#Tech Burner | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 1 year ago

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❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally.

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them.

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents.

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him.

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow.

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you—

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said.

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—”

“That was years ago—”

“She has a key to your apartment—“

“So do you!” he glares.

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,”

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—”

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,”

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,”

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins.

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again.

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout?

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about?

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time.

You: Let’s keep it that way! :)

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table.

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again.

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything.

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway. And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night.

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,”

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched.

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,”

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh.

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,”

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,”

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,”

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned.

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him.

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own.

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it.

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,”

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?”

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch.

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance.

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine.

One he couldn’t dare to cross.

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t.

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem.

Or at least, not his main problem.

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out.

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut.

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded.

That should have been his first clue.

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold?

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you.

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping.

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on.

Fuck.

No, he couldn’t.

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand.

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit.

“Suguru, please—“

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does.

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass.

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now.

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold.

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it.

What the fuck is going on?

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him.

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties—

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked.

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up.

“It’s not like you to call—“

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,”

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?”

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?”

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought.

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on.

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice.

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?”

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,”

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,”

His phone buzzed with texts from you:

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me!

You: are you home?

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it.

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter.

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,”

Another knock.

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight.

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?”

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,”

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe.

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers.

“Suguru—“

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you.

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck.

He was so fucked.

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop. He couldn’t. Not until you agreed.

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?”

And he can’t hold back.

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt.

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips.

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse.

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork.

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body.

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,” And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides.

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time.

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath.

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs.

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?”

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,”

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,”

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes.

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt.

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth.

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts.

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again.

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them.

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,”

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care.

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,”

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds.

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan.

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches.

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him.

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now.

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it.

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart.

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do.

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers.

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would.

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure.

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—”

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,”

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips,

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you.

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,”

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,”

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—”

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt.

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—”

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—”

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,”

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,”

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you.

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water.

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?”

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment.

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you—

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you.

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little.

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip, “Sugu?”

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water.

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you?

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?”

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,”

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?”

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off.

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys.

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,”

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no,

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies.

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera.

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.”

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

#sab [mlist]#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #jjk x you

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

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

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

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

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

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

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

#pluralistic #trustbusting #big tech #gift guide #kickstarter #the internet con #books #audiobooks #enshitiffication #disenshittification #crowdfunders #seize the means of computation #audible #amazon #verso

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serge-emco-tech-heating-cooling · 2 years ago

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#Oil Heating Tune-Up #oil furnace #oil boiler #oil burner #emco tech heating and cooling #oil heater service #oil heat coupon

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kookieskookiejar · 9 days ago

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A Nightwing x Starfire (reader) AU

Synopsis:

Jungkook said goodbye to you years ago when the two of you were just on the cusp of adulthood, he swore he'd never love again if it wasn't you, but fate gives him another chance when you return to earth, he just didn't imagine that it'd feel like there's galaxies between the both of you despite being right next to you.

Warnings under the cut!

Warnings: extreme levels of down badism, brief pining, fluff, smut, unprotected sxx, manhandling. Jungkook calls reader the nickname, Star multiple times.

Jungkook feels alive as he speeds down the streets of Gotham at nearly midnight on his bike, the wind blowing past his face is an exhilaration to him, still within the speed limit, for now, while there's yet to have any crime that he needs to tackle.

Gotham is quiet at this time, crime rate has been driving people away from staying out in the streets after 10pm, sometimes people would choose to linger at busier streets where police are deployed to keep crime at bay, unfortunately for Jungkook, that means he needs to pick up the slack, there never seem to be enough troops, the number of officers decreasing by the year as crimes rates increase, no one wants to risk their life, Jungkook understands, that's what the bat family and the titans are for, as long as his families stand, then Gotham would never end up in the clutches of injustice.

Suddenly, Jungkook picks up a scream at his 9 o'clock, immediately revving his bike to go faster, his head scanning left right and up down to look for the source of the distress.

When he finally locates suspicious sounds coming from an alleyway after several turns, he sees a faint neon green glow ascending into the sky.

Jungkook gets off his bike to inspect the opening of the alleyway, a woman leaves the dark alley with a huff, swinging her handbag back onto her shoulder. Jungkook waits till she leaves before he goes into the alleyway.

A man in a full black attire comes into view, tied up with his own jacket, cursing something about some glow stick bitch.

“Who tied you up?” Jungkook asks while texting Commissioner Gordon with his burner phone to send someone over.

“Some bitch with green powers,” the man says with a huff, having given up escaping at this point, putting up a fight with Nightwing would be suicidal.

“You're sure? Red hair?”

“Didn't see, too dark,” he mutters, squirming in his spot.

“Sit tight, someone's coming to get you,” Jungkook says before pocketing his phone.

Jungkook takes his leave, climbing back onto his bike to wait for the police car.

While he waits, his personal phone rings, he has received a notification, he notes, retrieving his phone, he swipes it open to reveal a text from Barbara.

‘Wanna come over after your patrol?’

‘Can't, got a project I need to finish up tonight after the patrol, next time.’

Jungkook then pockets his phone and focuses back on what the guy said, green powers, and from what he had seen, a figure that flies with a green glow that's all too familiar, if his assumptions are correct, that means you're back on earth.

Does Jungkook actually have a project to finish up? No he doesn't, but did he lie to Barbara in order to get to the bottom of your likely appearance? Yes.

But to Jungkook’s defense, he and Barbara are a strictly no strings attached kind of situation, even though Barbara has always dropped hints about being keen on the idea of taking what they currently have going on to the next level, Jungkook just can't.

It's an open secret at this point, why he's not open to a relationship, and it's also the same reason why he's now taking off to the titans’ tower after the arrival of a police car.

Jungkook immediately dashed into the tech room where he keeps track of all the latest news and happenings within Gotham and other neighbouring cities, including the atmosphere, but before he could check if there was any unusual activity other than Superman's daily fly out for the sun's direct rays, the monitors that show the tower’s live security footage picks up something out of the ordinary, Jungkook clicks onto the panel to enlarge the footage, and immediately he recognises the lock of unnaturally bright red hair flowing in tune with the breeze, the helipad area has always been the windiest.

Jungkook runs out of the tech room and takes the fire escape to the helipad, foregoing the lift. When he finally reached the top, he takes a deep breath to calm himself before he pushes the heavy metal door open.

Jungkook’s eyes lock onto your figure, calmly sitting by the edge of the building with your legs dangling over the air before you caught the sound of the door opening, your head whipping back, your eyes wide as you recognise the person standing behind you, so different yet you still recognise the energy that radiates off of Jungkook.

“Didn't know you still lived here,” you say before patting the spot next to you, “join me.”

Jungkook silently walks to you, taking a seat next to you, as close to you as possible before he scans your face, you've grown into your features so beautifully from when he had last seen you when you were both teenagers, a little bit more mature, more woman, for a lack of better wording, not that Jungkook could think up of anything right now other than that he's glad that you're back.

“You came back,” Jungkook says, still in disbelief, he thinks he's dreaming and fears that he might wake up at any moment.

“Yeah, the whole ruling over the planet thing isn't really my thing,” you say with a shrug.

“How did you convince your aunt and uncle to let you go?” Jungkook asks before he realised that he still has his mask on, yanking it off his head and pocketing it quickly, he even catches a ghost of a smile on your lips before you school your face back to a neutral expression.

‘Why are you being so distant towards him?’ Jungkook wonders to himself.

“My other cousin offered to take over the throne through a battle that I lost intentionally,” you explain, the throne would've been yours ages ago if your sister hadn't framed you for killing your own parents, but he knows you never wanted to rule the planet.

“How long have you been back?” Jungkook asks, you don't look like you just got back, you have regular clothes on, why didn't you look for him first thing you got back?

“Almost a week, crashed at Raven’s place,” you say offhandedly, as if you didn't send Jungkook’s mind spiralling, the most forefront question in his mind on repeat right now questioning if what the two of you had was merely a fever dream.

“I'm glad you're back, I really am, the team isn't the same without you,” Jungkook says, but he feels like he's got a mouthful of sand weighing his words down.

“I thought you're more of a solo act now, Raven’s told me all about your promotion, Nightwing,” you tease, your first smile of the night, Jungkook notes, at least you're genuinely happy for him.

“Yeah, Bruce had me promoted because he wants to spend more time with Selina,” Jungkook jokes, laughing at his own joke, but when he realises what position he's in right now, he sombers up, suddenly things aren't so funny anymore, if Bruce could get his happy ending, then could he get his?

“They seem like a happy couple, can't wait for the wedding,” you say while nodding your head, as if you're very certain that the two would end up being wedded.

“I sure hope they do end up together forever, the last thing I'd want is for Bruce to be in a pissy mood all the time,” Jungkook says with a sigh, knowing Bruce's temper, “speaking of forever, will you ever return back to Tamaran, or are you staying on earth permanently?” Jungkook asks, he couldn't help it, he has to know if he has a chance with you.

“It depends, I'll stay on earth if I'm given a reason to,” you say with a quick glance to Jungkook before you quickly change the topic, “how about we get back to your patrol? I'm sure you stopped halfway because you saw a glimpse of me during it, I'll join you, it's been so long since we last did this,” you say before getting up and walking back to the fire escape.

Jungkook follows you wordlessly like a lovesick puppy, he can't help it, he finally feels like he has something to look forward to other than catching crooks and passing tests.

When he follows you down the stairs, he sees your fit more closely under the help of the fluorescent lights, and Jungkook curses internally when he catches sight of your bubble butt in no other than the iconic juicy couture tight sweats that have a bejewelled juicy stamped across your cheeks, the pink velvet material sticking close to your skin.

A little too soon for his liking, the both of you have reached the living area, and to Jungkook’s shock, you strip right in front of him, revealing a new suit underneath the matching set, a bodysuit with tiny gems of many shades of purple and green, the familiar red gem from your old suit remains its position beneath your clavicle.

“Wow,” Jungkook says, starstruck, your suit, your body, he'd get down on his knees right now to beg if you asked, and your new boots, they go as far as your uppertighs, how did he not catch the tip of your boots just now?

“Yeah, the old suit doesn't fit all that well anymore and it was customary for me to get a new one once I became ruler, is it too much?” you question with a twirl and Jungkook feels the breath being knocked out of himself at the sight of your body being wrapped up so prettily in your new suit.

“No, not at all, you look beautiful,” Jungkook sputters before pressing the button that calls the lift up to this floor, and fortunately for him, it arrives sooner than expected so he doesn't have to look like a loser in front of you anymore.

“Thank you, your new suit looks great on you as well,” you say, complimenting him, and Jungkook has never been more glad about his mop of hair covering the tips of his ears, you've never said the same for his Robin costume, in fact, sometimes you'd say it was cute because of all the bright colours, just to annoy him, “a bit different from the Robin suit, but not in a bad way, just makes me realise how much we've grown,” you say say with a bittersweet sigh, in a blink of an eye the two of you are now in your 20s, and Jungkook has grown into a man so suddenly.

“I'm still the same Jungkook you've always known, nothing’s changed, Star,” Jungkook insists, stepping closer to you, but to his misfortune, the lift doors slid open and you moved away from him, excited to see the changes of the garage after so many years.

“We've all changed, Jungkook, change is inevitable, see, you even have a new bike, I love the blue highlights,” you gushed, taking a closer look when Jungkook turned it on through the comms on his suit.

“I could take you for a spin instead of flying,” Jungkook offers as he leans on his bike, gazing at you intently to scan for your reaction, but he's quickly sidetracked, god, you're so pretty.

“It's better to scan from below and above, Kook,” you explain, brushing off his offer without a second of hesitation, but Jungkook isn't the type to give up, he's Nightwing, for fuck’s sake.

“I'll drop you off after the bridge, how's that sound? You've never ridden this bike before, I swear it's even better than the old one,” Jungkook says, even throwing in his puppy eyes that he knows you can't resist to convince you.

“Fine,” you lament with a roll of your eyes, “and you said you never changed, you used to hate it when I asked to go for a spin behind you when we were kids,” you say with a huff as you watch him swing a leg over the huge thing, why is his suit so damn skintight, it's too distracting.

“That's because we were kids and I was being a dick, I let you ride behind me when we started-,” Jungkook cuts himself off, he doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that the two of you are no longer together, that he might never be yours ever again.

“This does feel sturdier than the last one,” you say offhandedly as you climb up behind Jungkook, trying your best to leave a gap between your bodies.

“It goes faster too, Bruce had the old one made to be ‘teen safe’, so you gotta hold on tight,” Jungkook says, albeit still distracted by the messy thoughts in his head.

‘Get your head out of the gutter, damn it,’ Jungkook cursed at himself as he puts on his helmet, then with a kick of his leg, he started the engine and took off.

Immediately he hears you curse by his ear and feels your body fall against his due to the force of the sudden speed, the feeling so familiar but so different, and intrusively, Jungkook thinks it'd feel even better if both of you didn't have any clothes on right now, but he quickly buries that thought into the back of his head before he sports a half mass in front of you, and he before he knows it, the connection bridge between the tower and town comes to an end, so he hits the brakes and lets you fly off on your own, tailing your route via his bike, your beautiful silhouette painting the night sky a pretty shade of neon green wherever you go.

To Jungkook’s surprise, Gotham is quiet tonight, as if all the criminals, other than the one from earlier, decided to take this random Tuesday night off, and so the patrol was coming to an end, that is, until he sees you flying down to check something out a few meters away, and so Jungkook speeds down to meet you, expecting to beat up someone, he quickly unseaths his pair of escrima sticks, quickly advancing to where he'd last caught your green glow, but instead of seeing you in action, he sees you crouched next to a thin and frail old woman next to a dumpster.

“Hey, how about I give you some money for the night to find somewhere to stay for a few days and have some actual meals-

“I can't accept that, child, I'm a nuisance enough as it is, homeless at such an old age,” she says with a shake of her head at her own misfortune.

“What's up?” Jungkook asks you, trying to assess the situation at hand now that he's not in offense mode, putting his escrima sticks away.

“This grandma here, her husband recently passed away and the old man didn't leave her anything in the will and instead signed everything away to the mistress’s family, including their own home, she's been trying to look for a job, but no one's willing to hire an old woman for all the jobs she went interviews for,” you explain.

“Hey, it's not the end of the world, ma'am, do you know the stew kitchen in Chinatown? They have rooms above the store for people who need a place to stay, as long as you're willing to help with the volunteer work in any way in your capacity, maybe you can help with the kitchen work?” Jungkook suggests, and the old lady thanks him profusely for the suggestion, “here, take the money and look for a nearby hotel to stay for the night, order some food for tonight and tomorrow's breakfast, then take a cab to Chinatown tomorrow, alright?” Jungkook says as he fishes out his wallet from the side, pulling out enough money to last her a few days, just in case she needs to rest up longer at wherever she's staying at.

“Thank you so much, you two youngsters are too kind, thank you,” she says with a bow before the two of you guide her to the nearest hotel, which is only a few blocks away.

“So much for ‘I’ when you clearly don't have any money on you,” Jungkook teases, and for a moment, you don't know what he meant, until you recall the moment when he joined the conversation and what you had said.

“Oh come on, I'm not the heir to Wayne Enterprise here,” you say as a defense, shoving Jungkook playfully before you take flight again, but before you could get too far, Jungkook calls out to you.

“How about a race on the rooftops? First one to reach the bridge wins,” Jungkook suggests, and he knows it's an offer you won't turn down, the two of you used to love being a menace on all the rooftops, sometimes you'd run to the Wayne Tower just to piss him off.

“Oh you're going down, Jeon,” you say before you fly down to grasp his arms with your hands, Jungkook’s gotten much heavier than when you last did this, but you still manage to toss him up the nearest roof and begin the race.

Running side by side until a building is too tall to be reached by foot, you would fly and Jungkook would employ his trusty grappling hook gun, and you haven't felt this free in ages.

Jungkook could tell that whatever worries you had are now momentarily faded to the back of your head as you laugh at a particularly odd office garden rooftop landscape.

Soon the race comes to an end, and it seems like you were about to win, but Jungkook had purposefully fell back to do this, instead of reaching for his grappling hook gun for the final leap, he reaches for his lasso gun, aiming it at you, letting the ropes encase you.

“Jungkook! What the fuck are you up to, oh my god,” you demand in disbelief, you can't for the life of you put up with this man and the antics he springs on you, and to think he did some growing up while you were gone.

“If I didn't lasso you up, you'd fly all the way back to the tower,” Jungkook says with a tut as he reigns you in, until he successfully pulls you into his embrace, a gasp leaving your lips at the lack of distance between the two of you.

“Okay, cowboy, I think it's time to let me go, you caught me, breaking the rules to do it by the way, I don't think I agreed to a chase but a race,” you say as you wiggle in his hold, seeing if you can break free without breaking his new toy.

“It was too tempting, thought I'd try out this new tool, you know,” Jungkook says with a shrug and that smug expression on his face that unfortunately for you, still gives you butterflies.

“Aw, did daddy get you new toys?” you tease, but you regret it in an instant when you see the way his eyes darken.

“Don't you call him that,” Jungkook warns as his grip on you tightens, almost bruising, and you really shouldn't say what's on your mind right now, but you can't help but give into the temptation, blaming the fact that being so close to Jungkook derails all common sense from your head.

“Why not? Who should I be calling that then?” you retort, chest heaving in anticipation of Jungkook’s next move.

But when his eyes snap to your lips, you feel like a bucket of cold water washed over you, waking you up from whatever charm Jungkook had you on, pushing him away with both palms on his sturdy chest.

“We shouldn't,” you say as you try your best to loosen yourself from his hold with no avail, you forgot how annoying you used to find his little toys to be.

“Why not? Why are you acting so distant? Why can't we go back to how things were between us? You said you're not leaving, are you planning to leave earth again?” Jungkook asks as he feels his heart sink, like his whole world is crumbling around him, which is ironic because his whole world now resides in his arms.

“Kook, I don't want to get between you and Barbara, I don't want to wreck whatever you have going on with her, it's wrong and unfair to her,” you explain, after giving up on escaping his hold.

“Sweetheart, whatever I have going on with Barbara, it's casual, just an easy stress relief for me, she's nothing to me, whatever I have going on with her, it comes to an end, I feel nothing for her, it's always been you, all this time, since we were kids, I love you, Star,” Jungkook confesses, he sounds like such a jerk to Barbara, but he doesn't give a fuck as long as you get the message that he's all in for you, that he'd give up the world for you.

“Really? You don't have any feelings for Barbara?” you ask again, just to be certain, you could always tell when he lied as a kid, you just have to look into his eyes closer, just to see if he has even a sliver of doubt.

“No, but I do know that I love you, with all my heart,” Jungkook says once more before he steals a quick peck of your lips, god, he can taste the grape flavoured lip balm on you, and he thinks he's found a new addiction.

“I love you too, Jungkook, now if you could be a gentleman and let me go, that would be great,” you say before you feel the ropes around you loosen, but just as quickly, Jungkook’s arms are around you again, that bright smile that you missed all these years is back on his beautiful face.

“How did you find out about Barbara anyways?” Jungkook asks, head tilted to a side like that would instantly help him think clearer about the situation, cute that he still has this habit, you thought to yourself.

“Raven,” that one word and Jungkook makes a fuss about how she's always so privy to her own privacy and never about his.

“Oh come on, I would've found out one way or another, could've just tailed you myself,” you say with a shrug, and both of you know you're right, it's how you found out all the surprises Jungkook was planning for you back then when you were dating after all.

“Ride back with me,” Jungkook suggests, and you give in, letting him hold your hand, leading you to where his bike is parked, camouflaged with its invisibility feature.

“Did this thing drive itself like the last one?” you ask as you spot the bike right in front of you knowing that it sure wasn't half an hour ago, to which Jungkook tells you that it does in fact have a self driving mode, and so you formulate something in your mind that probably breaks like ten traffic laws at once.

When you told Jungkook to lie down facing you instead of the road on his bike, he thought you were joking, until you straddled him and told him to put the bike on self driving mode, that's when he pieced two and two together, and Jungkook’s never been more grateful for technology, oh and also his strong thigh muscles, because he's damn sure if he's any weaker, he would've been faced down on the road right now instead of groaning into your lips as he indulges in the feeling of having you grind down on his boner as the two of you zoom past empty traffic, he needs to tell Alfred to wipe the traffic cameras later, he thinks to himself before he feels your hand gripping his cock through his suit, breaking his chain of thoughts.

“Baby, when did you get this adventurous?” Jungkook asks with a shake of his head in disbelief as he feels your hand wander from his length to his chest, groping around, trying your best to find his nipples as you take his earlobe between your lips, biting playfully.

“Just making up for lost time,” you reply quickly before you finally found one of his nipples, lightly pinching the sensitive bud, which garners quite the enthusiasm from his junior down there, twitching beneath your clothed core.

“We have all the time in the world, and also, we're back to headquarters,” Jungkook notifies you before he tells you to shift so he can park his bike.

In the meantime, you let your eyes wander around the garage, taking in the changes, there's way more vehicles here now, in the past there was only Jungkook’s bike and the Cyborg truck that Mingyu used to ferry all of you around town, now there's a fleet of supercars lined up next to each other.

“They're all yours?”, you ask as you let Jungkook carry you down his bike, even though both of you know damn well you're more than capable of getting off yourself.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a shrug like they're mere toy cars, well to him they might be, especially in terms of financial value.

“Nice, it's been so long since I drove, can't wait to take them for a spin,” you say offhandedly, but you see Jungkook tense up immediately.

“Babe, come on, the last time you drove-

“Oh come on, I just suck at parking, that's what boyfriends are for anyways, and yeah it's been years but I'm sure it'll be fine, I have a license, remember?” you deadpan, ignoring the million dollar jackpot look Jungkook is currently sporting.

“What did you just say?” Jungkook asks, that stupid goofy smile still on his face as he reaches for you, resting his hands on your hips.

“That I'm driving one of these bad boys, so you can either panic in the passenger seat or not be in the car at all,” you say with finality, you'll steal his car keys if you have to, you're sure you can find his car keys somewhere in this damn building.

“Nuh uh, you're not getting out of this, missy, repeat the first part,” Jungkook says, but before he could corner you to the nearest wall, you escape from his embrace.

“Only if you catch me!” you holler as you run to the lift at top speed, shutting the doors in Jungkook’s face.

“God damn it, I forgot how she drives me mad,” Jungkook mutters to himself as he watches the lift stop at the 4th floor before he dashes to the fire escape to track you down, but knowing you, you would take the stairs to other floors to throw him off your trail.

‘I got my work cut out for me, don't I?’ Jungkook thought to himself with a sigh.

There isn't much at 4th floor, just a storage room for weapons, numerous floors before the top floors are for storage, not enough space for anything else, even though he catches a whiff of the scent of your perfume, he knows you're long gone, as confirmed by the lift’s panel now showing that you're at the 35th floor, where the main floor resides, Jungkook decides to take the lift this time round, just in case you decide to play a prank on him and head back down the lower floors.

When he reached his destination, he catches a glimpse of green glow in the dark at the corridor which leads to the rooms, he knows you're leaving him crumbs to follow, so he plays along, chasing the green glow until it disappears down a hallway, when he sees the observation deck at the end, he wonders if you're waiting for him there, that's where the two of you had your first time after all, but when he gets there, it's empty, so Jungkook goes to his next best guess, your room, scanning his face at the security pad before the automated doors slide open to reveal you, standing in the dark other than the light emitting from your hand as a makeshift torch light, looking at all your old photos that you had hung on the wall.

“Caught you,” Jungkook says as he wraps an arm around you, noticing that you've changed into an old sweater of yours, and suddenly he feels like nothing really ever changed, you're still you and he's still the Jungkook that has always felt love and affection towards you.

“Took you long enough,” you say with an exasperated sigh.

“Well, someone decided to change routes last minute, speaking of change, I didn't move any of your stuff, just came in here to clean from time to time,” Jungkook didn't let the cleaners go in your room, he didn't want anything out of order if you ever came back.

“Thank you, thought Mingyu would've converted my room into a gaming room by the time I got back,” you joke, but deep down you always had a gut feeling that Jungkook would leave your room as it is.

“He's moved in with Sarah and they only come back to visit from time to time during semester break or long weekends, so a gaming room would be Sarah’s issue now,” Jungkook explains with a chuckle knowing damn well Sarah isn't going to let him have a gaming room.

“I'm glad they finally got together,” you still remember the days of Mingyu downloading random foreign languages to impress Sarah when they volunteered at the pet shelter together.

“Mhm, I think you owe me a label too,” Jungkook says, laying kisses on your neck where the sweater is swooped down, trying to get as much exposed skin as possible.

“How about you show me you're worthy of the label first?” you retort, turning to face him because you know he'd be caught off guard, and true to your assumptions, he looks damn cute with his mouth popped open in shock and eyebrows shot up his forehead before he quickly composes himself, now his gaze is dangerous, like a predator that stumbled upon his prey.

“Oh baby, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into,” Jungkook says before he pushes you onto your bed, caging you with his arms, but before he could take things up a notch, you push his lips away with a palm.

“Not in front of my kids, babe,” you say before Jungkook looks at you all confused, that is until you reach a hand out to ‘pet’ your snoopy plushie, one of the many plushies on your bed.

“Seriously?” Jungkook questions ludicrously, eyeing all of your plushies with a frown, he's getting cockblocked by plushies, of all things.

“Seriously, it's either we're doing this in your room or you're not getting no pussy,” you say, definitely not up for debate with that stern tone of yours.

“Fuck it, fine,” Jungkook says before he scoops you up in his arms without any strain, as if you weigh as much as a feather.

“Fuck, you could've just let me walk, it's just two steps,” you say as you hold onto Jungkook’s shoulders for dear life, shaken up by how quickly he had you up in his arms.

“Can't risk you running away again,” Jungkook says as he scans his palm to unlock his room, crossing the last few steps to toss you on his comfy bed unceremoniously before getting back into the previous position he was in back in your room.

“Have you ever brought her here?” there you go running your mouth with something stupid, but you couldn't help it, scanning his face.

“I'd never bring her up here, the Titans Tower is our place, even if by some miracle, I managed to move on enough to marry someone, it'd still feel wrong to bring them up here, that's such a jerk thing to say, but I'll never have to worry about that anymore,” Jungkook says before he resumes kissing you, all the anger and longing pouring into the kiss, he isn't mad at you, he'll never be, but the thought of him needing to settle for someone who isn't you struck a nerve, his hands are grabbing every every slither of skin he could get even though his fingertips are sealed in his suit as he dominates the kiss, rolling his hips into yours, cursing at the way his cock is straining in the confines of his suit.

“Does it hurt?” you ask after your hand stills the movement of his hips, clenching your thighs as close as you can at the sight of the bulge he's sporting.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head, huffing at the fact that he probably looks like a hot mess right now.

“Let me make it feel better, where's the zipper of this suit?” you ask as you use your question as an excuse to feel him up, Jungkook could tell what you're up to with the way your eyes seem to get lost tracing his body, but he lets you indulge in this moment, all those gruelling hours training are suddenly so fucking worth it.

“It's at the back,” Jungkook tells you before he reaches a hand back to locate the zipper, but you stopped him in his tracks.

“I'll do it, but first, could you do a bit of quick spin, couldn't admire this suit on you before you had me distracted,” you say with a twirl of your index finger as emphasis.

“Someone's being greedy tonight,” Jungkook comments, but obliges to your demands, doing a slow turn with his arms up like he's surrendering himself to you, and in a sense he is.

“Famished,” was the first word to come to mind when your eyes landed on the absolute globes that is his butt, unable to hold back, you land a smack on one of his cheeks, in complete awe when you hear the resounding smack along with the recoil of the meat.

“You did not just,” Jungkook says as he looks back to see you still staring at his butt like he's got a million dollars stacked on his butt, and he's still in complete shock at what you just did.

“It was too hard to resist,” you say before standing up from the bed to wrestle Jungkook onto the bed, his stomach connecting with the bed with a huff, internally groaning at what he's gotten himself into by falling head first with an alien being with inhuman strength.

“This is the comfiest cushion ever,” you say after you straddle Jungkook’s hips, taking a seat right on his butt.

“How much time are you gonna spend admiring my ass, Star?” Jungkook questions with a sigh, he's going to have a long night ahead of him, he's sure.

“Who said anything about your ass? It's just easier to take off your suit this way,” you lie through your teeth as you wiggle your hips, but nonetheless, you began unzipping his suit, revealing golden tan skin, and to Jungkook’s misfortune, he feels your hand tracing each ridge and curve of his back muscles, he wants to flip you over and get it on with, but he knows he has no match for you in terms of physical strength, at least not when you're in such a position.

Jungkook is anticipating your next move, but at the same time, he can't help but bask in the attention and care you're showing him, the way you'd caress every bit of skin you can get your hands on then he feels a flutter of a quick peck of your lips, as if you can just tell he's been pushing himself to the max just to do his best in protecting the city, but as you trail lower, Jungkook’s arousal once again stirs as he feels the zipper reach the end of the line, to which he just realised, he recently had Alfred tailor it to end below the curve of his butt because he was tired of yanking the suit up his butt when he's in a rush, he groans internally at the thought of you poking fun at him for having the zipper this low.

“I've never even seen dresses having zippers this low, holy shit,” you comment before landing another swat at his butt, giggling to yourself at Jungkook’s groan of annoyance, but he's willing to put up with this if it means he hears you being all joyful, even if it means he has to endure your new obsession with his butt.

What he didn't expect, however, was the feeling of canines sinking into his cheek.

“Babe, what the fuck?” Jungkook questions as he whips his head back to look at you, your head now resting on where you had just taken a bite, it wasn't by any means painful, just a mild chomp, but it took him by surprise regardless.

“Sorry, the intrusive thoughts, you know, couldn't help it, I love the texture,” you say offhandedly before taking another bite on his other cheek, lighter this time, all while Jungkook looks at you with disbelief and slight arousal swimming in his eyes, the mild ache of your teeth sending a jolt to his cock, biting back the moan that threatens to leave his lips.

“I'd like to see how you'd react if I had you spread out like this while I take a bite of your butt,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes.

“Jokes on you cuz I'd love it, now roll over, you promised me a ride,” you remind him with a gentle pat on his butt to get him moving.

“We're not even naked yet,” Jungkook says with a chuckle before he quickly shucks off his suit, sitting back down on the bed with a gesture for you to turn, but you shake your head, not needing his help, quickly unzipping your suit from the side.

“I should've had the zip on the side too,” Jungkook mutters, but all thoughts immediately cease from his head when your bare body is revealed, he had no idea you were nude under your suit.

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask as you cup his cheeks in your hands, amused at the way his eyes seem to be in a daze.

“I'm the luckiest man in the world,” Jungkook says before he stands up to maneuver his mirror to the front of his bed, a giant smile on his face like a child in a candy shop.

“Why are you suddenly redecorating your room in your boxers while I'm standing here naked?” you ask, confused at his sudden enthusiasm that is no longer directed at you.

“Wanna see the pretty faces you'll make and every little movement from this gorgeous body while I make you feel good,” Jungkook explains before he manhandles you to take a seat between his thighs on the bed, facing the mirror, and you understand Jungkook’s enthusiasm now, you've always been confident about your own body, but seeing Jungkook’s broad built behind your smaller body sends a shock southwards, the last time you've seen the two of you in front of a reflection was ages ago, and needless to say, Jungkook bulked up a lot while you were gone, you used to enjoy how the two of you were around the same height and built, but Jungkook’s new image sends a new thrill down your spine.

While you're distracted by the view in the mirror, you fail to see Jungkook’s fingers trailing to your lower lips, surprised when you felt cold air tickling your clit before Jungkook gives it a few twirls with his fingers, testing the waters, your legs shaking with the sudden pleasure running through your body.

“Still so fucking sensitive,” Jungkook mutters with a groan by your ear, his cock chubbing up beneath you, just seeing you react to his touch like this has him growing.

He rubs circles on your bundle of nerves while his other hand is occupied with fondling one of your breasts, thumbing your nipple with his fiery touch, but it's his gaze that has you dripping into his palm, the way his eyes zero in on your body, locking into every little movement, and soon he dips two fingers inside you.

“Ride my fingers, beautiful,” Jungkook commands, to which you oblige, a hand laying on Jungkook’s muscular thigh to support yourself before you begin riding his fingers at a mild pace, lifting up until just before his fingertips show before you sink down to his knuckles, moaning his name wantonly, back arching, you haven't had fingers fill you up so full in so long, your fingers petite in comparison to Jungkook’s.

You don't know what's hotter, the fact that you have Jungkook’s fingers inside you when you didn't think you even had the chance anymore, or the way he looks like he wants to devour you in the best way possible.

“Should I feed your greedy pussy one more finger? Can't ever get enough until you have my cock, am I right?” Jungkook taunts his hands still occupied with your sensitive parts, but his left hand is now on your other boob, showing the girls equal amount of love and attention, but when you're too enraptured by the pleasure clouding your mind to answer Jungkook, his hand on your breast goes to your throat, choking you lightly, getting your attention, your walls clenching on his fingers tighter, his brow quirked up in surprise, he's definitely saving this information for later.

“Answer me, baby,” Jungkook demands.

“Yes, want everything you have to give me, your fingers, your cock, anything,” you say in a rush, eager to please, especially with the promise of more pleasure.

Jungkook smiles proudly before he slips one more finger next to his other two, cursing at the way you just swallow him up, mind drifting to imagining how good he'd feel later if you feel this wet and warm around his fingers.

When you increase the pace of your hips to chase the impending high you can feel on the horizon, Jungkook pulls his fingers out with an obscene wet pop sounding between your legs, whining at the sudden loss of your pleasure.

“Patient, wanna fuck you now,” Jungkook says with a light spank, to which he's awarded with a strangled moan and a delightful jiggle of your cheek, manhandling you off his thighs to shuck off his boxers, sighing in relief, his hard cock finally free from its tight confines.

“Come sit on my cock, baby,” Jungkook demands after taking a seat back on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, watching you as you take your position above him, hovering over his length, but since you're feeling bratty, instead of immediately sinking down, you summon your powers to keep yourself aloft, his cock nudging at your core, just a little bit more and he'd be greeted by your tight walls.

“Are you being fucking for real, now, babe?” Jungkook questions, feigning annoyance, but you can right through his act.

“If I'm being real, I can do this all night,” you joke, drumming your nails on Jungkook’s muscular chest just to rile him up further, what you didn't expect, however, was that Jungkook would hook his right leg over your back to flip you over, your back hitting the bed with a soft thud, and before you can even protest about the sudden switch of positions, Jungkook restrains your wrists above your head.

“It's been years, sweetheart, I've been building muscle, we're not that far apart in terms of physical strength,” Jungkook says with a smug smirk on his face.

“You have to own up to what you just said, love,” you say, poking at the bear that is his ego.

“Oh baby, you're gonna regret teasing me,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head before he's sinking into your core with a groan, a hand bracing against the headboard as his inches bottom out, you try your hardest not to whine at the way he's filling you up so nicely, he's definitely grown from the last tryst the two of you shared before you left if that's possible.

Jungkook gives you some time to get adjusted to his size before he begins thrusting at a brutal pace, he has a point to prove and an impression to make tonight, he's going to use every ounce of strength to satisfy you if that's what it takes.

He thinks he's doing a good job at it at this moment, with the way his name is leaving your lips in broken crescendos of your beautiful moans as your walls pulse and clench around his length, and not to mention, the sweet pain of your nails digging into the back of his hand as he continues his hold onto your wrists.

“Don't want you to hold back, baby,” Jungkook says before he frees your wrists to hitch your legs higher over his back, this angle allowing him to go even deeper, and instead of the mild taps of the tip of his cock on your sweet spot, he is now hitting the spongy sensitive spot inside you with hard consistent thrusts.

You let out an almost scream of a whine as you claw the side of Jungkook’s back with your nails, to try your best to grasp onto reality as you're getting your shit absolutely wrecked.

“Am I living up to my words, darling? Or should I add more action into the mix?” Jungkook taunts before he trails a hand down between your lower lips to locate your clit once again, drawing quick and rough circles around the sensitive nub.

“Fuck,” you curse with a moan as you clench your walls around Jungkook, your release drenching his length as Jungkook increases the pace of his hips to chase his own high, his jaw clenching as he takes in the beauty of your nudity and the way you're basking in the pleasure he's giving you, your eyes fluttering as you let yourself enjoy the slight pain and immense pleasure that comes from being overstimulated, the way you just lay there and take anything Jungkook gives you, Jungkook cums inside you with a groan, giving himself a few more shallow thrusts before he sinks his cock deep inside you once more, giving into his carnal desire of wanting to have you warm his cock post fucking, the warmth of your combined releases sending a shudder down his spine, he could never deny the possessive streak he has over you, especially now that he has you again.

He thinks you're just as bad when it comes to this possessiveness when you claim his lips with your own, chewing his bottom lip before dipping your tongue into his mouth, a fight of dominance ensues before the two of you give up to pull away for oxygen with the sillies erupting from your bellies, it's so awfully familiar and refreshing at the same time, feeling this in love again after so long, all those lonely moments and yearning to be with Jungkook all don't matter now that you're back in Jungkook’s arms.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the twitching of Jungkook’s length inside you.

“Seriously?” you ask in disbelief, looking at the man beside you ludicrously.

“You told me to prove my physical strength to you and I did it, how about I show you how much training I had on physical endurance?” Jeongguk asks with a quirk of his brows and a stupid smug smile on his face that you find all too annoying and endearing at the same time.

“Oh you're on, Jeon,” you retort before proceeding to switch positions to flip him on his back, this is going to be a long night, you think to yourself giddily.

*Meanwhile at the Wayne Manor*

“Master Bruce, my apologies for interrupting your slumber, but I had just received a message from Young Master Jungkook to erase some traffic footage from tonight, you told me to keep tabs on young master, so I just thought I'd let you know about this update,” Alfred informs a sleep riddled Bruce Wayne.

“What the fuck was this kid up to?” Bruce asks before Alfred hands over a tablet, knowing that his master was going to ask.

Bruce squints at the bright screen, zooming in on the two familiar figures and their wild antics.

“Fuck’s sake, wipe this shit clean, Alfred, thank you,” Bruce says before sighing disapprovingly, Alfred holds in his laugh as he leaves his master be, bidding him goodnight.

“Don't be so uptight, Bruce, we did the same thing in your mobile just a few months ago,” Selina brushes off with a chuckle, putting the tablet aside to pull her lover back to bed.

“We did that in a car with a covered roof, love, it's not the same,” he says with a sigh, but he relents, going back to bed with a groan.

Jungkook wakes up to the warmth of your body pressed against his, breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn't a dream last night, that you are indeed back on earth and back to being together, things are finally back to normal now.

Jungkook recalls that very painful night where he had to say goodbye to you, how he felt like his world was falling apart as he was waving at your ship, it was just last week when he felt like his life had no meaning and that death would make no difference. There's days where Jungkook would just stare at the night sky at the helipad, hoping that your ship would suddenly appear to come back and pick him up, he would've chosen to live in a foreign planet if it means he could've gotten back the cosmic love he had shared with you.

Sometimes he'd stare at the Gotham skyline with a sense of hollowness, haunted by the memories of the two of you and your rendezvous around the city.

Jungkook shakes himself out of those painful memories before he allows himself a moment to bask in the joy of having you in his arms a little longer before he gets up to wash up and get an early morning workout in before you wake up.

When you finally come around, you're all freshen up, looking beautiful with a glow like no other when you come bounding in the gym with some short shorts and his tee that you slept in, wordlessly, you get on with your own routine at the side before you decide that you had enough for the day and shower off.

“Should I make brunch or you wanna head out?” you ask when you spot Jungkook coming into the kitchen with nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, choosing to direct your attention to the boring pantry instead, but what greets you is empty cupboards with nothing but cereal and instant noodles and some eggs in the fridge.

“Brunch it is,” you mutter to yourself.

“We can stock up on groceries after brunch,” Jungkook promises with a peck on your lips as he leads you back to your rooms to get dressed, trying your very best to not jump Jungkook’s bones again.

“I could've driven us, you know,” you say with a huff before you eye Jungkook’s English breakfast with slight interest, for some reason your pancakes need more time than his huge plate of breakfast food.

“Let's practice with my cheapest car on an emptier street before you start driving us around, love,” Jungkook says before he picks up some of the champion mushrooms you've been eyeing on his plate with his fork, feeding you.

“Fine,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“I would've never thought you'd actually go through with piercing your ears and getting that whole sleeve, you were still very much on the fence when I left,” you say as you reach out to gently run a finger through his piercings.

“Kinda used them as a coping mechanism if I'm being honest, but I don't regret any of it,” Jungkook says with a shrug, he doesn't need to tell you his gruelling hours at the gym to stay sane, you've known about that bad habit of his for years.

You were about to ask Jungkook to explain each and every one of his tattoos’ meanings, but you were interrupted by the arrival of your pancakes accompanied by your friends.

“I can't believe the team is back, baby!” Mingyu bellows as he slides in next to you, followed by the others, and suddenly, you feel right at home now more than ever, surrounded by the titans that you spent your youth with, looking forward to the future that's brighter than any star you've ever laid eyes upon.

#jungkook smut #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #jungkook angst

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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

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Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.

Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.

Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.

But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.

He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.

"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.

Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.

Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.

Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.

Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.

Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.

"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"

Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.

Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.

Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.

Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.

Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.

Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.

In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.

He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.

Step 3. Profit

Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.

[Unknown: It's RR.]

[Deathstroke: New phone?]

[RR: Who dis?]

[Deathstroke: What?]

[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]

[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]

[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]

[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]

Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.

[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]

[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]

----

Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.

"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.

[Waller: It's done.]

[Waller: I will find you.]

[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]

Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.

He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.

One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.

----

Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful

Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch

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jinjeriffic · 7 months ago

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How about some Babs&Jazz?

Just thinking how Babs is usually sidelined/just tech support in dcxdp, so here's her being the protagonist:

Babs has a nose for trouble, and she keeps her fingers in a lot of information pies as Oracle. Working at the library, it raises some red flags for her when she gets inter-library loan requests from a small town in Illinois for publications on topics like: How to Help Someone Recover from Medical Trauma? PTSD from Supervillain Attacks (this is a Gotham library after all). Dealing with Meta-phobia. Having a Supervillain Relative etc.

All from the same person.

So Babs starts digging and runs into the suspicious lack of information about news from Amity Park. And how certain topic searches seem to be tracked and monitored. Hm.

She backtracks the Amity library account to find Jasmine Fenton's identity. Looks into the internet activity of her household. She finds Jazz's account on a psychology forum (she's using a fake name, nat) and the questions she's been asking have Babs even more worried. She DMs Jazz with some helpful advice, they strike up a conversation and over the following months Jazz both lets little details slip and confides more and more in Babs.

(just imagine a ton of Bat related bullshit happening in the meantime too, so Babs can't focus all her attention on Amity)

The picture Babs puts together is not pretty. There is some kind of shady government activity going on in Amity, hence the restricted and monitored information flow. Jazz is worried about her younger brother. Their parents are mad scientists who are involved in the government BS somehow, her brother is some kind of meta, and both kids are terrified how their parents will react if he gets outed.

Jazz has been looking into her options for getting them both out of that house and preferably the entire town. What it takes to become an emancipated minor, what she would need to get custody of her brother etc.

Babs helps her set up an extraction plan by getting them fake IDs, setting up a bank account and getting a used car under her fake name etc. Jazz is understandably suspicious at first, but ultimately she's just so relieved to finally have a competent adult in their corner!

It all comes to a head when Babs gets a text from Jazz's burner phone.

"t kno w g2g"

#dpxdc #dcxdp #barbara gordon #jazz fenton

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theexaltedbride · 15 days ago

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Possessive White Rabbit X Human Reader. (GN).

Your relationship with Rabbit is an unconventional one. But he puts forth a real effort to be a good partner for you. He takes time to leave you messages, asks you about your day, tried to remember the things you like, and never misses a chance to hold your hand or sneak a quick kiss to your cheek.

But sometimes it feels as if Rabbit is almost paying too much attention. As if he watches you at all times, even when he's not around. Other times, you could swear you saw him in the distance, watching you, when you knew he was supposed to be on Makai doing his work.

-Rabbit gives you space, but he always likes to know where you are at any given moment. If you miss a call he will keep calling or texting until you respond. A few times he's even switched to burner phones to see if you were ignoring him on purpose. If you don't contact him within half an hour he will start making plans to go and check on you. If an hour passes and you don't respond he will start moving towards you. He's surprised you many times by how quickly he can get to you when he needs to check on you.

-Rabbit is looking into how to disguise himself as human. Just so he can watch over you when he's not busy with his work. It's a dangerous world out there. What better 'guardian angel' could his precious human ask for, than a real demon?

-He'd probably get a mimic demon to follow you, but he doesn't trust them enough with your safety.

-Rabbit is much more tech savy than you realized, perhaps even more than you. He's purchased (or probably stolen) things which you have been looking up online and considered actually buying but didn't have the money for. You're starting to suspect he knows what calls you are making on your cellphone and to whom.

-Rabbit would likely want you to stay with him on Makai, but its far too dangerous. So he's started working on a more permanent hideout on Earth where he can conduct his business while also keeping you safe near him in comfort and forever under his watchful eye or of those loyal to him. The refugee Makaians would even help, because Rabbit is always in such a better mood (and less intense) whenever you're around.

-If Rabbit succeeds in building his new safehouse and bringing you there, the upper floors will become a plush prison for you, where Rabbit lives with you and does much of his work. If his obsession grows, he may give explicit orders to Makaians who live under his protection to never let you leave it without an escort or without him by your side.

-An Ex of yours who kept trying to reach out to you about getting back together has suddenly found themselves busy with their car going missing, and Rabbit came back with a lot more cash than usual.

-Your boss had an accident after you complained to Rabbit once. He says he had nothing to do with it. Can you really be sure?

-You know for sure a local gang was killed by Rabbit because they were far too close to where you live. Rabbit probably considers it 'protecting his territory', but you were never evne threatened by them

- You never have to fear Rabbit raising a hand to hurt you. He won't. The worst he will do is pull you around by your arm or lock you in a room for a little while.

"Why would I ever hurt you? You're mine. I don't break things that belong to me. I break what belongs to other people."

====

Couple's Music.

-"You're Mine." Disturbed.

-"An Unhealthy Obsession" - Blake Robinson

#white rabbit x reader #dmc rabbit #canon x reader #devil may cry rabbit x reader #devil may cry white rabbit #devil may cry netflix #devil may cry x reader #dmc rabbit x reader #dmc x reader

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messylustt · 2 years ago

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౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 4.8k words

fic masterlist previous part pt four next part

violence + mentions of blood and injuries (this is quite visual ha); angry + kinda ‘blood lust’ miguel; someone gets electrocuted, reader kinda does (small amount—I’ll be honest I don’t know how getting electrocuted exactly works, so for the purpose of the story ignore if the way it happens isn’t realistic, thank you!) — when you’re left alone in the tech room, many spiders out on missions, something unexpected happens. when miguel finds out his face falls and his claws twitch in anger. after the incident, you find miguel walking down the hall, calling to him he asks you questions, and you offer your help with something.

It was silent. For what felt like too long. Besides the tap of your fingers on the keyboard—which had begun to slow.

Usually you’d hear distant conversations or the sound of web shooting, but instead only silence greeted you. Unease began to make your body turn, your chair spinning with you.

You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid. You were alone in the office. Which wasn’t anything strange, but it meant that your growing paranoia festered a little stronger.

You edged closer to the door, finally hearing what sounds to be rumbling. Low and too vague for you to decipher. Your hand reaches out to the door handle, but just as your fingers brush the smooth metal, you’re forced back.

Your body flies, coming to a bruising hit on your hip, making you hiss in pain. But you’re quick to get up, rushing to a clear wall, and away from the explosion. You breathe heavy as you slump against it, your ears slightly ringing, while your gaze stays blurry against the random scraps of metal and dust.

You look to the communal intercom, quickly rushing towards it. Someone or something that isn’t supposed to be here is. You have to warn the spider-people who are out on missions.

But where are the others?

Just as you reach the com, the sound of quick scuffling boots can be heard to your left. You snatch up the intercom, slipping under your desk, tucking your feet into the dark just as multiple pairs of unwelcome boots come into view.

Your shrink further into yourself. You couldn’t speak in warning to the spider variants or these guys would hear you. Your eyes narrow on the bottom of their legs. All black, but so far appearing humanised rather then some large monster. An anomaly?—you think to yourself—multiple?

You clutch the intercom mic tighter, your finger grazing the on button. And that’s when they begin to speak.

“Get the tech.” A gruff voice says. “Now! We can’t waste our time!”

You can hear more scuffling of boots as the sound of unplugging, or more so ripping follows.

“Boss, they’ll be back.” One of them said. You try to get a good look at them, but your movements will cause too much attention, so you grind your teeth and listen harder.

“If you pick up that damn monitor we might have a chance to get out quick enough.” What you assume to be the gruff voice of ‘boss’ says.

“Who even made you in charge?” One grumbles out.

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Not all of them, though.” One adds. You try again to peak out. You manage to scale the bodies of three, all in black, with…masks. Damn it. They looked worn out—handmade.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.” Boss agitatedly says.

And as if luck is still on your back-burner, your foot slips, only a fraction, but enough to knock a piece of stray metal across the floor.

“What was that?” One of the masked men asks.

The silence now following sounds threatening. You place your hand over your mouth, to quieten your breathing, as the scuffs of boots draws closer.

;;

“Ben!” Exclaimed Miguel, just as static breaks through his ear. He hisses, not expecting it, as he holds the earpiece, brows furrowed. Then the static grows clearer.

“Get the tech. Now! We can’t waste our time!”

“Boss, they’ll be back.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as he listens, confused at first. When he looks to the other spider-people they’re are all holding their own earpieces, trying to comprehend what they’re listening to.

“Who even made you in charge?”

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Lyla, what is this?” Miguel asks. She appears by him, tapping away at screens.

“It appears to be coming from a communal intercom.” She says.

“At HQ?” He asks, already flexing his claws. “Which one.”

“I’m just finding out. The connection is muffled.” More tapping.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.”

The voices still infiltrate Miguel’s ear. “Lyla.” He sounds impatient. “Which one?”

Then she stops tapping. “Y/n y/l/n’s.”

Miguel freezes, looking at Lyla as if she would be one to crack a joke. Then he hears the knock of something metal through his ear piece, followed by a ‘“What was that?”’. He can now hear your heavy breathes, slightly muffled, as heavy boots hit the floor.

Then all sound is gone.

He doesn’t wait for anyone, pressing his wristband to open the portal to HQ. But Jess stops him. “Miguel, think about this. What if it’s them?”

Miguel glances at her, shrugging her grip off his arm, as he taps at his wristband again, the portal opening up. His expression is downcast, one could easily say terrifying.

“Miguel! You have to think this through.” Jess persists. “We have spider-men and woman back at HQ—”

“Who are clearly too distracted to do anything.” Miguel grunts out, webbing towards the portal. But Ben intercepts this time.

“She’s right, Miguel. Don’t worry about the tech, we can get it back, or even get new ones—“

“The tech?” Miguel actually sounds in disbelief. “You think I’m fucking worried about the tech?!” His red eyes gleam, and Ben gulps.

“Then what are you worried about, Miguel?” Jess asks, exasperated. “Because I don’t see anything else that needs urgent attention. The tech is the main—“

“¿Tú no? The tech is the last of my worries, Jess.” Miguel interrupts. But this time he isn’t yelling. This time it’s toned down, and somehow that makes him appear much, much scarier.

“Miguel.” Jess tries to calm him down, not understanding what he could find more worrying. Data had been saved on that tech, important data. She places one hand on his wrist, but he immediately shrugs her off, glaring.

“Get out of my way.” He snarls. She doesn’t move, crossing her arms. “The reason why you aren’t hurt against that wall is because you earned my respect. That’s slipping, Jess.”

“Miguel you’re frantic.” She says.

“Call it what you want. I’m getting to HQ.” He webs past her, and Jess finally has the mind to let him go. Though she still stands there worried, and confused about what could have made Miguel so urgent to get to the scene.

;;

You tighten your hold on the intercom, now switching to use it as a possible weapon, as the boots near. You prepare yourself by silent deep breaths and a focused gaze.

The boots stop in front of you, pausing for only a moment. Then the desk is being flung to the side. You choke a gasp, managing to slam the intercom down into the guys shin, the harsh metal side bruising and buckling his leg.

He exclaims in pain as you scramble to your feet. You can finally see the detail on the three mens’ outfits. A dark green weaved into the fabric. Then you see the claws for hands, and all three of their masks turned to you. Shit.

“Who are you guys?” You manage to get out, as you reach behind you for a keyboard.

One looks at the other before looking back at you. “Were you here the whole time?”

You say nothing, edging closer to the exit. It’s silent from them for a moment then “…kill her.” The gruff voice of ‘boss’ says. And they’re quick.

You try to rush away but one yanks you back by your hair. You angrily swing around and knock the metal keyboard across one of their heads. Some of the pieces shatter against his mask.

But then one is grabbing your neck, pushing you against the wall. “Sorry—boss says no tattle tales.” The guy tightens his hold, and your hands scramble against his in an effort to intake air.

There’s a moment where your vision blurs. But there’s also a moment where his knee shifts letting your leg harshly kick out. You’re glad to find him humanised in his pants as he doubles over.

You rush away from the wall, heaving. One of the masked men is already trying to grab you and as his clawed hand wraps around your arm, he’s pulled back, a shining orange web yanking him straight into a monitor, his head smashing against glass.

The speed makes his claws cut across your flesh but your adrenaline is far too prominent for you to care. You notice the other guy stalking towards you, making you swiftly gaze around at your environment, Weapon. Weapon. Weapon. You stop on a machine, wires poking out, sparking with electricity. Holding a certain point you pull two out, ripping the electric wires, before stabbing them into his stomach, the electric current making his body shake and twitch.

You soon have to let go as they grow unbearably hot, leaving scolding burns on your fingertips and palms. That’s when you notice the owner of the orange web. Miguel has ruined the guy he originally threw into a monitor, his body now a bloody pulp.

You have to quickly look away to the second guy who had obviously gotten up from your kick and landed straight into Miguel’s palm. Miguel is retracting his claws from the masked man’s body, blood tainting the tips of his fingers, as he breaths harshly but somehow still controlled.

Miguel looks to the guy knocked out in front of you, still occasionally twitching from the strong current of electricity. You feel light headed, placing your hands on your knees as you try to slow your breathing.

But then you feel a hand. And not a friendly one as the masked man passes on some of the electricity moving through his body into your thigh. You scream, the half electrocuted guy—his hair frizzed and slightly cinched—stumbling to a stance, just as you fall to the floor.

Then you hear a crash and a curdling scream—not from you.

Miguel inserts his claws into the guys neck, practically ripping his throat out, as the guy chokes on his own blood. The blood sprays across Miguel’s face, leaving slight speckles as he rips the rest of the man with his teeth, letting him drop to the floor.

It was animalistic in way, as his tongue licked his fangs, his breathing now harsher—angrier.

But then he sees you drifting from consciousness on the floor.

Miguel doesn’t know what breathing is, or the meaning of the word slow, as he reaches your side in a millisecond, his hand coming to grab your face between his fingers—maybe a little harshly but his entire being was still on overdrive.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks as he slightly shakes your head. “Y/l/n.” He hisses. “Wake up.“

He’s gentle now, realising that you’re a human and not some villain he needs to hurt, as he checks your pulse not wanting his claws to cut you. “Y/n!” He finally exclaims, as you get roused awake.

Your leg feels painfully numb, as your eyes flutter open. A thin layer of tears is making your eyes sparkle as you finally meet Miguel’s gaze. You try to slow your breathing, shutting your eyes to reassess.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks. “No, no. Open them.”

You do, though they stay hooded. “I’m just…tired. No need to sound so harsh—shit.” The lasting electricity still spasms up your leg, as the hold of Miguel’s hand makes the tears fall.

You begin to shake your head, partially trying to get out of his hold. “Stop.” You say.

“Stop what?” Miguel instantly replies, his gaze shooting to your thigh.

“Just—“ you breathe. Then Miguel finds the deep scratch mark on your arm, his hand grabbing it as his eyes dart. “It’s fine. Just a cut.”

“Y/n, you just got attacked. You’re a weak human, don’t try to sound so tough.”

“You’re not helping.” You hiss, tilting your head back as you try to keep the tears in, not wanting them to fall. “And that was kind of mean.” You mutter the last part just for the sake of it. Using your pain induced state as an excuse to blurt out your annoyed feelings with Miguel.

Miguel grabs your chin, trying to pull your gaze back to his, but you resist, keeping it tilted away. “Stop.” You say again.

“No.” He answers, successfully pulling your chin back, and holding it there. “Why aren’t you looking me?”

Your eyes are darting around, before you choose to close them. “Y/n.” Miguel is stern, but underlying that he sounds almost desperate—almost.

You can feel him move closer to you and you place your hand out to stop him, your palm ending up against his chest. “Can you not—“

“What—not help you?” He asks harshly.

“Can you look away.” You say, finally opening your eyes. “Please.”

“Why?” Miguel isn’t budging, staying close to you. He’s already dialled in medical on his wristwatch.

“Jeezus Christ, Miguel! I don’t like fucking crying in front of people. It’s a weird thing I can’t get rid of. I hate it. It makes me feel embarrassed—“

“Embarrassed?” Miguel interrupts.

“Yes. Embarrassed.” You hiss harshly. You couldn’t find your filter, your tone far more aggressive then usual with the throbbing pain in your arm and the spasm of your thigh.

“Well, that stupid.” He says.

“Yeah, it is. But it’s not going away. So if you could just look away and let me…I dunno…recompose myself.”

“Recompose yourself?”

“Yes! Stop repeating what I’m saying!” You exclaim, only to follow with a groan of pain as you try to sit up.

Miguel knows your mind is frazzled and your body is reactive. He pushes you back down, grabbing your cheeks again.

“You got partially electrocuted and cut—deep, I’d think you’re a psychopath If you didn’t cry.” Miguel says, his volume dropped to one almost soothing—almost.

“Doesn’t make me hate it any less.” You mutter.

“Wow…I’ve never seen you this annoyed before.”

You narrow your eyes on him. His hand that was gingerly inspecting your thigh had slipped over your waist, partially caging you in.

You try again to sit up. But Miguel yet again, keeps you pressed to the floor. “O’hara.”

He leans closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “Stop moving.”

“I’m fine.”

“No your not.” He easily answers, which earns him a half hearted scoff. “You know I think I prefer you trying to suck up instead.”

You meet his gaze glaring. “I have not been sucking up, I just like—“

“This job. Yeah I’ve heard you.” He interrupts.

He can hear commotion behind him, but the voices of rushing spider-people makes his shoulders relax. The medical have arrived, and as you notice the new people you quickly wipe your cheeks, brushing against Miguel’s hand, as you get up.

Miguel finally let’s you, by slipping his arm around the back of your waist. You try to swat it away—any physical touch usually induces the waterworks you desperately wanted to keep at bay—but he tightens his hold, resulting in your side being flush against him.

The medical spiders inspect your bruised body. “It’s her thigh and upper arm…” Miguel begins telling the spiders. Then he grabs your hands holding your palms out. “And hands.” The burnt marks look raw, and you hiss as Miguel had to slightly stretch the skin to show.

He immediately lets go upon hearing the sound of pain. “Thanks Miguel, we’ll take it from here.” A medical spider says, already at your side checking your cut.

Miguel narrows his eyes on the spider variant, watching as you bite your lip as they inspect your wound. He sighs, finally getting up and letting your waist go. At the sudden shift your hand flies out to his leg, or more specifically his thigh.

Your quick, tight grip has Miguel stopping. You change your position, not having realised how much you were using Miguel as physical support, before you’re quickly taking your hand away and coughing.

You give him a brief nod. “Thanks for the help.”

Miguel scoffs. “Help? I did a bit more than help.”

You’re praying to get some anaesthetic soon so that your pain won’t make you loose your job. You press your lips together harshly. “Of course. You did spectacular.” You say.

The sarcasm isn’t lost on him. He eyes you once more before he’s walking out the exit.

You sat there, finally taking a proper breath. You don’t know why you were holding it for so long. …maybe you did have a clue. The image of Miguel ripping the guys neck out, blood staining his face is still fresh in your mind.

You’ll be honest, it scared you. He kind of scared you. But not in way you’d think he’d hurt you, just one that made him seem unpredictable. I mean what happened just then, with his touching and softer tone was something completely unforeseen.

If someone told you he would be do that today you’d actually laugh. Miguel was unpredictable and intimidating in general, sure, but what seemed to scare you more was the way he looked when his eyes shone with blood lust. His eye colour seemed fitting now.

You also happened to be scared of the way the sight made you feel. Something that settled far too low in your stomach.

;;

Miguel went straight to the lobby where a spider variant he kept high up in the ranks resided. “You. Get up. Now.”

The spider variant immediately stood, as he nervously followed Miguel to his office. The orange tech screens were the main thing lighting the place.

And as Spider-Man took a breath he lost it as soon as Miguel slowly turned to him. Blood still stained his skin and claws and suit, and the spider-man felt the urge to run.

“Where were you today?” Miguel asked, leaning back against a table and crossing his arms almost too casually.

“I was…here, Miguel.” He said steeling his spine. He knew where this was going.

“Were you?” Miguel asked, his eyes trained on the spider.

Spider man gulped. “I’m really sorry, Miguel. I didn’t hear any sort of explosion. I didn’t get any awareness. Which…shouldn’t happen.”

“You know what ‘shouldn’t happen’?” Miguel asks, now twirling an empty glass on the table. “Spider men and woman shouldn’t only rely on that “tingle thing”.”

The spider hangs his head lower in apology. “Someone could have died today.” Miguel continued. “And you would have what—been too busy playing poker?”

The spider variant winces at his words. Miguel knew of his addiction, always using his free time to gamble.

“Do you get that?” Miguel asks.

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Sadly that’s not gonna cut it.” Miguel says, making spider man look up. “I left you in charge while I was gone. You failed miserably.”

“Miguel. I didn’t mean to only rely on my usual awareness, it’s a force of habit. That’s never happened before. I can always sense when danger is close.”

“But you didn’t.” Miguel says. “There’s someone in medical right now who got injured—badly. And she was all alone.” Miguel has stood up, stalking towards him.

“Now for personal reasons I may find her annoying.” He quickly mutters out. “But that certainly doesn’t mean you can let her die. Do you hear me?”

Spider man quickly nods. “Of course. This’ll never happen again.”

“No it won’t.” Miguel turns away, and the finality in his voice makes spider man’s eyes widen.

“Miguel—“

“Go home.” Miguel cuts in, stepping up to his screens. Anger still seeped from every pore.

;;

You woke up, feeling a dull ache in your body, but for the most part you felt alright. Better, a lot better. You swing your feet off the medical bed, realising that the lights were out.

Your feet hit the cold floor, before you quietly step towards the exit door.

Making it out to the hallway you were grateful you were already on the high level, no need for a long travel up the stairs.

You needed to rest. Alone. Not surrounded my medical items. You slowly headed to your room, but stop upon seeing a familiar body walking away.

“O’hara.” You say, making the figure freeze.

You quicken your steps, reaching him. He turns and you have to stop the intake of breathe at the reminded visual of the now dried blood.

“You didn’t want a shower?” You joked, forcing a chuckle.

Miguel just scans your body, narrowing his eyes, his expression is it’s typical, solemn and moody. “You should get back to bed.”

“I was actually heading to my room. But I just wanted to…thank you.” You say, finally making Miguel meet your gaze.

“You really did help me back there.” You spare him a small smile and a nod. Then your gaze gets caught back up in the blood stains, as you gulp.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Miguel suddenly asks.

You look up. “Mm?”

“The reason I’m covered in blood.”

“Oh.” You say. “It was…quite impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” Miguel says making your brows furrow. He steps a fraction closer. “You didn’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

Another step. “You thought I looked animalistic. Scary.”

You dart your gaze down to his slowly moving feet before quickly looking back up. You shake your head. And in return Miguel nods.

“You think I’m scary.” Everything he’s saying is statements. He knows, but you keep shaking your head.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie.” He says, much, much closer now. “You’re terrible at it.”

You stop the shake of your head, blinking a few times. “O’hara—“

“Just be honest.”

“I am.” You say, straightening your spine. And as your eyes dart you notice a deep cut running across his thigh. The dried blood, his.

You step closer. “Why didn’t you get that checked out?”

He glances down at his wound. “It’s fine.”

“Oh come on, don’t do that. Don’t act like your above it all, including pain, and infection.” Your blatancy makes Miguel raise a brow.

You pause for a moment, mulling over potential decisions in your head. Then before it could get later and before you could back down you speak. “Follow me. Let me help.”

Miguel stares at you. “It’s fine—“ he goes to monotonously repeat.

You just grab his wrist, pulling him towards your room. Miguel grabs your wrist in turn, preparing to pull your hand off.

“Hey. You made me go to your room, now I’m just returning the favour.” You say.

Miguel stares at you, scoffing. You let go of his wrist, knowing you don’t have the strength to pull him. “If you’re scared I don’t know what I’m doing, then know that I studied to be a nurse before I found out about…all this.”

“Why?” Miguel asks. “Why help?” He elaborates.

“I just told you.” You say, beginning to head to your room. “I feel weird if I’ve seen your room when you haven’t yet seen mine.”

“That’s not a good reason at all.”

“But your walking my way aren’t you?”

Miguel hadn’t realised that he’d moved to your door without the permission of his mind. He curses under his breath as your scent floods his senses, your room making it ten times worse. This is the last thing he needed.

But you’re already shutting the door and ushering him further in. “You can um…” you look around. “You can just sit on the bed.”

No—Miguel thought. God, no. But you were already getting out an older looking kit from under textbooks—your stuff having been brought to you from your universe.

He slowly sits, trying not to get one bit comfortable. You reach his side placing the kit on the bed, as you drop to your knees.

Miguel’s breathing stops at the visual. You’re directly by his thigh…kneeling. No, no.

Miguel clicks his jaw, looking away. He looks back down, to see your hand is midway from touching his cut thigh. “Why are you doing this?” He can’t fathom why you would actually want to help him.

You sigh. “I just feel kinda bad.”

“Bad?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“For any particular reason?” Miguel pushes.

“No.” You sarcastically scoff. “You’re just generally a person everyone feels bad for.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as you chuckle. He shifts on your bed. “Stop doing that.”

Your hand stops by his cut, thinking it’s the touching of his wound, when in actual fact it was the way your ‘chuckle’ had sent a strange vibration through him to somewhere he desperately didn’t want you to notice. He was right. This was a terrible idea.

Then you’re touching him. Delicate and gentle, as you pull away his ripped suit. You begin to dab what looks to be an alcohol cloth onto his wound, and in response Miguel snarls, his grip tightening around your sheets.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

“Dios.” He mutters, closing his eyes a moment. “Stop being nice.”

You look up at him. “I have to say, I’ve never heard someone say that. Usually it’s ‘stop being mean’.”

His face is tight as you continue to clean his cut. “Someone said that to you?”

You pause. “No actually. But I just mean in general. And I’m not being ‘nice’ to you. I’m returning a favour.”

“Ah.” He hums, before all his muscles tense. “Can you hurry up.”

“You’ve never let anyone touch you up before, have you?” Catching onto the fact that he’s clearly cleaned his past wounds himself.

Miguel glares at you. “So, you can stop.” He reaches to take the cloth from you, but you lean away resting your hand on his knee for support.

“You can just sit on the bed.” Miguel grits out. He couldn’t watch you being on your knees for him any longer. Not unless he’d do something he’d end up regretting.

“That’s okay, it’s an easier angle here.”

God. You had to stop. ‘Easier angel’? Yeah, Miguel definitely wasn’t thinking about you cleaning his cut. He runs his hand through his hair.

You quickly reach out grabbing his wrist. He looks at you, expectantly. “You have uh…blood on your fingertips…claws.”

Miguel darts his gaze across your face. “And you’re worried about it getting my…hair dirty?”

You shrug. “Well, now you’re making me sound stupid.”

“I don’t need to do that.” He quips, and you shoot him a glare. “But um…” he drifts off, as you look up at him, now waiting expectantly.

“Did you find me…scary, or whatever?” He asks, and surprisingly there’s a hint of…vulnerability hidden in his tone? No—you think to yourself—that can’t be right. “Before. With the anomalies.”

You dab a fraction harder, making Miguel hiss a groan. You ignore the way it vibrates through your body. You shake your head.

“Why do you keep lying?” He asks.

You sigh. “I just—“

“Just?” Miguel seemed to really want to get an answer out of you. He shifts closer. And when you don’t answer, continuing to focus on his wound, he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to meet his gaze. You gulp, his large hand nearly reaching to wrap around your neck.

“Do I scare you?”

Your chest picks up a quicker beat. He leans closer, pulling you towards him, your chest hitting his leg. “Do I—“

“Yes. Alright.” You quickly say. “A little bit…yes.”

His grip tightens around your chin a fraction. “Because of what you saw?”

“And the way you talk to people.” You mutter out. Why were saying this? This isn’t something you say to your boss.

You hadn’t noticed at first but one of his claws had begun to brush back and forth against the skin of your jaw, his eyes not leaving yours. You were utterly frozen. And there’s a moment that you just catch where his gaze darts down to your lips, his breath feeling extremely close.

But then he’s leaning away, his jaw clenching as he looks to the door. “Are you done?”

You quickly look down to his cut, rushing to get out a bandage. “Uh, almost.” Your entire body was buzzing.

While you stayed focused on finishing him up, Miguel’s gaze went back to staring at you. He almost gave in—almost. He wouldn’t, though.

You were scared of him. He knew you were somewhat so, but now hearing you say it confirmed that you’d never see him how he had gradually started seeing you. He had to stop. Now, before he dove in far too deep.

He couldn’t let himself go any deeper. Because at this rate he’d certainly drown, and if he was going to die, it wouldn’t be from some silly little crush.

okay, I’m sorry, I lied. there is nothing sexual in here. but I didn’t think adding anything like that yet would work. since a lot of you guys asked for a slow burn

again, I hope this is up to a good standard for you guys to continue reading. I wanted to add something a little different then the usual Spanish lesson then Miguel’s end of the deal. I needed some action of some sort.

and ofc, part five will come soon x love you all MWAH

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taglist #2 taglist #3

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv #across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spider man #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #marvel

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