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nanaslutt · 4 months

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New years kisses with the JJK men (nsfw & sfw)

Incl: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Yuji, Megumi

contains: fem reader, crack, fluff, smut, semi-public sex, finger sucking, domesticness, rough sex, teasing, dirty talk

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Gojo: SFW

The clock was ticking, only two minutes to go. It seemed everyone had found their partner or friend they were going to kiss to enter the new year together. You on the other hand? You were busying yourself getting another drink from the kitchen, which was completely vacant, save for Megumi's demon dogs chasing each other at your feet.

Even a pair of shikigami wasn't going to be alone on New Year's Eve, ugh. Of course, you had someone you wanted to kiss, but it was too unrealistic. Gojo Satoru. The two of you had gotten fairly close over the past year since you transferred from the Kyoto school to work at Jujutsu High. Clearly not as close as you thought though, as Gojo was last seen mingling with some female teacher you didnt recognize by the TV.

You turned around to peel open the fridge door to get yourself another seltzer. After digging around and finding just what you needed as the reality of another year going by with n new Year's kiss, you slammed the door shut, and almost fell straight on your ass at the piercing blue eyes that came into view.

Gojo chased your body, his hands wrapping around your waist as he caught you from falling. "Sorry~ Didn't mean to scare you," Gojo said, giggling as he watched you catch your breath, your heart still racing from the scare. He was so close, so warm. His hands were gripping you so firmly, like he didn't want you to let you go, even though you were no longer at risk for falling.

Well, honestly, It's probably a good thing he didnt let go, because the proximity of his body to yours and his delicious cologne were both making you dizzy. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. "Were you hiding from me?" He whispered, a faux pout covering his features as he tipped his head at you.

A blush spread over your cheeks as you tried to avert your gaze from his intimidating one. "The ball is about to drop, what are you doing in here?" You asked, avoiding his question. You quickly tried to look around the main room through the opening to the kitchen, looking for the girl you saw Satoru with.

"Ohh, so you know the ball is about to drop and you're hiding from me on purpose, huh?" You went to speak again, but the chant of dozens of people pouting down from ten swarmed your ears, stopping your train of thought. "You were looking for me?" "Nine! Eight!" "Why would I not be looking for you? His arms tightened around your waist, pulling your chest closer to his.

You hovered your hands over the sides of his waist, fearing if you touched him he might disappear. "Five! Four!" "Gojo stop playing, you're running out of time go find your new years kiss it's-"

"Two!, One!"

His lips were on yours before you could register what was happening. Your eyes shot open for a moment in shock before you reciprocated the kiss, slotting your lips against his. Your hand instinctually found their way to his chest, pressing against his sturdy from for leverage as the two of you kissed like you were the only two people in the worlds.

Cheers and music could be heard from the main room as the ball dropped and the time finally hit 12:00, signaling the new year. Satoru finally pulled away after what felt like forever. Both of your faces blushing, your lips buzzing with the skin of where his once was. "You're so dense sometimes." He giggled, making you jerk your head back in offense, your hand lightly batting his chest.

"What?" You said, your face scrunching in annoyance. "I've been trying to hint at you that I like you this entire year." He said, his eyes going wide as he explained himself. "Well, I don't know if it counts as 'hinting' if I tell you to your face that you're my soulmate, but I don't know. Maybe that wasn't obvious enough for your dense little head." Gojo said mockingly, releasing one of his hands around your waist to poke you in the forehead, making your eyebrows scrunch together.

"How am I supposed to take you seriously when you say stuff like that all the time? You're always joking around like that!" You exclaimed, getting in his face. His soft lips against yours made your frustration go away in an instant. "Never with you," Satoru said, his voice suddenly sounding too serious to belong to him. "I've never joked like that with you." A deeper blush was spreading itself over his face as he smiled, easing the sudden tension he caused.

You brought your eyes back to his, your mouth staying together in a pout. "So did you take that kiss as a joke too?" He asked, breaking the silence, his silly demeanor taking over once more. "How.. how could I after you just confessed." You said, your hands sliding down his chest. "THAT'S what did it? Would you have thought the kiss was a joke if I didn't follow it up with my amazing, beautiful confession?" Gojo asked, getting in your face.

You scoffed out a laugh before you pushed yourself out of his grip, turning away as you started walking to the main room with a smile on your face. "Hey! Hey, I'm talking to you! Do you like me back! Are we boyfriend, girlfriend now?! I wasn't done talkingg!" Gojo asked needily, hot on your heels as he chased you into the main room to interrogate you.

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Geto: SFW

Ten years later, and the parties Gojo threw as an adult looked exactly the same. Even the people were the same. You couldn't lie that it was fairly comfortable, save for the music that was giving you a migraine, but Gojo always did like his music loud.

You and Geto had arrived together, and the two of you stayed conjoined at the hip for the entirety of the night, Gojo checked in on you occasionally as people were constantly dragging him away to converse, he was Gojo Satoru after all. Geto was the first one to get your attention after hours of catching up with everyone. His fingers tugged the bottom of your dress towards him, the feeling making you look down at his hand before your eyes found his darker ones.

He signaled to the couch with his thumb, silently asking you if you wanted to go sit down. You were thankful he said something, your feet were aching in your heels and you didn't know how much more small talk you had in you. You knew most of the people at the party, but some of your coworkers and work friends had brought their significant others--which had led to introduction after introduction, you don't think you've ever said your own name so many times in one night.

The alcohol you had been sipping on had started to make you feel dizzy too, your body feeling instant relief when your ass hit the soft cushions of the couch, your head leaning back against the large pillow behind you. You felt the cushion dip next to you when Geto joined you, his thigh pressing into yours from how close he was.

"You havin' fun?" He asked into the shell of your ear, making goosebumps cover your arms at the sound, his hot breath tickling your skin. You turned your head to face him, not realizing how close he really was. You were thankful for the color-changing LED lights in Geto's main room, or Geto might've noticed the blush on your face.

You nodded before speaking, "Yeah! I love seeing everyone loosen up in a setting like this, it's a nice change of pace from the usual seriousness of everyone's day-to-day at the school." You kept your eyes on his when you spoke, noticing how his eyes kept fluttering down to your lips, but you just brushed it off.

"Yeah? You're right, It is nice to see everyone like this." He said, his large hand coming to land on your knee, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin there. "You deserve it too, love seein' you so relaxed." Geto's looked so handsome like this. His hair fell freely around his face as he leaned his head back against the couch to match yours. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, giving you a delicious view of his porcelain skin that change color under the lights.

"Thank you, baby." You said, your hand tucking his long hair behind his ears. "Boo, get a room," Shoko said, the other side of the couch dipping next to you as her feet slid over your thighs. You turned your head, your hands placing themselves on her legs as she leaned back, cupping her hand over her mouth as she lit a cigarette, the orange glow illuminating her face.

"You get tired of being social?" Geto asked, grabbing her legs and throwing them off of you, her heels hitting the ground with a dull click as her body was forced to sit upright to match the two of you. "I don't like these things in the first place. I'm only here because Utahime is here." She confessed, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"So why aren't you with her now?" You asked, tipping your head at her. "Lost her in Gojo's mansion. The ball is about to drop too, guess I'll be getting my kiss late." She said, jerking her head forward to the large flat screen that displayed a twenty-second count down on the screen.

"Oh shit, didn't realize it was so close, c'mere baby," Geto said, leaning over you. Effortlessly, he picked up your body and made your thighs straddle his own, your hands wrapping around his neck instinctually. Shoko groaned from the side of you, the cushion inflating back to normal as she was gone faster than she had arrived, not wanting to see you and Geto makeout.

The sound of the countdown got louder as Gojo turned up the volume from somewhere in the room. Briefly glancing around, you saw people scramble around the large space to find their significant other--looks like everyone lost track of time. Geto's hand on your face pulled you away from the distraction of everyone's commotion and led your attention back to him. "Focus on me baby, don't wanna miss this," Geto said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Before you knew it, it was 8 seconds till midnight, and Geto was staring into your eyes like you were the only person in the room. His serious gaze made you giggle, your hands coming to cup his cheeks as his arms wrapped around your waist. You tilted your head to the side, slowly bringing your faces close together as the countdown got down to three.

"Happy New Year, baby," Geto whispered against your mouth before his lips were on yours. You hummed into the kiss, your eyes closing as you pressed your lips to his, the kiss full of love and promise to keep each other safe and loved going into the new year. He wrapped his arms around your body tightly before he stood up, spinning you around. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, your ankles locking to keep yourself tight against him.

You giggled as his spinning came to a stop, the large man leaning down to place your feet on the ground before he broke the kiss, his hands cradling your face as you smiled from ear to ear. "I'm going to marry you someday." He whispered in all seriousness, smiling at you with the most sincere look of happiness he could muster.

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Toji: NSFW

"Ah-ah-ah-mmmph-" Your moans were muffled by Toji's large hand pressing over your mouth. "Shhh, gotta be fuckin' quiet pretty girl." He groaned into your ear, giving you deep but slow thrusts as he spoke. "Don't want someone catchin' us like this, right?" He asked, biting your ear lobe between his teeth, making your eyes roll back in your head.

You nodded against his hand, your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked at him through the mirror, his dark eyes raking over your body, his sharp eyes watching the way your tits bounced underneath your dress. "You not wearin' a bra?" Toji asked, the hand he was using to grip your hip sliding up to massage your tit in his hand over the material of your dress, his hips shallowly thrusting into you, his fat tip kissing your sweet spot with every thrust, making your legs shake.

You shook your head, your eyes fluttering when he found your nipple and tweaked it between his fingers, the material of the dress making the stimulation extra intense. "Naughty girl.." He whispered, keeping his eyes on yours in the mirror as he pressed his lips to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His middle finger, slid against your lips before he pressed it against them, waiting for you to open up.

"You wanted me to fuck you in here like this huh? Planned it from the start." He said with a malicious grin, watching your lips part as you took his finger in your mouth. He didnt even give you a chance to reply before he was leaning back and fucking into you--hard. The fat of your ass rippling as his hips hit your ass, his fat cock being bullied into your walls.

Your jaw was slack as Toji pressed his finger to the back of your throat, drool sliding down his hand as he fucked pathetic whimpers from your mouth, keeping his hand on your tit as he massaged it harshly in his big hand. "Shhh-shhh what did I say?" Toji asked, his eyes squinting at yours in the mirror. He watched as they tried to stay put in their sockets, the usually simple feat proving hard every time Toji fucked his girth into you.

"What did I fucking. Say." Toji repeated, emphasizing his words with a mean thrust, making your jaw drop open more in a silent moan before you gapsed sharply. Both of your smaller hands shot up to grip his thick wrist for support, his finger hooking onto your bottom row of teeth as he pulled your jaw down, trying to challenge you. "B-be quiet, you said 't be q-quiet-" You whisper moaned, your words getting louder at the end each time his hips collided with yours.

"So you can listen, good girl." Toji looked down between where the two of you were connected, his hand abandoning your tit to pull up your dress so he could watch his cock force it's way into the tight ring of your cunt, your fluids making his dick shine under the fluorescent bathroom lights every time he pulled out, making him groan.

Toji pulled his finger from your mouth, grabbing both sides of your hips in his hands as he prepared to fuck into your harder, one of your hands sliding behind you to grab his arm for leverage as the other pressed firmly over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Just before he started being meaner than he already was, he was stopped by chanting coming from outside the room. "Ten! Nine! Eight!"

Toji's hips paused completely, giving you time to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling dramatically with each gasp. "Oh shit, it's almost new years baby." Toji said, smirking at your fucked out face through the mirror. "Toji.. Kiss.." You whispered through your gasps, looking at him desperately, your hand behind you squeezing around his wrist in urgency.

"Yeah, yeah. Cmere, crybaby." Toji teased. He pressed his chest to your back, reaching his hand around you he grabbed your chin, turning your head to the side, his other wrapping around your waist. "Three! Two! One!" The voices of the people outside the bathroom came muffled through the door as Toji smirked, pressing your lips together in a kiss full of love, contrary to his mean hips bullying you just seconds ago.

Toji slowly ground his hips against your ass, his mushroom tip rubbing against your sweet spot, making you whine into his mouth. He kissed you long and hard, his eyes cracking open to watch your face in the mirror as he kissed you. Toji smiled against your lips when he felt your cunt squeeze around him when he slipped his tongue in your mouth, tangling it with yours. He pulled back after a couple seconds of teasing, your lips being connected by a string of saliva as you breathed heavily against the others lips.

Toji looked between your fucked out expression, and your swollen lips before he leaned back in to press a quick peck against your lips, licking his own as he pulled away for good. "Happy New Year pretty girl. Let me fuck my cum into you to make sure we start this year off right, yeah?" Oh, Toji, always the romanticist.

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Nanami: NSFW

Nanami reached his hand over the table, his eyes watching the way your lips wrapped around his fork as you took all of the chocolate cake into your mouth. He pulled his fork back to get himself a bite, smiling as he watched your eyes practically roll back in your head at the rich flavor. "Kento." You groaned, covering your mouth as you spoke.

He smiled, briefly looking down to scoop a forkful of the brown cake for himself. "Is it alright, my love?" He asked, holding his fork out in front of his mouth, the sweet cocoa smell flooding his nose as he waited for you to speak. "Kento, taste that right now." You said, swallowing the desert he made from scratch.

The blonde-haired man laughed at your dramatics--or what he thought were dramatics before the cake hit his tastebuds. His eyebrows raised in surprise, his eyes finding yours as he tipped his head at you, saying nothing as he chewed the cake, but his expression said it all. "Right? Riiiight? Kento, is there anything you can't do?" You asked, shaking your head in disbelief at your husband's talent.

He giggled, lifting the napkin on his lap to clean his mouth off. "I do agree this time... I think I outdid myself." He praised his own work, making you giggle. You used the table as leverage as you lifted yourself to sit on your shins on the chair, leaning forward you opened your mouth, looking up at Nanami. "Don't keep me waiting, Ken." You said teasingly, waiting for him to cut another piece for you to eat.

Nanami smiled fondly as he lifted his fork to your lips. Just before the cake made it into your mouth, it fell off the utensil, falling onto your chest, the chocolate frosting smearing on the skin of your clavicle. "Oh shoot." You said ashamed--not that the frosting had gotten on you, but because a perfectly good piece of the cake was now ruined.

"Shit, I'm sorry honey. Stay still." Nanami said, pushing himself back from his chair to wet a towel to clean you up with. A sudden idea popped into your head, your hand shooting out to grab his wrist to stop him before he got too far. "Wait." You said, sitting back down onto your chair properly, sightly pulling Nanami's body towards you.

Nanami raised his eyebrows, confused at why you had stopped him. "I have another way you can clean me up." You said teasingly, wiggling your eyebrows at Nanami. Immediately his expression softened, a small smile taking place on his face as he strode to your side of the table, standing in front of you. Nanami could already take a guess at how you wanted him to clean you up.

"Can you get on your knees for me Ken?" You asked sweetly, playing with his fingers in your hand. "Of course, my love." He answered softly, slowly getting on one knee before he followed it with the other. He looked up at you, waiting for your further instruction. Your hands came forward to hold his chiseled face in your soft hands, Nanami's eyes fluttering at the touch.

"You have such good skin, Ken." You praised, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiled. "I have my lovely wife to thank for that." He answered. He was right though, every single night you pampered Nanami by laying him down and doing his skincare for him, it was his most treasured time with you.

"Yeah.. I guess you're right." You said, smiling. After raking your eyes over his handsome face once more, you bit your lip between your teeth, your eyes dropping to his lips. You looked down at your own chest where the frosting had fallen, Nanami's eyes following your own as he watched your movements carefully.

You retracted one of your hands from his face, gathering the frosting on the tip of your finger you brought it to his mouth, hovering it right over his lips. "Open please." You asked quietly, blushing at your own words. Nanami kept his eyes on yours as he did so, his tongue sliding out slightly to tease you.

He wrapped his lips around your finger, making your eyes flutter as you inhaled suddenly, feeling yourself start to throb between your legs. Nanami hummed around your finger, the deep sound only fueling the fire between your legs. Your eyebrows furrowed together as Nanami's tongue wrapped around the digit, licking off the rich frosting.

He pulled his head back, your finger popping out completely clean. Nanami licked his lips clean, making sure he got all of the frosting. "Delicious." He said quietly, his large hands sliding atop your thighs, his fingers slipping under the hem of your dress slightly as he teased you, dragging his fingers higher. "But you missed some..." Nanami whispered, raising himself on his knees.

"Yeah?" you asked teasingly, your hands sliding over Nanami's shoulders. "Yeah, right here," Nanami whispered against your skin. His hair tickled your neck as he leaned in, his tongue poking out between his lips as he licked the frosting directly off your chest. "Mmm." You moaned softly with your lips together, tangling your hands in Nanami's hair as his licking turned to sucking, his trail of kisses moving up your neck.

"Ken.." You moaned softly as he raised from his place on the floor, his hands sliding up your body, raising your dress slightly in the process as his knee made home on your chair, between your legs. Nanami kept his head on your neck, his hands feeling up your body as you tipped your head back, giving him unobstructed access to your neck.

He groaned against your skin, your legs pressing together around his thick thigh as his knee pressed against your cunt, stimulating your needy clit, making you whimper into the air. Your eyes fluttered open between his kisses, your eyes locking onto the clock, which currently read 12:05, you had missed the ball drop.

"Shit, Kento look at the time." You said, making him pull away from your neck, his head turning around to look at the clock. He looked back at you apologetically, his eyes taking in your adorable pout. "I'm sorry honey, got a little distracted." He smiled, making your pout subside slightly. "Now you have to make it up to me." You said, running your hands over Nanami's pecs and abs as he stood, his warm hand cradling your face.

"How so?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at your demands. You stood quickly, jumping into his arms, making him laugh at your sudden movements as he caught you, his hands cradling your ass. "First things first." You said before you pressed your lips to his, your hands wrapping around his neck, your nails raking over his undercut, making him groan into the kiss.

You pulled away, not wanting to waste the night any longer. Nanami looked disheveled already, just from a little pec. You cradled his cheeks in your hand before you leaned in, kissing the shell of his ear before you spoke. "Wanna see what you can do with your tongue somewhere else." Nanami let out a groan at your words, shaking his head as he felt his cock twitch.

"Who taught you to talk like that, huh?" He asked, walking you towards your shared bedroom as he spoke. " My husband." You giggled, pressing your lips to his once more as he navigated his way through the hallway.

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Yuji: SFW

Yuji had been sent on a mission with Nanami earlier in the morning. he told you when he left that Nanami said it wouldn't take very long, so you shouldn't worry--he would be back in time for your New Year's kiss. But it was 12:30 now, and you sat in Nobara's room, trying not to cry as she painted your nails, her playlist playing quietly in the backround as the new year count down played on her TV.

"I don't think he's going to make it back in time." You said, pouting as you watched her work in front of you. "I'm pretty sure he would part the Atlantic Ocean to get to you, stop worrying." She said, brushing off your concerns. Nobara had been very confident all night, throughout all your worrying, that Yuji was going to make it back before midnight.

"His mission was across town, and the roads are probably hell right now... I don't know. It's fine, there's always next year." You said unconvinced, ignoring Nobara's words completely. "Ugh, I didn't realize you were such a downer~ When have I ever been wrong about anything, ever?" She shouted, looking up at you offended, holding the nail polish bottle in one hand.

*ring ring* *ring ring*

Yuji's name popped up on your phone, the screen illuminating with a picture of the two of you on the beach. "Uh oh," Nobara said, only increasing the pit of despair you felt in your stomach. You glared at her before swallowing hard and answering the phone--you don't think your mouth has ever been so dry in your life. "Yuji? Everything okay?" You asked. The backround on Yuji's end sounded like he was in a car, giving you false hope before he spoke.

"I-I'm so sorry. I'm not going to make it back to the school in time. I'm really sorry." Yuji spoke into the receiver, sounding like he was about to cry. You squeezed your eyes shut, your hope shattering in your chest like glass. He sounded sad enough as it is, you didnt want to make him feel any worse than he already did, so you did your best to keep your disappointment out of your voice when you spoke.

"Its.. It's alright Yuji, I'll see you when you get here, I know you did your best." Nobara cringed hearing you talk, knowing that she had been wrong. The two of you exchanged a few more words, mostly "I'm sorry's" from Yuji, before you ended the call. You placed your phone back on the bed, face down, before you looked up at Nobara with an 'I told you so' look on your face.

She inhaled sharply, looking back down to your hand she took it in her own, dipping the brush in the nail polish and wiping it against the side as she got to work, "Shit.. uh.. I feel like I should say my bad for getting your hopes up. I'm literally never wrong." She said, brushing the paint over your nails. "It's not your fault Nobara, I told you It'll be fine." She wondered if you knew how horrible you were at concealing your disappointment. It had been painfully obvious when you tried to hide it over the phone with Yuji too.

Nobara had finished your nails at 11:40, and it was not 11:55. A part of you was still wishing Itadori would burst through Nobara's door, but you knew that was just false wishing. After all, he had called you himself and told you he wasn't going to make it. "We can smooch if you want, the ball is about to drop," Nobara said from her place on the bed. She was lying upside down, half of her body draped off the bed while she used her phone, her arms hanging out in front of her.

"You know I can't kiss you." You giggled, kicking her foot playfully. "Yeah, I know. Sorry about Itadori." She said honestly, making you feel choked up suddenly. He really wasn't going to make it, the realization finally hitting you when the clock hit 11:59, only 30 seconds before the ball dropped. Before you could open your mouth to say it was alright, you heard a loud bang outside Nobara's door, sounding like it had come from your room across the hall, making you and Nobara both jump.

"The fuck?" Nobara said, sliding off the bed completely, and sitting crisscross on the ground. You both sat in silence as you waited to hear something else. After a few seconds, loud and quick knocks were rapped on Nobara's door, followed by a very familiar voice. "KUGISAKI, IS MY GIRLFRIEND WITH YOU?????" Yuji yelled through the door. You could hear him pacing on the squeaky floor.

Before she even had a chance to answer you were on your feet, making a b-line for the door. You slid the door open as you came face to face with a red-faced, messy-haired, and sweating Itadori, right as the countdown to the new Year echoed "Three! Two! One!" In the backround. "Hey." He spoke, out of breath, a dopey smile on his face.

You wasted no time in wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing your lips to his. His hands wrapped around your waist, pressing your body snugly to yours as he kissed you back, his eyes squeezing together tightly. "YUCK, get a rooooom." Kugisaki groaned, covering her eyes as the two of you kissed in her doorway.

You pulled away, looking at him exasperatedly, your hands slapping over his face and squishing his cheeks, making sure he was real and not some figment of your imagination. Itadori laughed, keeping his arms snug around your waist as you toyed with his cheeks. "How are you here? I thought you weren't going to make it?" You asked, pressing kisses to his cheeks.

"I ran here. I could tell you were trying to hide it for my sake, but I couldn't stand how disappointed you sounded." He said, his cheeks turning red from your pampering. "You ran here?!" You asked, knowing how far away his mission was. That explained his disheveled appearance. "How far?" You followed up your question, your eyebrows raised in concern.

He laughed, rubbing his thumbs into your skin comfortingly. "Just a couple miles, nothing crazy." He said nonchalantly, your mouth hanging open in shock as he spoke. "I told you he would do anything for you!!" Nobara yelled, a big smile on her face as she pointed at Itadori, looking proud of herself. "She's right, I love you. Happy New Year." Itadori said, smiling at you fondly.

You leaned in to press another kiss to his lips briefly, pulling back to smile at his adorable face, "I love you Yuij Itadori."

Megumi: SFW

"C'mon man, you gotta do it," Yuji said to Megumi, standing behind him as he shook his shoulders in his hands, the two boys facing you as you mingled with Maki and Nobara in the corner. "I... I don't think I can." Megumi blushed, his eyes raking over your frame, taking in how beautiful you looked.

You had your hair all done up, and you were dressed to the heavens. How was Megumi supposed to kiss you if he could barely look at you? "I've never even kissed anyone before, what if I suck?" He asked Yuji insecurely, looking at the walls in the room like they were the most interesting thing in the world

"How hard can it be? You wanna practice with me?" Yuji asked in all seriousness. Megumi shook Yuji's hands off of his shoulders at that, "Be serious. I'm not losing my first kiss to you." He said, scowling at the pink-haired boy as he came to stand next to him. "Ouch... I was just trying to be nice." Yuji pouted dramatically, crossing his arms.

After a couple seconds of silence, as Yuji watched the dark-haired boy stare at you while blushing, he decided to give him a little push. "It's almost midnight Megumi, and uh... not trying to freak you out or anything, but I think you have a little competition," Yuij said, pursing his lips together. The speed at which Megumi turned his head to look at Yuji almost made him laugh, but he needed to keep his composure if his little fib was going to work.

"See blondie over there with Todo?" Yuji asked, tipping his head to the innocent-looking boy standing next to the mammoth that was Todo. "He's been eying up your girl allllll night," Yuji said. "She's not my..." Megumi trailed off, his eyes finding the boy Yuji was talking about. Coincidentally, the new kid from Kyoto happened to have a crush on Maki, which Yuji knew (thanks to Todo's big mouth) who was standing right next to you.

So when Megumi looked to see the boy staring at Maki, it really looked as if he was staring at you. Megumi didn't think he was a jealous person, but the way the boy was staring at 'you' made his blood boil. "Well... she certainly won't be your girl if you don't hurry and make a move before blondie does." Yuji teased, raising his eyebrows dramatically.

"Fuck.." Megumi cursed under his breath. His fists balled by his sides as he took a couple deep breaths, trying to prepare himself. "You got this!" Yuji cheered as Megumi took the first step forward, walking toward you. It was 5 minutes to 12, meaning Megumi had no time to lose.

"Oh, hey Megumi," Maki said, nodding at her bruting-looking cousin when he walked up. You blushed as your eyes focused on his face, he looked so handsome under the dim blue lighting of the main room. "Makiiiiii, Nobaraaaaa." Yuji mouthed, waving his arms dramatically to get their attention. The two girls looked over your shoulder to the pink haired boy making obnoxious movements with his arms.

Once he successfully got their attention, he pointed to you and Fushiguro, mouthing both of your names, before he turned around and pretended to make out with someone, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Nobara tried to hold back a laugh as she watched her classmate play charades across the room. When he turned back around, he waved them over, telling them to leave the two of you alone.

"Ah, bye Megumi!" Nobara said suddenly, not even trying to come up with some lame excuse as she dragged Maki by the hand away from the two of you, leaving you and Megumi alone under the light of the blue lamp in the corner of the room.

You can't believe your friends had just left you like that. You had just got done talking about how you wanted to kiss Megumi, and how nervous you were about talking to him tonight, and the second he walks up they abandon you? Some friends.

"What's up Megumi? You havin' fun?" You asked, trying to make small talk with your crush as the seconds ticked by faster and faster, midnight rapidly approaching. "Mm, it's not bad, parties aren't really my thing." He said, trying his best to not look at your lips while he spoke.

"Oh yeah? Me neither honestly. Why did you end up coming anyway?" You asked him, trying to keep the conversation going. "Why did you?" he retorted, catching you off guard. His dark eyes staring into yours were making you nervous, he was looking at you like he could see right through you.

"I uh.. well it's New Year's, I couldn't just stay cooped up in my room. Plus Nobara wanted me to hype her up for her kiss with Maki. She's been wanting to make a move for a while now." You said, pulling a half-truth from your brain. Truthfully, Nobara would've been fine without you, you just wanted to kiss Megumi.

"That's nice of you," Megumi responded, taking note of the way you fidgeted with your fingers. Before you could respond, someone yelled from the other side of the room "30 seconds till midnight!! Kiss it up!!" Their choice of words made you cringe, but it also made you hyperaware of how alone you and Fushiguro were right now. And now that the mention of kissing had been brought up, you were sweating.

"I came here because of you." Megumi blurted out suddenly, making your mouth open in a small O shape. The blue light did little to hide the dusting of blush on his cheeks. You quickly felt your own cheeks heat up at his confession, struggling to find the words to say. "How.. how so?" You asked, fearing to ask the direct question 'do you want to kiss me?' even as the time ticked quickly to midnight.

"I... Isn't it obvious?" He asked, clearly not wanting to say it himself. The sudden ten-second countdown made your heart beat out of your chest, you could feel every drop of blood racing through your veins the way your adrenaline spiked. "I want to hear you say it.. p-please." You asked, somehow still doubting yourself.

"Five! Four!" "I want to kiss you. Is that okay? Can I kiss you?" He asked, his words coming out rushed as his face scrunched in embarrassment at his own words. When you heard the others start to cheer, followed by "Happy New Year!" You decided to answer his question with an action. Standing on your tip toes you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his.

Megumi made a noise of surprise against your lips, his eyes going wide before they shut, following your lead as he reciprocated the kiss, pressing his lips to yours. Megumi felt his face heat up when he heard Itadori cheer a loud "GO MEGUMIU!!! THATS MY BOY!!" as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You pulled back from the kiss, the both of you breathing quietly against the other's lips. "Was that Itadori..." you whispered, trying to hold back your smile.

Megumi plopped his forehead down on your shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "Yup..." he whispered, his voice vibrating your skin, making you giggle. "Thats kinda cute." You said, running your hands through his soft hair. Megumi groaned into your neck, clearly disagreeing with your words before he pulled back, staring at your plush lips he just kissed with a pout.

"What?" You asked, smiling as you watched him oggle them. "I want to kiss you again." He said cutely. You placed your hands on his cheeks, bringing your lips together once more before you pulled away and whispered against his lips, "Kiss me all you want."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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ervans · 5 months

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Care for You (Mizu x F!reader)

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, and violence, soft sex, fingering (r! receiving)

a/n: wow. it's been a minute since i've truly sat down and wrote something. i'm absolutely obsessed with BES and mizu, i haven't felt so passionate about something since TLOU. this is my adaptation of what seems to be the most cliche scenario in this fandom so far: reader finding an injured mizu. i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing so any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated, follows and notes as well. i have more ideas for works surrounding mizu (including a brothel fic muahahaha) so keep your eyes peeled for my posts :))

The sound of your sandals shuffling against the ground and your heavy pants were the only noises that pierced the otherwise quiet night. The moon, stars, and faint glow of your home in the distance were your only source of light as you trekked up the hill where the soft orange hue was coming from. The walk up this specific hill usually caused you no trouble, having done it dozens of times; however, this time was a tad bit different. Why? The limp, unconscious body that was currently draped over your shoulder.

Earlier in the evening you had heard a commotion down at the lake below the hill your home rested on. It was normal for stragglers, crooks, and opium addicts to travel through this part of Japan and mixing those groups of people usually ended up in some sort of fight. You had paid no mind to the noise, continuing with your cleaning. It wasn’t until you realized you needed more water for your tea that you made your way down the hill. As you reached the shore and saw the mess in front of you your stomach lurched.

Four bodies laid lifeless in front of you on the sand. From what you could tell they all had various stab and slash wounds across their bodies. Fifteen feet away from the tattered bodies lay another smaller one clad in baggy black trousers and stockings, a dark blue haori, and white scarf around his neck with a brown straw hat, round glasses with an orange tinted lens, and a sword, the telltale sign of a samurai on the ground beside him.

From where you stood you could see his chest still moving as he tried to shallowly breathe in oxygen from the air surrounding his struggling body. That brings you to where you are now, struggling up a damn hill trying to save this unknown samurai’s life. Was he responsible for the four bodies you had pushed into the lake? It didn’t matter to you; you weren’t one to judge in a world where it was kill or be killed.

You push the door to your house open and lay the injured stranger onto your mat near the fire. You start to boil water to disinfect whatever wounds he had and open a drawer to grab a needle and thread just in case stitches were needed. They very much were. You quickly realized the source of what seemed like never-ending blood on the top half of his body as you stripped the bloodstained clothing away. A gash about 4 inches long and deeper than you’d like it to be starting towards the base of his ribcage, skin around it starting to turn a yellowish color. It almost distracted you from the way the stranger was wearing chest wraps. Almost.

You frowned looking down at the shallow breathing of the samurai’s chest. Why would he need chest wraps? You thought, fingers brushing over the once white cloth now stained. Unless? You slowly started to undo the bindings, telling yourself you needed to anyways to properly clean the wound. As the cloth unraveled in your hands your small suspicion was confirmed. Two small breasts sat atop the chest of the slender samurai that laid before you, nipples hardening as they became exposed to the air. Your eyebrows raised, head tilting slightly to the side. A female samurai? How? Questions began to fill your mind as you started to clean the wound, gently washing it with the now hot water. It was unheard of for a woman to even touch a sword as it was said to make the blade impure. Where had this woman gotten her sword? Who did she get taught by? Clearly from the mess on the beach she knew her way around a fight.

You finished cleaning and stitching the larger wound and got to work on disinfecting the smaller cuts and scrapes on the upper half of her body. Once you were satisfied with your work, you began removing the woman’s trousers and stockings, revealing another deep gash running from the top of her knee down to her shin. Sighing you started the same process as her chest and prepared yourself for the unknown amount of time you would be caring for this mysterious female samurai.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It took three days for the samurai to fully regain her consciousness. In those days you had changed the dressings on her wounds, forced broth and water down her throat for some form of sustenance, and carefully studied her whenever you found the chance to. You noticed small things others would easily miss. The way her face seemed like it was always in a permanent frown, her subtly toned muscles from what had to be from years of training, how her calloused hands would twitch in her sleep, stress being the cause of it you had concluded after watching her for a good hour whilst you sipped on your tea, and how insanely handsome she was. Wait what? Handsome? That thought scared you so much that you had refused to watch her for the remainder of the evening besides checking her wounds thoroughly before you went to bed. But you couldn’t ignore those thoughts that plagued your head as your touch lingered for more time than it should’ve.

You were sat cross-legged waiting for your tea to steep when you heard a thud from behind you. Quickly turning around to find what the source of the noise was, you were met with the samurai staring back at you, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. And oh, were they blue. You had never seen or known something could be as piercingly blue as the eyes that met yours.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The samurai demanded in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer right away, mouth slightly agape with shock at the stranger who had, just minutes ago, been passed out. “I asked you a question, now answer it.” She said sternly after a beat of silence between the two of you.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow and rising to your feet. “Well that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life now is it?”

The woman, stern frown never leaving her features, quickly looked around the room taking in her surroundings. She then looked down at herself, usual blue haori missing and replaced with a softer red one. You hadn’t wanted to leave her bare in the middle of your home and opted to dress her in one of yours while you worked on scrubbing the stains out of hers.

You saw her tentatively try to move, and the flash of pain the appeared on her face for just a second didn’t go unnoticed by you. She pursed her lips and looked back up at you. “Thank you for stitching me up, but I would rather not stay a hostage here any longer. I have more important places to be.”

Your eyes widen and you scoff. “Hostage? Are you fucking serious? By all means you can leave, makes my life ten times easier if you do.” You were lying, you quite enjoyed caring for the handsome samurai, but you would never admit that to her. At least not now. “Good luck walking on that knee by the way, I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you though.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed woman looked you up and down once more before attempting to get up. After a few minutes she was standing, hand against the top of the fireplace to keep her from falling over. You could see her chest rising and falling quickly from the struggle of just standing. She looked back over at you, still leaning with your arms crossed. “Where are my belongings?”

“On the table to your right.” You responded, eyes never leaving hers. You watched her glance over to the table. It was about five feet away; it should’ve been no problem for her to walk over and grab her things. Should’ve. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the edge of the table, her injured leg making it difficult to have a full range of motion. She opted to shuffle inch by inch over to the edge. By the time she got there she was out of breath, looking down at her hands placed on the wood in front of her. You hadn’t moved at all, the only change being your expression shifting from annoyance to amusement as you watched the fit samurai struggle.

After a moment she let out a shaky breath. You saw her knuckles tighten as if she was having an internal battle with herself. “Can you help me back to the mat?” She asked so quietly you almost missed it. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over to where she stood, taking notice in the way her legs were shaking from lack of use over the past three days. She refused to look at you as you placed her arm over your shoulders and helped guide her back to the mat on the floor. “Thank you.” She muttered.

You looked at her, worry spreading across your features. “Of course. I’m here for anything you need. Consider me your personal caretaker.” You joked. “Although, a good caretaker should know her patients name.” Your words hung in the air for a moment before she responded.

“Mizu.”

════════════════════════════════════════════

It had been three weeks since Mizu had introduced herself to you. She didn’t talk much about her personal life, which you respected, instead filling the silence between the two of you with your own stories from your childhood. In that time her leg wound had been healing considerably quick, mostly due to the bedrest you ordered her to stay on. The only time she was allowed to move her legs was when she needed to relieve herself or when you would do small stretches with her to keep her blood flow moving. After some time, she was able to get up and walk for short periods of time on her own. The only problem with her quick recovery in her leg was the fact that her chest wound had hardly any progress to it.

Since Mizu couldn’t walk for some time, she exerted all her energy to her upper half, much to your dismay. She would sit up on the mat doing stretches on her arms and shoulders, sometimes raising them so far up you were afraid a stitch was going to pop. It did.

Mizu had been practicing arm movements with her sword, stating that “If I want to achieve my goals, my skills must always be honed and sharp.” Bullshit you thought. She just wanted to aggravate you. How could you tell? The small smirk that would grace her lips whenever she went to pick up her sword, even after you told her it was dangerous, and she could hurt herself anymore. Alas, she was a stubborn woman and it’s how you ended up rushing inside from chopping wood after hearing a sharp yelp from inside your home.

She sat on her mat, one hand clutching the spot above her wound while the other reached for the needle and thread you always kept close by. Once you realized she was going to try to stitch herself back up you rushed over to snatch the needle from her hands and straddle her lap, careful of the wound on her knee. She looked startled for a moment before her whole face turned a deep shade of red once she realized the position you both were in. You had a faint blush as well as you plucked the thread from her hand as well.

“I’m not letting you stitch yourself. You’re going to make your injury worse.” You said looking down at her. She looked up at you with those damn blue eyes you could get lost in for ages, cheeks still red but an amused expression on her face.

“You don’t think I know how to stitch myself up?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Well, no. I just…you just…you just popped a stitch by doing something I told you not to do! How can I be sure you’ll do it correctly?!” Mizu laughed. A sound so beautiful you were sure it would play through your mind for months to come. “I guess you have a point. C’mon then doc, fix me up.” She smirked. You felt your face grow even hotter.

Still straddling her you pushed her robe off her shoulders revealing her chest wraps with blood from the reopened wound soaking through them. You gulped. To stitch her back up you’d have to remove her bindings. And this time she was awake. And would definitely take notice in the way your eyes would roam her chest. Sensing your hesitation, she smiled looking up at you. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen them before, obviously you have, or I wouldn’t have stitches here.” She was teasing you, you realized. “Here I’ll make it easier for you.” Her hand reached around to begin to undo her wraps. You sat there dumbfounded as they fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed to you once again.

“You just gonna stare sweetheart or are you gonna patch me up?” Mizu’s teasing question broke you out of your trance as you swallowed thickly and got to work on restitching her wound. You felt her piercing gaze on you the entire time and did your best to try and ignore the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Later that night after the excitement of the day you sat sipping on your tea while Mizu slept next to the fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way her lips turned up into a smirk whenever it seemed you were flustered, and the sound of her laugh plagued you. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Suddenly Mizu woke with a gasp, shooting up from the mat. You turned to her startled as you took in her appearance. Eyes wide with fear, chest heaving up and down, and her hands gripping tightly onto her blanket. “Nightmare?” You asked softly as to not startle her even more than she was. She just nodded as she looked at you, eyes bright in the darkness.

You softly rose to your feet, padded over to where was sat up, and sat down next to her. Her eyes had never left your figure as you made your way to her. You looked down at the blanket, then back up to her asking a silent question.

Slowly she lifted the blanket up and laid back down, giving you room to scoot in next to her. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her closer to your chest in the most intimate position the both of you had ever been in. You had never slept as well as you did that night.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It had been four days since Mizu’s nightmare, and every night since then you two had slept together, arms wrapped around each other. The dynamic between you had changed drastically, lingering touches and glances to each other becoming a new normal.

Tonight was no different to the past few. You lay facing Mizu while her back was turned to the fire, tracing circles into her rough and calloused hands. The silence was comfortable, but you chose to break it in that moment.

“When do you think you’ll leave?” A flash of hurt ran across Mizu’s face.

“I can leave whenever you want me to, I think I’m healed enough by now. Would you like me to leave tomorrow?” Your heart clenched at the sadness in her voice. You didn’t want that at all.

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me. Ever.” Her eyes softened, moving closer to you she brushed her nose against yours.

“Then I won’t.”

Your lips met her soft ones in a searing kiss, one that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You let out at soft noise as she titled her head, running her tongue across your bottom lip to deepen the kiss and ask for permission to enter. You parted your mouth for her, tongues running against each other as she rolled on top of you, straddling your hips. Her fingers ran down your sides and under your top, tips of them brushing the underside of your breasts as you pushed your chest up into her, silently asking for more.

She pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit the only thing keeping you connected, and smiled. “I’m going to need you to tell me you want more. Tell me you want it and I’ll stay.”

You moaned at her words. “Yes! Mizu please I want it, I need you.” She leaned down to kiss you once those words left your lips, fingers moving up to circle and pinch your hardened nipples. You let out a gasp into Mizu’s mouth at the sensation and she smiled into you, moving her head to trail kisses down your face to your neck, sucking a purple mark just below your ear.

You raised your arms over your head as she stripped you of your top, eyes lingering on your now bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Was all she said. You let out a whimper at her words. She kissed down your shoulders to your breasts and licked a long stripe up your nipple, the sensation causing you to moan and buck your hips up into hers. As she continued her assault on your breasts, her hand traveled lower down your stomach and slipped her hand into your trousers to run a finger through your slick folds.

You were a moaning, withering mess below her at this point. Between her mouth on your tits and her finger slowly brushing against your clit, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. “Please Mizu. I need you, please.” You begged, grinding your hips up into her hand hoping she got the message. She did. Slowly she pushed her middle finger into your wet heat, savoring the noise that left your lips as she did. Experimentally she curled her finger, finding that spongy spot at the front of your walls.

It wasn’t enough for you. “More, I need more.” You whimpered. Smiling against your breast, she pushed another finger in, thrusting at a quicker pace. You were close, she could tell by the way your pussy clenched around her digits. You just needed one last thing to push you over the edge. Removing her mouth from your nipple, she brought her forehead against yours admiring the way your mouth was slightly agape and the furrow between your brows.

“Open your eyes. You’re to look at me when you cum.”

At her words and her thumb suddenly circling your clit matching the pace at which she thrust, your eyes shot open meeting her icy blue ones, the last thread keeping you from falling snapping.

“‘m gonna cum Mizu, fuck m’ gonna fuckfuck-“ You were sent over the edge, cunt clenching and gushing around her fingers while your back arched off the mat, eyes never leaving hers as she guided and talked you through it.

As you caught your breath, chest heaving, she peppered soft kisses all over your face causing you to giggle breathlessly. She smiled down at you as you looked up at her still panting. “Give me a second, let me return the favor.” She leaned down capturing your lips once again as she removed her fingers from your core, wiping the slick on her pants and rolling to lay next to you. She pulled you into her chest and nuzzled her nose into your hair.

“You’ve taken care of me these last few weeks, let me take care of you. We have all the time in the world, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

And Mizu always kept her promises.

#blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #bes #blue eye samurai netflix #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu smut

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pucksandpower · 2 months

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Just a Taste

Max Verstappen x best friend!Reader

Summary: you quickly learn that there’s more to the chocolates you devoured than meets the eye

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent (thanks to aphrodisiac chocolates)

You knock on Max’s front door, balancing a tray with four large lattes in your arms. “Max!” You call out, “It’s me!”

No response. You frown, knowing he’s usually back from his morning run by now. Shifting the drinks to one arm, you pull out your key and let yourself in.

“Max?” You call out again as you kick the door closed behind you. Still no answer.

You make your way to the kitchen and put the coffees down on the counter. Every Sunday morning you and Max have brunch together, a tradition you’ve kept up for years, ever since you became friends as kids.

As you take a sip of frothy caffeine, your stomach rumbles loudly. You glance at the clock — you’re a bit early today, so Max probably hasn’t returned yet.

Looking around, you spot a pink box on the counter that you don’t recognize. Curious, you open it up to find a dozen chocolates inside. A small note card reads:

For when you finally meet someone special - Lando

You chuckle to yourself, trust Lando to tease Max about being perpetually single. Popping one of the chocolates in your mouth, you savor the rich sweetness that melts on your tongue. Before you know it, you’ve eaten three more. They’re just so good! Max won’t mind if you have a few, right?

You’re nibbling on a fifth chocolate when warmth blooms through your body. You feel … tingly all over. And is it just you or did the room get brighter? You blink a few times then shake your head, trying to clear the sudden haze that’s settled over your mind.

Just then, the front door opens and Max calls out, “Y/N? You here already?”

“In the kitchen!” You reply, your voice coming out breathier than normal. You feel hot and flushed now, your skin ultra sensitive. What was in those chocolates?

Max enters the kitchen and stops short when he sees you leaning against the counter, breathing heavily. “Whoa, are you okay?” His brow furrows in concern as he takes in your disheveled appearance.

You stare at him, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought beyond how good he looks right now, sweaty from his run in just a compression top and shorts. You’ve always thought Max was cute of course, but now an almost uncontrollable urge to touch him overtakes you.

“Y/N?” Max prompts again, stepping closer and seeing the open box of chocolates beside you. “Did you … oh no. You ate from the pink box, didn’t you?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Max runs a hand through his hair. “Those were from Lando, they’re infused with … let’s just say they have special effects. I told him it was a stupid gift idea.”

He moves towards you but you back away quickly. “D-don’t,” you stammer out, worried what might happen if he gets too close right now.

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “It’s alright, just try to stay calm. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

He gently grasps your arm and leads you to the living room couch. You sink down onto the soft cushions, resting your head against the back and closing your eyes. Your skin is on fire, you shift restlessly as desire coils hotly inside you.

Max sits down on the other end of the sofa. “This will pass, just ride it out,” he says soothingly.

You crack open your eyes to look at him. His face is etched with concern and something else you can’t quite place. “Max,” you breathe out his name like a plea.

He swallows hard. You’ve never wanted someone as much as you want Max in this moment. Scooting closer to him, you reach out a hand to touch his cheek.

Max inhales sharply at your contact but doesn’t pull away. His eyes search yours questioningly.

“Please Max, I need you,” the words fall desperately from your lips before you can stop them.

Max’s eyes widen in surprise before darkening with unmistakable desire. He’s silent for a long moment, emotions playing across his face as he struggles with indecision. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest.

Finally Max moves, shifting forward to close the small gap between you. His hand comes up to cradle your cheek tenderly as his eyes lock with yours.

“Are you sure?” He asks softly.

You answer by surging forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss. Max responds immediately, mouth moving urgently against yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his strong chest.

You sigh into the kiss, hands tangling into his hair. His lips are even softer than you imagined. You swipe your tongue along his bottom lip and Max parts them with a low groan.

As the kiss deepens, your desperation mounts. You need more, need to be closer. Straddling his lap, you rock your hips against his, feeling his growing arousal.

Max breaks the kiss with a gasp. “We should stop, the effects will wear off soon,” he protests weakly.

“Don’t want to stop,” you murmur, trailing kisses down his neck. You nip at his pulse point and Max lets out a strangled moan, resolve clearly wavering.

His hands grip your hips tightly as you continue to move against him. “We shouldn’t, not like this,” he tries again, but you silence him with another heated kiss.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “Max, I want this. I want you. Not just because of the chocolates. I’ve always wanted you.”

Max’s eyes widen at your confession, before a vulnerable smile spreads across his face. “I’ve wanted you too, for so long,” he admits softly.

Cupping your face in both hands, he kisses you tenderly. When you eventually break apart, foreheads resting together, Max asks “Are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want you to regret anything.”

You smile and take his hand, rising from the couch and pulling him up with you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you tell him sincerely. “Now take me to bed.”

His eyes darken and he laces his fingers through yours. “Gladly,” he murmurs, before leading you towards his bedroom and kicking the door shut behind you.

As soon as the door clicks closed, Max presses you up against it, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands roam your body eagerly as your own fumble to push his shirt up and off him.

Breaking the kiss, Max trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You gasp and arch into him, nails raking down his bare back.

Needing more, you reach for the hem of your own shirt but Max stops you.

“Let me,” he says huskily, grasping the fabric and lifting it up tantalizingly slowly to reveal your skin inch by inch. He pulls the shirt over your head and tosses it aside before returning his heated gaze to you.

Reaching behind you, Max deftly unhooks your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders to the floor. He hovers over you, grey eyes burning with desire as they rake over your newly exposed skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers reverently before ducking his head to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest.

Leaning in, he kisses down between your breasts before capturing a nipple in his mouth. You cry out, hands coming up to grip his hair tightly. He lavishes attention on your breasts until you are squirming against him desperately.

Sensing your need, Max scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently against the rumpled sheets before settling over you, the hard planes of his body pressing deliciously against your own softer ones.

You kiss feverishly as you fumble with the drawstring of his shorts, shoving them down impatiently. Max kicks them off before reaching for the button of your jeans. Soon the last barriers between you are gone.

Max trails heated open-mouthed kisses down your stomach until he reaches the apex of your thighs. He looks up at you questioningly and you nod eagerly. You arch up into his touch, gasping and tangling your hands in his hair.

“Please Max,” you beg desperately, needing more.

At the first touch of his mouth on your most intimate area, you cry out his name, hands twisting into the sheets. He takes his time exploring you with his lips and tongue until you are writhing and gasping beneath him.

When you feel yourself teetering on the edge, you breathlessly beg Max to be inside you. Needing no further encouragement, he moves back up your body, positioning himself at your entrance.

He pauses, meeting your gaze. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says huskily before finally joining your bodies in one smooth motion. You both moan at the feeling of completion.

Max sets a steady rhythm, angling his hips until he finds the spot that makes you see stars. You feel the pressure building rapidly within you. Sensing you’re close, Max increases his pace. His thumb rubs tight circles over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you shatter around him with a cry. He follows right after, burying his face in your neck and groaning your name as he finds his own release.

You cling to each other as you come down, trading soft kisses and whispers of affection. Eventually Max rolls off of you, gathering you close against his chest.

“That was incredible,” Max murmurs, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “You are incredible.”

You smile up at him adoringly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He grins and squeezes you tight. You drift off curled safely in the arms of the man you’ve always loved, happier than you’ve ever been.

***

The next morning, you wake up to find your legs tangled with the man beside you. Last night had been incredible, even better than your wildest fantasies.

You feel Max begin to stir. Turning in his arms to face him, you meet his sleepy gaze.

“Morning,” Max smiles at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His expression turns serious. “How are you feeling?”

You know he’s asking about more than just the effects of the chocolates. You lift a hand to caress his cheek reassuringly.

“I’ve never been happier,” you tell him honestly.

Max’s face breaks into a radiant grin. He kisses you softly before pulling you tightly against his chest. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way,” Max whispers into your hair. “I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt for so long but I didn’t want to risk our friendship if you didn’t feel the same.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “Well you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” you say, leaning in to kiss him languidly.

When you eventually break apart, Max smirks at you. “Remind me to send Lando a thank you card.”

You laugh and snuggle back into his embrace, making a mental note to pick up another box of those chocolates. Just in case.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months

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Your car spies on you and rats you out to insurance companies

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Mar 13) in SAN FRANCISCO with ROBIN SLOAN, then Toronto, NYC, Anaheim, and more!

Another characteristically brilliant Kashmir Hill story for The New York Times reveals another characteristically terrible fact about modern life: your car secretly records fine-grained telemetry about your driving and sells it to data-brokers, who sell it to insurers, who use it as a pretext to gouge you on premiums:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/11/technology/carmakers-driver-tracking-insurance.html

Almost every car manufacturer does this: Hyundai, Nissan, Ford, Chrysler, etc etc:

https://www.repairerdrivennews.com/2020/09/09/ford-state-farm-ford-metromile-honda-verisk-among-insurer-oem-telematics-connections/

This is true whether you own or lease the car, and it's separate from the "black box" your insurer might have offered to you in exchange for a discount on your premiums. In other words, even if you say no to the insurer's carrot – a surveillance-based discount – they've got a stick in reserve: buying your nonconsensually harvested data on the open market.

I've always hated that saying, "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product," the reason being that it posits decent treatment as a customer reward program, like the little ramekin warm nuts first class passengers get before takeoff. Companies don't treat you well when you pay them. Companies treat you well when they fear the consequences of treating you badly.

Take Apple. The company offers Ios users a one-tap opt-out from commercial surveillance, and more than 96% of users opted out. Presumably, the other 4% were either confused or on Facebook's payroll. Apple – and its army of cultists – insist that this proves that our world's woes can be traced to cheapskate "consumers" who expected to get something for nothing by using advertising-supported products.

But here's the kicker: right after Apple blocked all its rivals from spying on its customers, it began secretly spying on those customers! Apple has a rival surveillance ad network, and even if you opt out of commercial surveillance on your Iphone, Apple still secretly spies on you and uses the data to target you for ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Even if you're paying for the product, you're still the product – provided the company can get away with treating you as the product. Apple can absolutely get away with treating you as the product, because it lacks the historical constraints that prevented Apple – and other companies – from treating you as the product.

As I described in my McLuhan lecture on enshittification, tech firms can be constrained by four forces:

I. Competition

II. Regulation

III. Self-help

IV. Labor

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

When companies have real competitors – when a sector is composed of dozens or hundreds of roughly evenly matched firms – they have to worry that a maltreated customer might move to a rival. 40 years of antitrust neglect means that corporations were able to buy their way to dominance with predatory mergers and pricing, producing today's inbred, Habsburg capitalism. Apple and Google are a mobile duopoly, Google is a search monopoly, etc. It's not just tech! Every sector looks like this:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

Eliminating competition doesn't just deprive customers of alternatives, it also empowers corporations. Liberated from "wasteful competition," companies in concentrated industries can extract massive profits. Think of how both Apple and Google have "competitively" arrived at the same 30% app tax on app sales and transactions, a rate that's more than 1,000% higher than the transaction fees extracted by the (bloated, price-gouging) credit-card sector:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/07/curatorial-vig/#app-tax

But cartels' power goes beyond the size of their warchest. The real source of a cartel's power is the ease with which a small number of companies can arrive at – and stick to – a common lobbying position. That's where "regulatory capture" comes in: the mobile duopoly has an easier time of capturing its regulators because two companies have an easy time agreeing on how to spend their app-tax billions:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

Apple – and Google, and Facebook, and your car company – can violate your privacy because they aren't constrained regulation, just as Uber can violate its drivers' labor rights and Amazon can violate your consumer rights. The tech cartels have captured their regulators and convinced them that the law doesn't apply if it's being broken via an app:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

In other words, Apple can spy on you because it's allowed to spy on you. America's last consumer privacy law was passed in 1988, and it bans video-store clerks from leaking your VHS rental history. Congress has taken no action on consumer privacy since the Reagan years:

https://www.eff.org/tags/video-privacy-protection-act

But tech has some special enshittification-resistant characteristics. The most important of these is interoperability: the fact that computers are universal digital machines that can run any program. HP can design a printer that rejects third-party ink and charge $10,000/gallon for its own colored water, but someone else can write a program that lets you jailbreak your printer so that it accepts any ink cartridge:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Tech companies that contemplated enshittifying their products always had to watch over their shoulders for a rival that might offer a disenshittification tool and use that as a wedge between the company and its customers. If you make your website's ads 20% more obnoxious in anticipation of a 2% increase in gross margins, you have to consider the possibility that 40% of your users will google "how do I block ads?" Because the revenue from a user who blocks ads doesn't stay at 100% of the current levels – it drops to zero, forever (no user ever googles "how do I stop blocking ads?").

The majority of web users are running an ad-blocker:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

Web operators made them an offer ("free website in exchange for unlimited surveillance and unfettered intrusions") and they made a counteroffer ("how about 'nah'?"):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

Here's the thing: reverse-engineering an app – or any other IP-encumbered technology – is a legal minefield. Just decompiling an app exposes you to felony prosecution: a five year sentence and a $500k fine for violating Section 1201 of the DMCA. But it's not just the DMCA – modern products are surrounded with high-tech tripwires that allow companies to invoke IP law to prevent competitors from augmenting, recongifuring or adapting their products. When a business says it has "IP," it means that it has arranged its legal affairs to allow it to invoke the power of the state to control its customers, critics and competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

An "app" is just a web-page skinned in enough IP to make it a crime to add an ad-blocker to it. This is what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model" and it's everywhere. When companies don't have to worry about users deploying self-help measures to disenshittify their products, they are freed from the constraint that prevents them indulging the impulse to shift value from their customers to themselves.

Apple owes its existence to interoperability – its ability to clone Microsoft Office's file formats for Pages, Numbers and Keynote, which saved the company in the early 2000s – and ever since, it has devoted its existence to making sure no one ever does to Apple what Apple did to Microsoft:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Regulatory capture cuts both ways: it's not just about powerful corporations being free to flout the law, it's also about their ability to enlist the law to punish competitors that might constrain their plans for exploiting their workers, customers, suppliers or other stakeholders.

The final historical constraint on tech companies was their own workers. Tech has very low union-density, but that's in part because individual tech workers enjoyed so much bargaining power due to their scarcity. This is why their bosses pampered them with whimsical campuses filled with gourmet cafeterias, fancy gyms and free massages: it allowed tech companies to convince tech workers to work like government mules by flattering them that they were partners on a mission to bring the world to its digital future:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

For tech bosses, this gambit worked well, but failed badly. On the one hand, they were able to get otherwise powerful workers to consent to being "extremely hardcore" by invoking Fobazi Ettarh's spirit of "vocational awe":

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

On the other hand, when you motivate your workers by appealing to their sense of mission, the downside is that they feel a sense of mission. That means that when you demand that a tech worker enshittifies something they missed their mother's funeral to deliver, they will experience a profound sense of moral injury and refuse, and that worker's bargaining power means that they can make it stick.

Or at least, it did. In this era of mass tech layoffs, when Google can fire 12,000 workers after a $80b stock buyback that would have paid their wages for the next 27 years, tech workers are learning that the answer to "I won't do this and you can't make me" is "don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out" (AKA "sharpen your blades boys"):

https://techcrunch.com/2022/09/29/elon-musk-texts-discovery-twitter/

With competition, regulation, self-help and labor cleared away, tech firms – and firms that have wrapped their products around the pluripotently malleable core of digital tech, including automotive makers – are no longer constrained from enshittifying their products.

And that's why your car manufacturer has chosen to spy on you and sell your private information to data-brokers and anyone else who wants it. Not because you didn't pay for the product, so you're the product. It's because they can get away with it.

Cars are enshittified. The dozens of chips that auto makers have shoveled into their car design are only incidentally related to delivering a better product. The primary use for those chips is autoenshittification – access to legal strictures ("IP") that allows them to block modifications and repairs that would interfere with the unfettered abuse of their own customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

The fact that it's a felony to reverse-engineer and modify a car's software opens the floodgates to all kinds of shitty scams. Remember when Bay Staters were voting on a ballot measure to impose right-to-repair obligations on automakers in Massachusetts? The only reason they needed to have the law intervene to make right-to-repair viable is that Big Car has figured out that if it encrypts its diagnostic messages, it can felonize third-party diagnosis of a car, because decrypting the messages violates the DMCA:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/11/drm-cars-will-drive-consumers-crazy

Big Car figured out that VIN locking – DRM for engine components and subassemblies – can felonize the production and the installation of third-party spare parts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

The fact that you can't legally modify your car means that automakers can go back to their pre-2008 ways, when they transformed themselves into unregulated banks that incidentally manufactured the cars they sold subprime loans for. Subprime auto loans – over $1t worth! – absolutely relies on the fact that borrowers' cars can be remotely controlled by lenders. Miss a payment and your car's stereo turns itself on and blares threatening messages at top volume, which you can't turn off. Break the lease agreement that says you won't drive your car over the county line and it will immobilize itself. Try to change any of this software and you'll commit a felony under Section 1201 of the DMCA:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Tesla, naturally, has the most advanced anti-features. Long before BMW tried to rent you your seat-heater and Mercedes tried to sell you a monthly subscription to your accelerator pedal, Teslas were demon-haunted nightmare cars. Miss a Tesla payment and the car will immobilize itself and lock you out until the repo man arrives, then it will blare its horn and back itself out of its parking spot. If you "buy" the right to fully charge your car's battery or use the features it came with, you don't own them – they're repossessed when your car changes hands, meaning you get less money on the used market because your car's next owner has to buy these features all over again:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

And all this DRM allows your car maker to install spyware that you're not allowed to remove. They really tipped their hand on this when the R2R ballot measure was steaming towards an 80% victory, with wall-to-wall scare ads that revealed that your car collects so much information about you that allowing third parties to access it could lead to your murder (no, really!):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

That's why your car spies on you. Because it can. Because the company that made it lacks constraint, be it market-based, legal, technological or its own workforce's ethics.

One common critique of my enshittification hypothesis is that this is "kind of sensible and normal" because "there’s something off in the consumer mindset that we’ve come to believe that the internet should provide us with amazing products, which bring us joy and happiness and we spend hours of the day on, and should ask nothing back in return":

https://freakonomics.com/podcast/how-to-have-great-conversations/

What this criticism misses is that this isn't the companies bargaining to shift some value from us to them. Enshittification happens when a company can seize all that value, without having to bargain, exploiting law and technology and market power over buyers and sellers to unilaterally alter the way the products and services we rely on work.

A company that doesn't have to fear competitors, regulators, jailbreaking or workers' refusal to enshittify its products doesn't have to bargain, it can take. It's the first lesson they teach you in the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Your car spying on you isn't down to your belief that your carmaker "should provide you with amazing products, which brings your joy and happiness you spend hours of the day on, and should ask nothing back in return." It's not because you didn't pay for the product, so now you're the product. It's because they can get away with it.

The consequences of this spying go much further than mere insurance premium hikes, too. Car telemetry sits at the top of the funnel that the unbelievably sleazy data broker industry uses to collect and sell our data. These are the same companies that sell the fact that you visited an abortion clinic to marketers, bounty hunters, advertisers, or vengeful family members pretending to be one of those:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/07/safegraph-spies-and-lies/#theres-no-i-in-uterus

Decades of pro-monopoly policy led to widespread regulatory capture. Corporate cartels use the monopoly profits they extract from us to pay for regulatory inaction, allowing them to extract more profits.

But when it comes to privacy, that period of unchecked corporate power might be coming to an end. The lack of privacy regulation is at the root of so many problems that a pro-privacy movement has an unstoppable constituency working in its favor.

At EFF, we call this "privacy first." Whether you're worried about grifters targeting vulnerable people with conspiracy theories, or teens being targeted with media that harms their mental health, or Americans being spied on by foreign governments, or cops using commercial surveillance data to round up protesters, or your car selling your data to insurance companies, passing that long-overdue privacy legislation would turn off the taps for the data powering all these harms:

https://www.eff.org/wp/privacy-first-better-way-address-online-harms

Traditional economics fails because it thinks about markets without thinking about power. Monopolies lead to more than market power: they produce regulatory capture, power over workers, and state capture, which felonizes competition through IP law. The story that our problems stem from the fact that we just don't spend enough money, or buy the wrong products, only makes sense if you willfully ignore the power that corporations exert over our lives. It's nice to think that you can shop your way out of a monopoly, because that's a lot easier than voting your way out of a monopoly, but no matter how many times you vote with your wallet, the cartels that control the market will always win:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#apor-locksmith

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/12/market-failure/#car-wars

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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charliemwrites · 3 months

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A Thought™️ that I had yesterday after watching those AITA videos and babbling in the discord:

(This is also babble to be clear. I’ve been writing this throughout the morning so it might be a bit incoherent)

The 141 is shopping for a new team member, someone to round out their four person squad into five. They have a dozen candidates, pick one that looks promising, and transfer him over under the military equivalent of “probationary” status.

Pretty quickly they decide his personality alone might not make him a good fit but whatever, if he’s good at his job, they’ll suck it up. The “alpha male” posturing bullshit is kind of amusing in the meantime at least.

Well, first mission comes and goes. The guy isn’t too bad, honestly — apart from almost picking a fight with Gaz. Skills-wise he’s as advertised, so he gets to stay a bit longer while the 141 decides if they can stand him.

Post successful mission, though, they go out for drinks at the guy’s insistence. He invites his girlfriend — who he dragged along with him — to the bar to meet his new squad. (Because he thinks there’s no way they’re not making him a permanent teammate.)

And the 141 may be barely tolerant of him, but they decide almost instantly that they adore his girlfriend. She’s incredibly charming and bubbly, doesn’t even blink at Ghost’s mask. One of the first things she does is thank them for the opportunity they’re giving her boyfriend and for keeping him alive.

Which is about the time the real issue starts.

The boyfriend says some rubbish about “an alpha doesn’t need protecting, he does the protecting. He looks out for his pack.”

And you smile a bit awkwardly, looking embarrassed, and try to usher the conversation along.

It doesn’t take long for him to quickly fall out of what little favor he accrued. You’re a bright spot in their group, laughing and chatting with them all like you’ve known them for years. Incredibly sensitive to asking any hard questions and sort of forcing the conversation through the weird patches where your boyfriend interjects with some inane comment.

Eventually, your boyfriend gets sick of your chattering and tells you to fetch them more drinks. Soap instantly sits up, saying you don’t have to do that, but you gently wave him off. Chirp that you don’t mind doing it as a thank you for their service, and weave into the crowd.

The table goes uncomfortable quiet — apart from your boyfriend, who makes some ghastly comment about how you have a pretty face but an annoying laugh. When you get back, drinks expertly balanced in your hands, Ghost goes out of his way to drop puns that get you giggling like mad.

As the night ticks later, and your boyfriend gets drunker, he reaches the point you always dread.

“Garrick, le’s arm wrestle.”

“Baby, I don’t think that’s…”

“This is between us men.”

You groan a bit and sit back. Gaz looks befuddled but shrugs and agrees. It’s not even a contest; your boyfriend’s arm is flat to the table in all of ten seconds. Flustered, your boyfriend demands a rematch. And when he loses again, scoffs and demands a go with Soap.

You practically sink deeper and deeper into your seat before the secondhand embarrassment starts to weigh and you have to excuse yourself to the restroom. When you get back, the impromptu arm wrestling seems to be over, though your boyfriend is sulking in his corner of the booth.

When you gingerly slide back in, Price nudges you with his calf.

“Would you like a go, luv?”

You grin and shake your head. “I don’t fancy a broken wrist, Captain.”

“C’mon luv, you might surprise yourself,” he teases and you can’t resist the playful glint in his eye.

So you lock your thumb around his, elbow on the table, and push. And his arm incrementally goes down… down… down…

“Well would you look at that,” he muses.

You burst into laughter, flattered and endeared by his indulgence.

“That tough, eh?” Soap muses, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s see it, then.”

So you roll your eyes, fully expecting to get trounced. But just like with Price, he starts to relent when you put up resistance, making a show of straining and panting as he “loses.” When you’ve won, you finally play into the joke.

“Serves you right,” you tease.

By your side, you hear your boyfriend huff derisively. “Oh, come on.”

Before your fun can be ruined, though, Ghost is offering you his hand, dark eyes sparkling. You bite your lip, but it doesn’t hide your grin as you accept the unspoken challenge. His hand is huge around yours, but shockingly gentle. He goes down easiest of all, whistling in amazement.

“Look’it that, you’re a pro,” he says, “think we should all be buying you a drink.”

“She doesn’t drink,” your boyfriend interjects.

You huff and settle back into the booth. “Maybe some other time, Lieutenant Riley?”

“Count on it.”

You get into an argument with your boyfriend that night. He thinks you were “challenging his dominance” and “stirring the pot,” trying to sew discord and strife amongst the men to get them fighting over you. He says something about being the alpha of the group and that he would win but it’s insulting to him as your “provider” that you would question his authority.

He’s tipsy as he says it though, working himself up. You just follow the usual routine of soothing, reassuring, simpering — and then considering leaving when he’s finally asleep. But you’re far from home, don’t have the means to leave, and besides, you won’t be finding any support from your family on this front so…

Well, it’s not so bad, you remind yourself. He can be an asshole, but so can you and it takes two to fight. Besides, he only gets really bad when he’s been drinking and that’s only once a week? 1 out of 7 isn’t a bad ratio.

—

The 141 pretty much collectively decide that they adore you though. You get regularly invited to team outings, wherein your boyfriend keeps challenging (and losing) arm wrestling, while the boys coax you into “winning.”

They’ve also become rather adamant that you don’t bring them drinks anymore.

“You’re not our personal beer wench, yeah? We’re able to get our own pints,” Gaz soothes.

Your boyfriend chuckles and shakes his head, imparts his “wisdom” that it’s a female’s job to serve her man and his friends. As a sign of respect or something. You know it’s not an argument worth having and just sip at your drink in silence.

But you love going out with them. Love knowing the men keeping your boyfriend alive and they’re a good bunch. Respectful and funny and disciplined — you’re kind of hoping they snap your boyfriend out of this weird “alpha male” phase he’s been going through. On the other hand, you’re thrilled to be making something like friends. Sure, your boyfriend has made it clear that the 141 are his friends, but they’re always so conscious of keeping you involved and comfortable.

Then one night your boyfriend mentions what a “good little cook” you are and that instantly has all the boys perking up. Smiling, you offer to host during the Saturday League matches. They gleefully accept over your boyfriend’s protests about other men in his territory or something like that.

But when they do come over they’re horrified by the unspoken expectations. You tell them to sit, that you’ll bring them all drinks, with snacks on the way. They’ll be having none of it.

Ghost helps you with drinks, Gaz chops the veggies for snacks (and dinner). Soap pops in to keep you company while you babysit simmering pots. Price helps to tidy as you go, despite you’re fussing that he really doesn’t need to, he should be enjoying the games!

They end up spending more time with you in the kitchen than out in the den with their own teammate. You barely notice, swept up in the busy currents of playing hostess. When your boyfriend shouts that he needs another beer, you come back to find Price getting plates and utensils for dinner. It’s so thoughtful you could cry.

Even worse is when they help you clean up afterwards. Each of them taking and clearing their own plates. Soap on washing big dishes, Gaz on drying. Ghost is packing up leftovers. Price is turning over the dishwasher, asking you where dishes go and tutting when you insist you should be helping.

All the while, your boyfriend stands in the doorway telling you all the ways you could improve the meal next time. And how you definitely ate too much for your body size, etc.

He only stops when Price makes a pointed comment about standing around looking pretty.

When they leave, they each sweep you up in a hug and drop a kiss on your cheek, praising your home and cooking and hosting. Soap promises that he’ll get you a little souvenir on their next mission as a thank you.

And sure enough, three weeks later, the boys are coming by. Except your boyfriend is nowhere to be found — out with some other guys from the base that he says he hit it off with. The 141 insist that he agreed to a football watch again, the empty headed muppet.

And of course you’re not going to turn them away! They’ve brought you flowers, a little matryoshka set from their last mission, chocolates and wine. Not one of them is empty handed.

“Do you even like the game?” Gaz asks as you put it on.

“My favorite team isn’t playing until tomorrow but I don’t mind watching,” you answer, shrugging.

But somehow no football is watched at all. Instead they convince you to tell them your top three favorite movies, then claim none of them have ever seen any of them and they have to watch all of them.

Which is how your boyfriend finds his whole team enjoying a little movie marathon with you. You’re on the ground with Johnny (it’s Johnny now, for you) doing his eyebrows. Gaz is braiding your hair. Ghost (Simon) is sharing a bowl of candies with you. You’re sat against Price’s shins, the captain sitting in your boyfriend’s chair, lounging like a king.

When you welcome him back, telling him the boys are staying the night, he tries to throw a fit about it. How dare you let four strange men stay alone with you?! You calmly remind him that he promised he’d be home by 11 and it’s already nearly 1. And besides, he trusts them with his life, you’re allowed to trust them to be polite in your own home.

With all four of his teammates watching, tense and nearly hostile, he mutters something about being tired and storms off to bed. You end up falling asleep on the couch with ghost despite yourself.

And your boyfriend becomes absolutely haunted by his team’s (is it even his team? It feels more like yours!) affection for you.

They always invite you out even if he doesn’t plan to invite you. (When did you get any of their numbers?! Never mind Ghost’s. He doesn’t even have Ghost’s number.)

They stop by the flat constantly, sometimes dropping in. Other times staying for hours. Soap tells him that they’re all one big family; that includes you. (“Alright then why don’t we go hang out with one of your girlfriends?!” He had an actual nightmare about the laughter that gets him.)

And the fucking gifts. It’s not just soap bringing you things anymore. It’s all of them. Magnets, mugs, sweets, pretty rocks. Just garbage to your boyfriend but you treat it all like treasure. They’ve even got you sending them on hunts for specific things. Something blue, something with nuts, something with the flag.

Then there’s the base.

They bring you on one day — Price picks you up, the boys greet you at the barracks with coffee and breakfast. You’re put into a big 141 hoodie that says “Riley” on the back and toured around. You’re supposed to be “surprising” your boyfriend, but he’s busy with recruits and generally seems uninterested in being around you.

Not to worry though, the 141 is happy to show you a good time around base! Gaz and Johnny walk you through one of the obstacle courses, Simon lets you sit on his back for pushups during the last of his workout. Price takes you to the range and shows you the basics of shooting, then lets you catnap through the adrenaline drop in his office.

Your boyfriend only bothers to find you when Johnny and Simon are teaching you basic self-defense. Your boyfriend scoffs that you’re plenty protected by him, but you point out that he’s away too often to be of any real help — at which point Johnny tags you and bolts before your boyfriend can get all up in arms.

You only recognize that this little hurdle in your relationship has become a chasm when something happens. A big argument with your parents over the phone — you barely even remember what about. But instead of calling your boyfriend afterwards, your first call is to Gaz. (Because you know he’s the most likely to be free and paying attention to his phone.) You’re almost shocked when he picks up on the second ring. Your boyfriend has never answered on the first call.

When you try to explain through poorly-restrained tears, he coos at you to find a warm coffee shop and that they’ll be right there. “They” ends up being him and Johnny, since Simon and Price are locked up in an important meeting. They buy you hot chocolate and pastries while you vent to them, and end up leaving feeling better for once.

But you can’t break up with your boyfriend. Because if you do, the 141 will surely stop hanging out with you, and you value their company enough to put up with it.

At least until you come home one day to find all your little gifts gone. When you ask through a tight throat where everything is, your boyfriend says he was just making space. That you’ve been complaining that you two need a bigger flat, but now he’s solved the problem without wasting money.

You actually raise your voice for once, throwing an entire fit because this. This is the last straw. You storm into your bedroom, slam and lock the door, and call the 141.

A small part of you expects they’ll take his side or something. But nope. Simon soothes you on the other end, that the whole squad will be there in fifteen and to pack your stuff.

You do so while Price takes over and keeps you level. Reminds you of essentials to pack and explains that you’ll be coming to stay at his place, since he’s got off-base housing. It’ll be quiet and cozy and safe while you recover.

Five minutes away, they promise to be right there and end the call.

You could absolutely scream when your boyfriend — ex boyfriend — starts banging on the door. Demanding that you open the door to him. That you’re being over dramatic and blowing everything out of proportion. Using the “your emotional and irrational” line that you’ve heard a thousand times and are just about sick of.

Your heart stutters with relief when you hear the knocking at the apartment door, confused silence as your ex goes to see who it is. You take that moment to slip out, packed suitcase in hand.

You startle a bit at some commotion, round the corner to see your ex’s shirt bunched up in Johnny’s fists, looking ready kill him. No one seems inclined to pull him away; neither are you.

“How are you holding up, luv?” Gaz asks gently as Simon takes your bag.

“Been better,” you admit, sniffling as Price wraps you up in a hug.

“It was just things, luv,” he soothes, “we’ll get you a million more, if you like.”

You pull back to give him a miserable look. “But they were my things and they didn’t have to go anywhere. He just threw them out.”

Johnny snarls something out, but Gaz is already ushering you out the door. You tell your family about the break up through text and then shut off your phone, bundled into the backseat of an SUV with Gaz in the backseat. Price is in the front, all of you waiting for Simon and Johnny to come down.

“What now?” you ask quietly.

“Well, about time we cut that knob loose,” Price muses. “But that’s not your problem anymore.”

“Oh…

“And you, luv.” He looks at you through the rear view. “You get whatever you want.”

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #polycule #poly 141 #misters steal your girl #get it? misters plural. because they all steal that girl

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seventeenpins · 9 months

Text

bad girl

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: you're staying in your hometown for a couple of months with your mom and relatively new stepdad. he walks in on you masturbating, and is surprised at the sort of porn you've been watching. no outbreak. very smutty. 18+

warnings: ooh god where to begin??, reader is kind of a detached menace but in a fun way?, masturbation, porn watching, infidelity, choking, pussy slapping, pussy eating, unsafe piv, dirty talk, big dick, daddy kink, bit of breeding kink, age difference (unspecified, but reader is late 20s, joel mid-40s or whatever you like really), begging, slight dom/sub vibes, readers mum is a ho, somewhat degrading language (probably other warnings????)

a/n: honestly don't know what happened here. one minute i was working on what i intended to be a lil daddy kink drabble and then it turned into a whole other beast. also--i'm a recently out nb person but feel most of my writing has focused on fem readers. any nbs out there who'd want smut more tailored to us??? doesn't come up in this fic, but in my heart joel miller is bisexual and would make for some gr8 gender play ahhhh

you had only met your stepdad twice before he married your mom, and only a couple of times since, and you could never quite get a read on him. he seemed quiet and gruff. upsettingly hot with his salt and pepper hair, and his biceps, and his little bit of tummy, but seemingly entirely unattainable (how your mom pulled him, you'll never know). your mom didn't have the greatest track record as far as not cheating on her husbands, and you didn't know how much or how little he knew about her past, but you were incredibly curious how long this one'd last.

he's polite. enigmatic. a man of few words. he had two kids, who you hadn't actually met yet, but they were a few years younger than you and away at college--one daughter from a previous marriage, the other adopted when he was a single dad.

you'd only been staying here for a couple of weeks, usually only home for two months out of the year to do some freelance work and catch up with friends, but since your mom got remarried (again) you're adjusting to the new dynamic. you didn't have the best relationship with your mom, but you didn't argue. didn't fight. didn't have enough interest or passion to try and make her angry. you had a mutual understanding--you'd stay here for a couple months of the year, rent-free, and you wouldn't get into it with her about how her four husbands and a dozen boyfriends in between them in the nearly thirty years you'd been alive had simply made you impassive towards most men, knowing they'd never be able to stick around, and instead you took what you wanted and then ditched them before they could ditch you. to say you had daddy issues was just the tip of the iceberg.

there's only been one family dinner night since you've been back, but calling it awkward was an understatement. you were sat in almost total silence, as your mom scrolls on her phone and joel scoops up some mashed potatoes and slaps them onto his plate.

"so, uh-," he begins, clearly not sure how to start a conversation, "how's your work been going? guessing it's pretty slow these months since you're able to take the time away? your freelance stuff going well?"

"sure," you agree, "it does get slow this time of year. freelance has been good. got a couple of projects i'm enjoying working on."

there's another silence.

"your momma said you'd been dating someone you met at your work? how's that been going?"

you laughed, thinking back to one of the only guys you'd mentioned to your mother, less out of a closeness to him and more because you wanted your mom to get off your case, "honestly, that ended a while ago. he was a pretty terrible lay."

joel clearly wasn't expecting that, and you smirked at him as he choked on the beer he was sipping, coughing and trying to cover up any spittle. your mom gently pats him on the back, still staring at her phone, not even listening. typical.

not sure how to follow this up, joel just shrugs and puts on a stoic face. "sorry to hear about that, sweetheart. what a shame."

you'd be lying if you said that didn't make your heart flutter just a little.

you've attuned to the general framework of home again. you've noticed a few other things, too. first, your stepdad seems to be taking a whole lot of evening shifts. second, your mom seems to be out when he's out, too, but always manages to slip in just before he gets home. finally, if there's one thing you know about joel, it's that if he's working an evening shift, you can pretty much guarantee that he's gonna be at least an hour later coming home than he says he'll be. more often than not, two. you've been here for sixteen days, and in the eleven days he's worked late, he's been late late. and this morning, joel said he wouldn't be home till at least 9pm.

it's only 5pm, so you think absolutely nothing of it when you pull up your favorite porn site, careless about keeping your bedroom door closed.

sometimes it takes you a long time to decide on what porn to watch. sometimes you want the release, and just need something that'll get you there quick. and then there are some days where you know exactly what you want. you know exactly how you want it, and you know just where to find it.

you've got an incognito browser up as you scroll through the page till you find the section you're looking for. click open a couple of videos in separate tabs. skip the ads.

place the laptop beside you, choose one to start with, and watch as the scene unfolds.

you need this. it's only been a couple of weeks since you've gotten laid, but you and your most recent fuck buddy have more or less broken up and you are extraordinarily horny, with no outlet besides your hand (and, technically, your trusty magic wand, but you forgot to bring your charging cable and she's only got so much life in her).

you focus on the scene, slowly dragging your fingers along your pussy lips, your other hand pinching and twisting at a nipple. you listen to the moans on screen as you tease yourself, dipping a finger into your tight, wet heat, and then adding another. the friction begins to build, and the pressure you're putting on your clit is just right.

"fuck", you let out a breathless moan as you start finger fucking yourself in earnest. your hips are stuttering and you feel it building so deliciously and you absolutely don't hear the knock on your door and the slight clear of a throat.

and then you register it, a couple of moments later.

you look up from your laptop screen and towards your door and you see your stepdad, cup of coffee in hand, and he's staring at you with an expression you can't parse, one eyebrow raised.

you buffer, taking a moment more for you to react to him, and you manage it in the worst possible way.

"fuck!!" you shout, slamming the laptop shut and practically flinging it away from you, pulling your hand from under the sheets and not-so-subtly wiping your slick on your duvet, and pulling your top back down over your tits. it's all done in a split second, and it was neither low-key nor quiet. you know your face is growing more flushed by the moment, and you can swear joel is actually smirking.

you stare each other down before you finally speak, "what are you doing home so early?"

"i live here," joel shrugs, takes a sip of the coffee, and then realises he might sound like a bit of a dick. "just- uh. just found out some... shitty news. decided to take the day off."

you almost forget the situation, quick to voice your worry--"are you okay joel? what's going on?"

he snorts. opens his mouth and closes it, as if he's decided better of it, and then opens it again. "just found out your mom's been stepping out on me. well. thought it was true for a while, but my brother just saw her with some guy. guess that's all the confirmation i need." he laughs, wryly, and his smile is dangerous.

"well shit," you say. it doesn't surprise you in the least, but you're not sure if it'd be better or worse to acknowledge that, and then you immediately remember your newest stepfather just caught you masturbating and you're deeply self conscious again.

"i'm really sorry, joel, but you've clearly-" you clear your throat, "caught me at a bad time. is there something i can help you with?"

he looks you up and down for a moment, and you can swear he's looking at your mouth for a second longer than you'd expect.

"well," he says, "i'd come up to see if you wanted anything for dinner. i was gonna order takeout."

there's a long pause.

"but now i'm curious about what i interrupted."

your eyes widen.

"let me see your computer. i wanna know what you were watching that you're so embarrassed of."

you immediately grab your laptop close to you and shake your head. this is something joel cannot see. "absolutely fuckin not," you tell him, and his smile gets sharper.

"i wasn't askin', sweetheart."

there's something dangerous about him now, and even though it frightens you, it's somehow exciting, too. commanding. persuasive.

he puts his mug down, and you barely think about what you're doing when you hand him the laptop, type in the password, and turn it around towards him.

you can't bare to look at the screen at the same time as him. it's fucked up and weird and he'd have every reason to avoid you forever after this, but there's a small (but persuasive) part of you that's telling you that this is a line he's willingly crossing, and there's a charge beneath it, and maybe you could get from him exactly what you want.

you study his face as he scrolls down the page. you hear him click, but no sound starts playing--he must be looking at the other tabs.

his eyes widen, and you can hear your heartbeat pounding as you watch his face.

you want him to say something. you need him to say something.

he hits play on one of the videos and the room is immediately fills with the sounds of slick flesh and moans and cries of "oh, daddy, oh daddy please--"

it's only then that he looks at you.

"well aren't you a filthy girl, hmm?" joel ridicules, "and don't think i don't notice the trend with these little videos of yours."

it's humiliating. you almost expect to die out of embarrassment right on the spot.

"look at some of these titles," joel continues, "stepdaughter gets fingerfucked by stepdaddy, stepdaughter's pussy pumped with daddy's cum ASMR, jesus christ girl-" he laughs, incredulous, "letting my stepdaddy breed my little hole".

joel's staring you down and you still haven't said anything, and that just won't do.

"these the usual kinda thing you like to touch yourself to? or is this a new subject now that you're home, spending time around your stepdaddy?"

"i-" you start, "i don't know, i-"

it's not an act, you're pretty fuckin frazzled, practically cocooning yourself in your covers and you shrink back in shame, and this seems to amuse joel to no end

"how's this, sweet girl," he says, and you realise he's been getting closer and closer to you and now he's seated only inches from your bare legs and pussy, still covered up with your blankets, "you tell me to stop, and i'll leave this room right now and close the door and we can pretend i never saw anything here-"

"no!" you cry out, and then slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide at yourself while joel starts to chuckle.

"or," he continues, "you can let your stepdaddy make you feel real good."

"yes-" you cry, and not a moment later, the blankets are being pulled back and he's stroking two thick fingers along your cunt.

"there's a good girl," he says, and actually groans as he dips into you, collecting your slick, "so fucking wet for me. it is me you've been thinking about, ain't it?" he asks.

"yes joel," you say, because it's the fucking truth. you've been thinking about him nonstop for a while now, thinking about how his muscled arms look in those stupid threadbare t-shirts, thinking about the sigh he makes when he's had his first sip of a cold beer, thinking about the silver of his hair, the brown of his eyes, and the mere idea of what his cock might taste like. "i've wanted you to fuck me since i first met you."

he lets out a fuckin growl and presses his fingers into you. "such a cute little pussy, already dripping for me, huh?" he moans, and it's two digits pressing into you, but you've been working yourself up for a little while now and you're already swollen and wet and they slip right in. he finger fucks you for a moment before turning back to the laptop.

"which one's your favorite?" he nods at your screen, "which one do you watch and wish it was happening to you?"

you swallow and click back to another tab.

"letting my stepdaddy breed my little hole?", he snorts, "you really are a dirty girl, aren't you? get up off the bed." he commands.

you obey, standing up and kicking off the panties still around your ankles.

"and take that top off," he commands, and you do, pulling your top up over your tits and melting at the sound of his groan at seeing you bare for him.

he sits down on the bed with his legs spread, jeans still on. "you come sit here by daddy's lap," he says, and you do, sitting in between his thighs, inching back ever so slightly until you could feel his hard cock straining against his pants.

he runs his fingertips down your body, down your breasts and torso, dipping into your bellybutton, before drawing little circles on your hips.

'hit play," he says, and you grab the laptop next to you and resume the video.

he copies the video, rubbing one hand along your pussy and the other holding your thighs open.

"that's it," he coaxes, "keep those legs open for me, yeah?"

you're about to agree, when he starts stroking little circles around your already stimulated clit and the ability to speak leaves you. all you can do is focus on trying to keep your legs open, but your thighs are already almost quivering and he only chuckles.

"barely even touched you and you're already stupid."

you tried to nod and let out a sad whimper, tipping your head back and resting on his shoulder. he keeps his thumb pressed on your clit while he pumps his middle and index fingers in and out of you. it's so wonderfully, deliciously wrong. it feels addictive.

"you're doing so good, sweetheart, fucking on daddy's fingers like that," he praises, and it sends another spark of electricity building in your centre. encouraged, you start rocking your hips towards him, meeting each thrust of his fingers. "ready for another one?" he asks, and you nod vigorously.

he takes a moment to hold open your pussy and lean over you to look at it, stroking his fingertips along the outer lips, gathering some of your arousal, and prodding back your hood to get a little direct contact with your clit that leaves you writhing and gasping. he's smirking again, and presses a third finger into you. he curls them upwards, fucking the digits into you so nicely, and you enjoy the sensation as your arousal builds and builds and builds and-- as you come, you white out for just a moment, and as you come back into reality you can hear him speaking to you, "oh you're clenching so tight on my fingers, messy girl, look how you're dripping so nice down my fuckin' wrist. you're a nasty little slut, just like your momma huh? but i know you're gonna be a good girl for daddy, ain't ya?"

you continue to grind on his hand as his fingers stay buried in you, as you ride out the rest of your orgasm. only when you still does joel pull his fingers out of you.

as if hypnotised, he examines the arousal coating them. then, quick as anything, he pops his fingers in his mouth and sucks off your slick, immediately looking sheepish as though this was the only line he'd just crossed.

as quickly as he had become shy, he switched back to overt confidence. "y'just taste so good, sweetheart," he says, and then starts stroking your pussy again. "you're gonna let me have a proper taste, aren't you honey?"

you nod helplessly. it's so fucking good, it's too fucking good.

he scoots out from behind you and you buckle a little, toppling back onto the space he left. he's in front of you now and presses your thighs apart again, dropping to his knees on front of the bed's edge. he runs his tongue up your inner thigh, chuckling at your whimpers as he bites and nips at the sensitive skin. he takes a tentative lick, drawing his tongue towards your clit, circling it gently, and then dipping back before pulling off you for a moment.

"y'taste so fucking nice," he breathes, and his exhale on your slick pussy is exquisite. "i could just drink you up."

he presses the hood of your clit back once more, leaving his thumb there, applying perfect pressure as he flicks his tongue directly on that bundle of nerve endings and you feel like you're on fire.

"fuck, joel, yes-" you cry out, but he pulls back and shushes you.

"shhh," he says, "you don't call me joel right now, baby."

"i don't-?" you say, taken aback by the sudden lack of contact. then it clicks. "daddy-"

he smirks, "that's a good girl, sweetheart. wasn't too hard, now, was it?"

"no, daddy," you agree, and he's already diving back in, pressing his tongue into you in long strokes, letting you grind against his nose, his lips, the scratch of his cheeks, every movement he's making is so fucking perfect.

as he devours you, he presses his fingers into you again, and then you can't help yourself. you rut up on him, totally unable to practice anything resembling self restraint. in between strokes of his tongue, he pulls back and tells you, "i'm gonna need at least one more from you, baby, before you even get to think about sitting on this cock."

you let out a crazed whine, feeling joel's chuckle as he dives back in, eating your pussy like he was made to do only that.

he continues to build you up and up and without warning, you reach your peak again and come all over his face, your wet pussy drenching him and he closes his eyes and eats you through it like a man starved.

"fuck, baby," he says, "you taste so damn good, i could do that all day long."

you're splayed out, totally bare, the slick on your thighs cooling with the lack of contact. joel's looking you up and down, admiring your flushed body as he starts to undo his belt and drop his pants, your stomach flipping at the soft thunk of his belt hitting the floor.

you could feel, through his jeans, that his cock wasn't small, but you sure as fuck didn't anticipate just how thick and heavy it would hang between his wonderfully muscled thighs.

"you'd better get over here and fuck me, old man," you tease, and he snorts, before pulling you towards him by your ankles and landing a smack on your bare pussy.

"watch your manners, girl," he sneers.

"fuck!" you cry as you ride out the sensation, and he moves to slap you again, but your thighs are so slick his hand slips when he makes contact and accidentally presses you just right on your overstimulated clit, and to the surprise of both of you, you come again instantly.

he watches you, wide eyed, as you scream and your pussy clenches around nothing.

"you're just too easy, sweetheart," he laughs, "can't believe that little boyfriend of yours was such a bad lay when you're so goddamn easy. barely have to touch you and you're coming again and again for me."

"he'd just put it in, give it a couple thrusts, groan, and roll over," you snorted, loving the way joel's jaw clenches at your words, "besides, i prefer an older man."

"that's a damn shame, honey," he growls, "but i'm sure we can get ya taken care of."

you both realise at the same time that the video is still playing, as some particularly loud moans come through the speaker. you look over, and you swear you can see joel's eyes dilate as he watches.

that's a good girl, the man in the video croons, taking all of daddy's dick. wanna breed you full of me, fill you full of daddy's cum, you'd like that, huh?

you swallow and look back at joel. he looks ravenous.

"you love watching such dirty shit, don't you, baby?" joel asks, and starts teasingly rubbing your swollen clit again with his forefinger.

"yes daddy, please-" you agree, trying to chase the sensation, "please, i need your cock daddy, fill me up just like that-"

he lines himself up, notching the head of his thick cock at your entrance, and you're practically vibrating with need. it's not a want, it really is a need, if you don't have his cock right now you're probably gonna die and you need it you need it you need it so fucking badly

he laughs, and you realise you said all of that aloud, but you don't even have the capacity to feel truly shameful right now, you just need to feel him.

"c'mon, jo- daddy," you whine, "gotta feel you-"

"uh-uh, sweet thing," he chides, "i think you need to beg for it. you've got no manners, and knowing it's your momma who raised you it's pretty clear why, but you need to learn how to be a good girl. daddy's gonna teach you how to behave right here and now. got it?"

you let out a sharp exhale. "yes daddy."

"now beg."

two words shouldn't have such an ability to wreck you, but they do, and before you know it, you're rubbing your drooling pussy up against his cock head, rutting against him, begging and pleading-

"please, daddy, please fuck this wet pussy, you know how wrecked you've made me, turned me on so good, made me drip for you, made me come again and again on your fingers, i just wanna make you feel good, wanna take that cock, take everything you have to give, fuck me hard and fast and please, daddy, please--"

he cups your chin for just a moment, stroking a thumb along your jawline.

"that's better," he soothes, "what a good girl," and then he's slamming into you.

good fucking god he's huge, and you can swear you can feel every ridge, every vein, the swell of his shaft, the notch of his head, he's stretching you out deliciously.

you tilt your head back, leaving your throat bare, and let out a rough plea of, "choke me, daddy," and he doesn't need to be told twice, wrapping his hand around your neck and putting pressure in exactly the right spot. you can already feel the haziness building, and his thrusts keep coming fast and deep and you can feel the head of his cock brushing against your cervix.

"jesus christ, girl," he whines, and his thrusts start to falter a little, "you're gonna be the death of me. letting daddy use this nice little pussy just so he can feel good-"

his words begin to tip you over, and you know what you want-

"come inside me, daddy," you choke through the pressure around your throat, "fill me up, make yourself feel good, give it all to me-"

that does him in, and he lets out a strangled moan, coming inside you right as you come one last time, walls clenching tightly around his throbbing cock.

he releases your throat, and you both lay there for a minute, both totally fucked out.

after a minute, joel gingerly pulls out of you and lets out a weary groan.

"gonna be the death of me, woman," he snorts, and walks to your bathroom to clean himself up. he comes back a minute later with a cloth. you're expecting him to wipe you up, but first, he takes a moment to examine the cum that's dripping out of you.

"look so pretty like this, sweetheart," he smiles, presses his cum back into you, and then wipes down your slick thighs with the cloth.

"shit, joel-" you say, "who'd have thought you had that in you, old man?"

he rolls his eyes but he's still smiling, and then you sit together for a minute in comfortable silence. joel stands up after a while and grabs his coffee mug. takes a sip that you know must be cold by now, but he seems unbothered.

before he can leave, you stop him. "so-" you ask, "is this a one time thing, or?"

he shrugs, seemingly indifferent. "no reason i need to let your momma know what i know yet. and i reckon there's a lot more fun we can have before that happens."

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and your shoulders relax.

"good." you say, and joel smiles.

"good," he repeats. "now, i know i've worked up quite an appetite and i'm guessing you might have, too. you pick the takeout, i'll go pick it up."

"thanks, joel." you smile, and you're already thinking of the next time as you scroll takeout options on your phone.

that's it. you're fucking addicted, and goddamn you can't wait for your next hit.

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader

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headspace-hotel · 8 months

Text

There, in the sunlit forest on a high ridgeline, was a tree I had never seen before.

I spend a lot of time looking at trees. I know my beech, sourwood, tulip poplar, sassafras and shagbark hickory. Appalachian forests have such a diverse tree community that for those who grew up in or around the ancient mountains, forests in other places feel curiously simple and flat.

Oaks: red, white, black, bur, scarlet, post, overcup, pin, chestnut, willow, chinkapin, and likely a few others I forgot. Shellbark, shagbark and pignut hickories. Sweetgum, serviceberry, hackberry, sycamore, holly, black walnut, white walnut, persimmon, Eastern redcedar, sugar maple, red maple, silver maple, striped maple, boxelder maple, black locust, stewartia, silverbell, Kentucky yellowwood, blackgum, black cherry, cucumber magnolia, umbrella magnolia, big-leaf magnolia, white pine, scrub pine, Eastern hemlock, redbud, flowering dogwood, yellow buckeye, white ash, witch hazel, pawpaw, linden, hornbeam, and I could continue, but y'all would never get free!

And yet, this tree is different.

We gather around the tree as though surrounding the feet of a prophet. Among the couple dozen of us, only a few are much younger than forty. Even one of the younger men, who smiles approvingly and compliments my sharp eye when I identify herbs along the trail, has gray streaking his beard. One older gentleman scales the steep ridge slowly, relying on a cane for support.

The older folks talk to us young folks with enthusiasm. They brighten when we can call plants and trees by name and list their virtues and importance. "You're right! That's Smilax." "Good eye!" "Do you know what this is?—Yes, Eupatorium, that's a pollinator's paradise." "Are you planning to study botany?"

The tree we have come to see is not like the tall and pillar-like oaks that surround us. It is still young, barely the diameter of a fence post. Its bark is gray and forms broad stripes like rivulets of water down smooth rock. Its smooth leaves are long, with thin pointed teeth along their edges. Some of the group carefully examine the bark down to the ground, but the tree is healthy and flourishing, for now.

This tree is among the last of its kind.

The wood of the American Chestnut was once used to craft both cradles and coffins, and thus it was known as the "cradle-to-grave tree." The tree that would hold you in entering this world and in leaving it would also sustain your body throughout your life: each tree produced a hundred pounds of edible nuts every winter, feeding humans and all the other creatures of the mountains. In the Appalachian Mountains, massive chestnut trees formed a third of the overstory of the forest, sometimes growing larger than six feet in diameter.

They are a keystone species, and this is my first time seeing one alive in the wild.

It's a sad story. But I have to tell you so you will understand.

At the turn of the 20th century, the chestnut trees of Appalachia were fundamental to life in this ecosystem, but something sinister had taken hold, accidentally imported from Asia. Cryphonectria parasitica is a pathogenic fungus that infects chestnut trees. It co-evolved with the Chinese chestnut, and therefore the Chinese chestnut is not bothered much by the fungus.

The American chestnut, unlike its Chinese sister, had no resistance whatsoever.

They showed us slides with photos of trees infected with the chestnut blight earlier. It looks like sickly orange insulation foam oozing through the bark of the trees. It looks like that orange powder that comes in boxes of Kraft mac and cheese. It looks wrong. It means death.

The chestnut plague was one of the worst ecological disasters ever to occur in this place—which is saying something. And almost no one is alive who remembers it. By the end of the 1940's, by the time my grandparents were born, approximately three to four billion American chestnut trees were dead.

The Queen of the Forest was functionally extinct. With her, at least seven moth species dependent on her as a host plant were lost forever, and no one knows how much else. She is a keystone species, and when the keystone that holds a structure in place is removed, everything falls.

Appalachia is still falling.

Now, in some places, mostly-dead trees tried to put up new sprouts. It was only a matter of time for those lingering sprouts of life.

But life, however weak, means hope.

I learned that once in a rare while, one of the surviving sprouts got lucky enough to successfully flower and produce a chestnut. And from that seed, a new tree could be grown. People searched for the still-living sprouts and gathered what few chestnuts could be produced, and began growing and breeding the trees.

Some people tried hybridizing American and Chinese chestnuts and then crossing the hybrids to produce purer American strains that might have some resistance to the disease. They did this for decades.

And yet, it wasn't enough. The hybrid trees were stronger, but not strong enough.

Extinction is inevitable. It's natural. There have been at least five mass extinctions in Earth's history, and the sixth is coming fast. Many people accepted that the American chestnut was gone forever. There had been an intensive breeding program, summoning all the natural forces of evolution to produce a tree that could survive the plague, and it wasn't enough.

This has happened to more species than can possibly be counted or mourned. And every species is forced to accept this reality.

Except one.

We are a difficult motherfucker of a species, aren't we? If every letter of the genome's book of life spelled doom for the Queen of the Forest, then we would write a new ending ourselves. Research teams worked to extract a gene from wheat and implant it in the American chestnut, in hopes of creating an American chestnut tree that could survive.

This project led to the Darling 58, the world's first genetically modified organism to be created for the purpose of release into the wild.

The Darling 58 chestnut is not immune, the presenters warned us. It does become infected with the blight. And some trees die. But some live.

And life means hope.

In isolated areas, some surviving American Chestnut trees have been discovered, most of them still very young. The researchers hope it is possible that some of these trees may have been spared not because of pure luck, but because they carry something in their genes that slows the blight in doing its deadly work, and that possibly this small bit of innate resistance can be shaped and combined with other efforts to create a tree that can live to grow old.

This long, desperate, multi-decade quest is what has brought us here. The tree before me is one such tree: a rare survivor. In this clearing, a number of other baby chestnut trees have been planted by human hands. They are hybrids of the Darling 58 and the best of the best Chinese/American hybrids. The little trees are as prepared for the blight as we can possibly make them at this time. It is still very possible that I will watch them die. Almost certainly, I will watch this tree die, the one that shades us with her young, stately limbs.

Some of the people standing around me are in their 70's or 80's, and yet, they have no memory of a world where the Queen of the Forest was at her full majesty. The oldest remember the haunting shapes of the colossal dead trees looming as if in silent judgment.

I am shaken by this realization. They will not live to see the baby trees grow old. The people who began the effort to save the American chestnut devoted decades of their lives to these little trees, knowing all the while they likely never would see them grow tall. Knowing they would not see the work finished. Knowing they wouldn't be able to be there to finish it. Knowing they wouldn't be certain if it could be finished.

When the work began, the technology to complete it did not exist. In the first decades after the great old trees were dead, genetic engineering was a fantasy.

But those that came before me had to imagine that there was some hope of a future. Hope set the foundation. Now that little spark of hope is a fragile flame, and the torch is being passed to the next generation.

When a keystone is removed, everything suffers. What happens when a keystone is put back into place? The caretakers of the American chestnut hope that when the Queen is restored, all of Appalachia will become more resilient and able to adapt to climate change.

Not only that, but this experiment in changing the course of evolution is teaching us lessons and skills that may be able to help us save other species.

It's just one tree—but it's never just one tree. It's a bear successfully raising cubs, chestnut bread being served at a Cherokee festival, carbon being removed from the atmosphere and returned to the Earth, a wealth of nectar being produced for pollinators, scientific insights into how to save a species from a deadly pathogen, a baby cradle being shaped in the skilled hands of an Appalachian crafter. It's everything.

Despair is individual; hope is an ecosystem. Despair is a wall that shuts out everything; hope is seeing through a crack in that wall and catching a glimpse of a single tree, and devoting your life to chiseling through the wall towards that tree, even if you know you will never reach it yourself.

An old man points to a shaft of light through the darkness we are both in, toward a crack in the wall. "Do you see it too?" he says. I look, and on the other side I see a young forest full of sunlight, with limber, pole-size chestnut trees growing toward the canopy among the old oaks and hickories. The chestnut trees are in bloom with fuzzy spikes of creamy white, and bumblebees heavy with pollen move among them. I tell the man what I see, and he smiles.

"When I was your age, that crack was so narrow, all I could see was a single little sapling on the forest floor," he says. "I've been chipping away at it all my life. Maybe your generation will be the one to finally reach the other side."

Hope is a great work that takes a lifetime. It is the hardest thing we are asked to do, and the most essential.

I am trying to show you a glimpse of the other side. Do you see it too?

#american chestnut #hope #climate change #biodiversity crisis #climate crisis #trees #plantarchy #learning to imagine the future

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littledovesnow · 4 months

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the president's wife

what happens when some rebels try and get back at coryo >:-)

a/n: angst angst angst!!, read the prologue (?) here

content warning(s): mentions of death, kidnapping, kind of canon level violence???

“Are you almost ready, my love?” Coriolanus asked, walking into the bedroom as he finished closing the cuff links on his wrists.

You nodded, walking out of the closet with a pristine pair of black stilettos in your hand, red bottoms causing a grin to spread across your husband’s face.

“Going for the vintage heels tonight?”

“Only for the most special of occasions.” You smiled, taking his hand as you stepped into the shoes. “Are you ready for your party, President Snow?”

Coriolanus’ eyes lit up when you called him that, following you out into the foyer. “More ready for the after party with you.”

You lightly slapped him on the chest, looking up at his hair. “I do wish you grew your curls out again. That’s one more thing that District 12 took from me.”

Coriolanus sighed, running a hand through his blonde locks. He had decided to keep the shorter hair from his first days back from his Peacekeeping stint, stating it made him look more professional.

“Yes, but it’s less to grab onto.” You had replied when he first brought the idea up to you. That alone almost made him grow the curls back out, but once you two discovered that it was even more fun with a buzz on the sides, the style stayed.

“Did you ever hear back from Tigris?” You asked, stepping into the black town car that was going to take you to the party.

Coriolanus had extended an invitation to his cousin to the inauguration party, but she was out in District Four with Fabricia, not due back in the Capitol for another couple days.

“She said she would try and make the earliest train back, but I haven’t heard if she’s made it or not.”

You hummed, looking out the windows as the Capitol citizens made their way to the Citadel, hoping to get a glimpse of the new First Couple. Little did they know, said couple was riding alongside them.

Coriolanus looked you up and down, hand moving to your thigh and giving it a squeeze. “You okay?”

“I am, just nervous. You know I don’t like crowds.” You had a dislike for large crowds ever since you were a young girl, having seen your father shot by rebels during what was supposed to be a routine drill.

“After tonight, you’ll not have to worry about large crowds.” Coriolanus promised you, ready to give you anything and everything under the sun.

Smiling at him, you leaned over to press a kiss to his lips, making sure the red lipstick you wore wasn’t noticeable. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Coriolanus whispered, car coming to a stop outside the front entrance of the Citadel.

-----

You had been introduced to dozens and dozens of people, you weren’t sure you even remembered who anyone was by the time you and Coriolanus were able to have a moment of peace.

There had been endless congratulations to the new President and First Lady, with handshakes and some hugs following.

Coriolanus took a sip of the posca in front of him, gesturing to the bar. “Why don’t you go ask for some champagne, I made sure they had some on order for tonight for you.”

A man after your own heart, you squeezed his hand before heading over to the bar, smiling at the bartender. “Champagne, please.”

“Ah, you’re the reason we have cases in the back.” The bartender smiled, popping the cork on a fresh bottle.

You smiled, thanking the man for the glass of bubbly. “Was champagne not a common drink with the last president?”

“No, his party-goers and visitors often went for posca and morphling over anything else.” The bartender, Gus, you read on his nametag, continued to pour drinks while talking to you. “But it seems like you and President Snow will have your fair share of pocsa and champagne, I presume?’

“Not really, Coryo doesn’t really drink unless it’s a social event.” You spoke, watching as Coriolanus was pulled into a conversation with some other politicans. “What else do you-”

You froze when you felt the telltale pressure of a gun barrel to your side.

“Move, speak, do anything to alert anyone and I’ll shoot.”

Swallowing, you looked over at Gus, who simply looked at your predicament and froze, as well, half-dry whiskey glass in his hands.

“Good.” You braved a look at the voice talking, seeing an unfamiliar man with sun damage on his face. If you had to take a stab at it, you’d guess he’s from District 11. “You’re going to follow me out the back, casually. As to not alert that husband of yours.”

“The president. You mean the president of Panem.” You whispered, regretting it as you felt the gun push harder into your side.

“Shut up.”

You braved one last look at Gus, who was about to speak when a gunshot rang out, your eyes growing wide as you saw blood stain his white shirt.

-----

Coriolanus was mid-sentence with some politicians trying to get money for District Four when he heard an all-too-familiar sound hit his ears.

People ducked for cover, screams were let out, and several Peacekeepers rushed over to Coriolanus to escort him out of the room.

He looked at the bar, heart racing when he saw you weren’t there. “Where’s my wife?” He asked, head swiveling to look around. “Did you see where she went?”

“Sir, there’s still a threat, we’ve got to move.” A Peacekeeper said, urging Coriolanus out of the room.

Unable to fight back against the increasing-number of Peacekeepers, Coriolanus was ushered into a saferoom of sorts, though nothing felt safe without you next to him.

“What the fuck happened? Where is my wife?” Coriolanus demanded, this was not how he predicted he’d be spending his first night as President.

One brave Peacekeeper spoke up. “We’re unsure of her location at the moment but-”

“What do you mean you’re unsure of her location? You better find her or your family will be wondering where you are in the morning.” Coriolanus threatened, eyes dark with rage and terror.

Peacekeepers raced out of the room, and Coriolanus collapsed into one of the seats along the wall, head falling into his hands.

He was going to lose you before you two even had a chance to live.

Heart hammering in his chest, he shot up when he heard the door open, Peacekeepers walking into the room. “There’s a bartender in the infirmary, Sir. He’s asking to speak to you.”

“Why would I-”

“He said he saw who took your wife.”

Coriolanus said no more, instead following the Peacekeepers down to the infirmary, trying to get the uneasy feeling out of his system.

Gus, who had miraculously survived a shot to the stomach, wasn’t really expecting the Peacekeepers to bring him President Snow, but he watched as the blonde followed two men into the room.

“Mr. President, I- I think some rebels broke into the party. They didn’t look Capitol, and I believe I saw one of them had a gun.”

Coriolanus immediately dismissed the Peacekeepers from the room, following them to the door and closing it.

He spun and looked at Gus, who was shaking a like a leaf. “You’re going to tell me everything you saw and heard up until they shot you. You’re going to help me find my wife, and I promise you, you will not have to worry about working again.”

Gus nodded, swallowing his nerves. “She- she was asking about what other drinks we had behind the bar. These two guys came up and I thought they were just guests, some past presidents had invited people from the Districts, I thought that’s what they were.”

Coriolanus felt his blood pressure rising by the second but urged Gus to continue.

“I didn’t know what they were going to do until Y/N stopped talking, and when I looked up I saw the run rammed into her side. I think- I think they went out the back exit.”

Coriolanus thanked Gus before darting out the door, leaving the Peacekeepers running after him.

-----

You looked around the dingy room, the only light coming from an oil lamp in the corner. “Where the hell am I?”

“Oh, she lives.”

You turned to try and get a look at the men who abducted you, though it was hard to make out any features in the dim light. “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Swallowing, you took a deep breath, crying out when you tried to stand. You looked down, seeing blood dripping from a large gash on your leg.

“Oh, yeah you sliced your leg when you fell.” The man nodded to the rather sharp-looking scythe to the side of you.

The door opened, and your head snapped up to see two more men walking into the room, one of them dropping their jaw when they said you. “The President’s wife?! You’ve just signed our death certificates!”

Feeling a dull ache in your head, you watched as the man who presumably kidnapped you from the party held his hands up, lazy smile on his face.

“Not a worry, once Snow sees we have his wife, he’ll pay anything to get her back. We’ll be able to start harvesting faster than ever.”

“You are from 11, what do you want with me?” You asked, ignoring the throbbing pain in your leg.

“Oh, smart little bitch you are.” The main ringleader smiled at you, a handful of teeth missing.

“You see, when your dear little husband signed his name on the last bill passed in the Capitol, he took away a third of our pay. For what? Some hospital?”

You remained silent. Coriolanus had signed onto a bill that would help women’s health, a step in the direction of the fertility research he wanted to fund.

“There’s little we can do with what we made before, Mrs. Snow.” The man sneered, making a face when he said your name. “Now? We’re already starving out there. We had to do something to make him notice.”

“But abducting his wife?!” The most reasonable out of the three asked, arm shooting out to point at you. “Couldn’t, I don’t know? Blow something up?”

The men started arguing with each other, taking their attention off of you.

You took their quarrel as a chance to limp towards the door, not getting far from the immense pain you felt radiate from your leg. It was more than just a cut, you were sure of it.

-----

Coriolanus looked out the window, sun peaking over the mountains. He still had no idea where you were, and with each passing hour he feared for your life more.

“Coryo!” Tigris ran over to her cousin, enveloping him in a hug. “I came as soon as I got off the train, what happened?”

“Rebels, they have Y/N.” Coriolanus rasped, and Tigris’ frown deepened as she saw how worked up her cousin was. His hair was a mess from tugging at it, bags under his bloodshot eyes, once-pristine shirt was now wrinkled. “I have Peacekeepers out in all the Districts, the Capitol is being combed through.”

“They’ll find her, Coryo. They will.” Tigris said, hugging her cousin again. “They’re checking each train car as they come into the station, they’ll find her.”

Coriolanus nodded, looking back out over the skyline of the Capitol, knowing you were out there somewhere.

-break-

You were on a train, you heard the squeaking of the brakes as it came to a stop. “Where are we going?” You asked, tending to your now sore wrist, a result of stumbling off balance when you tried once again to walk on your busted leg.

“They’re searching all the cars. They’re going to find us.”

The ringleader didn’t think this far ahead, not planning on shooting Gus at the bar when he snuck into the party. Not planning on alerting the Peacekeepers as soon as he did.

“Fuck, fuck, uh, we have to run.”

You heard the knocking on the door, before the train car’s rusty door was slid open by Peacekeepers, who immediately fired their guns at the three rebels.

“Alert President Snow, we found his wife.”

You started to cry, wanting nothing more than to see Coriolanus after the last few hours.

-break-

Coriolanus ran through the halls of the hospital, Tigris hot on his heels.

“Where is she?!” He yelled, eyes frantic.

“Last door on your left, Mr. President.” The commanding Peacekeeper saluted the young man, nodding at Tigris as she followed her cousin.

You looked up from the long line of stitches on your leg when you heard quick footsteps growing nearer, before you saw an all-too-familiar head of blonde hair come into view.

“Coryo,” you sighed, struggling to sit up, face contorting in pain.

“My love, take it easy.” Coriolanus rushed over to your side, pulling you into his arms. “I’m here, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

You cried into your husband’s shoulder, dam finally breaking. “I- I was so s-scared, they had guns and- and I know that guns inherently aren’t that scary. But, Coryo, they- they were going to make you pay ransom!”

“I would’ve, I would’ve paid anything to get you back to me.” Coriolanus mumbled, forehead pressing against yours. “You’re the most important thing in my life.”

Tigris cleared her throat, and you looked behind Coriolanus to see the older Snow. “You’re back!”

“I’m back, but we’re going to catch up later. You need to rest, and you need to sleep.” She said, latter half of her statement aimed at her younger cousin.

You smiled at her, watching as she left the room and closed the door once more. “I’m sorry I ruined the party, Coryo.”

Coriolanus made a noise in the back of his throat. “You didn’t ruin it, gorgeous. Those rebels did, though I heard they were already taken care of.”

Nodding, you weren’t sure if you’d ever get the image of their dead bodies out of your head. “What are you going to do to their families?” You asked quietly, knowing vengeance was in store for them.

Shaking his head, Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over that, just focus on your health.”

-----

a/n: i love angst with a fluffy ending, it is my favorite. also i told you titles are my kryptonite i cannot do them right

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #hunger games tbosas #hunger games imagine #hunger games x reader #young coriolanus snow

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4izawas · 5 months

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╰─▸ ❝ 𝐇𝐄’𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 ( 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ). ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: His eyes are hooded, dark with a venomous lust that used to frighten you — but you aren’t the shy lamb sent to slaughter that you once were, are you?

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: jujutsu kaisen | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ryomen sukuna/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 3.49k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: concubine reader, demon king sukuna, sacrificial lamb x vicious monster trope, fem reader, manipulative reader, canon-typical violence, background character death, reader got a death grip on sukuna w the pussy ngl, breeding kink, fingering, sukuna has two cocks bc duh?, throne sex, cowgirl, no condoms, double penetration, accidental voyeurism, minor exhibitionism, creampies, biting, kissing, pregnancy mentions, murder, blood, gore, didn’t think i’d have to say this verbatim ( but after wasted summer ig i must ) but reader isn’t a good person.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: he is so so mean and yet … here i am wanting his balls in my mouth 😔✊

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

The stone flooring is cold against your bare feet, icy and sharp in ways that you used to be able to say you were unused to — but after a handful of years as your lord’s most desired concubine, you’d grown more than used to the endless chill of stone against your soles.

Only a few short years ago you’d been sent into the mountains to the dusky temple of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, a toy for him to fuck then eventually rip apart as soon as he grew bored of you. Bound by the wrists with ropes that had scarred, you were dragged up the mountainside and thrown upon a vast stone table, bound yet again with your hands tugged over your head and your legs spread to opposing corners. Your inner thighs had each been granted one deep slash so blood would begin to flow, and then you had been abandoned there. Alone and in tears, night had fallen faster than you’d been found, and you’d almost felt frozen and delirious when the first shadows of a monstrous figure had caught your eyes.

He had been a terrifying monster, sporting a vast mouth on his abdomen, two sets of eyes, four arms, and two pairs of legs all connected to a towering frame — all things normally singular about the human form had been doubled, and the owner of such a body had slunk over to you all while salivating. At first you’d feared he’d molest you, then you feared being devoured — but he’d mocked you cruelly and cut you loose before dragging you along behind him by the rope binding your wrists with your slit thighs screaming, your journey ending with him casting you at a half dozen women you later learned to be his concubines, and you’d not left his great stone temple in the mountains ever since. On the contrary, your life had become much easier — you led a life of luxury nestled comfortably on your knees atop a plush pillow next to your lord’s hip, you followed wherever he led you to go, and you warmed his bed and his cock whenever he so chose — which was often.

Today was one such day, and you desired nothing more than to ready yourself to see the man who clung to you as if he were starved and you were a magicked feast.

“Off to see the King again?” one of the other concubines, Ino, asks snidely as you loosely drape chains of delicate gold over your skin, and you sigh. Ino always started fights whenever she saw the chance, and you were more than tired of it. Still, a verbal spar was nothing for the King to sneeze at, so he wouldn’t make any attempts to stop it; some days he even found the arguments amusing.

“Must I really answer your question?” You ask tiredly. “He has called for me—“

“As he does every day,” another concubine, Shouko, snaps. “He never calls upon us anymore, not like you.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you snap back, and in response the bane of your existence stomps forward, smelling of the honeysuckle and melons that grew along the mountainside where you all resided.

“Maybe if you’d not come here and thrown yourself at him like a common whore, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Inko, Ino’s elder sister, snarls aggressively. Her eyes are dark and stormy, and her voice low and angry like a startled rattlesnake. “We all had a proper system before you came and ruined everything — but that’s all you know how to do, isn’t it? Traipsing in here practically naked from your first day and swallowing his cock down like it was what you were born for, then even daring to take away my night as well as Komori’s the following day.” Komori was another concubine, one nearly as bitter as Inko; she, however, chose to ruin what few of your belongings she could rather than spar with you verbally.

It was always the same with them — always angry that your lord doted on you more than the others, that he cooed at you so fondly while growls were occasionally sent their way ( growls you’d never received ), and that jewels and silks were lain reverently across your soft skin as rewards for earning his affections. “Maybe he likes me better for a reason, Inko,” you say coldly, standing your ground. “Maybe he isn’t calling upon you anymore because he’s realized how much of a surly bully you are — or maybe he’s grown tired of your once overused loose cunt.”

The sound of a loud, harsh slap echoes through the room, followed immediately by startled gasps of shock and your face stinging painfully; as much as you all threw poisoned words through the air like arrows were loosed from an archer’s bow, none of you had ever dared lay a hand on one another.

Your face burns, both from the pain from the hard slap and from a barely repressed anger, as you turn back from where it had been forcibly swung to the side at Inko’s strike to glare at her.

“You’ll start being a lot happier with your life when you stop basing it around both mine and a man’s,” you hiss before exiting the makeup room and navigating your way through the halls of Lord Sukuna’s temple before finally entering the throne room. He was listening to a few servants of his describe the look of the lands outside the temple, and what they believed the upcoming winter would offer them, but he brushed them away upon realizing you’d entered.

“Oh, my sweet treasure,” he purred warmly. “Come closer so I can bask in your beauty as I do every day.”

Obedient as always, you do just that, drifting closer before kneeling before him in acknowledgement of his power. Before you do so, you see the look in his eyes, and it sends a shot of fire to your stomach that you know all too well; his eyes are hooded, dark with a venomous lust that used to frighten you — but you aren’t the shy lamb sent to slaughter that you once were, are you?

“My lord Ryomen,” you murmur in a voice as thick and sweet as honey while just as deceptive as it would be when a part of a trap for flies. He stands, striding down the short set of stairs that led to his throne for you as he did for no other, and in a gruff voice commands you to stand at your full height. You do as told like always, and it doesn’t take long for him to catch sight of your aching face, which was no doubt starting to bruise.

He gently grabs you by the jaw, careful that his claws do not prick your soft skin as he tilts your head to reveal your cheek to him. “Your beautiful face…” King Sukuna rumbles lowly, his voice an angered growl as he gently tips you by his grip on your jaw to look at the bruising handprint marring your face, and his eyes are as stormy as the sky outside of the temple as thunder booms amongst the clouds. “Who dared do this to you?”

“Inko,” you murmur quietly, then whine, “She called me a common whore and said I ruin everything. It hurt my feelings.”

“She will be punished,” he promises, cupping your face and kissing your forehead fondly in a show of slight sweetness that you knew he showed no other and strove to keep hidden at all times. Typically his words would comfort you, but not today. You were tired of Inko’s behavior, and a week locked alone in a room with nothing but bread and milk was no longer fitting in your eyes.

You wanted her dead.

“Fill me with your seed, my Lord,” you beg sweetly, and he groans while grabbing you borderline painfully tight and grinds your crotches together as you stand together in the throne room, allowing you to feel him at half-hardness. “I want to carry your spawn for you, just like you always say.” It was true; Demon King Ryomen Sukuna was a weak man when it came to his almost wicked thoughts of breeding one of his women’s fertile cunts, but he’d not yet filled any of his concubines’ wombs with life. That privilege, you knew, was to be yours alone — and with how desperately you knew he wanted it, you’d get your prize of Inko’s head on a golden plate and he would get his of the instinctual want for an heir before the week was up.

You wrap your arms around his neck, standing as high on your tiptoes as you can to do so, and as usual he dips down so you can mouth sweetly at his skin, feeling one pair of arms rest at your hips while the other gently cup your face. “Let me ride you on your throne, my king,” you whisper sweetly, pulling your face from his hold and closing your teeth around one of his earlobes, tugging lightly. You both feel and hear the aroused growl leave his throat, and you move to nip at the base of his throat before asking again. “Please, beloved one?” you beg lightly, pressing a kiss to his jaw as he basks in the attention from your lips and your now wandering hands, which bury themselves in his hair in just the way he likes. “I want you to fill me in the way that only you will ever be able to. I desire the honor of bringing you life.”

You’re being dragged to his throne before you know it, your words plenty enough to tip him over any and all edges he had when it came to you, and he’s taking a seat and tugging you up onto his lap with a practiced ease that you both remembered all too well. He grinds his cock up into the crux of your thighs, his already hard length pressing against the place you were always bare for him beneath your skirts so perfectly. It only takes a moment for him to loose his cock from his robes, and even less time for him to press two of the fingers on one of his other three hands into your wet hole, the appendages curling just so inside so as to toy with you and prepare you for the vast stretch of one ( or even both ) of his cocks.

“F-Fuck — M’Lord, there-!” You whimper shakily, hips bucking into his touch as he presses one callused thumb to your clit and begins drawing harsh circles on it in time with each curl of his fingers.

“I know, sweet treasure, I know,” He murmurs softly. “I’ll take care of you — gotta get ya’ all nice and sloppy for me, dear one.”

“No more!” You whine impatiently. “Want you in me!”

His eyes are already dark, but they seem to darken even further at your senseless pleading. “As my foolish girl begs,” he says in mock-sweetness, pulling his fingers from your sopping cunt with a wet shlk! and beginning to use what you’d left on them to wet his cock rather than lick them clean like usual. Your heart ba-bump!s in your chest as a nervous shiver courses through you, but you don’t back down — you’d take his cocks and the resulting child of this coupling as well.

“Oh gods — yes, please-!” you whimper, feeling the way he drags his cock against your slickened slit, and he chuckles lightly before pressing the fat head in. A stuttery gasp falls from your lips as your head does likewise to his shoulders, and you cling to him desperately as you begin to sink down onto him entirely. In what feels like forever ( but is really only a couple short seconds ) he’s fully sheathed inside of you, and you both still for a moment to soak in the feeling of both filling and being full — and the the Demon King decides the time to adjust is up, and begins fucking up into you.

You bounce on his lap, moaning brazenly like a woman in a whorehouse, and your nails dig into his skin as he uses you like a toy for his own pleasure. Each drag of his thick cock inside you alights a fire in your belly as it always does, and you keen from your place on his lap as all four of his arms rove your body — two palming at your tits, one rubbing cruel circles on your swollen clit, and the third thrown around your waist.

“Fuck… Fuck…” he moans, biting at your neck, and you whine needily while grinding down on him, trying your hardest to tempt him into forcing his second cock inside. Unfortunately, you doubted he would, considering he was always so cautious not to break his favorite toy ( you weren’t a fool, there was no love in his heart — there remained no heartstrings for you to tug on, only his sensitive cock. ), but seemingly today was an exception as a hand on one of your tits releases it just so he can grab his second length and press it against your sopping wet hole. The thick ring of cream around the base of the cock he’d already filled you with smears across his second as he urges the tip inside, a short scream falling from your lips as it pops in after a long moment of slightly-pained pressure.

You’re overfull, tears are rolling down your cheeks, but Lord Sukuna just licks them up and begins using your body like the hole to fuck it is, bluncing you brutally on both of his cocks all while still seated on his massive throne. Behind you, you hear the wide doors to the throne room open, but it isn’t until a scandalized cry fills the room that you turn to look while your lord master continues fucking you without a care in the world for the eyes watching.

“My Lord-? Oh gods, my apologies! I beg your forgiveness, my king!” The hand that had wandered in wails, falling to his knees in subservience at the realization that he’s just walked in on his lord taking his most favorite concubine in the throne room. The sight of both of his king’s cocks sinking so deeply into your glistening cunt had his own single cock twitching beneath his robes, but there was no way in hell he would ever dare to act on such a thing; the last time someone other than the king himself had touched a concubine with their unworthy hands, both had been torn apart in the King’s rage and fed to the carrion birds.

“Fuck, you’re nothing but my sweet whore, aren’t you?” Sukuna groans deeply, ignoring the man entirely as you refocus entirely on him and the feelings he was forcing upon you.

“Y-Yes, my king,” you moan shakily, your eyelashes fluttering as an ever-present knot starts to grow tighter in your lower belly alongside the overfull feeling, fueled by a heat that always burns in his presence.

“Cum on my cocks,” Sukuna orders through a moan. “Give it to me, I command you — I want to feel your cunt pulse around me as you come undone.” As he speaks he speeds up the circles he was drawing on your clit, and within moments you’re falling apart around him, crying out in ecstasy as he lets out a demonic roar and oresses himself as deeply inside as he can before emptying his balls. Faintly you register his eyes rolling back as he cums, but you’re too wrapped up in him to truly give a damn about any of it.

After a few moments he begins to tug you off of his lengths, the muscles in your body just as instinctually unwilling to give them and their stretch up as you are as a natural resistance shows before being overtaken by you clenching down on him. “No,” you whimper, holding him tight. “Mine.”

“Y’gotta let me go, my precious jewel,” he rumbles quietly, and the urge to actually cry fills you and you just cling tighter.

“No,” you say again, a fresh wave of tears stinging at your eyes. “Don’t wanna.”

A low groan falls from his lips, but he stops fighting you. You barely react as he lifts you, his inhuman strength making most any show of strength possible ( and making lifting you something easily scoffed at ), and you do likewise as he carries you off to his private chambers. A questioning noise falls from your half-chapped lips as he closes the massive open door of the two closed behind him, and he just shushes you before pulling the silk sheets and thick blankets and furs back before placing you on them. He’s straddling you, still stuck due to your clinging, and it takes a brief moment of wrestling with you before he manages to finally pull out.

A borderline sickly wet noise fills both his and your ears as his cocks are drawn from your needy cunt, and the rush of thick demon cum that follows makes you whine pathetically. He just clicks his tongue at you and tugs on a rope made of golden chord that would ring a bell in one of the servant’s halls and summoned one such person, ordering them to ready your nightly meal ( despite the sun still being up ) so you could eat then sleep at your own leisure. Once the trembling man is gone, he joins you in bed.

“I hope you meant your urging for me to grant you a child,” he purrs, biting at your shoulder while you press close to him. He pulls away, sitting up on the side of the bed, “Because there’s no going back now — you will carry my seed in your belly until you birth me a child.”

None of this matters to you. You had always planned to birth his first child, had always known that it was what your fate held for you — this moment was not for talk of a baby, no. You wanted your prize.

“My dearest lord,” you sniffle needily, sliding from the bed on shaky legs and sinking to your knees between his legs, then propping yourself up over your crossed arms on them with a pout downturning your lips. A quickly growing puddle of his leaking cum begins to drip on the floor between your legs. “Please kill Inko — she’s so very mean to me, and all the other concubines are too because she’s been here so long.” Your bottom lip trembles as fresh tears start, and he sighs.

“But her cunt is so sweet, dear one,” he murmurs, and you whimper and hide your face in one thick, muscled thigh.

“You said she was loose. Besides, she hit me — I carry your spawn inside of me, and she hit me.” You didn’t have even his cum in you then, much less a conceived child — but you knew how to play the Demon King’s instincts, and the slight angered huff through his nostrils betray the rage simmering beneath his skin. All it would take was the tiniest push further. “It was the face this time, the face you own, but what if she pushes me down the stairs next? I could lose my life.”

Growling fills the air, and you know you've done it.

“Rest here,” he says quietly, his voice shaking with rage, “Servants will be here to attend to you in a few minutes.”

He helps you up with one hand, half-tossing you onto the cushy bed, then begins making his way out of his private rooms. “Where are you going?” you call innocently, pushing a frightened tremor into your voice. “My lord Ryomen, please don’t leave me — I’m always so frightened without you!”

He stops in the middle of the room; you can see him shaking with anger. “I have business to attend to,” he says through gritted teeth.

Your eyes glitter. “Come back to me soon, beloved one — I miss you desperately every moment you are away.”

A grunt is your only response, and he exits the room as servants wheel in your dinner. You curl up prettily in his massive nest of a bed, and you peruse the options he’d granted you eagerly. When he was done, he’d use the excess rage to fuck you again — you’d need to quell what appetite you have now and then some if you wanted enough energy to survive.

In the distance, furious roaring mixes with shrill, fearful screaming, and you delicately tug apart the roast duck you’d been served as the sounds of more concubines than just Inko being killed fills the temple. Servants cower, and the younger cupbearers whimper, but you just smile softly and hold out your emptied cup.

“I would like more pear juice, please.”

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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moonlightsolo · 1 year

Note

I send so many requests hahahaa

Feel like it would be SO cute if you’re out in the forest and you find a thanator pup lost and abandoned but it clings on to so you adopt it. Then Neteyam is like how wtf??? But he lets you keep it despite his concerned reaction and it becomes your pet :,)

CUUUUUUTE!!! & i love every request you make pls don’t stop sending them (i promise i’ll get to every one even if i’m slow)

“c’mon ‘teyam!! let’s go!” you cry out to your boyfriend. his large four-fingered hand is clasped in your two tiny ones as you attempt to tug him forward.

he’s staring down at you with a playful annoyed look, not budging from his spot planted in the dirt.

“pleeeeeeaaaaase! i wanna go see them! we don’t have to get close, i just wanna look! they’re so cute!” your voice whines, which makes his ears flick from the sound.

neteyam grimaces from your squeaky voice and plants a large hand on top of your head, “okay, okay fine. just don’t whine like that again.” he laughs with a shake of his head.

he turns his hand in yours to grasp your tiny fist tightly in his palm to lead you farther into the jungle, “come on, ma yawntutsyìp.”

the little nickname makes your heart warm in your chest. his little loved one.

“thank you! thank you! thank you!” you exclaim excitedly with the biggest grin on your face.

your tall blue boyfriend looks down at you in awe from your excitement. he smiles because he is the one that made you feel this way— he loves when you’re happy.

the tall na’vi boy bends down to your height, allowing you to hop on his back so he could climb the trees without you falling behind. he hops from branch to branch, which makes you squeal out in fear and also from the adrenaline. he’s just so quick, and knows exactly where to grab and plant his feet.

neteyam slows down as he nears a sunny clearing below. he sinks down to his stomach to crawl forward to the edge, his wide eyes darting around to examine the area. his new position lets you slide off of his back onto the branch next to him, to crawl forward and lean over the side too.

your eyes instantly spot a homemade nest in the shadows, big enough for a few thanators to rest in. “where are they?” your voice whispers out to him.

“patience…” he breathes out quietly into the warm air, sending a cheeky smirk your way. you roll your eyes at him, which just makes him smirk more.

how must you be patient when you’ve been waiting all season for this? through the mating season, and through the gestation period, and now finally the calfs are born!

you keep your eyes trained on the sunny patch of grass, looking around the perimeter of trees for the mother thanator; or even any sign of the babies.

you looooove babies— and when they come in cute forms, like little alien creatures from pandora, you somehow love them even more.

rustling to the side makes your eyes dart to the shadows as a large black cat-like figure emerges from the brush. it’s the mother, and she’s dragging food back to her babies.

she drops the meat in the center of the field, before calling out to her babies with a rumbling, clicking noise.

sudden chirps grow louder as a dozen of baby thanators emerge from the nest. yipping, and growling as they feast on the meat of the animal their mother hunted.

neteyam watches you as your face brightens from the sight of the babies you’ve been waiting so long for. you could do without the blood, and the guts, but it’s so fascinating to you.

as a human on a foreign planet, surrounded by the most fascinating flora and creatures, you feel in your element; you belong here.

one at a time, the babies retreat back into the safety of their nest to leave their mother with the leftovers. she quickly eats the rest of the carcass, before crawling into the next with her children. her large head sticks out to patrol the area with her eyes, protectively.

“oh my god, neteyam. that’s so amazing.” you breathe out, almost breathless from the experience. he smiles at you from the side, his hand comes up to rub the top of your head.

sometimes he doesn’t understand why you get so excited over the animals on pandora, but he knows it’s because you didn’t grow up here like him.

“the circle of life can be prrrretty fascinating.” he chuckles, and goes to stand up in the tree. he stays slightly crouched from the branches above his head. his attention is undivided now, only staring at you.

“wanna go back now?” he watches how your shoulders drop slightly, “we can come back— don’t worry.” he adds with a chuckle.

“yeah, we can go.” you sigh in defeat, sliding behind his back to climb onto him, “wanna go find some of your favorite fruit?” neteyam offers as his hands wrap around your thighs, once they wrap around his waist.

he wants to get your mind off of the animals for a little bit, and he knows exactly where the tree is planted in the jungle, “ooh yes!” you exclaim happily with a giant grin.

neteyam grins from your response and takes off in a sprint once he’s sure you’re secured on his back. he leaps between the giant trees, before leaping off of a branch to grab ahold of a vine.

you squeal loudly with barking laughter as it feels as if you’re free falling in the air, until his feet hit the ground. he lets you down easily by swinging you off his back with one hand strongly grasping your behind.

a flush settles on your chest, and heat rises in your chest from his hand on your ass. it isn’t uncommon for him to grab your body, but it always makes you flustered every single time.

neteyam can’t help but swoop down to peck your lips, before standing back up to his full height. his hands grasps yours to lead you through the vegetation. he bends underneath fallen logs while you can continue to stand up straight from your height. it humors you how tall your boyfriend is.

your eyes almost sparkle as you spot the brightly colored tree covered in round pink fruits. the colors are almost flourescent from the sunset growing nearer.

before you could even reach the tree, something to your side rustles in the brush. you and neteyam halt in your spot to try and find where the noise came from.

your body jolts when a soft cry echoes from the bush, and neteyam instinctively slides in front of you for protection.

before you could even try to leave, a small body tumbles from the bush and waddles up to neteyam’s feet.

“what is it?!! what is it?!” you hide your face in his back, covering your face with your hands.

neteyam almost laughs at how ironic this is, “a thanator… a baby.” he coos as he bends down to its level, but the baby lets out a menancing hiss.

“woah, woah.” neteyam backs up slightly, pushing you farther behind him. if the baby would charge at you both, he wouldn’t hesitate to drop kick it into the jungle for your own safety.

“a what?!” you shriek, and push him out of the way to look in front of him. you barely push him though, he honestly just moves out of the way for you.

once you see the sleek black skin of the thanator baby, you instantaneously drop to your knees in front of it. “hi! oh my gosh you’re so cute!” you softly squeal at it.

the baby cowers back toward the bush, it’s little legs shake as it hisses weakly at you. “don’t worry, buddy. i promise i’m not mean. are you hurt?” you ask if it would actually answer you.

neteyam really doesn’t understand how you think the babies are cute, he actually finds them quite terrifying and kind of ugly.

the baby whines as it’s eyes worriedly dart between you and the na’vi boy behind you, “‘teyam, back up!” you hush at him through your teeth.

your boyfriend feels overly protective over you right now, but he obliges and takes a step back. you intently watch how the animal takes a hesitant step toward you, it’s body still trembling in fear.

“it’s okay.” your soft tone soothes the child as it draws closer to you.

neteyam’s hand rests on the handle of his blade, ready to step forward at any given moment if the thing attacks you. his brain clouds with confusion as the predator climbs into your lap and curls up into a ball.

his hand drops from his sheathed knife as his eyes take in what just happened. your small hand gently carressss the top of the baby’s head as it lays in the crook of your legs.

“are you serious?” he mumbles out in shock, but still smiles at the scene in front of him.

“i can’t believe this is happening right now.” you breathe out shakily and look up at neteyam towering over you.

“i cannot explain how confused i am.” he replies, his big round eyes are somehow even wider as he gawks.

a crack of thunder in the sky makes the baby shake even harder, and whine quietly under its heavy breathing. “we have to take it back with us.”

“are you crazy? we can’t do that.” neteyam shakes his head in disagreement. there’s no way his parents would allow him to bring such a predator into the village. he would be lectured for who knows how long.

“well, we can’t just leave it out here by itself!” you retaliate with a stern voice. you know, that you would never be able to live with yourself if you left this poor animal to fend for itself.

“it’s almost as big as you, my love. how will you take care of it?” he points out, which is very true.

“i have to. i won’t be able to live with my decision to leave her out here in the storm by herself…” you trail off as you scratch behind her ears. the animal purrs in your lap, making you grin.

“okay, fine. come on. we gotta get back to camp before the storm hits us.” neteyam sighs as he watches you stand up with the heavy creature in your arms. he can tell you’re struggling a bit, but you still have the biggest smile on your face.

“you alright?” he asks with a little chuckle, and eyes you suspiciously, “yes, i’m good! let’s go!” you chirp and start walking past him, but he stays in his spot and keeps an eye on you.

“my ikran is this way.” neteyam points the opposite way you’re walking, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you don’t know what would happen to you if you didn’t have him to be your personal GPS.

“let’s go.” you march past him, with a roar coming from the baby thanator.

neteyam watches you confidently walk forward with a little chuckle, shaking his head at you. he watches your tiny body walk farther away from him, letting his eyes wander over your backside.

he can’t understand how or why the baby thanator attached itself to you, a human, instead of a na’vi. he’s not even sure if a thanator would trust one of his people.

you’ve opened his eyes to entire new world, his own world. he doesn’t understand how you work, but all he knows is that you’re his.

this little human is all his, and somehow you seem as if you’re even more connected to his world than him; and he loves you even more for it.

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noisilyscreechingsong · 7 months

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Danny ran away.

The classic reveal didn’t go right/ the GIW is hunting to him/ everyone is dead. You pick.

He’s alone. In Gotham. With nothing.

Staying in the city makes sense, right? Except for the crazy rogues he doesn’t want to get involved in or the straight up normal humans dressing up to fight them. Danny wasn’t touching that with a 10 foot pole. So he travelled further to the outskirts where he hoped to find a cabin some rich family only stays in for the summer.

Instead he finds rich mansions hidden back in the trees with big tall gates keeping everyone out. Most had people living there (he checked), all except for this one.

He’s only seen a kid, maybe ten, go in and out for school and sneaking out late at night.

Danny thinks he’s smart, sneaking in to snag some food and rest a bit when he knows the kid is gone. He doesn’t account for if the boy comes back earlier than normal.

Wide, surprised eyes meet wide, panicked eyes. Danny doesn’t even shove the next bite of Mac and Cheese in his mouth before he’s booking it to the nearest window.

“Wait!” Danny doesn’t wait. “You don’t have to go!”

Danny slows to a stop. Um, what?

He turns to give the boy a look but he doesn’t cringe back. The kid steps forward, almost impulsively.

“You’re the one who’s been stealing food and sleeping in the guest bedroom in the west wing, right?”

How the heck did he know where Danny was taking a nap? He always made sure to fix the bed when he left.

The boy continues without any answer.

“You don’t have to keep hiding. You can stay. I’ll provide you food and clothes and you can pick whatever room you want to stay in.”

Danny doesn’t know what’s gotten into the kid, but he suddenly feels flat footed and so off balanced.

“Why?” He asks incredulously. Why do all that for him? Why trust a strange teenager in his home? Why bother with him? He’s obviously homeless and has been stealing from him.

The boy’s lips thin slightly like he doesn’t want to say. Like he’s embarrassed.

Instead he says, “You had dozens of chances to steal any of the priceless artifacts in this house, but instead you only steal enough food for yourself and to rest.”

Okay. Yea, that was technically true and he could see the boy is thinking he figured out Danny’s personality by just that (it reminds him of Jazz how confident the kid is), but that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy!

He goes to tell the kid off for thinking he knows anything about some random teen that keeps breaking into his house, but then notices the way the boy is holding himself.

“You’re hurt.”

The boy jolts like he wasn’t expecting Danny to notice at all. He looks down and adjusts his weight a bit.

“Uh…”

“Did you twist your ankle?” Danny guesses.

The boy mutely nods, looking at him with wide eyes with too much emotion to decipher.

“Well come sit down, don’t keep standing on it, dummy.”

The boy quickly makes his way over to sit delicately on the edge of the couch cushion. Danny goes to the freezer where he knows he saw an ice pack once when he was going through it.

Danny helps the kid turn and lay back until he can elevate the foot under a pillow and set the cold ice pack over the sock. The boy is still staring at him with those wide, intense eyes.

“Ice it for a while and after you take a shower I’ll wrap it for you. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“The first floor bathroom.”

“Which one? You have three.”

“Four actually. You missed the one in the laundry room.”

Danny gives him a look.

“Kid.”

“Tim,” the boy corrects happily. “My name is Tim. Timothy Drake.”

Danny just looks back for a few moments at what is undoubtedly a flicker of hope in those blue eyes. He sighs.

“I’m Danny.”

And a weird friendship was born. Or more of a sibling-ship? Brotherhood? They teeter over the line of friend and family daily.

Danny did stay and Tim was thrilled to have someone else in the house, someone that wasn’t cold or professional towards him. They played games together and joked and taught each other things.

Danny was good at fixing anything that was broken and was the one to do any errands while Tim was at school. He was also the one who had to teach Tim how to be a brother.

Tim on the other hand seemed to be good at everything but letting himself relax. He was a hyper and intelligent kid whose mind was always active, so Danny had to accommodate and come up with crazy games and tasks for the boy in the disguise of requests, but he also made the boy sit down with him to watch crappy movies and just relax together.

They had fun, but they also had bumps and misunderstands. Danny nearly blew his top when Tim snuck out to spy on Batman and Robin without telling him (and wasn’t that a conversation to remember when the Danny found out what he was really doing at night). And Tim had a problem with lying to try and make Danny not worry, which ended up doing the opposite.

They got through those hiccups together though because they were both too possessive to let the other go that easily.

Tim created a fake identity for Danny saying they were cousins. The same black hair and blue eyes kinda sold it with a backstory of Danny’s mother being disowned by Janet’s parents. Jack and Janet weren’t home enough (or invested enough) to confirm or deny.

It was funny though watching Tim stare after Jason Todd-Wayne longingly for a while, but enough was enough. If Tim secretly wanted to befriend his idol, then Danny would make it happen. And he did of course. He made friends with the butler after ‘losing’ a frisbee in their yard and asked if they could get together for dinner one night so Tim and Jason could hang out outside of school. Alfred obviously knew Danny was pushing for Tim’s sake, but he still agreed easily enough.

So became a normal for the Wayne’s and the Drake’s to eat dinner together at least once a month. And after many meetings Danny mentally checked them off as ‘okay enough for vigilantes’ and stayed behind while the two younger boys ran off to go play a game before they headed home next door.

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Come now, you know you can call me Bruce, Danny,” the man smiles. It’s a little too wide, but Danny understands he’s still trying to put on the Brucie mask. He really wish he wouldn’t.

“Right, Bruce.” He fidgets for a second with his hoodie strings and he can feel Bruce’s attention zero in on the motion. “I need to ask you a favor.”

The air turns tense with the silence after that.

“What’s wrong, Danny? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine! Promise. I just- I just need you to promise me something. Please.”

Danny felt so awkward. He has never relied on an adult before, always doing everything himself or with other kids, something Tim and him have in common. So to turn to Bruce Wayne was out of character, but he wasn’t really. He was asking Batman, and him Danny could trust a little more.

“Promise you what?”

Danny could hear the barely covered suspicion in his voice.

“If- If something happens and I’m not around anymore, I need you to take Tim in,” he states, looking at the man full on to show how serious a matter this was.

The man stares back equally serious.

“What would happen to you? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Bruce asks.

Danny shakes his head hard.

“I’m not into drugs, Bruce. Or a gang or gambling or anything like that okay? I don’t owe any debt someone’s coming after me for. I just need insurance, some piece of mind that if something did happen that meant I couldn’t take care of Tim, there would be someone to look after him.”

Bruce stares back, thinking, for several moments.

“Tim has parents, Danny, I don’t know what you expect me to do. And what do you mean you take care of him? Don’t you boys have a caretaker?”

“Of course we don’t. We look after each other, but I’m the oldest. His parents are never home. I’m not exaggerating, they were in Gotham for only fifty-four days last year. They missed Tim’s birthday, holidays, everything. He’s still a kid, he needs someone to be there for him and if I’m suddenly gone then he has no one. Promise me that won’t happen. Promise me you’ll take him in, that you’ll figure out a way to keep him with you so he at least has Jason and you and Alfred.”

Bruce is silent for a while and Danny knows what he’s struggling with. He didn’t really want to use his trump card, but desperate measures.

“We already know who you are. You don’t have to worry about him finding out your secret.”

All traces of the Brucie mask drops at that confession and Batman analyzes him.

“How?”

“Tim is a really smart kid,” he just says with a fond smile. “He’s known for a while too, so you know he won’t go blabbing to the media or whatever.”

“What about you?”

“If I wanted to blackmail you, don’t you think I would have led with that? I don’t care what you do in your free time, but it’s not my business to tell.”

Danny shrugs and tries not to squirm under being scrutinized.

“Since you know who I am, if you are in trouble or ever need help, you can come to me.”

Danny blinks.

“Yea, that’s what I’m doing. So do you promise?”

Bruce nods once, very controlled.

“Yes. I promise you that I will take care of Tim Drake if anything happens to you,” the man vows solemnly.

Danny smiles back, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Thank you.”

When Danny somehow saves Jason from dying, and two months later goes missing, Bruce has to honor that promise while also tracking down the teenager to bring home to a very distraught Tim.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #story ideas #tim drake #bruce wayne #jason todd #batman and robin #Tim knows #Tim and Danny are like brothers #Danny just wants Tim to be happy and safe #Tim strong arms his way into helping the vigilantes find Danny #probably GIW’s fault

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54625 · 21 days

Text

Okay I'll be honest Stardew Valley was never a game I saw myself playing. I didn't know shit about it but it just didn't really sound like my kinda thing, y'know; I always assumed it would be too boring or "wholesome" or whatever for my tastes. But when Fit started playing it I was like wait this actually seems maybe sort of fun, I might try it out it's only like a dozen quid to waste if I don't like it it couldn't hurt

So anyway I've been playing this stupid fucking game almost non stop for the past four or five days. I've been playing honestly around 5-8 hours of this damn game every single day and I haven't spent those kinds of hours on a game since I was like maybe 11 and the novelty of videogames hadn't worn off yet. Did they put drugs in this game? I've developed a serious addiction to this dumb little farm simulator and it shows no signs of stopping . What is happening to me

#stardew valley #fitmc sdv #holy shit help

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risuola · 8 months

Text

YOU CRYIN'? pt. 2 — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

So... it happened, you and your frenemy of ten years fucked and now, you have to deal with his shenanigans, idiotic pet-names and so. much. touching. The man took teasing you straight to his heart.

cw: smut, little to no plot, unprotected sex, Satoru being his usual teasing self, reader discretion is advised — 1,6k words

» PART ONE

"Fuck you, Gojo."

"Oh my, your mouth is so filthy," the man laughed quietly, squeezing your hip and pressing his hard, muscular body against your back under the guise of reaching for a can of soda that he could have easily grabbed without gluing his dick to your ass. His lips brushed against your ear as he added, "should I punish you for that?"

" Get lost," you snapped, pushing him away with your hips and he chuckled.

"I think I should," his grin widened. "You've been acting like such a brat lately. I wonder why would that be?"

God, how you hated him and his stupid smile. Ten years of knowing each other and still all you could think of when he opened his mouth was to break his damn nose. You thought he couldn't possibly get any more annoying than he already was, but he proved you wrong every time. It's been four months since the two of you had sex for the first time, and somehow that triggered another level of madness that you had to deal with while working with him. Endless supply of idiotic pet names, never-ending sexual innuendos, and so much touching now created the new veil around the usual bickering that has been going on for a decade.

"It's not me acting like a brat. It's you straight-up being an idiot," you scoffed, glancing around the crowded gymnasium at Jujutsu school. It was a special night; students and some teachers from Kyoto were visiting Tokyo, and the only reasonable thing to do was to throw a party to create bonds between the youths and just relax a little without the need for training and fighting. There was a little bit of that, as some of the students just communicate through their fists, but other than that it was almost an ordinary high school party, with dozens of ordered pizzas and fried chicken, snacks and sweets, plastic cups filled with various non-alcoholic drinks, and music blaring through the speakers. There was also a corner where teachers could sit and enjoy some chitchat, but most of the adults were responsible for keeping an eye on things. You were one of those supervisors, and so was Gojo, but of course, the idiot takes everything so lightly.

"So mean," Satoru chuckled again and took a sip of the melon soda straight from the can. "You know, there are other ways to get into my pants than acting up. You could just ask."

There he goes.

"Not everything is about you and your dick," you were that close to growling at him, but forced your composure back in line and your voice down. You wouldn’t want anyone to know about your little affair with him, or whatever the fuck that was. Yea, you fucked him... few times after the first one on his desk, but in your book few quickies wasn't enough to call it a romance. If anything, you felt like you were the teenager in this school, hiding in the various corners only to have some tension off, but damn, Satoru was good at releasing it. There was this thing where he bragged he was good at everything he did and you figured that sex was clearly one of those things.

"No, but since that thought is already in that pretty head of yours, shall we sneak out of here?" he purred, way too close to your ear and his large hand smoothed over the curve of your hip. You took a grip of his wrist, squeezing it with enough force to make him hum with a slight surprise that quickly switched back to his signature grin once you pulled him out of the hall and into the teacher's dormitory. Your door was first, and you unlocked it swiftly with a key, pulling him inside.

"Oh, so we're meeting at your place now?" he teased, but you shoved him against the nearest wall with no delicacy whatsoever.

"Shut up," you muttered, already working on the buttons of his light blue shirt.

"Eager, aren't we?" a chuckle rumbled inside his chest, but his hand betrayed that he wasn't so chill either, with how quickly he began to undress you.

And then, there you were again. Underneath him, in your own bed, leaving scratch marks across his back and shoulders as he's slammed his hips into yours, kissing every sweet and sensitive spot inside of you, burying his cock deep into the velvety heaven time after time. His mouth never parted from your skin, smearing hungry, wet kisses all over it, and you let your hand tangle in his hair as he sucked a spot onto your neck. A low, breathy moan escaped your throat as his movements became sharper, harder, driving you absolutely crazy with every push and pull of his hips.

"You're not gonna cry this time, are you?" he teased; his teeth nipping at the shell of your ear, but you couldn't care less about his taunting when he rolled his hips with such delicious finesse, reaching so deep inside you that your vision was filled with stars.

“Oh, shut up, Gojo,” you mumbled. Heat filled your entire system, every touch of his hands stinging with pleasure and lust, and the temperature rose rapidly as Satoru shattered his own composure.

The intimacy of your apartment unleashed even more wildness in him, he was less cautious about the surroundings, much more playful. All his attention was buried in you, he was vocal, moaning low and purring against your skin and lips. He gave into the surge of ecstasy that pulsed through his veins and the rhythm he set made him lose his mind as your pussy swallowed him whole. So lost in bliss, he didn't care about the bruises his grip on your hip will leave and the marks he sucked into your flesh. The subtle pain it caused only made your head reeling even more into the heated state of euphoria.

Satoru's hand fell between your bodies, quickly finding your clit and massaging circles into it, forcing a moan of his name from your throat. The sound was music to his ears, he wanted it on repeat. Your whole body tensed, pleasure began overtaking you and your orgasm was threatening to explode. You squeezed his bicep, clawing at the hard muscle and your breath stuttered. Gojo knew you were close, with the way your pussy throbbed around him, it was a clear cue and he picked up the pace, determined to bring you over the edge. Your trembling thighs and the desperate hold you had on his shoulders only added fuel to his fire and when your warmth exploded on his cock, leaving creamy white around the base as he pumped you through your orgasm, he felt himself close as well. His name slipped off your tongue like a prayer, whispered so beautifully.

"Look at you, such a good girl," he praised, licking your throat and chasing his own release with ferocity. The searing kisses he planted all over your chest and neck became sloppy and wet, and you felt the curve of his dick hitting your sensitive spots all over again as his thrusts became hurried, rough, and frantic. He collapsed onto his forearm, your plush walls squeezing him hard, and he moaned your name as the final string snapped, releasing the warmth of his load that slicked your insides, filling you so completely to the brim, and the sensation only untangled another knot of ecstasy in your stomach. Second orgasm washed over you, although weaker than the first one, but still overtaking your entire, hypersensitive mind and soul. It was too much, he was too much, too intense, overwhelming.

A satisfied smile stretched his lips, a light laugh escaped them as he rode the high out with slow and languid rolls of his hips. Satoru pulled away and then dropped onto the bed, barely making it to the spot next to you. He found himself lost in a haze of afterglow, but the excitement still surged through his veins. He was still hungry, unsatiated. All of this felt so good, it was almost frightening. And then you went again. And again, giving into the primal impulses and the intoxicating haze of desire and lust. The world outside your room faded into nothingness and only you two mattered. Nothing more than two bodies colliding, breaths intertwining and lips crashing onto one another.

As you lay down, facing each other, both sticky and messy in the aftermath of your adventure, you could feel the adrenaline wearing off, leaving your body sore and exhausted. His grasp remained at your waist, keeping you close to him. It was odd, it felt foreign and wrong to stay in the tender embrace of his arms, to share kisses so soft and intimate, and yet it felt right to be there with him. You let your fingers brush his cheek. Gojo in a state of post-bliss was a blessing to witness. His eyes heavy and hooded but still so blue and beautiful; his hair disheveled with some strands stuck to his forehead and his lips swollen and parted as he breathed slowly through them. His pale complexion still bearing the marks of flush, and there was none of his usual arrogant facade. Gorgeous.

"We're gonna get in so much trouble for leaving the party," you whispered against his lips, and he chuckled lightly. "That old Kyoto prick is gonna get pissed."

"He has no power over me," Satoru responded, stealing another kiss. All his focus was directed on your lips, you were the only thing on his mind right now.

"No one has power over you, Satoru," you smiled, biting his lower lip gently, and he could swear that his nervous system twitched in excitement at the way you spoke his name.

"You seem to have some," he admitted, giving you another peck and with a firm grip, he rose from the mattress with you in his grasp. "Shower. We're disgusting," he joked and you laughed, holding on tight as he made his way to your bathroom.

"Oh yeah, we are."

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