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dreamescapeswriting · 2 days

Text

A Love Worth Fighting For ~ JJK

⤜WORD COUNT: 2.7K

⤜GENRE: Established relationships, angst to fluff, a little bit of toxic from Jungkook, feelings of being unwanted/unneeded

⤜PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The soft glow of the city lights spilt into the dimly lit apartment, casting shadows around the apartment as you stood by the window, phone clutched tightly in your hand. The familiar buzz of anticipation tingled in your veins as you waited for Jungkook's voice to fill the silence that had settled between you both. He'd been on tour for what felt like forever now and you were finally deciding that you wanted to talk to him.

Usually, the two of you would stick to texting on occasion since you knew how busy he was and you didn't want him to think of you as "clingy" but the more you thought about it the more you realised it wasn't "clingy" to want to hear from your boyfriend. You stared out at the city and watched as couples together laughed and played together in the streets. You missed Jungkook and you weren't afraid to let him know that anymore.

When the two of you had started your relationship you'd been completely understanding of everything but as time went by and you saw how his band members kept in contact with their partners you wanted more from him. You at least wanted to speak to him more when he was away, to feel a little less lonely than you did right now.

When he finally answered, the warmth you'd been craving dissolved into icy silence, there was now happy greeting from your boyfriend, just a grumbled "What is it?" as he finally answered the phone to you after what felt like the tenth phone call.

"I miss you, Jungkook," you whispered, your voice trembling, anxiety beginning to bubble up inside of you as you thought about his reaction to it. Something you never should have had to fear with a boyfriend and yet here you were, second guessing everything you said and did.

"I miss us." You finished. There was a pause on the other end of the line, a pregnant silence that stretched between you like a taut wire.

"I'm busy, Yn," he said, his voice cold and distant, cutting through you like a dull knife that wanted to hurt you as much as it could but as slowly as humanly possible. This was nothing like the Jungkook you'd fallen in love with. Maybe he was tired or stressed but it didn't give him a reason to talk to you like this. The two of you needed to talk like adults and communicate what the other was feeling.

"You know how it is." He mumbled once again, his patience growing thin and your heart clenched at his words, the ache of longing swelling within your chest.

"But I need you," you pleaded, your voice cracking as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

"I need you here with me." But before you could utter another word, the line went dead, leaving you standing alone in the suffocating silence of your shared apartment. You couldn't believe he would even do this to you after you'd done everything you could to support him.

You'd moved from your home country to be with him in Korea for the brief periods he was home, you upended your entire life because he had asked you to but he couldn't find five minutes in his day to even let you know he was okay?

For hours, you sat by the window, lost in the labyrinth of your own thoughts as tears streaked down your cheeks. How could he do this to you? Sighing to yourself you made your way to the wardrobes and began to rifle through the drawers until you found what you were looking for, your passport ready to be used. If Jungkook thought you were going to stick around any longer to be treated as nothing better than a side piece then he was sorely mistaken.

Without a second thought about it, you dragged out some bags, your stomach churning as you folded and placed everything into your suitcase, each item weighing down on you as a reminder of everything you were leaving behind. You knew you couldn't take much with you right away but you could ship everything else before you went for a flight.

You couldn't continue to live in the shadow of a love that had grown cold and distant, and you refused not to listen to your own heart anymore. So you zipped up your bags with trembling hands and sighed to yourself, looking around at the now practically empty wardrobe and began to make your way out of the wardrobe and to your laptop, you needed to get a flight as soon as possible to get out of there.

As Jungkook stepped into your apartment, weary from the road and longing for the familiar embrace of you, he was met with an unsettling emptiness that sent a shiver down his spine. The flight had been awful and he was ready to crawl into bed beside you but for some reason the air seemed heavier, charged with an unspoken tension that prickled at his senses.

"Yn?" He called out, hearing nothing back except from the sound of a dripping tap in the kitchen, the house was freezing, as though you'd been gone for a while but it was 3 in the morning. You had no where to be at three in the morning.

"Babe. I get you're mad but I'm back now, I'm ready to talk about it....I'm sorry!" He cried out, throwing his keys down onto the coffee table when he realised that there were things missing. Photos of the two of you were ripped from the frames. His heart quickened its pace as he called out your name again, the sound falling flat against the silence of the apartment. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind as he searched every corner of the place, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

You had left him.

The realisation struck him like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs as he staggered backward, his world crumbling around him. Images of your arguments flashed before his eyes, each word spoken in anger etched into his memory. The last time you'd spoken to him, you'd been begging for him to talk and he just ignored you. Choosing to hang up the phone and deal with his stress alone rather than talking it out with you.

Regret washed over him in waves, mingling with the bitter taste of remorse as he sank to his knees, his hands trembling with the weight of his own guilt. How could he have been so blind? How could he have let you slip through his fingers without even realising it? The two of you were meant to be, he knew that, anyone with eyes knew that and yet he'd let you slip away without giving it a second thought.

He had been selfish, neglectful, and cruel, driving away the one person who had loved him unconditionally. Tears blurred his vision as he whispered your name into the emptiness, a desperate plea for forgiveness that hung heavy in the air. But deep down, he knew that mere words could never mend the shattered pieces of their love. As he sank to his knees, the weight of his regret crushing him like a vice, he knew that he had lost you but he knew that he was going to do anything within his power to get you back.

The small café buzzed with the gentle hum of conversation, the soft aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of freshly baked pastries. You moved with ease behind the counter, your movements graceful as you prepared drinks and chatted with customers at the same time. You'd been home for almost a month now and you'd started a new life, you'd gotten a job and decided that this was your fresh start with everything.

As you worked, a group of old ladies settled themselves at a nearby table, their curious eyes lingering on you with a mixture of interest and intrigue. With mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you approached their table, a warm smile playing at the corners of your lips. You knew that all of them had been debating your arrival back home for weeks now and you wanted to tease them a little on it.

Not even your own family knew what had happened between you and Jungkook. You didn't want to risk a huge public blow out, you just wanted time alone and clearly he did too.

He could have been home from tour for almost a week now meaning he knew you were gone and you hadn't received a single call or a text asking where you were. Meaning...he didn't care.

"Good morning, ladies!" you greeted cheerfully, your voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the café.

"What can I get for you today?" The old ladies exchanged knowing glances before one of them spoke up, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"Yn, dear, we couldn't help but notice that you're back home. What brings you back to our little town?" Your smile widened as you leaned in closer, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Ah, you know how it is, ladies," you replied with a wink. "A girl needs a break from the hustle and bustle of the big city every now and then. Besides, who can resist the charm of our quaint little town?" You smirked at them, you hated small towns where everyone knew everyone's business, you preferred being alone in a big city where no one spoke to you. Where you'd never see your boyfriend. Or where everyone was so rude toward you for simply walking too slow or even too fast.

The old ladies chuckled at your response, their eyes twinkling with amusement as they nodded in agreement.

"You tease us too much, you can't blame us for wanting to know what happened," one of them said with a smile. Your heart tightened in your chest, you knew everyone would have their own theories to it but you'd tried not to think about it too much.

"But we can't help but wonder if there's more to the story than you're letting on." Your grin widened as you leaned back, placing a hand on your hip and shaking your head at them all.

"Oh, you know me, always keeping secrets," You teased, your laughter ringing out like a melody in the cosy confines of the café.

"We keep secrets." One of them smirked and you shook your head,

"My lips are sealed. Now, how about I whip up some of my famous cinnamon rolls to sweeten the mystery?" With a chorus of delighted nods, the old ladies eagerly accepted your offer, their laughter mingling with the warm chatter of the café. And as you disappeared into the kitchen, a sense of contentment washed over you. You liked being back but it was getting harder to hide the truth from people and a part of you felt lost without Jungkook. You missed what you used to have, part of you longed to go back but Jungkook had made it clear by never messaging that things were over between you both.

The soft chime of the bell signalled the arrival of a new customer, and you had flour all over your hands so you called out with practised ease,

"Welcome! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like." You called out without looking up, finally washing off your hands in the sink but as murmurs and gasps rippled through the café, your curiosity piqued, and you lifted your gaze, only to find Jungkook standing there, his presence like a sudden thunderclap in the peaceful atmosphere of the café.

Shock and anger surged through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. How dare he show up here, uninvited and unwelcome, after everything that had happened between you? What was he even thinking? Someone could see him, photograph him and it'd be all over the news.

Yet, under the anger you felt toward him, a part of you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that danced in the depths of your chest. Despite your hurt, there was still a part of you that longed for his presence, that yearned for the warmth of his touch and the familiarity of his voice.

For a moment, your eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, each word left unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you. And then, with a defiant tilt of your chin, you turned away, busying yourself with the tasks at hand, determined not to let him see the effect his unexpected appearance had on you.

Jungkook smiled at a few of the people in the cafe, sending a wink at the old ladies who were all smirking at him. They'd been the ones letting him know where you were. He'd been in your hometown for over three days now searching for you, your family refused to reveal anything to him so he went searching. Jungkook made his way into the kitchens and you sighed a little, refusing to look at him.

"Why are you here, Jungkook?" You asked, your voice soft yet tinged with a hint of steel.

"After everything that's happened, why would you come looking for me?" Jungkook's gaze never wavered as he reached out to gently cup your trembling hands in his own, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"Because I can't imagine my life without you, Yn," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, he'd planned everything he wanted to say to you but all of that had flown from his mind the second he saw you here.

"I've made mistakes, more than I care to admit, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right." A tear slipped down your cheek as you struggled to contain the tumult of emotions swirling within you.

"But what about your career, your dreams?" You asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"You can't give any of that up. You're just bored now you're back from tour." You mumbled at him, harshly and he didn't blame you.

"I'd give it up if it meant being with you," You scoffed at him, turning around to face him and you saw him properly for the first time. Bags under his eyes, his hair a mess, facial hair even growing, he was letting himself go.

Jungkook shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. It didn't matter if his dreams were in Korea, if you were here then he was here too. Being away from you for so long had given him clarity that he knew he didn't want that life without you.

"You are my dream, Yn," he said, his voice unwavering. Gasps sounded inside of the cafe as onlookers took int he scene in front of them, all of them interested to see what was going to happen.

"Without you, none of it means anything. I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant I got to keep you by my side." And in that moment, as the weight of his words settled upon you, you felt something shift within your heart. With a trembling breath, you reached out to brush away the tears that stained his cheeks. It was going to take a lot of work to get back to being together the way you used to be but if he was willing to work then so were you.

"I'm tired of running, Jungkook. I'm tired of being second best to your job. I get that you love it but...I need more," you whispered, your voice barely a whisper in the hushed stillness of the café.

"But if we're going to do this, it has to be different this time. We have to do better, together." A smile tugged at the corners of Jungkook's lips as he pulled you into his embrace, the warmth of his touch a beacon of hope in the darkness.

"I promise, baby," he whispered against your hair, his voice a fervent prayer.

"I'll spend the rest of my days proving it to you." He whispered, prepared to do whatever it took to keep you in his life.

It had been a month of you both alone in your home town and you were finally prepairing to go back to Seoul together, your things were packed and shipped but you were saying goodbye to everyone you'd grown to know in the cafe.

"If he hurts you again, you come get me." Red - one of the elderly ladies - said as she looked at you, arching a brow. Jungkook had grown to know all of them on a personal level but he knew they were all looking out for you,

"Yes, ma'am." You promised, hugging her tightly as Jungkook smirked from the doorway, happy that you'd made friends.

"You better bring her back more too! I want you both here for more 80th Birthday party!" She screams at him and he chuckles.

"I promise we'll be here," He told her, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into his embrace.

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#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines

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fraugwinska · 16 hours

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I'm dying to see you write Alastor opening up to Reader about his mom, maybe a little angst and lots of fluff? (- v -)''

WE NEED THAT MOMMAS BOY GETTING SOME COMFORT!

Finally Anon, I found the strengh to write this. Sorry it took so long - I hope it was worth the wait! Next story will be less sad, I promise! :'< But I think we can all find some love for our Mommas Boy today, right? (Prepare your handkerchiefs, fellas...)

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Mother O'Mine

Not the kitchen. Not the lobby. Not the bar. Not the radio tower. Not his room.

You sighed and stilled for a moment, thinking of a place where he could've gone.

If Angel had just shut his damn mouth. Mother's day was a shit day for everyone in the hotel. You, who never knew a mother, raising yourself in the farce that had been the foster care system, rued the day. Charlie was still in denial about her mothers blatant absence and ignorance, Husk melancholic and tense at the memory of seeing his mother being exterminated shortly after reuniting with her in hell, and Vaggie bitterly wanted to ignore the holiday all together, feeling as though she would be betraying the mother she could no longer reach in heaven as a fallen angel.

Angel had been pissing them all off by breakfast, obnoxiously mocking their various reasons of why this day felt even heavier than others in hell. You knew it was his own way of coping with his mommy issues - something he didn't even talk about with Husk, as far as you knew, but he bordered on being not only menacing, but outright cruel.

Alastor had listened to his rambling stoically, flipping eggs while drinking his coffee with not much more than an annoyed twitch in his brow, but then the spider made the gruesome mistake to mention her.

Alastor's mom.

"What, 'ya think any of 'ya mothers could even look at 'ya without punchin' themselves? Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me Bambi's mommy wouldn't be fuckin' disappointed by what her little fawn has become... Can ya really see a sweet southern lady all happy, lovin', and coddling ol' murder-clown Alas..."

The green explosion came faster than you could blink. You were frozen in place, only staring in fear and worry when Angel landed unceremoniously into the table with the rest of the breakfast, the other residents as shocked and dazed as you were, while the radio static and greenish-black shadows seeped away from Alastor who then swiftly made his way out without a word, holding his staff while his tendrils bristled dangerously.

Alastor had vanished and the only thought coming to your mind - after giving a cursing, groaning Angel a righteous 'You fucking deserved that'-speech - was that you needed to find him before the princess did to make sure the demon had calmed enough not to finally lose it and maul her to pieces. Charlie meant well, but she didn't know. No one did know, except for you, and even you only knew so much.

It's not like it had been an elaborate talk. It just happened, after a nightmare that made him tear up in a mixture of rage and sorrow, a bad memory that had made his shadow basically drag you, half asleep still, from your bed to his in the middle of the night. Why you? You weren't so sure. Alastor usually preferred your company more than the others just because you were the most neutral, sane person in the hotel. Some would even say impassive. An introvert who didn't draw attention, silent and observing. But not once had his shadow ever acted up around you, and while it wasn't overly friendly with anyone, it seemed to watch mostly you with curious glances and interested hisses. When you had finally woken up enough to comprehend your situation, you were sprawled across Alastors stomach with his arms wound so tightly around you you struggled to breathe, strained mumbled words pressed through gritted teeth into your nightgown.

"Mother... I'm sorry... Oh mother..."

He had been sobbing into your shoulders and and shaking against your chest while he let go of a strange anger and grief he never seemed to get rid of while you had, confused but worried, whispered words of comfort in a hushed, soothing voice until you both dozed back to sleep. Morning broke, and when you opened your eyes again, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, not able to look you in the eyes. He had thanked you, gruffly and with an unsteady voice that made your heart ache, before offering his hand to teleport you back to your room. As far as you were concerned, the weirdest of it was that you felt him caress the palm of your hand with his thumb, barely audible as he mumbled that "that should have never have happened, and we shall never speak of it again." - he was usually a gentleman, and he never touched you this intimately before - but, to him, it was obviously a humiliating and horrible thing that you had witnessed him like that.

And you didn't speak of it. No one knew, and you intended to keep it that way. It was a moment you shared and fragile trust was on the table. You would take it to your second grave, along with all those feelings that had come with it, to prevent it from breaking.

Back to the present, you sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. You had checked all the obvious places that crossed your mind, so maybe, you should start to look at the not-so-obvious ones... Maybe some place you knew was connected to... His mom...

A sudden pang hit you as you got an idea of where he might be hiding.

"Is this seat taken?"

The roof of the hotel was usually restricted from access, due to the general instability and collapse-prone architecture it presented, but you and (after an admittedly awkward encounter on a hot day that had involved you in a two-pieced swimsuit sunbathing and a very flustered Alastor with a book in one and a severed hand on a plate in the other hand) the radio demon knew about a small nook between the roof's overhead window frames and the hotel's ventilation system, hidden by the growing shadow of the radio tower where no one else ever came looking. A hideout, a place to go when you wanted undisturbed solitude. You had quickly left the place, apologizing for intruding a space that Alastor had apparently already claimed for himself (explaining the existence of the lounge chair you've so rudely used), but soon enough he discreetly invited you back, second chair added, to sit in silence together every once in a while, as long as you swore secrecy. It became a place of comfort for both of you, a retreat when life in the hotel got too stressful.

Alastor's reaction to seeing you was a quickly stifled hum before going back to staring stubbornly at the horizon. He looked dejected, and if you would not have known him so well, you wouldn't have noticed the trembling twitch of his ears nor the way his claw tapped impatiently against his knee, his shadow balled in on itself while hovering at the edge of the small roof.

It looked like he was staring straight through the distant buildings of the pentagram to the faintly illuminated orb that was heaven next to hells own sun, while also refusing to acknowledge you or the world around him at all. His smile had slipped into an emotionless line of pursed lips.

"That depends" he mused quietly. "Are you here to make me return to that insolent arachnid and attempt a 'healing' conversation?"

"I think you know I know that I couldn't even if i wanted to." You tried a weak smile.

Alastor briefly met your eyes at that, giving away that, despite his aloof act, your comment got his attention and he considered it before turning back to the horizon, the tense posture relaxing somewhat. A brief silence passed until he hummed an affirmative noise. "Then you may sit, darling."

After sitting down, minutes passed without a word said. The distant roar of the bustling traffic carried the muffled sounds of hell with the usual maelstrom of catcalling, profanities and general noises of mayhem to you, while you fought to keep a certain twitch in your hands as you counted the beats of his heels clicking on the tiles.

"You must know... my mother was a rare light in a world of filth." he declared suddenly into the silence. "An honest, virtuous soul of beauty and strength." He said it slowly and, surprisingly, completely unamused, the clacking of his shoes ceasing at once. He stared at the city in contempt, hands clasped together and resting on his legs to hold back a tremble that you caught anyway.

"She, unlike me, had not a spec of corruption in her bones. Wherever she found the warmth and love she shared with me, I cannot fathom. But she did. I may have been mocked and shunned by the world, the bastard child of a black woman and a white man, but I always had her as my home to return to.” The knuckles on his hands turned white. “But the cruelty of life and the disgusting human that was my father, the unbearable excuse of a man, killed her before I was grown enough to help. Before I was old enough to kill that monster myself." He spat the words, claws digging deeper until a faint trickle of blood could be seen. "I remedied that circumstance, twice to be exact, although it couldn't make up for what was lost. Nothing I did to him could make up for it..." his smile widened bitterly as his face twitched, recalling a fond, yet regretful memory. "… and believe me, I tried. But it was cathartic nonetheless, and quite educational... for my further career."

You stayed quiet and studied his profile, patiently waiting for him to continue talking. It was painfully obvious how hard it was for him to speak about actual feelings, with his tense grin and his white knuckles dripping with crimson blood.

"I knew, of course, where I would end up after my demise, and that I would never be able to see her again. Because I was sure she'd end up in heaven, like the saint she was. Is." He cleared his throat, attempting to appear dismissive, but you saw it. The sadness, the longing, the resignation, and it shattered your heart.

"Alastor...", you knew he hated physical touch, but your hand reached out on its own, to stop his hands from ripping themselves apart. He stiffened at the contact, but said nothing.

"Don't tell me you took what Angel said to heart..."

"How could my mother love me after what I've become after her death?"

His tone was monotonous, but his hands trembled under your fingers. He refused to look at you, but you saw his eyes, glazed with wetness that threatened to turn into actual tears. How he could still smile was beyond you, you had your theories on that, but that wasn't important right now. What mattered was that he was hurting, and that fact broke your heart. You never knew motherly love, how could you really miss something you never really knew? But Alastor did, and it had been ripped from him in the must cruel way, the impact of it so hard it made him even question the very foundation it was built upon.

You moved your hand from his to cup his cheek and turn his face to yours. His expression was blank, and if it weren't for the tight grin and the eyes filled with an unspeakable anguish, it would have been an emotionless stare.

"Alastor, do you know the poem Mother O'Mine?"

"I'm afraid the memory of it fails me, darling."

"Then, I'll recite it for you."

"Why?"

You gave him a sad smile.

"Because I want to."

He eyed you with stunned curiosity as you reached into your pocket, glad for once for your mostly useless power. You've only told Husk about it, in one of your late nights where everyone else was asleep aside him and your insomnia got the better of you, drunk and as a bargaining chip for one last gin tonic.

The blank piece of paper was a bit crumpled, but it would do. You started to fold it while you spoke, your voice sounded soft and almost like a spell.

"If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

Your fingers moved with a solemn purpose as you folded the paper this way and that, a skill you perfected out of boredom over the years, the edges turning into an elegant shape, the poem coming from your mouth like a song. Alastor watched your hands move in a trance, not sure what you were doing, but too focused on the faint glow of purple around them to ask.

"If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

There in your hand, sat a little origami bird. It wasn't anything special, maybe a traditional crane would have been better, more elegant, but you were out of practice and for what you intended to do it would work either way. Carefully you reached out, silently demanding for one of Alastor's hands that were still digging into each other. He didn't protest, and slowly raised it to give his hand to you. The tips of his claws were covered in a thin, fresh layer of his own blood, and his skin was warm and slightly clammy. You put the little paper bird on his palm, a speck of his blood staining the bottom of the pristine white paper, and closed his fingers around it, holding it in both of yours.

"If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine."

His enclosed hand in your own was encased in purple light, with wide eyes he followed the soft tugs of your fingers and opened his hand. The little paper bird flapped it's wings on his flat palm, looking at him for a heartbeat before taking off and flew in a singular circle around his head before it headed into hells deep red sky, towards the bright heavenly sphere. You watched it until it vanished completely from view, hoping there was a possibility that maybe, with a bit of luck, it would find it's way to her.

"This, Alastor, is what a real mother is. She loves you, I'm sure of it. Always has and always will."

Tears fell silently on his lap, a strangled, coarse breath escaping him. Without warning, he pulled you from your chair into him, holding you pressed close to him. Just like in the night of his nightmare, his face was buried in your chest, arms wound tightly around you in a hurting embrace and shoulders trembling with suppressed grief. His grip was bordering on painful, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying one of your hands in his hair, stroking gently while you let him quietly cry into your shoulder, not caring that the wetness of his tears was soaking through the fabric of your shirt. You felt his heart beating rapidly, his pulse erratic and his breathing fast.

"I miss her. Oh, how I miss her."

You held him tighter.

"I know, Al... I know."

You didn't know how long you two stayed like this, him in your arms and crying silently while you tried your best to comfort him, but you didn't care. As far as you were concerned, you would stay here forever if it only meant to lift this weight for a little while from his shoulders.

It took him some time, but eventually his breathing evened out, and he calmed down, his hold becoming less desperate and more... affectionate. You didn't realize it at first, but he had moved, his head resting under your chin and his forehead leaning against the hollow of your throat, his antlers slightly poking the thin skin. It felt strangely intimate, and you wondered if he was aware of what he was doing, but the moment he moved to get up and leave, you knew the spell was broken. He didn't let go of you entirely, but instead helped you to stand up and held your hand, his gaze firmly planted to the ground, avoiding your eyes.

"Darling, I..."

"Don't worry, Alastor. Although I'm glad I was able to be here when it happened... we shall never speak of this again."

You could feel his hesitation, a strange nervousness radiating from him. His shadow hovered next to him, a hand reaching out towards your face. You smiled at it, and, just for a brief moment, allowed yourself to lean into it's warm, buzzing touch as it caressed your cheek, before you turned and made your way back inside without a glance back to the sudden sound of a longing hum.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #quickfic #light angst #comfort #alastor is a mommas boy #alastor needs a hug #and a good cry #and some sleep

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autumnywinter · 3 days

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Your Yan!Elliott posts are endlessly fascinating to me. I propose an idea for you if you are up for it: Yan!Elliott finally has his prize all to himself, only to learn he's simply done the job for them. He's not the only obsessed one. He's not got his prize caged up. No no. He's caged with them. Wasn't it always rather odd that his target of infatuation quickly learned everything about him, his schedules, his interests, his favorite foods? Did he ever even notice? (Based a little on the fact that--let's be real--we players are the weird ones)

Omg thank you! :) And true, I would 100% be considered the creep if my farmer's behavior imitated my own irl behavior haha T_T

I made Reader a lot more smug than I normally do. I hope this is good!!

Yandere!Elliott x Reader

Tags/warnings: Suggestive, drugging, mentioned stalking, dubcon (kinda but not really), yandere x yandere, gender neutral reader

Sometimes Elliott felt like he didn't even need to stalk you around the town. He'd walk out of his cabin, camera, binoculars, and caffeine gathered for a stakeout, only for you to be waiting outside with a smile on your face. That same smile that made him feel like he was soaring.

Not only that, but you knew just what he liked. Granted, he'd like anything if it were from you, but he had a whole year's supply worth of pomegranates and ink stocked up in his cabin.

He didn't even want to put either to use, treasuring each item you gave him like a rare gem. He did eventually crack and eat the pomegranates though. He was only human, after all!

There was no doubting it. You were perfect.

Each time he'd write lengthy letters to you, all from your "secret admirer", he'd watch your expressions. You always looked delighted to have received a letter. Though you never once attempted to find out who was sending you them. Elliott wondered if maybe you already knew, but never wanted to get his hopes up.

He made sure to describe how stunning you were in every letter he wrote. It was important for you to know how perfect you were. So perfect, that you didn't deserve to be around anyone else. No one would ever love you as much as Elliott did.

Despite the countless gifts he had received from you, despite you seeming to know his schedule down to a T, he was still determined he needed to win your affection over. All because he needed more.

He needed to hold you. He needed to taste you. He needed to marry you. He needed you.

"Hey, Elliott!"

The writer turned opened his door, delighted to see you. It was a rainy day, which was when he always stayed inside, save for stalking you at specific hours. You'd usually visit him on rainy days, and naturally he'd always be quick to invite you in. He knew you were likely coming over, which was why he already had a nice dinner prepared and everything.

"Come in, please," he said, holding the door open. You hurried inside and removed your wet raincoat, hanging it on the coat rack. Elliott headed straight for the kitchen, where he dished out the dinner he had prepared, along with the spiked wine.

He didn't have any awful intentions, of course! He just... wanted you to himself for a little longer than you normally stayed. That wasn't so wrong, was it? He wanted to savor this.

Besides, it wasn't like it was the first time he had done this.

"How are you?" he asked, sitting down at the table across from you. He waited eagerly for you to take a sip of the wine.

"I'm okay," you replied, giving him a smile that made his heart melt. "Just exhausted. I spent all day working."

He knew. He watched you.

"Then let me give you a nice relaxing time," he suggested, making sure to sound polite as he could. "Drink some more wine. Tell me all about your day." He didn't even realize his lovesick smile listening to you talk. He was excited for you to become sleepy and less aware of your surroundings. Then he could hold you and kiss you and you wouldn't even remember a thing the next morning.

It was honestly the only thing keeping him from going insane. He could be creepy as he wanted with you and you wouldn't even care. Although he'd use the term "romantic" instead.

After he nearly finished his own drink, he noticed his mind becoming hazy. He was a bit of a lightweight, he'd admit, but it took more than one glass to get him feeling like this. He tried to blink the dizziness from his own eyes, and could make out your eyes on him and a smirk on your face.

"Oh no, are you okay? You don't look so good," you feigned innocence. Even through his hazy state, Elliott could hear the smug grin in your voice.

"D-Did... did you...? Are you...?" He couldn't form a coherent sentence.

"Yep," you confirmed. "You've done it to me several times now, figured I'd return the favor. It's only fair, right?"

He should have been angry or upset about this, but he wasn't. Instead, his cheeks turned bright red as he stared at you in a dumbfounded awe. He didn't know what he was feeling right now, but it definitely wasn't anger. Arousal, anticipation, delight... maybe a mixture of all three.

"To be fair," you continued, "I never was really drugged. Just pretended to be, because I wanted to see what you would do." His breath hitched when you straddled his lap, holding his tie in your hand. "Just to see how far you'd take things."

"Y-You..." He never thought he'd see the day where his words failed him. But how was he supposed to speak when you were on his lap looking so delectable? He subconsciously licked his lips as he drank in every detail of your body. The way your chest rose and fell, your breaths as heavy as his, your eyes clouded with lust. He could only imagine how much of a fool he looked right now.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Your voice was soft, sweet. "Did you think I'd never find out?"

Elliott paused for a moment before chuckling. He rested his hands on your thighs and massaged them gently. "You know me too well, darling." He placed a gentle kiss to your throat. "How did you know?"

"How did I know you were spiking my drinks?" You giggled and kissed his ear. "Because you're not subtle at all." You licked a stripe down his neck, enjoying the shivers you felt from him. "And because I want you just as much as you want me."

He placed his forehead against yours and let out a shaky sigh. "I... I'm very relieved to hear that." He didn't even bother to hide his erection pressing against you. "If I could, I'd tell you just how much I adore you. But..." He trailed off, growing more deadweight. His head fell forward against your chest as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "I love you. I love you so much."

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was being. "You'll be fine, love," you whispered. "And I love you, too."

Despite Elliott falling limp into your arms, he refused to loosen his grip on you the entire night. Or the morning to come.

#answered ask #yandere #stardew valley #yandere elliott #elliott sdv #sdv elliott #yandere stardew valley #sdv #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere x yandere #gn reader

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abouttofillhisshoes · 18 hours

Text

Do you wanna dance? - Matty Healy

A/N: i couldn't help myself, these two deserve to be happy forever and ever xx

this is a part two to this request i did earlier, but can also be read separately!!

wc: 3k

content warnings: mentions of drugs (weed), cursing, typical MPIND banter, kissing, a touch suggestive?

May, 2009

“I’m so fucking boreddd, kill me now.” you drag your feet on the ground, letting yourself be pulled along by Matty, his hand tightly clasped against yours. He rolls his eyes, begging you to walk properly, and that you would find something to do soon.

“Carolines?” he suggests, pointing in the general direction of the old paper factory, it being maybe a 25 minutes walk from where you were currently at. You raise your eyebrows at him, a skeptical look on your face. “Really?” you ask, whining about how your feet hurt and you didn't want to walk any further.

“Pretty please, I promise I'll make it worth your while.” he lowers his voice, winking at you cheekily. A groan leaves your lips, and you shove him off to the side, taking a swig from a freshly opened bottle of cheap tesco wine.

“I’d do alot for you,” you burp, making Mattys face scrunch up in disgust “but i am not shagging you on a terrace, not a chance in fuck.” he laughs like music to your ears, a gross snort slipping out.

You suggest calling your other mates, inviting them for a few drinks on the balcony, just like old times. That small platform just off the main office held dear memories, good and bad. Matty immediately shakes his head, bringing your hand away from the phone in your pocket. “Just you and me, no one else.” He sounds different, you couldn't quite place it.

“Carry me.” you joke, pressing a dramatic hand to your forehead. Imagine your surprise when you feel a firm hand press against your back, and another wrap around the back of your knees, hauling you up. Your hip hits the bare skin on Mattys chest, another ‘stylistic’ choice of his, only being covered in a thin, see through black shirt.

“Jesus, fuck, let me down!!” you scream, attempting to push him away.

All he does is giggle at your struggle, only pulling you closer, planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

“D’you think I'm too weak to carry you?” you huff, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll proper hurt yourself-” he laughs again, almost in disbelief. “Oh, come off it, I'm pretty strong, you know!” you roll your eyes, shooting him a worried look. He nods, leaning in to give you what you think is another kiss.

Instead, he fucking licks across your face, making you squirm away at the odd feeling.

“Perv.” you spit, turning your head away from him. He nuzzles his face into your freshly curled hair, humming contentedly as he starts walking down the sidewalk. You notice him adjusting his hands a few times, trying to get a better grip, so you ask to be let down. He refuses, like he’s trying to prove something to someone. It was no use, he was going to see this through, apparently.

It was wet, the rain from a few hours prior making everything smell like damp concrete. It was barely sunset, the sky painted several shades of blue, purple and orange, clouds sparsely littering the sky. Trees were finally starting to green again, and the warm air kissed your skin, warning you of the hot summer to come. It was late May, breezy and comfortable, even if it was pissing it down most of the time, you didn't mind it, rarely getting sick anyway.

The back entrance was covered by stacks of cardboard, soggy and flimsy from the rain. Matty tries to set you down gracefully onto a rock nearby, miserably failing as when trips over his own feet, sending you both flying down onto the soft, grassy ground.

Laughing at the stumble, he kisses you while you're still under him, gripping your cheeks between his fingertips. The moment doesn't last long, wet dirt sullying the back of your shirt, making you whine like a small child. He reluctantly rolls off you, offering a hand to help you stand. Wobbly on your very impractical heels, Matty takes a jab at your choice of footwear.

“Who wears heels to go walk around? You've got fucking ankles of steel or something, thats mad.” he laughs, gesturing at your red platforms, thin straps the only thing keeping them attached to your feet.

“They’re platforms.” you correct him “You’d know that, if you knew anything ever. Fuck you, you’re just jealous i’m taller now.” It was true, you towered slightly over him, even if only a few inches, it gave you a sense of power.

Twirling your hair around your fingers, you let Matty lead you up the stairs, hand firmly gripping your wrist. His nails were painted black to match, though they were significantly more chipped than yours, the nail polish peeling off in chunks.

Still, you found it endearing how he always wanted to use the things you did, whether it be makeup, clothes, even colors. What was yours was his, and what was his was yours, evident au cause de the blue top you were wearing. The stupid tourist shirt, his prized possession.

The wind had died down a bit by the time you reached the smashed glass door leading to the terrace. Ross had managed to fall through it one night, absolutely wrecked off half a bottle of tito’s, no mixer. The four of you spent hours afterwards trying to pick small shards of glass out of a blacked out Ross, utterly convinced he was dying of alcohol poisoning. Fucking drama queen.

Orange light floods the terrace, painting the worn down sofa in a warm hue. Matty smirks slightly as he plops down onto it, patting the space beside him, asking a silent question. You smile, the sight of him making your heart swell up with love. God, he looked beautiful, it was almost too much. Thicker chunks of his hair were now dyed blonde, streaks of pink peeking through. Impulse decision, though a good one, the bit of color really suited him.

“You got any?” he asks, tucking both his hands behind his head, spreading his legs, his shirt riding up slightly. A suggestion.

“What do you take me for?” you giggle, already pulling out your weed. He never brought his own, insisting that if you wanted to roll them yourself, you’d also buy it. His logic was deeply flawed, but honestly, you loved him too much to tell him.

Rolling the spliff, flashes of memories flip through your mind, you hear Hann’s voice.

‘Girls don't roll their own spliffs’ God, he was such a dickhead.

“Girls don’t roll their own spliffs.” you giggle, grinning at Matty as you lick it closed, admiring your work. George had given you a few tips, and you’d actually gotten better. Mattys angelic laugh fills your ears, bouncing off the concrete walls.

“Fuck yeah, I'm your girl.” he says proudly, brushing tangled curls out of his face, slightly more tan than usual, the sun having branded his fair skin. Your eyes roll of their own accord, and you nudge him with your elbow, muttering quietly.

“Shut up mate, honestly.” he lets out a dramatic gasp at your words, pressing a hand to his chest is faux shock.

“Do mates do this?” You jump as he snatches the spliff out of your hand, grabbing your face just like he did on the grass before, pressing a hot kiss right beside your mouth, just missing it. Biting back a moan, you feel his tongue slip past your lips, running across your own.

“Okay, fuck off now, thanks.” you smile, unable to stop yourself. Not when he looked at you with such joy, eyes glimmering in the warm light.

He hands the joint back to you, your hands brushing against each other. It felt loving, purposeful, real.

Grabbing the lighter from your right pocket, you run your fingers across the worn rhinestone, fondly remembering the day he’d made it for you.

The way he was reluctant at first, only giving in after you physically dragged him through the doors of the hobby shop, forcing him to pick out decorations. His concentrated expression as he tried to pick off the cheap stones, having to let you help him do it after numerous failed attempts. It was one of your favorite days with him, wishing you could relive it a thousand times over.

Laying back, you hold it in front of you, rotating it over the flame to get an even burn. The smell flooding your senses, you close your eyes, bringing the spliff to your lips. Inhaling deeply, you feel Matty shuffle next to you, shifting and making the sofa creak under him. You try to ignore it, keeping your eyes shut as you feel the drug hit your system, a warm, weightless sensation enveloping you. It was when he moved for the third time that you snapped your eyes open, going to complain.

“Christ, will you stop moving around like tha-” your words get caught in your throat, dying out.

He wasn't in the spot next to you anymore. No, he was on the floor. On the floor, on one knee, holding a small, red velvet box in his right hand. Your breath hitches as you notice the expression on his face. Anxiety. You could speak, hell, you could barely fucking think. Matty was in front of you, kneeling, holding a white diamond that was shimmering in the light, like a goddamn dream.

You watch as he opens his mouth to speak several times, closing it before any sound comes out. His eyes fill with panic as you sit up, eyes wide in shock. He was proposing. Properly proposing, with a ring and everything, down on one knee. You’re convinced this is a dream, of a fucking hallucination, something more believable than what was actually happening in front os you.

“Marry me?” he forces out, hand slightly shaking as you look him up and down, mouth completely dry. You felt tears stream down your face. Obviously, with Matty not being able to read your mind, his eyes dart around your features, trying to gauge what your reaction meant.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you.” are the first words you say, hands coming up to shield your face. The panic only grew as he tries to speak, only things coming out being bits of words and ‘sorry’.

Shaking your head violently, you reach out your hand, presenting your ring finger. Tears well up in Mattys own eyes, dangerously close to rolling down his puffy cheeks.

“Yes, oh my god, I fucking love you so much.” you scream, bouncing off your spot on the sofa, lunging towards a very emotional Matty. You catch his lips in a kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly, not daring to let go

“Really? You’ll marry me?” he says in genuine disbelief, his left hand gripping your lower back, pulling you close.

“Of course i’ll marry you Matty, christ.” he pushes you away, giddily slipping the silver ring onto your ring finger, planting a soft kiss to the metal.

“Fucking hell that is a boulder.” you look at the diamond in awe, the stone basically blinding you. He grins from ear to ear, grabbing the fabric of your top, kissing you softly, a gentle warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips make contact.

“Only the best for my wife.” giggles leave his lips, delirious and ecstatic, disbelief still evident in the way his eyes rake over you, settling on the ring. Pressing a hand to your cheeks, he thumbs the tears away, kissing all over your face. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest.

“Bit early, innit?” you comment, sucking in a deep breath, eyes glued to Mattys. You're both on your knees, concrete digging into the skin of your legs. It was cold, uncomfortable, but you truly couldn't care less.

“Never too early, Mrs. Healy” he smirks in that cheeky way of his, both hands settling onto your shoulder, rubbing small shapes into your skin. The moment doesn't feel real, nothing does. You hope to god that this isn't a dream, that that this was really happening.

“Can Hann be the flower girl?” your inability to be serious for five fucking seconds shines through, the both of you falling into each others arms, uncontrollably laughing. Mattys eyes crease as he giggles, the feel of his hands on your body is heavenly, l of his hands touching your skin makes you truly believe you've reached a higher plane of existence.

“Only if he wears the dress.”

“Deal.” you say, knowing well that getting Adam Hann into a dress would require months of begging, maybe even bribery. You would probably need to buy him a fucking house to get him to even consider it.

More laughter, more kissing, more planning a future neither of you had ever actually thought possible. A future with each other.

Matty fumbles around in his pockets, pulling out his Ipod, initials erratically scratched into the metal. You raise your eyebrows at him, asking a silent question of ‘what the fuck?’

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks, smirking at you as he swiftly stands up, extending his hand. This is so incredibly cliché, and you know that yourself, but you can't bring yourself to care.

His fingers press one earphone into your ear, before doing the same to his own. He smiles sweetly, expression softening. This was true, raw, unbridled love.

“Can I choose the song?” you ask, fingers trailing down Mattys jaw as he settles his hands onto your waist. Nodding, he hands you the Ipod, letting you select whatever you wanted.

“I love you so much, my darling girl.” he mumbled into your hair, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Stop being such a sap,” you laugh, quickly adding a “I love you too.” as to not offend him. As if he would be offended.

Suffragette City blared through the headphones, the music filling every corner of your being. Your hips swayed, and so did his, guiding you lightly with the hands gripping you tightly.

You didn't speak, letting Matty spin and twirl you around, breaking out into fits of laughter when you almost tripped over your ridiculous heels. Fuck, they were really a bad idea.

Stopping for a second, you reach down to unclasp your shoes, kicking them off without a second thought.

“Already taking your clothes off? We haven't even said our vows yet-” he teases, being met with a sharp look and a hand threaded into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Don't ruin the moment, you wanker.” you mutter against his lips, licking into his mouth as you let him take back control of your movements.

You don't know how long you dance for, but by the time the two of you finally come up for air, the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the tall buildings of the city.

Your life together flashes through your mind. That very first kiss. That night in The Sound. Ruby. The drugs. The lighter, smashed into little bits. Your fight with the guys. The night he had called you, shaking and crying, scared. The photos. The sight of him, down on one knee.

This was it. Everything that had happened; every mistake, every fight, every passionate kiss, every gasp of pleasure when skin met skin, every tear shed since that night at the bus stop had been leading up to this final moment.

You and Matty,

Matty and you

Forever.

Properly this time

The music faded, the sound of rainfall pattering loudly against the metal roof replaced it.

A Suffragette City, A Suffragette City

Quite all right

A Suffragette City

Too fine

A Suffragette City, ooh, A Suffragette City

Oh, my Suffragette City, oh my Suffragette City

Ah, Suffragette

Suffragette!

#i actually cried during this #its so sweet #no smut for once surprise surprise #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 smut

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mslanna · 3 days

Note

Maybe something about Raphael reacting to Haarlep reading through his diary/journal (this is why you give your incubus enrichment, folks!) and the incubus pointing out the frequency a certain 'little mouse' seems to be appearing as the subject in his writings? Heck, maybe Haarlep even tries to convince Raphael to let them obtain Tav's form so that the cambion can indulge in his little mouse whenever he wants.

What is says on the bos sfw kinda Read it on AO3

Depleted

"How often did I tell you not to do this?" Raphael plucked his diary from Haarlep's hand.

"As often as you caught me," his personal incubus replied. "Which is way not as often as I did it."

They leant back lasciviously, presenting a world of possibilities their master. As usual, Raphael barely noticed. The cambion was more concerned with the content of his diaries. Well, at least this time Haarlep had refrained from drawing naughty sketches into it.

"You really shouldn't leave them lying about like that. It's clearly an invitation." Not that Raphael would notice an invitation if he saw one. Haarlep dialled back the preening and offering. Such a spoilsport and killjoy.

"It was locked away in my desk," Raphael admonished.

"Yes, exactly where I know it will be," Haarlep purred. "That is not even trying to keep me away."

"I also told you not to touch it." The cambion's voice turned hard.

"You tell me that about so many things." Haarlep rose. He stepped behind his master, laid his chin on Raphael's shoulders and wrapped his arms around his middle. Their tail settled around his ankle, it's tip slipping up the trouser leg. "And yet, I touch everything. A lot."

Raphael slapped their hands away when they moved towards his crotch. Stuck-up snitch. What was this if not the prefect set-up for a little powerplay? If he'd chose more enjoyable sex, Raphael would, well, enjoy it more. Haarlep was sure of that. They were among the best.

"You like it," they purred into the cambion's ear. "And I know what you like best. If only you'd relax enough for an orgasm that's actually worth my services."

"Away," Raphael huffed. He did learn that a 'get off' had a very different effect on his incubus.

Still, Haarlep did not let go. "Are you pent up for a somebody special maybe? My little brat looking at another little thing scurrying through his life?" He nibbled at Raphael's ear. "I have seen them come up often in your diary. So, so often. Are we pining?"

"They are an investment, nothing more," Raphael replied gruff.

But even in the sharp rejection, Haarlep saw that they had hit a nerve. "Invested in them, are we? How nice. Do they know about your intentions? Beyond a deal?"

"There are no-" Raphael broke off because Haarlep bit him into the neck. Gently, but determined. In the moment of distraction, they sent their hands below his waist, circling over the inside of his thighs.

"Are you thinking of them now?" Haarlep purred. "Of their little mortal hands on your hot infernal skin? The earthy smell of the material plane and its deaths. What sweet words do you want to hear? Or do you prefer sounds of devout supplication? You can have all of it. Right now."

"You are not Tav." Raphael jerked free of their embrace. "Nothing you offer is close-"

"Ha! I knew it. I always do." Haarlep clapped. "How delightful. The high and mighty cambion has fallen for a stinky, mortal mousling! Are they close to falling into your trap? Will you bring them here to play?"

Raphael stayed silent. He thumbed through the diary, frowning at the sketches of dancing imps and almost suggestive flora.

"I can help you, you know?" Haarlep wound back around their master. "They don't seem too eager to deal with you. But I? I can get close, close enough to strip them of anything in your way to their heart. I can even take their form. Wouldn't that please you?"

Haarlep slipped their arms back around Raphael. "I can get them for you. Soft hands and mewling mouth and all. For you. Whenever you want. However you want. With the greatest enthusiasm. Think about it, my little brat. All the fun with none of the vulnerability."

Raphael didn't move. A good sign. He was considering it. Still, in the end, he pried them off and left the boudoir with a huff. But it was a start. A morsel to tempt the eternally uptight cambion into actual fun times.

Maybe they'd finally get something to do in this horrible place. Haarlep was used to being somebody else and despite the public displays, Raphael harboured little self-love. Pleasure was to be had efficiently, quickly, like any other business. The bloody idiot kept his lust pent up just to release it before he exploded. When there was so much more fun to be had.

But that little mouse cropping up in every other diary entry – Raphael hadn't been that obsessed since Hope. And she, well, she was a hopeless case.

Haarlep returned to the bed and pulled another of Raphael's diaries out from under a pillow. The cambion should really stop hiding them in place they were certain to find them. They'd see to it that they'd get that little mouse's form for their collection – one way or another. If only to scrounge an ounce of emotion out of Raphael for once.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x haarlep #bg3 fanfiction #sleazy second-hand car dealer #anon answered #writing prompt #mel writes fanfic

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mrwavellswaps · 1 day

Note

Swap, Hypno, TF

Henry Cavill, Ryan Gosling, Jake Gyllenhaal

Another great set of options here! But I think I already know who I’m swapping with.

Jake Gyllenhall. Like come on it’s gotta be. That man is just so fucking gorgeous. I’ll be honest though it’s a very close call between him and Ryan Gosling. I adore both of them and if Jake hadn’t been there I absolutely would’ve swapped with Ryan no question. It’s one of those that’s so close that my mind could change depending on the day but right now I’m dead set on Jake and his incredibly sexy looks.

That said I think I’ve just gotta go with another technology based swap for this. A special pair of headsets perhaps. How I’d get Jake to put it on is the tough part. I’d need to find a way to get close to him first. Maybe I use this device to switch bodies with multiple other people who are close to Jake. Every switch getting me closer to him until finally I’m in the body of someone he trusts deeply. Enough that can convince him to put the device on for a laugh when the two of us are alone. Slipping one headset onto him before slipping the other onto myself and without a second thought, activating the device.

Both my face and Jake’s going slack as the swapping device does its thing. Transferring everything that made us who we were through the currents flowing between the two helmets. Slowly flooding my consciousness into Jake’s mind and vice versa. And of course both of us getting massive erections in the process which seemed to be a common side effect when switching bodies with men.

It would’ve been a long and tiring process to finally get this far but it’d be well worth it once I finally had Jake’s body. Immediately throwing off the headset as soon as the swap was complete and standing up to get a good look at the body I’d been striving towards. Meanwhile the real Jake would be too confused and dazed by what had just happened to even make sense of the situation. Only looking up at me in horror as I tested out my new voice and felt up the new body I had hidden underneath the suit he’d been wearing. The newfound bulge in my pants threatening to break out at any second as I reach down and rub a hand across the outline of Jake’s thick cock.

Of course I need to take care of the original Jake somehow but I don’t think that’d be too hard. Once he finally processes what’s happened, he’ll probably start to panic at the sight of his imposter feeling himself up and slowly undressing. By this point I’ll have already stamped on the headset to ensure it can’t be used again before letting him know that the swap can’t be undone now. Giving him the choice to either keep quiet and I’ll make sure he has an easy life from now on or I’ll find some other way to keep him quiet. And since I’d just stolen his body, I don’t think he’d doubt my threats.

Moving on however I then need to hypnotise someone. And I think you all know who I’m going for. Ryan Gosling of course. And now that I’m in Jake’s body it shouldn’t be hard for me to get close to these other high end celebs like myself. As soon as the opportunity presents itself, I’ll lace a drink of his with a hypnotic potion that’s got my new body’s cum mixed into it. And as soon as he drinks it, he’ll become a complete hypno slave to me.

Can you imagine? Ryan Gosling kneeling at the feet of Jake Gyllenhall. Willing to do anything he’s told. A former straight man being turned into a gay slut. Always eager to let me ruin his tight and once virgin hole at any chance we got. Practically begging me to cum inside him every time as each load I bred into him with Jake’s cock only drove him further under my control.

With Ryan being so attached to me I doubt he’d ever want to leave my side for long. Telling the world that the two of us have decided to become a couple would be inevitable in the long game I imagine but that wouldn’t be all bad. The publicity would probably do wonders. I’d have to make sure Ryan acts as normal as possible when we’re in public though… but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let a few of his new slutty elements shine through the cracks from time to time. Maybe with him telling a reporter that I really “opened him up” to a new world of possibilities with a quick wink.

Lastly though a TF is in order and we still have Henry Cavill on our list. I’ll be honest I had no idea what to go for TF wise at first but I think I’ve finally figured it out.

Once again getting close to Henry at some point or another shouldn’t be too hard thanks to my new body. And as soon as no one is looking I’ll whip out an ancient spell. One that if performed correctly will immediately begin to transform Henry’s body. Or rather force it to shrink away into nothing. Or so you’d think at first glance.

As his body seems to vanish, his clothes would fall to the floor in a heap. But there would be something left underneath those clothes. I’d pull apart the heap and reach into Henry’s crumpled pants only to pull out Henry’s cock and balls!? It was the only thing left of his body though at first glance it would certainly be mistaken for a dildo. However upon closer inspection it looked and felt very real from the way the balls swayed to how the cock reacted to the slightest touch.

Now for the real test though.

Assuming I was alone where nobody could walk in on me, I’d slip the disembodied cock into my mouth and started sucking. Feeling as it swiftly began hardening in my mouth. Being sure to use every dick sucking trick in the book until Henry’s cock finally blew a load in my mouth. And as soon as it did, the suit I was wearing started to rip.

Henry’s body and soul essence had all been trapped inside this dlido-like form of his cock. However this meant that anyone who drank his cum would gain his strength and muscle mass albeit temporarily. Hence my suit tearing a fair bit after I swallowed thanks to my body bulking up quite a fair bit. And naturally I didn’t waste any time checking out the results. Loving the look of an even bigger and buffer Jake Gyllenhall staring back at me.

Needless to say I was gonna be using Henry’s cock a lot. Thankfully it replenishes itself endlessly as far as I know so there isn’t a real limit. I can drink from it as much as I want and bulk Jake’s body up whenever I please. Hell I might even let Ryan drink from it as well. Lord knows it’d be hot to see him hulk out with some extra muscle as well. Giving Ryan and even thicker muscle ass for me to dominate! But I think I can say for certain that I’ll be the one using it’s power most of the time. All the extra muscle is bound to feel addictive. And who know? Maybe my body will start to adapt and hold onto some of that extra size even after the effects wear off. Only one way to find out I guess.

Now this one was fun to type up! Also wanted to give a quick shout out to an old story by @fantasyvessels called Trading Places With Gyllenhall which definitely inspired me a little here. Glad I was able to track down where they got those images from and make a hot gif outta it. Go check that story out as well if Jake is your thing!

#asks #swap hypno tf #male body swap #permanent #male body theft #identity theft #male transformation #male muscle growth #musclegrowth #celebrity swap #celebrity tf #technology #magic #male hypnosis #male hypno #celebrity hypno

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bloogers-boogers · 2 days

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Idk if you're still doing requests but could you do one of Adam laughing his ass off when Micheal gives him a rooster toy but it's like one of those ugly loud long yellow rubber chickens but Adam thinks is cute and hilarious. Micheal, maybe, is just glad Adam likes it.

I have so many headcanons on WHY Michael loves roosters qusgwishsis but one of them is it being God assigning all the archangels an animal to represent them as, like Lucifer is a duck (cute and goofy) while Michael is a rooster (the one that fights to protect it's flock) ahsishsowjs anyways the second hc I have about it is that (it could be either seen as platonic or romantic) but Adam was the first person ever that Michael had to create SOMETHING after Lucifer was banished to wonder earth with Lilith; he was left with the responsibility of creating new creatures for Adam (and he wasn't like Lucifer in that category of creativity, so it meant a lot for him when Adam would praise him for his work). The rooster was literally the most convenient (he did it to help Adam wake up in time to do his chores bc the first human would complain about oversleeping and not being able to finish all of his duties in time before nighttime) and beautiful thing he's made not only for Adam but himself too.

Third hc is because of Lucifer. I love them being caring over the other but I like to see Lucifer admire and feel inspire by Michael's hidden creativity that isn't allowed to share bc he's meant to fight not dream. So Lucifer just loves whenever he sees Michael 'slip' up and do something like an object or creature. I have this whole idea about more than anything but it's Michael singing to a young dreamer lucifer 😭💕 ahdkwjsossjsow

[Michael: More than anything

More than anything

I'll shelter and adore you more than anything

Lucifer: Michael, I don't need you to protect me from this

Michael: I just don't want you to be crushed by them like

Like I was

Lucifer: Michael...

When I was young, I didn't really know you at all

I always felt so small

But I heard your stories and I was enthralled

The tales about your lofty dreams, I listen breathlessly

Imagining it could be me

So it's the view I had of you

That showed me dreams can be worth fighting for ]

I dunno it just makes things more tragic after Lucifer's fall.

I also hc Michael having his wings down when being only around Lucifer as he felt relax an at ease while being around him, the brothers all knew that Michael wings were always tensed, up (to look bigger), and alert or tucked away as he had issues on trusting someone/something won't happen if he let his guard down, and without Lucifer (fallen) it was unlikely to ever see his wings down but somehow after Adam entered heaven they started noticing Michael's wings flapped excitedly and flopped downwards while speaking or being around Adam.

Last hc I promise ahsuwwjiw but I also like hc Michael having a prosthetic wing after Lucifer's fall from trying last minute to protect Lucifer but having to be put down by one of the seraphim ripped his wing off as a warning (it was both traumatic for Lucifer and Michael that Lucifer just accepted his fate and shielded Lilith from most of the pain of the fall).

Anyways sorry for the long rant anon 😭😭😮‍💨

#asks♡#lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #guitarhero #michael x adam #the last drawing was me being silly ahshwishwus #totally drift away from the ship and went on ranting about my hcs sorry 😭😭#it just has to be special and meaningful #another idea is Michael creating a rooster for Lucifer as he was punished for one of his dreams so to cheer him up the rooster was made #to make him laugh #which worked on Lucifer

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starpirateee · 21 hours

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Hi!! Could you write one of the Curtwen prompts I made, yet didn’t cut it? I love your writing style!!

Honestly there was a bit of deliberation here because you put some really good ideas out there on the form, but I did say I'd write em myself, and by all means, I'll still do it! So, I decided to go for this prompt:

Would you take a modern au from me? Can I do that?

I mean, I'm going to anyway, because I have a dire need to call Curt and Owen husbands (and also for wider Starkid lore), but i just thought I'd warn you beforehand!

"Agent Carvour, have you found anything yet?"

Owen leaned back away from his research. He'd been looking at the same page now for a while, trying to make some sense of it. Redacted government files were hard to get hold of, but even harder to make ends of. His system had been trying to translate it, but not even he had the software for that.

"Quite possibly, sir. I have a few sources, at least."

"What have you got?"

With an air of something that was almost excitement and almost elation, Owen pulled up a series of documents and started the walk through them. "Well, sir, the easiest source was from a few years ago. There's a company in Michigan that's been trying to conduct various temporal experiments under their parent company— some kind of analyst company, I think. They're surprisingly ordinary. Anyway, apparently the experiments just… Stopped. They never drew a conclusion on whether or not their research was connected to what was on the other side."

This had all started when Chimera had dug up a series of centuries old reports about people claiming to have looked into the eyes of old gods. None of the people had known each other, but all of the reports showed some form of consistency, and all told of great, unknowable power.

So, they had decided to look into it, to see if there had been anyone else who'd dared to brave the process of trying to find an answer. Owen was one of those lucky enough to find himself with the resources to start a thorough investigation.

"They didn't finish?"

"No, I don't know what happened, but the reports just stopped one day."

"Is there anything else?"

"An american government report, but it's as hard as you can imagine to decipher. Most of it is redacted…"

"Anything worth noting?"

Owen nodded, carefully turning back and switching the tabs. This felt a little like he was giving a presentation that he hadn't prepared for, and he hadn't felt like this in quite some time. He took a breath, trying to slow down the rampage that was going on in his head. "They started in the early noughts. 2005, to be precide. That's the earliest I'd gotten without looking at those old reports from the pioneers. A branch of the military tried to build a gateway to the other side, to investigate what existed outside of our plane. I don't know names, only one. The name of the man who performed the experiment."

"They got this gateway open?"

"Yes, sir. And they sent someone through. I think there's a good reason why his is the only name they disclosed."

"Why?"

"Because he was declared dead, sir."

His screen still displayed the document, and the man's name sat among the black markouts, clear enough to see. Cross, W.D. Apparently, he'd ventured into the portal, and nobody heard from him or saw him after the date of the experiment. They gave up the search after a month, and after that, Colonel Cross was indeed declared dead.

"So, another dead end?"

"Maybe not. I'll do what I can to uncover this with what I've got available, but it was scanned, so…. It might take some time." Owen was normally confident in his abilities, and uncovering government documents was a difficult yet necessary part of the job. There was something almost genuinely enthralling about scraping off the parts that the world's governments wanted to keep secret. It felt like giving people a small yet surprisingly effective slice of justice every time.

"Keep looking, Carvour. We need to know if this is viable, or even worth our time…"

If Owen had any kind of normal life— if he and his husband didn't both do the dirty work for secret operation services— he would have a blast trying to decide how to describe the intricacies of what he'd been researching lately. The throws of domestic life confounded him to no end, which was why it was so funny when he and Curt tried to imitate that.

The otherwise simple question of "how was your day" turned into a battle of who could craft the most believable lie that better concealed what they'd actually done. Neither wanted to jeopardise their jobs, and Curt had always been brilliant at crafting stories, so it was never dull.

He started to think about what today's excuse would be. Something about pioneers, or the Oregon trail, or perhaps he could bring up that old, dead colonel somehow, that would be interesting to add to the pile.

"You know what I'm gonna ask already…"

By the time he got home, Curt was already waiting for him, and the mid-spring sun was starting to set. For anyone else, it was a day at the office, but the trails he had begun to uncover had really put all other days at the office to shame.

He laughed softly, having prepared this answer a number of hours before, and took up a position on the couch. "No, love, you first. I insist."

"Fine, okay," Curt answered with a chuckle. "It was nothing really, just your standard… But, the bear returned, and in about a month, I'm gonna get really rich and run off to central Europe, with a really pretty lady and a dollar store box of magic tricks."

"The same bear from last month?"

"Yeah. Bastard won't leave me alone."

"Sounds wild. Are you coming back after your plans to run off with this really pretty lady?"

"Plan is to cut myself off after three weeks, but at this rate, I might not make it two."

"Not good enough?"

"Owen, I'm a bit too gay for that." To sell his point, he flashed his wedding band, and Owen laughed harder. "Besides," he added, covering his own bout of laughter. "Who needs a fake wife when I've got my own right here?"

Owen shot him a faux-offended glance. "How dare you!"

"You might fool the guys at work, O, but you couldn't pretend you don't think about it…"

Or that he hadn't been experimenting in that part of himself in little segments since he was seventeen. Turns out he suited long hair better, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he both looked and felt rather good with the occasional flourish.

"You know me well..."

"I should hope so! Anyway, what're you keeping from me? How was your day?"

"Office, just like you. I've had a conversation with a pioneer, and tried to erase marker pen over the body of a dead soldier. Oh, and I tried to teach myself statistical analysis."

"Jeez, that was— that was a whole rollercoaster there, huh?"

"Mhm, I've been busy."

"You can say that again, god… So, a pioneer? Like those guys that travelled to Oregon?"

"Yeah. Quite interesting people, if a little paranoid." Something other than their oxen might be watching them would've been a perfect addition to the statement, but Owen felt that was a little too close to the line to pass, so he decided not to add it.

The important part was, apart from the knowledge that Curt was on an assignment in a month's time, both of them were none the wiser. Curt didn't need to know that he had started the deep dive into a pack of eldritch gods and was even slightly nervous about the outcome.

He didn't sleep well that night. He knew that he had right to believe that this was all one great hoax, that there was something in the water that made the pioneers mass hallucinate this supposed watcher. They all travelled on the same trail, it was entirely plausible that all of them found the same hallucinogenic and envisioned a thousand eyes watching them and their familes. It was less of a coincidence when two subsidaries of larger companies started describing details of experiments that led them to discovering other beings beyond just the watcher, of course, but he still wasn't sure whether he was privy to believing any of it.

There was something about redacted government files, though, that were meant to be believed. There was a reason they hid information from the public, and that was often because they had found something worth disclosing in the first place. That meant huge news, large press cover ups… The whole works… And that was the last thing any self-respecting government with something to hide would want. Owen imagined the size of the initial press conferences for dealings like Roswell, how many people must've shown up to that conference, under the impression that they were going to get answers, only for the press to redact the next day and claim that it was no more than a weather balloon.

He felt like he was dealing with a weather balloon of his own right now. This was something that this branch of the military clearly didn't want people knowing. The only reason they'd had to disclose any information at all was because one of their own had died looking for this information, and they had to provide the closure for whatever family he had left. Part of him wondered what they'd said, how they'd tried to cover up this man's imminent demise at the hands of another dimension. What did his family know? Was he ever given a sendoff?

When Owen tried to sleep that night, plagued with the thoughts of how much his research was worth, and what really happened on the other side, he couldn't get his head in the right place to take a suitable rest for long enough. Flashes of colour— brighter than anything he'd ever seen— danced behind his eyelids, chasing each other in sequence. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Green. White. Blue…. He didn't have much of the capacity to think, not when those colours started consuming his subconscious thought, but he spared a moment to the hope that he may get answers of his own if he stuck around long enough.

"He thinks he's brave… He thinks we don't know about him…"

Whatever dream he had been having was taken over by blurred edges and violent pangs of pain that he was sure he could feel outside of this existence. Everything faded out, leving only ruin in it's wake. Broken pieces, scrambled signals… Owen didn't even try and make sense of it, he already understood the futility of trying. There was nothing left in his mind but those colours and those voices— for he was sure there was more than one. A sickening chorus, holding perfect time with each other.

"He's foolish, if he thinks he can go further without us finding out."

"Owennnn…"

"We know what you're doing, Owen…. It's not going to last."

He'd thought about meeting his maker before. He'd thought about the possibility of death, the idea that he may not live to see another day eventually. It was hard to deliberate something so serious in his early thirties, but his line of work called for it. He knew that he had a dangerous job, and that there were few who would be able to save him if something happened.

But, he'd never considered the possibility of his own demise to this extent before. In the formless remains of his dream, where he was forced into hearing these voices talk about his death and how soon it would be to coming, he had pause for deliberation. And it wasn't good.

He had to strain to take control of his own voice, in this space that was once his own. Once so sacred, now scarce and left entirely to the whim of whatever was taking residence in his mind. This was a bad idea. All of this research was a bad idea, and he was suddenly more aware of that than he was anything else. Never before had he had such a violent urge to overturn everything he'd worked on for the sake of something this seemingly trivial.

"There's nothing you can do. It's already started. This is bigger than me…"

"We know that. You're not the only one we have heard trying to work your way into what is ours… Choose your next step carefully, Owen. I'm sure we would delight in taking you in the same direction as the others…"

Before he could really ask what that meant, he was left entirely alone. The ruin of his dream still stood strong, which was strange enough given that the voices had left him alone, but he had the strangest feeling that there was more to this landscape than just what he was being shown. He started to wander, to look around in an attempt to find the real end to all of this. His mind was a wasteland, taken over by the lack of colour and the apparently deafening absence of those voices that had only appeared a moment before. He felt empty without them, although he knew nothing more than the sequence of colours that paraded through his vision.

Blue… Purple…. Yellow…

The pattern was familiar, like he'd seen it before somewhere. And while he wasn't resting easy, he couldn't force himself to wake up, either. No matter how hard he tried, he was just left stuck, wandering the expanse until he found what he was apparently looking for.

Pink…. Green…. White… Blue…

The expanses of his mind stretched out into a road, occupied by nothing but empty space. He supposed that was mostly his own fault; he had known for years that his imagination was never one to be put on par with anything else. He couldn't so vividly picture that which others could, and he'd never really had much of a capacity to dream, either.

So, this warning was strange. Seeing such vivid, bright colours in the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't have conjured them himself…

He started to walk the road, curious enough to want to know where it went.

"Owen?"

That voice wasn't like the ones who had left moments before. That voice had a personality, and a person to go with. It was warm, though scared. Human all the same. And Owen knew the shape of it.

"Owen?"

Owen let his instinct lead him down the road, through it's many curves and winds. Eventually, the road gave way to what could only possibly be a stage. There was a set of stairs to one side, that he let himself climb before he could think to wonder where they led, and then the familiar voice gave way to a man in the wings, staring at him with desperate, fear-lined eyes. Of course he knew the voice, and of course he had never tried to doubt himself on the matter.

He tried to advance towards Curt, but he took a hasty step back, shaking his head.

"Curt?"

"Prove you're Owen."

"I'm sorry?"

Curt hesitated, and then slowly emerged from the wings. Even though he stood on the light of the stage, it still looked like he was carefully enveloped in shadow, like the darkness was a comfort to him. Owen looked around, wondering what had made him so cautious, and whether it was still around. Had Curt seen what he'd seen? What had those things whispered to him?

"I'm not falling for it again. Tell me you're actually Owen…"

Owen frowned, not wanting to dwell too much on why Curt was so afraid to reach out to him and realise that all of this was as real as they could get it. "Curt, love, I don't know what you want me to say…" There was a certain desperation about him too. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but he wass confident that, given the right prompt, he would be able to convince his husband that he was who he said he was, to quell any discrepancy that it may have been otherwise.

"Don't. Show me… What happened on your 25th birthday."

The pieces fit into place, and Owen nodded dutifully. He had been out in the field that day, a strikingly hot day in the middle of June. The two of them had barely ended up with three hours together by the end of it, and they'd gone out drinking to celebrate what little time was left of his birthday. He'd never been particularly big on celebrating, but Curt had insisted. They were newly married then, and getting used to the idea of sharing a life with someone else. That was one of the first nights following their wedding when Owen truly came to realise that he'd made entirely the right decision, and that there was nobody he'd rather share his life with than Curt Mega.

"My 25th… That was a home ground mission. I was in the state."

"What happened to you?"

Owen smiled, somewhere between fondness and a need to hide the melancholic air that hung about that question. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and huffed a weary breath of laughter. "I was trying to make my exit, but the suit jacket caught on a fence. Here…" With his sleeve rolled to just the right length, Owen held out his arm and pointed out a pale flash just below his elbow— a jagged scratch that had never quite healed right. "That's what happened after the fabric tore. Is that enough?"

Curt had known about the scar. He'd also known about the story. He was pretty sure that nobody else knew, though, so in his head, that had always been his fallback option in the event that he was ever sure Owen needed to prove himself. Those stories lined up perfectly, and while Owen had missed out on some of the details, in the grander scheme of things, he'd gotten it exactly right. He shifted, letting a knowing smile cross his face through the fear that still gripped him.

"It's really you…"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Curt's approach was still careful, premeditated. Even though he knew the truth now, there was still something about him that screamed a lack of trust directly into his ear, and it made actually reaching out for Owen so much harder. "You… You were trying to kill me."

"What now?"

"I know what I saw…"

"I don't doubt you, but I would never… I swear it on my life."

"I know, that's why it was strange… I— What the hell's happening?" This stage was the only thing connecting the two of them to reality. There was nothing beyond it but the end of the road that Owen had travelled down, and nothing behind it but black, empty space.

Owen let his instinct take over. If the two of them were going to face the unknown, whatever and wherever this was, then they were going to do it together. They always had, and they always would. That was the way things worked, especially for the two of them, because their lives were built so heavily on the idea of distrust that any semblance of the opposite they could get, they would cling to. Normally that was exclusively each other, and so the world wasn't usually much larger than the two of them.

Their hands connected in the middle of the emptiness. Owen pulled Curt Closer to him, and the two of them stood side, performers to an unknown audience, marionettes for something larger than themselves. They exchanged a glance, and Owen registered the warm, homely spark residing in Curt's eyes.

"I think we're trapped in a nightmare, crazy as it sounds," he tried to respond, but he wasn't entirely sure where this was going to go. "I can't wake up, but I remember falling asleep last night."

"Me too. I fell asleep before you did, you were still reading."

"Right, and now there's this. Whatever this is. did you, by chance, see those colours too?"

Curt nodded. "They came before you did, before the- other you. Blue, and purple, and yellow…"

"…Pink, and green, and white..?"

"And then blue again."

Owen heaved a sigh. "Curt, there's something I have to confess. It's safe to do so now, there's little that could get in the way of what I have to admit, but this is one of those things I wouldn't be able to tell you awake, you understand?"

There was a moment's pause, in which Curt tried to work around Owen's phrasing. Both of them felt the incredibly revealing sense that they were being watched, so Curt understood that Owen had gone into the professional mindset— switching off his senses for the sake of making as much sense of something as possible. It was always how he rationalised his way through situations, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Eventually, Curt nodded again, as the words started to sink in and he started to get a sense of what was being said. "This about what you told me this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid there's a little more to it than what I told you, but I suppose that was rather obvious."

A nervous breath of laughter left Curt, only partially voluntary. "I thought there'd be a bit more to it than erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier…. What the hell kinda explanation was that, anyway?"

"One I spent a good hour crafting, thank you very much. I thought it was clever."

"Better than a pretty lady and a box of tricks?"

"And a bear, yes."

"… And the bear. Right. Well, what's that mean? erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier, what're you saying there?"

"I've…" This is not going to get you done for. Those documents were already top secret before you saw them. And if it gets you out of this nightmare prison, then surely it has to be worth it. "I've been uncovering sealed military case files that might explain what's happening to us right now."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Fucking what?!"

"It's all part of the job. I can't… I can't elaborate. Know only what everyone else knows: that the only reason any part of this is disclosed at all is because someone died during one of the experiments."

"What's that got to do with what's happening here?"

"That's what they were researching."

That seemed to click to some degree. At least, Curt seemed to understand a few of the larger pieces, perhaps the more obvious ones. "The colours?" In his head, there was an experiment, someone tried to make sense of whatever that was in their shared mindscape. Someone— a soldier, presumably, had died in the middle of these experiments, and now Owen had gotten tangled in this mess through his agency, and the two of them had been dropped into the same nightmare.

Owen nodded. "The colours."

At the moment he said that, a loud rumble disrupted their moment and forced their attention out into the expanse of nothing. Laughter— multiple sources with varying shrieks and gasps that couldn't be placed to a single source— burst from behind the wings, and from in front of them, and from the endless expanse of black that surrounded them. A loud crack followed, and Curt swore as the stage splintered beneath his feet. For a split second, his grip loosensed, and the next time the ground rumbled, they were torn apart by the growing crack in the stage. He staggered back, and the two of them ended on opposite sides of the stage, the crack between them growing and delving deeper into the unknown.

"Owen!" He called, trying to regain his footing but falling back.

"Curt! Hold on!" Owen yelled through the growing laughter, scrambling back to reach out for the pulley system backstage. He needed a foothold on something, a way to sturdy himself so he could regroup and think. It was too loud, he couldn't think in this kind of heat, with this kind of mess, and Curt, and-

Another crack. The stage was starting to fall away from itself, split not quite perfectly in two. Owen's breath ran short. In the swirls of colour and mayhem and possibilities, he saw a way out. One chance to get this right, and to make sure that they both survived the fall while they were still stuck here. He gripped the rope tight, levering himself further towards the crack, and looked to Curt. "You're gonna have to jump it!" He called, desperation winning over any attempts to stay sane. "Don't worry! You know I'll never let you down!"

"Are you crazy?!" Curt managed, staring into the gap. "I can't jump that, it's too far!"

"Curt, before the whole place splits in half, you have to get over here!"

"What if I don't make it?"

"Trust me! Please!"

Curt backed off a few paces. Owen stood ready, one hand gripping the rope wrapped around his wrist, and the other reaching out as far as he could, waiting for a move to be made. After a singular preparatory breath, he sprinted for the gap, and pushed off from the splintered wood at the edge.

He reached out.

Owen reached out.

Their fingertips connected briefly in the space, and then Curt slipped away beneath his grasp.

Owen threw himself forward, feeling the rope worming itself free and burning his wrist in the process. He'd promised. He wasn't going to let Curt fall. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Curt's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for an endless fall through the ineviatble. Something laced around his wrist and he felt himself stop moving. Exerting all the caution he knew to exert, he looked up, and caught a familiar whiskey brown staring back at him.

"I've got you!" Owen breathed, and Curt fought to angle himself so that he could get a better chance to grab the broken stage floor. When Owen started hauling backwards, Curt managed to get a hold of the edge of the stage, and made it a joint effort to haul him to his feet. "You're alright… You're okay…"

Curt essentially fell into Owen's arms. Owen held on tight, like he could lose his partner at any second to the swirls and the crevice. He stared out into the emptiness, ignoring the very real pain that he could feel at his wrist but cherishing the very reel feeling of Curt's shirt underneath his hands. The very air seemed to shift. Owen wasn't previously aware that colours could get angry, but this green that flooded the space behind his eyes was pissed. He could feel it.

So was he. Pissed, and way more desperate than a man ought to be.

"Alright," he muttered once, and Curt drew back ever so slightly. He noticed Owen was staring off into the greater expanse, and hoped for all it was worth that he couldn't see something out there.

"Alright!" His voice got louder, and he tried to mask his utter despair in an authorative tone. "I get it. You hear me? I get it!"

Everything fell eerily silent. The only sound that remained was the pounding of Owen's heart in his ears. He took a breath, strangely certain of himself. Glanced at Curt. Spared his attention on the void again.

"That soldier… Wilbur Cross? That was your fault, wasn't it? There's a good reason nobody can get very far into digs like these, and it's because you strive to kill them before they do. Nobody ought to know what's on the other side, and that's why nobody does…"

"Owen, what're you doing?" Curt whispered, but to no response and little avail. Owen was lost in whatever he was about to say.

"… But, I've heard talk of bargains being made here, so how about it?"

"Your desperation speaks for itself."

Owen had to pretend that that— the voice from the middle of nowhere or what it had said to him— didn't bother him in the slightest. He steeled himself, not sure where to direct his attention but knowing he'd probably have it right no matter what he chose. "What do you say, am I allowed to make a deal?"

The air shifted. Owen didn't receive a direct answer, but he knew that he'd been allowed to continue. "If I don't continue— if I go back, and tell my people that it's an impossibility, that it can't be done— would you let him go?" Another quick glance at Curt, as if the green something needed clarification, or as if he knew what he was signing himself up for.

Curt was frozen in place, his eyes wide. He'd heard every word as it echoed in the void, and he hated what it was implying. His gaze was fixed on Owen, fear blazing through his face. "No, Owen—" his voice came out weak. As far as literal interpretations go, that was not a good one. He didn't understand what was happening, but it terrified him to know that Owen was being so calm about this, while he could be selling his life away with nothing more than a few choice words.

Owen frowned, and muttered an apology he was sure only Curt would catch. The green grew angrier, setting a violent fire behind his eyes and forcing him onto his knees as the pain flooded his body.

"You better not be fucking with me."

"No! I— I wouldn't! I'm serious! I'll call it off, I swear on my life, just… He has nothing to do with any of this. It's not his fault."

The thing considered, holding Owen firmly in place while he deliberated. Curt couldn't move— he didn't dare, lest something happen to Owen that put him in more danger than he was already in. All he could do was force himself into keeping his breath steady, and not thinking about what a single wrong move could do to either of them. His eyes landed on the friction burn winding neatly around Owen's wrist, and he decided to focus on that for a while; the only other colour in a void of blackness and green.

"Very well."

That was the last thing Owen heard. Some part of his mind just shut down, and he collapsed to the floor of the stage. He didn't hear the way Curt screamed his name, or the return of the chorus of laughter. His eyes closed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a start, underneath the sheets of his own bed, gasping for breath. He sturdied himself out, and once he was sure that he was real, and definitely in a familiar space, he looked over to Curt, and found him still asleep.

"Curt?" His voice was soft, but his mind was a knife point of tension. If that had gone wrong, then why was he the one to live through it ant not Curt? He tried again, biting his lip. "Curt..?"

Curt groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The relief that Owen felt hit him like a tidal wave.

For some reason, Curt was entirely surprised to see that Owen had made it through to the other side. He managed a weary smile, and tried to get his vision into focus. That was one of those decisions that he immediately came to regret. As soon as he brought himself a little more into the real worls, he noticed that the brown in Owen's eyes was stained with something else, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dripping down his irises was a flash of toxic, unsettlingly bright green.

#spies are forever #saf #starkid #agent curt mega #owen carvour #star mail #void offering #nova's tags →#wiggly would have an absolute field day with owen and curt huh #bc desires run deep. they want each other. they want to be free...#but curt wants to not be haunted by the ghosts of his past #and owen wants to move on. to get a better future where he doesn't have to devote his life to an agency #might be fun to play around with

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killsatoru · 2 days

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INDIGO : Gojo Satoru

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x fem! reader

Warning(s) : Cursing

Summary : Gojo Satoru your roommate who turns out to surprisingly be your coworker! Will him being your roommate cause any issues at work?

My roommate Satoru Gojo, a very attractive, and charming man.

Though I barely ever interacted with him, he was still a mystery to me, well not completely.. From what Suguru has told me : he has a crazy ex-girlfriend, comes from a wealthy background, is quite smart when he wants to.. and. hm.

That's all I can remember!

I've only interacted with him a total of two times.. and that’s including when Suguru introduced him to me and our now shared apartment, the second time was when I asked him if he wanted anything from the market when he was watching a random horror movie in the living room.

Maybe I should put a little more effort into getting to know the guy… I mean we’ve been living together for nearly 7 months. Nah it isn’t worth it.

Getting ready to head out the door for work, I hear a small whisper of my name “Y/N, you heading out?” Satoru Gojo in the flesh, just barely able to keep his eyes open, “Yes, sorry if I woke you up.” silence followed just as i was opening the door ready to step out “Have a nice day Y/N” turning my head slightly to see him giving me a lazy smile “You too Gojo, you should get some more rest it’s quite early” reciprocating his smile, stepping out and closing the door behind me i felt chills run down my spine ‘what was that about?!?’

Walking into my place of work I was greeted by “Y/N!!” Utahime Lori, my assistant and close friend since college, “what’s got you in such a great mood Utahime?” nearly jumping off the walls from her excitement “Apparently Mr. Gojo will be hiring someone to help us with the workloads! That means no more overtime!! THE HEAVENS HAVE HEARD US THEY WILL BE SENDING AN ANGEL!!!!” letting out a small laugh “probably means the person has personal connections or is extremely wealthy..” “shhh let me have this moment Y/N” placing her finger to my lips

Knock knock

“Ms. L/N, Mr. Gojo has requested for you”

Walking down the unnecessary long hallway to get to Mr. Gojo's Office, he was always calm and collective. He was a man I have admired for a long time, without him I wouldn't be in the position I'm in.

“Sir Ms. L/N is here as you requested” bowing down slightly I followed suite “Good Morning Mr. Gojo” sitting behind his desk, his white hair trimmed and slicked back in place, suit tailored to perfection. Sitting in front of him back facing me was a messy mop of white hair reminding me of my roommate

‘holy shit it’s my roommate!!!???’

“ah! good morning Y/N please have a seat next to my son” sitting down next to my roommate, ‘wait my roommates father is my fucking boss WHAT THE FUCK!’ now internally panicking ‘okay okay calm down Y/N, you haven’t really done anything i mean your roommate barely knows you! most of your furniture is pretty basic, you barely have any pictures of your family, just one of your brother and sister-in-law.. calm down, calm down, he can’t possibly talk shit about you, can he?!??’

“I believe you were made aware of a new hire, correct Y/N?” responding calmly as possible “ Yes Mr. Gojo, I was made aware.” smiling “Good, my son here Satoru will be placed under your wing, i’ve told him already that he should start taking this job more seriously, he is heir of my throne after all-” cutting his father off “Father i’ve told you already-“ “Satoru, you will be under the supervision of Ms. Y/N L/N, I suggest you behave and learn a thing or two about discipline, instead of worrying about a future with a woman who only loves your money and your looks.” glancing between the two, the tension so suffocating “i’ve already told you that-“

Knock knock

Utahime walking in “Ms. L/N, your meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro is in 20 minutes”

“If you’ll excuse me Mr. Gojo” bowing down slightly, turning towards the door “Ms. Y/N, please take Satoru and show him how these exchanges work” “Yes Mr. Gojo.” raising his voice slightly “Go on Satoru.”

‘I am so Screwed’

“I’m shocked Mr. Fushiguro was willing to work with us! how did you even manage to snag Y/N!” sighing “I didn’t ‘snag’ anyone, the team that was assigned to close the deal with Mr. Fushiguro failed, and called me in to fix it.” “that’s snagging! but he was quite stubborn; he only wanted you to meet with them, you must’ve done something to leave a good impression!!” looking out the window “yeah..” glancing towards my roommate through the reflection of the window ‘he’s been quiet the whole ride, wondering if his father knows we live together.. whatever, I don’t care as long as he doesn’t get in my way.’

“Ms. L/N! lovely to see you again!” Both of them smiling warmly at me embracing me in a hug “It nice to see you as well Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro! How has your son been?” “Oh! That boy is quite energetic. It's exhausting to handle him” Giggling lightly “I'm glad he’s healthy.” “Oh! But what about your son! how has he been” Feeling two pairs of eyes behind me nearly burning a hole into my skull “Yuji has been good he’s staying with his grandparents, i’ll probably go see him this weekend.” “That's good, you shouldn’t tire yourself out now L/N!” “That’s right, don’t think we don’t know about all your late nights and countless meetings Y/N L/N” Scratching the back of my head nervously.

“And who might this be L/N” Turning to introduce my roommate and best friend/assistant “This is Gojo Satoru, a new hire who is here to observe and my assistant Utahime Lori, if it isn’t too much of an issue they will be joining us today.” Mr. Fushiguro ready to begin “Please have a seat, you three. Shall we discuss the deal then”

“Excellent. you Ms. L/N have a deal.” Holding his hand out “Thank you again Mr. Fushiguro.” Shaking hands sealing the deal. “As agreed on, we'll start the production by next month” “Perfect thank you again Mr. and Ms. Fushiguro!” “Don’t overwork yourself too much!!” “I won't. Thank you again”

“Good job Y/N! Mr. Gojo will be pleased!” Smiling at me brightly she’ll surely leave me blind “It was nothing really..” “But how do they know about Yuji?” Both Utahimes and Gojos' heads turn to me feeling a little nervous “it’s.. a long story.” “And how do they know about your work schedule and countless hours of overtime and-“

Ring Ring Ring

Of course it rings when it isn’t needed! “Y/N speaking.”

“Understood. Yes.”

Sigh ‘this day can’t get anymore stranger’

“Mei Mei flaked out again” Announcing the news i received through the phone “Seriously AGAIN?!?” anger laced in Utahimes voice “Ugh we should have a new contract with actual models, that will actually do their job!” “Calm down, I have a back up.” “BUT STILL! I wouldn’t care if she also wasn’t such a-“ being cut off by Gojo “Bitch.” Catching both Utahime and I off guard “Mr. Gojo.. I didn't know you had it in you to say that! WHOA!”

“Calm down you two, I have a back up. I'll discuss with Suguru and Kento about canceling the contract.”

Ring Ring Ring

“Y/N speaking” Laughing a little

“Of course you were just the person I needed”

“Understood i’ll be arriving shortly” Sigh

“Was it ‘Kento~’” Fluttering her lashes and puckering up her lips “Seriously you two should just runway get married have 10 kids and-“ Cutting her off “Enough of your blabbering how do you even come up with all of this!” Giving me a glare “Well You two have danced around each other since college, and now you two work at the same company of course I have enough information and sources to come up with your whole love story~!” Running a hand across my face “God damn it you’re a lunatic” Sigh “Hey! if you two didn’t work so much I could’ve had a niece and nephew running around already!” “You have yuji.” Pouting a little “You’re right but you and Kento-“ Cutting her off this time placing my hand on top of her mouth “That’s enough for today, It’s bad enough that i have an emergency meeting and countless paperwork to complete” “Hm Hmph MpM!” Removing my hand now covered in spit “We have Gojo! he can help you know”

Thank you for reading! honestly this was a second attempt at this concept don’t really like it but its better than the first attempt.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x y/n #jujutsu gojo #eventual smut

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silvermoon-scrolls · 2 days

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So Dean knows about the @deanobingo event (kinda). And he did kind of challenge us to try to write about an as obscure character as possible, mentioning a Snacker bar commercial he did when he was 12.

So here you go. ~700 words inspired by combining ‘Snacker-bar-commecial kid’ with the bingo prompt ‘Bro code / Girl code’. Of course set in the late 80s/early 90s. ^^

The wind whips through Billy’s hair as his skateboard zigzags down the street. A good thing it’s downhill all the way to the arcade. A hella slog back home though.

After taking a sharp turn he automatically sticks one hand in the front pocket of his hoodie to make sure he still has his Snacker bar. Wouldn’t wanna lose that.

As the arcade comes into view, he immediately recognizes Jessie standing outside waiting for him, but it takes him a moment longer to identify whom it is he’s talking to. Billy lets out a low whistle when he realizes that it's Amy – Jessie’s longtime crush.

But considering the way Amy keeps looking over her shoulder like she’s searching for an escape route, it doesn't look like it’s going too well. Time for a distraction.

Kicking up his speed, Billy sets his sight on the curb. At the last moment he pops the board off the ground, turns it, and slides along the curve. Jumping off right next to Jessie and flipping the board up into his hands. He can’t help himself from grinning wildly. “What’s up?”

“Wicked trick,” Amy says, inspecting Billy and his skateboard appreciatively.

Billy’s grin fades a little when he notices Jessie’s disappointment at having his crush once again forget him. Oops. Thinking on his feet, Billy smiles widely. “Yeah, Jessie taught me that one.” He slaps his friend on the back for good measure.

“Really? I didn’t know you were good with a board,” Amy says with an impressed smile, her attention back on Jessie.

A little caught off guard, Jessie still rolls with it fairly well. “Ehem, yeah. I don't like showing off, you know,” he explains only a little hesitantly, trying to wave it away.

“Too bad. I think it would be fun to watch.” The hint of a teasing smile she bestows on Jessie is apparently enough for him to drown in those big, brown eyes of hers because he’s just standing there smiling stupidly while she holsters her bag as if to go.

Billy elbows Jessie out of his stupor. “You wanna hang together at the arcade?” he finally blurts out. “We could talk more about skating?”

Amy shrugs. “I don’t really know much about skateboarding,” she says noncommittally. “Except the music is really rad.”

“Oh!” Jessie’s eyes light up – Billy recognizes his geek mode activating. “I just put together this new tape,” Jessie exclaims excitedly. He slings off his backpack and starts rummaging through it. “It’s got all these sick beats I caught on this new radio station I discovered.” He brings up his walkman. “Maybe-- maybe we could go to the park and listen to it?”

To Billy’s astonishment it looks like Amy really is considering it, though Jessie’s hopeful smile begins to fade a little when her answer drags a little too long.

“I can’t,” she finally says. She actually looks genuinely sorry. “I have band practice later and I need to get home and grab something to eat.”

"Oh." Jessie lets out a disappointed sigh.

Bummer. So close. Billy chews the inside of his lip, but decides that Jessie is worth it. “No way!” he exclaims, pointing at something behind Amy. “Do you see that?”

The moment Amy turns around to look, Billy quickly fishes out the Snacker bar from his pocket, holding it up for Jessie to see, before dropping it into Jessie’s open backpack and gesturing with his eyes towards Amy.

“What? I don’t see anything,” Amy says, turning back.

“Oh, I thought I saw a cat with a top hat. My bad.” Billy gives her his most innocent smile, which only earns him a totally weirded out look in return.

Jessie hurriedly bends down to search his bag once more. “Uhm. What if we could eat at the park? I’ve got a Snacker we could share.” Jessie holds up his prize.

“Oh. Okay!” Amy says smiling, clearly won over by the promise of a delicious snack.

Jessie is grinning from ear to ear. “You don’t mind, do you Billy?” he asks.

“‘Cause not,” Billy assures him. Mates looks after each other.

Besides, he’s got more bars at home.

#the things i choose to spend my time on sometimes... 😆#creative writing #deanobingo2024 #snacker #dean o'gorman #silvermoon writes

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osaemu · 7 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ CAN I PUT YOU ON HOLD? ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ he picks up the phone in the middle of fucking you. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. cunniligus, lil' bit of dirty talk and more... i'm too tired to type it all out </3

author's note: idk personally i wouldn't take that.. but i guess i would if it was satoru. anywaysss enjoy

satoru's a busy man — balancing his responsibilities as a teacher and as a sorcerer is no easy task, but he finds a way to make it work.

anyone who's known him for longer than a minute can easily tell that satoru's committed to his line of work. as much as he complains about it, the truth is that it's one of his top priorities. maybe even the first one.

and you get a taste of just how devoted satoru is when he picks up the phone in the middle of fucking you.

"hello?" satoru cooes, eyes focused on your indignant expression as he holds a finger to his lips. "yeah, i'm free to talk. what is it?"

"free to talk?" you mouth at him incredulously. satoru replies with a wink and grins, enjoying the show. you're still pinned underneath him, bedsheets haphazardly strewn across your body, and satoru savors the sight of you all needy and pouty.

"yeah, take your time," satoru says amusedly to whoever's on the other side of the phone after a moment. when you reach up and swat satoru's chest indignantly, he uses his free hand to pin your wrists above your head, a clear warning in his eyes.

after a couple of mhm's and of course's, the conversation still isn't over. your patience is waning — who is satoru to just stop in the middle of fucking you to pick up a phone call and say that he's free to talk?

you try to distract yourself by thinking about the mindblowing sex you were having just minutes ago. the longing, glassy stares; the red scratch marks down satoru's back; and of course you couldn't leave out the words.

"fuck, you're taking me so well, sweetheart." "atta girl, you're a natural slut, aren't ya?" "your pussy was made to be fucked by me, wasn't it?"

how did that turn into "yeah, make sure the higher-ups know about this, otherwise they'll give me hell for it. mhm"?

after another bland minute, satoru rolls off of you and sits up with his back against the headboard, sheets falling to expose everything from his waist up.

you whine in impatience, glaring at him like a sullen child. satoru basically just edged you — one second you're about to get to best orgasm of your life, the next you're forced to watch your boyfriend chat on the phone nonchalantly as if he wasn't just moaning your name like a slut three minutes earlier.

satoru shoots a glare at you and pats his lap, pressing a finger to his lips as a reminder to stay quiet.

well then, he shouldn't have picked up the phone in the middle of fucking you.

you scoot yourself into his lap, purposefully positioning yourself so that your pussy just barely rubs against the head of satoru's still-dripping cock.

it's so worth it when you hear satoru inhale a sharp breath and start to squirm under you, somehow both trying to push himself inside but also trying to inch himself away. it's like he can't decide, but the way his face flushes red speaks volumes.

his voice is breathier than normal as he squeezes his watery eyes shut. "yeah yeah, that's perfect. you mind if i put y'on hold for a sec? alright, thanks."

you glance over at satoru as he retracts the phone from his ear and puts it on mute. not even a second later, he's back on you, manhandling you into a position where he can comfortably eat your pussy, a cheeky smile on his lips.

"you think you're so fucking funny, don't ya?" satoru cooes, looking up at you as he eats you out sloppily. a mixture of his saliva and your essence drips down his chin, and the lewd sounds slipping from his lips are pornworthy. the wail that slips out of your lips when satoru bites down on your thigh hard enough to leave a mark is anything but appropriate, especially when he presses his lips back to your pussy and laughs in the middle of tonguefucking you.

"fuck, you're so lucky my phone's on mute right now," satoru groans, still buried in between your thighs. "god, if my old man could hear you now—"

"your dad's on the other end of the phone?!" you gasp, swatting satoru's head and frantically reaching over him to check if the phone was actually on mute — knowing satoru, it could've just slipped his mind. intentionally.

satoru scowls, muttering a reminder for you to stay still while he eats his dessert before rolling his eyes and grumbling "what does it matter?"

"uh, that's embarrassing!" you whine. when satoru nudges his nose against you again, you reluctantly spread your thighs for him so he can continue his meal. satoru mumbles a thanks, but he doesn't respond beyond that.

"satoru!"

"what??"

"don't you have to finish your call?"

satoru sticks out his bottom lip, fixing his cerulean eyes on you and pouting. "you were just complaining about the call and now you want me to go back??"

"it's your dad, satoru," you groan, pushing his shoulders away from your legs and ignoring his protests. "you don't get any more pussy until you finish that damn call."

"i hate you."

"love you lots, baby."

satoru sighs dramatically and unmutes the call, not bothering to respond to his dad's questions with answers longer than a word or two. after another minute of this, his dad finally hangs up and satoru lets out an elated cheer.

he turns to you with a mischievous smirk.

"now, where were we?"

#osaemu #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

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dc-bitchin · 5 months

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the last post I just reblogged had a tiny moment of a very knowing Lois catching on to Tim's feelings for kon and I just. they should get to bond over having shitty dads in canon they SHOULD GET TO

#lois: listen... i know it sucks. i know you want better from him. i know you want him to be better FOR you.#and he should be! he should be better if he loves you. but the thing is... you gotta try too.#shutting him out immediately... being all snappy and pissy right from the get-go... i get it. you're keeping your defenses up.#you're expecting the worst from him because that's all you've been *made* to expect #but if you want better from him... you have to reach out too. you have to *try.*#and... listen. if he doesn't change even *after* you try? if he doesn't get better?#and you've put in too much effort for any apology to be worth it?#then you're fully in your rights to just. pack up and leave once you hit 18. you don't *have* to give any attention that he doesn't.#but if you *want* it to change. you gotta try. otherwise? you're gonna be looking back at it and wishing you had #tim: ...... *starts fucking bawling*#LISTEN i think the way jake drake is written as a tragedy is so. so. gawd #he only started trying to be better for tim after they had gone through so much pain #and then #and THEN #RIGHT AS THINGS WERE STARTING TO GET BETTER #HE DIED #DO I THINK HE EVER WOULD HAVE FULLY APPLOGIZED FOR HOW ABSENT AND DISTANT AND UNCARING HE WAS???#NO! BUT!!!! HE WAS FUCKING TRYING!!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PARENTS DO NOT DO THAT!!!!#is this me projecting my own fatherly issues? maybe. mind your business #lois lane #tim drake #those are the only tags i'm using i don't feel like brainstorming for tags rn aldjsjs #anyways. they should get to bond over kind of shitty dads

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slvttyplum · 13 days

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suguru was the family friend that came around every once in a while when a big event was happening. everyone knew who he was, and he knew who everyone else was, including you, you were his favorite, so he knew you very well.

sneaking off to the bathroom so he could touch all over you and whisper in your ear how much he missed you and how the both of you shouldn't be doing them, how much he missed your touch and sweet taste that would liner on his lips for hours.

it wasn't very often the both of you got see each other, but when y'all did just know the bedroom sounded like a war zone the way y'all was fucking on each other, he just couldn't contain himself and the way his eyes lit up whenever they landed on you was like no other, it would've been too much to say that he loved you, but he was almost there.

this was a secret the both of you kept for years, no one knew that the both of you locked lips with each other after hours in your bedroom, or how his hands roamed over your body while he whispered in your ear all the things he couldn't say in front of everyone else, he knew this was dangerous, but he loved it.

he loved covering your mouth while he dug dig inside your pussy pressing on your sweet spot, his teeth dig into his lower lip as he tried not to moan from how good you felt around him. every time y'all had sex, it felt like the first time, his body always reacted to you quickly, once he was three strokes deep, he already wanted to end it and cum inside of you and whisper how much he was sorry, making it up to you by fucking you over and over again.

once he texted you that he touched down in your city, you were in that car and on the way to the airport. seeing him was like christmas to not only you but your family, they all loved him, they treated him like their own, so what would they think if they knew that he was fucking you deep at 2 o clock in the morning?

the situation was a little tricky to slip over and keep under wraps, but the one thing that made everything worth it was him making you cum and curl your toes. suguru loved fucking you, you had the cutest reactions and made the sexiest sounds, it was worth the flight over to make you cum and cry, he just couldn't get enough of you.

your pussy made him want to get an apartment in your city right down the street and move you in, that's how he felt every time you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist and whispering into his ear to fuck you harder.

“i don't care if they hear us, i need you.” your whiny voice in his ear as he outs one hand around your neck and pushes into you deeper and faster, the tip of his dick hitting your sweet spot every second making the moans that were previously caught in your throat slip out, he knew you needed him just as much as he needed you.

not only was the sex fucking amazing, but he loved being with you, loved seeing that pretty smile and hearing you laugh, loved how you treated everyone, especially him. maybe it wouldn't be a stretch to say that he loved you, because he did, there was no denying that.

whenever he got to see you he would smile ear to ear, or getting random phone calls from him that went from checking in on you to four hour rambles, but it was all worth it because he wanted you, he wanted you all the time.

this wasn't just perfect sex with a family friend he knew since seventeen, this was sex with someone he's been in love with since seventeen.

his dick deep inside, practically melting inside of you from how warm and tight it was, his mouth near your ear, slowly leaning down giving you a kiss on your neck, a quiet giggle slipping from your lips as you tighten your arms around him, your fingers running through his hair, sinking into the pleasure.

“i love you…” his voice quiet as he pushes into you again. leaning up to look at your face, his flushes as he continues to push deep inside of you, his love for you was never going to change.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #jjk suguru #jjk geto #suguru geto #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto smut #geto #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru

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suguann · 2 months

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There comes a point where Simon finally admits that he hates your new boyfriend—not that he’s liked any of your past relationships over the years, but this one he’s more vocal about—with a name not worth remembering. Matt? Martin?

He’d stopped trying after his first week back from work.

“I don’t fucking trust him,” he says one night while at the pub right under your apartment; it’s become a weekly ritual of sorts when he’s on leave ever since meeting you there on Soap’s birthday several years back.

“You say that about every guy I have you meet,” you tell him in that know-it-all voice that you always use with him. “You hardly even know him, and his name’s Marcus, by the way. It wouldn’t kill you to use it.”

He snorts. “Love, the bloke would put his cock in anyone with tits and a warm cunt.”

“He wouldn’t,” your voice is soft because maybe you already know.

He would.

You’re so fucking oblivious that you don’t even realize this, but there’s nothing except stars in your eyes whenever you look at (or even talk about) the Naval officer who thinks he’s some bigshot because he can fly a plane.

Even now, at your boyfriend’s promotion after-party in some back alley nightclub, he’s hardly talked to you or offered to get you a drink. You’re always too nervous to order one by yourself, and only Simon—tall and imposing standing beside you—could have the grumpiest bartender reach for the blender to make a blended cocktail.

When he comes back with your drink—too big fingers unfolding the tiny umbrella for you—he watches your boyfriend (Marcus) flirt with a girl in a tight leather dress on the other side of the room. It’s that moment that he decides he’s tired of you giving your attention to someone who doesn’t deserve it, tired of you lying belly up for men who only want to sink their teeth into you and leave once they’ve had their fill.

He likes to think he’s a pretty good friend—opening your eyes to something better is a job he takes rather seriously.

“It’s just a bit of fun,” he says after coming back with your third margarita, a small amount of frothy liquid sloshing over the side when he sets it down in front of you. “It’s okay to want it.”

You bite your lip, eyes dropping down to where he’s patting his thigh. “Just fun?”

“Yes, love.” He smiles. “Just fun.”

Let me.

Whether you’re tipsier than he thought or he’s just really persuasive, it’s easy to get you crawling into his lap in the corner of the cracked leather booth. His hands wander the span of your smooth thighs where your short skirt doesn’t reach, and he muffles a groan in your shoulder when you start squirming against the tent in his jeans.

You say his name like a warning when his hands find their way under your skirt, yet you’re biting back a moan and don’t tell him to stop.

Simon undoes his jeans and shifts them down before pushing up the back of your skirt and adjusting your hips to watch the tip of his dick slide between the covered cleft of your ass. Nobody in the room can see what the both of you are doing with your skirt fanning around his lap, but someone could if they were truly looking, and that has him tugging your panties to the side so he can feel you.

"Your boyfriend is too stupid to realize you're sitting here riding my lap. What do you think he'd say if he saw you like this?"

“W-wait, Simon!” you squeak. “What if he sees—”

He’s almost tempted to roll his eyes at your blind devotion—I’ll deal with it—dealing with it would be him making sure the prick never tries talking to you again.

Then, his fingers, like iron at your hips, jerk you back to impale you on his cock. "Fuck," he says, voice trembling around the edges.

“O-oh! It’s too—ah—too big!”

He wraps a hand around the slender slope of your throat, fingers digging into vulnerable flesh as he pulls you back until his lips are at your ear, nose pressing into the soft skin of your cheek. “Come on, love. I know you can take the whole thing. Right inside this tight cunt.”

Simon thrusts into you shallowly, just the tip going in and out, and you whine, little fingers scrabbling at his wrist—gasping and shivering and bucking in the trap of his arms.

A smirk curls at the edges of his mouth when he finally bottoms out in your hot-wet cunt for your boyfriend to see from the other side of the room. He'd laugh at how his jaw drops, but he can only manage little choked intakes of air at the feel of you wrapped so tightly around him.

“Squeeze my cock for me—fuck, there you go.” He presses a kiss below your ear and reaches down to pet your soaked clit with his thumb. Feels the moment you realize that your boyfriend is watching when you tense up.

“I’ll deal with it,” he says again and again until you’re melting into him, thighs trembling around his. “Promise. I promise…”

I apologize if you see this again! I was trying to edit it, and it wouldn't format right with the gif. You can find part two here.

masterlist

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #mw2 x reader #ghost smut #cod x reader #cod smut #mw2 smut #.things i write

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writingouthere · 2 months

Text

exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk #sukuna

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