his hand from your thigh to press slow circles on your clit building you up again. “So wet. So fucking wet.”
“S’much,” you whine.
“One more baby you can do it. Little more baby just a little more,” he peeks up at you and you nod. “Gonna fill up your pretty pussy.” His thrusts are sloppier as he continues flicking your clit. He leans down pressing his lips against you, a stark contrast between his harsh thrusts and soft lips. Tongue licking into your mouth as you sucked on the wet muscle.
“Want it,” you mumble into his mouth, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. He pushes into you and warm white fills you up. You cum again clenching around him milking his cock as he continues his thrusts.
“fuck.” he groans into your shoulder before finally slowing his movements. You stay like that, feeling him soften inside of you as you both catch your breath. He kisses your neck before leaning back and pulling out of you spreading your legs to watch his cum drip out of your fluttering hole.
He watches as you reach your hand between your legs collecting your cum and his before bringing it to your mouth swirling your tongue around your digits tasting yourself and him.
“Don’t do that or I’ll have to fuck you again,” he warns. You roll your eyes giggling around your fingers before pulling them from your lips. “you’re so,” he doesn’t finish leaning back over you, kissing you sweetly.
“So what?” you ask when he pulls away getting off the bed. You watch him cross the room to his bathroom. You can hear him shuffling around and water running before he comes back warm washcloth in hand and in only his boxers. You want to pout at the loss of his outfit but you can’t when his chest is right in front of you.
“all of the above,” he responds, gripping your ankle and pulling you to the edge of the bed before using the cloth to clean you gently.
“You should wear a leather jacket more often.”
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tysm for reading!! i’m thinking of making this a series (like bf jeno being lovely and sweet and sexy) anyways lemme know if ur into it hehe stay safe ʕᵔ ᴥ ᵔʔ
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sp0o0kylights · 1 year
Text
Adopt a Jock Part 1 
Part 2 
Part 4
Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3 
There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating. 
In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him. 
“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?” 
As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on. 
You know, for fun.
With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?” 
Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade. 
Not of his own free will, anyway. 
“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later. 
“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.
A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once. 
“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!” 
He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”  
“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”
“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. 
This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.
(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.
The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )
“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense. 
“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.” 
"Hey, language!" 
Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.
He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.) 
“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.” 
(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )
Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him. 
“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster. 
“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?” 
“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!” 
“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.” 
“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that” 
Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it. 
“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.” 
“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.
The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.)  She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!” 
“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.” 
Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?” 
“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.” 
“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?” 
“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as. 
He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie. 
His best friend was going to fucking freak. 
“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?” 
“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!” 
“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.  
(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult. 
Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.) 
Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”
 Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”
Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.” 
Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.” 
Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth. 
The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on. 
It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made. 
(Even if half of them would never admit to it.) 
“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was. 
Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache. 
“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch. 
“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?” 
The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway. 
It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade. 
(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)
Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.” 
He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.” 
“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.” 
“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.” 
“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face. 
“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face. 
“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder. 
“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!” 
“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him. 
“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door. 
“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand. 
Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man. 
Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now. 
xXx
“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around." 
More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over. 
“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.” 
“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.” 
"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.
Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics)  didn't look up from his bass.
Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff. 
"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically. 
"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."
He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit. 
He came up empty. 
"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?" 
He got a flat stare back. "No." 
"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places. 
They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real. 
"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick. 
"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula." 
"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick. 
"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?"  Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.
He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process. 
"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him." 
"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?" 
"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him. 
Grant blinked. "The fuck?" 
“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.
“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!” 
Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.
“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”
Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.
“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit. 
Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be. 
“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing. 
“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.” 
“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van. 
“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one. 
“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!” 
“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. 
Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet. 
“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.” 
“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter. 
“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him. 
“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.  
“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning. 
“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either. 
Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"  
He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture. 
Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently. 
 "I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished. 
Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds. 
Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always. 
How silent his normally loud house would be. 
Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle. 
"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely." 
The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that. 
“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling. 
“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.
“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.
No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster. 
 "Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"
"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.  
 "So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious. 
“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out." 
His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.” 
“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.” 
“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly. 
Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear. 
“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment. 
"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.
Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.  
"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out. 
Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye. 
"No."  Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it." 
"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?"  Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?" 
"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances. 
They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems. 
"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.
Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal. 
Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes. 
"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it. 
If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks. 
"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot. 
Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."
Gareth made a face. "Please don't."
He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan." 
"God help us all." Jeff muttered. 
(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.) 
Bonus: 
"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school. 
Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.
 Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically. 
In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count." 
“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”
Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.” 
"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?" 
"That was different. I was discovering myself." 
Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"
"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered. 
"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there." 
"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."
Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."
Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs." 
"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!" 
"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."
Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. 
"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it." 
"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it." 
"I hate you." 
Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know." 
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willowser · 8 months
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really what prompted my double boy dad bakugou post was the idea of his older son — who is six, nearing seven — coming out of his room with messy, sleep-mussed hair and wandering into the kitchen on an early morning when katsuki's getting ready for work.
and your youngest is a little terror. spoiled rotten, katsuki thinks, was too babied and that's why he doesn't listen and has temper tantrums in the middle of the floor and is already throwing punches at three. katsuki's old witch of a mother thinks he'll be bulkier than his older son and twice as mean, prone to pinning his brother to the ground until he's declared the greatest.
(katsuki feels both horror and pride, at the very thought.)
it hasn't always been easy for your oldest; becoming a big brother never is. not that katsuki would know what that's like, but he hated to even share a playground with deku, much less share his one and only mommy, so he can only imagine what his own son went through when his brother arrived.
but he's been great about it, which comes as no surprise because his oldest has always been great about everything. gets his little brother out of bed and reminds him of his manners—even as he's getting whacked—gives up his toys just so the baby won't cry. he's too smart for his own good, acting like a big boy now—and it makes katsuki nostalgic in a way that hurts.
there hasn't been a lot of time for just the two of them. not like there used to be.
so when his firstborn comes to stand beside him in the kitchen, to lean his head against his dad's hip and rub at his sleepy eyes—katsuki just ruffles his already messy hair, before giving his ear a little tug.
"should be asleep," he grumbles to him, "sun's not even up yet."
his son only shrugs, yawns hard; despite this, he says, "'m not tired."
katsuki snorts and continues with his routine: finishes his protein shake, gives the kid a sip when he thinks he wants one (he doesn't really, though he tries not to make a face at the taste as he nods, as if he likes it), makes sure he's got all his work shit in his bag for patrol later. and his son is mostly quiet, content to share in the morning just between the two of them after katsuki sits him on the counter.
and then he asks, "can i come to work with you?"
on instinct, katsuki glances at his shut bedroom door, where you're still fast asleep, on the other side, and then down the hallway to where his youngest is sleeping, too.
technically, the kid probably could because you're off work today, and you could come pick him up later before katsuki has to head out, but—
"your brother won't be happy if i take you and not him."
and your oldest is a good big brother. has more patience than katsuki ever did, knows how to share—but on this morning that the two of them are indulging in, he only shrugs.
"well," he sighs—and he sounds so grown up, sounds like you when you're leveling with katsuki. "if he wanted to go then he should have got up, too."
"that why you're awake?" katsuki frowns, though his son only shrugs again. the idea that he's gotten up way too early, at the ass-crack of dawn just to have some extra time with his dad is too—
"yeah," katsuki murmurs, nodding at him to hop off the counter. "get your socks on so we can go."
there won't be anything for him to do in the agency office, besides get an endless amount of cups of water from the dispenser and all the candy in the receptionist's bowl and attention from the older ladies that thinks he's just so stinking cute.
but at least they'll be together, just the two of them. like old times.
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