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helyiios · 3 days

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Shitty pedagogy and vaguely masochistic tendencies : a study of Team Hunt handling trainees

(Team Hunt dynamics, Ethan/Benji in the background, 3.1k)

this one goes out to @liass-21 because this is a stupid thing we've brewed yesterday at like 1AM or something

When they'd learnt they'd get a special, week long training with the members of Team Hunt, the new batch of agents in training had felt particularly proud and lucky. A little fearful, too, but they were more than ready to be able to learn from the greats. There were 60 of them, all split in teams of 15. Each member of Team Hunt had agreed to it, except for Luther Stickell, who had told Secretary Hunley, that, he quotes, "could not be fucking bothered."

Which led them to this, standing awkwardly in the middle of a massive amphitheater, in their training clothes, waiting for the legends to deign arrive. When they did, the trainees couldn't help but feel sweat drip down their spines. Would they ever amount to what would be expected of them ? Could they prove their worth ? They sure hoped so.

"Hello, everyone," Ethan fucking Hunt said first, looking extremely relaxed in his teeshirt and jeans, "it's nice to meet you all. I'm Ethan Hunt, special field agent for the IMF, and team leader. As you know, we've been asked to supervise you this week, and we all look forward to it. We all specialise in different areas during missions, but we've all received the same training, which covers everything from honeypot situations to sharpshooting. A week is not a long time to develop your skills, but we're hoping to help you with it. Do your best and you'll be alright. Now, I'll let my team present themselves," he adds, gesturing at the two men and the woman besides him.

She's the first to step forward, also dressed casually, hair in a loose ponytail. Her face is warm, compared to those of the two other men.

"I'm Jane Carter. Field agent. I specialise in hand-to-hand combat, it's very nice to meet you. I hope we will work well together."

"William Brandt," the man in the sharp grey suit says then, raising one hand. "Assistant to the Secretary. I don't go out in the field as much as these two anymore," he adds, pointing at his teammates, "but don't let it fool you. I expect a lot from you all, and I will not go easy on any of you."

He finally turns to the last agent, a tall blond man who was wearing a seemingly fitted navy blue suit and an undone white shirt under—slightly less formal than Brandt, but still less casual than the two others. He'd actually been on his phone the whole time, typing something with his right thumb, face fully focused. There's an awkward silence in the room that lasts for a few seconds, and a cough from Ethan before he actually looks up, blinking and sniffing unceremoniously.

"Right," he mumbles, putting his phone back in his pocket, a heavy British accent lacing his words, "I'm Benjamin Dunn. Field agent and Field technician. Huh. Nice to meet you all."

The trainees look at each other, unanimously deciding that he looked the most unassuming of the bunch. His posture was awkward, and slouched, and so were his words. Clearly, he seemed to be the weakest link.

Ethan Hunt was a legend, someone who defied the odds, Jane Carter looked like she could kill you by just blinking, and William Brandt looked weirdly psychorigid. If anything, whichever team got Benjamin Dunn would be the luckiest. Plus, what was there to expect from a technician ?

They're all split evenly a few minutes later, each team heading out of the room to other ones, specially arranged for their training. Hunt, for some weird reason, had sent an odd look to the team that had drawn Dunn. He had sent an odd look to Dunn period, actually, but none of the trainees tried to really focus on that.

There were various sports and gym-like contraptions in the wide room, some treadmills, ropes, dumbbells, and more. And a desk, too, for some fucking reason. Benji Dunn makes a beeline towards it, sitting loudly in the chair and raising his legs to slam his feet on the table. He looked at his team through his long lashes, decidedly unphased.

"Twenty minutes on the treadmills at 12kmph, or 7.4mph for your Americans," he says mildly. "By the end of the week, I want you to run at 10mph for at least ten minutes."

"WHAT ?!" the vast majority of his team blurts out, eyes wide and mouth hanging low, "but sir, that's not—"

"Official training makes you run at 9mph for ten minutes. Why are you complaining ?"

Some of the men recoil, clearly taken aback by his tone. This was definitely not what they had expected from him.

"But can't we start with some hand-to-hand combat ?" someone else whines, probably feeling bold, "what use is it to run ? We all know how to that."

"Yeah, and you won't have the cardio for a proper fight," Benji replies simply, eyes back on his phone screen. Faint noises come out from it, something oddly familiar, and then they realise—

Was he playing fucking Subway Surfers ?

"What would you know about that ?" a young woman retorts, hands on her hips, "you're a field tech. You probably don't want to teach us combat because you actually don't know how do it."

Benji actually looks up at that, mouth contorting slightly, trying to stay quiet before—

Before he snorts, covering his face and turning away a little to try and hide his hilarity. Now he's full on giggling, which doesn't help with the frustrated blush on the poor woman's face. This goes on for a few seconds before he wipes his eyes, shaking his head slightly. With an exaggerated display of effort he gets back up, cracking his neck and walking over to them. He plants himself in front of the trainee, towering her and cocking his head to the side.

"You're lucky I have one hundred and twenty four blue keys in my game," he begins, "because I was beating my personal record, just now. I'm not teaching you hand-to-hand combat because you wouldn't be good at it. You need to work on your stamina, first."

"Or maybe we can use the element of surprise !" someone behind him shouts, and he groans before stepping aside, watching the other trainee miss him by a few centimeters. He defeatedly watches him try and take a swing at him, moving his hands uselessly in the hair, and he can't help but think about Ilsa. It would've been fun to see her do that thigh movement she always used. Once, Jane had said that she'd found it hot, and he'd gagged.

Whatever. He focuses back on that poor kid who was stalling, throwing hits here and there, and Benji simply kept wobbling from one feet to another to avoid him. It was sort of pathetic, kind of like that time in Vienna when Ethan had to fight that super tall guy.

With a sigh he finally grabs his wrist, twisting it slightly until the trainee had to put a knee down, whimpering in pain. Benji kept twisting, looking at him in sheer disinterest. It was not until he'd heard him beg for him to let go that he steps back, putting his hands back in his pockets. Some other trainees had jumped to their teammate's rescue, looking at his reddening muscles in worry.

"Now," Benji says, tone bored, "can you get on those fucking treadmills ?"

His team looks at him dejectedly, and they all find themselves a spot. There are a few that cannot, due to a lack of enough equipment, and they vaguely wonder if that meant they were safe.

"You all," he however calls out to them, arms crossed, "fifty pushups, fifty bungees. Repeat until I say it's over."

"What the fuck," one of the trainees mutters, and suddenly they're jealous of the assholes who were about to go run.

They get to work, though, even if most of them curse all the way through it. Hours pass, they switch exercises, and they're already sweating buckets.

"I need to go talk to Hunt," Benji then suddenly says, gesturing at them vaguely, "keep on doing what you're doing. There's a camera watching you. If you don't do as told, I'm going to get real fucking annoyed. Got it ?"

They all groan in agreement, and then he's disappeared from the room altogether. They look at each other, some with tears of exhaustion in their eyes, but they get back to their activities nonetheless.

—

"Working hard or hardly working ?" Ethan says as soon as he spots his husband, offering him his brightest smile, "how are they doing ?"

"Why did I agree to this ?" Benji whines, letting his head drop in the crook of the other man's neck, "this is so boring ! They're so boring ! None of them can run at a decent pace !"

"Define decent ?"

"15kmph ?"

"Yeah," Ethan snorts, "that's not decent. Wait—are you torturing those kids ?"

A shrug.

"Benji !"

"What ? They're not kids ! They're, fucking—I dunno, over twenty five ! They're full blow adults, they pay their taxes ! You know what some girl told me ? Huuuuh, you're not making us fight because you're a field tech and you don't know how to !" he says, voice pitched higher and tone full on mocking. "Like, who does she thing she is ?"

"Baby—"

"And when I passed the field exam, they made me run at 17kmph. And I was older than them. Do you know for how long I puked after it ? Mate, it was not pretty. If I can do it, so can they."

"I don't think—"

"Hey, you guys !" Jane calls out as she trots towards them, "all's good ? Training going okay ?"

"Marvelous," Benji sarcastically replies. "You ?"

"Yeah, yeah. They're sweet, sort of. Told them I'd bring them muffins at the end of the week."

"Wow, you actually give a shit about them. Thrilling."

"What, you don't ?" she frowns, "I mean I don't know, I want to make it interesting for them, y'know ?"

Benji scoffs, running a hand through his hair.

"They're big boys and big girls, they can handle themselves. I'm not going to bake them fucking cookies. Like who am I ? Fucking Mother Theresa ?"

"Sometimes," Ethan begins, an amused smile curling his lips, "I forget that we're part of the very exclusive 'people I care about' Benji Dunn club. How many are we in there ? Five ?"

"I mean, six if we count Hunley," his husband shrugs, pursing his lips. "You make me sound like an asshole ! I'm just saying that I'm here to make them field agents. Not to stuff them with your homemade blueberry muffins."

"Wh—you love my blueberry muffins, asshole !"

"I really do," he sighs. "Where's Will ?"

"Introducing them to the art of filling a report correctly," Jane grins, "he was very adamant about that."

"That's so hot I might just wet my pants," Benji grimaces, turning back to look over at the door leading to his room. "I'll head back. God knows what they're all fucking doing. Hopefully not having an orgy."

"Benji—"

"Dude, ew !"

"What ? It's a possibility. I'll see you tonight for drinks," he adds, waving them goodbye before turning on his heels, leaving the two other agents to stare at his back a little dumbfounded.

"You know he's making them run at 9mph ?" Ethan asks his friend, grinning when he sees the shock on her face, "yeah, I had the same reaction."

"I think he's too used to you."

"And I think we forget he finished first of his promotion during the field agent training."

"He's so weird and scary."

"Mm," he simply hums, looking dreamily into the distance. "Anyway. Time to go back, too. Catch you later."

"Yeah, yeah. See you."

Should she also make chocolate chip muffins, she wonders ?

—

At first, Alan Hunley had thought it was a great idea, that whole Hunt thing with the trainees. He'd seen how Ethan had been when he'd started as a mentor, and he deeply believed in his pedagogy. He knew Brandt would not disappoint as well, and he was fairly confident in Carter, too.

Now.

The remaining issue was the last agent. Dunn. Why was it always Dunn ? Was he not tired of wearing him out ? Had the blown up buildings in central London not been enough ? What kind of mental illnesses did he have ?

Scratch that.

What kind of mental illnesses did he not have ?

Was he just like that ?

He stares at the ten reports in front of him. Ten trainees who'd walked out the course on day three, four, and five. Some of them crying. It almost makes him want to laugh, but then he remembers that he has a moral code and actual human feelings, so he doesn't. Instead, he just sighs.

Today was day seven. The last day. Surely Benji Dunn wouldn't be doing anything out of the norm. Right ?

That's the mantra he keeps repeating to himself as he walks down from his office to the special rooms, hoping to get a small glimpse at whatever the fuck Team Hunt was up to. Hopefully, Ethan was not telling them about the benefits of jumping off a plane, or kidnapping the King of England, or anything like that.

At least he hopes so ?

He hears them before he can see them, and he makes his way inside the training room quietly, sitting in a corner to try and not disrupt whatever was happening. Brandt and Dunn were standing in the middle of the room, everyone else watching intently, silence reigning.

"So," Brandt says, tone horribly high pitched, "do you want to have sex with me ?" he asks, and his voice breaks on that last syllable, and then Benji Dunn's folding on the side and audibly retches.

"And this," Ethan immediately says, eyes closed and mouth in a thin line, "is not how you try and deal with a target during a honeypot mission."

"But it can be how you deal with a hierarchic superior," Brandt supplies, index raised, and Jane Carter snorts so loud Hunley's sure that he can see some fucking spit flow out of her mouth. "Don't get too handsy with the marks, though, we're here to get information, not get jailed for sexual assault."

"Yeah, tell that to Ethan," Jane mutters, rolling her eyes.

"Oh for Christ's sake, I kissed you once in Mumbai, and it wasn't even a full kiss ! A peck at most ! Can you please get over it ?!"

"God, when I'm gonna tell Ilsa about it..."

"Ethan's a good kisser, though," Benji offers, hands on his hips, "But I reckon Brandt's too eager on the tongue. Don't get me wrong, it's fun, but it's also really wet."

"I am so delighted to hear about all of that," their Secretary cuts them off, taking them all by surprise as he gets up from his bench and walks towards them, "I see the training is going well. Only 17 people have given up so far ! Ten of which were in your team, agent Dunn ! Congratulations !"

"Ella's getting tested for PTSD," a trainee tells him, and Jane whistles lowly at that.

"Sir," Ethan replies, ever so professional, "it's good to see you. We were—huh, going over honeypot strategies."

"I can see that."

"It's not going too well," Brandt adds.

"I can also see that."

"I wish Luther was there," Benji then suddenly pipes up, making everyone turn to him. "He flirted with me once, he even used his low voice and all. Closest thing I'll ever get to get hit on by Idris Elba," he sadly says. "Shame, really."

"You know," Hunley notes, feeling a vein burst on his forehead, "if I stay here for a minute more, I might be tempted fire all four of you."

"Is that a promise ?" the British agent asks, face eager. "Can we do the pinky thing ?"

"Go back to work," his superior groans, sending death glares to them all. "These kids better be fit for field agent training tonight."

"Yes sir," Ethan nods, watching him stomp out of the room. He stares back at the group, feeling oddly defeated. "Okay, who wants to do some practice target shooting ?"

Everybody cheers.

—

By the end of the week Benji had made fourteen people cry, Brandt had traumatised five of them with his whole administrative kink, Jane had brought them her muffins and Ethan had gotten love letters from twenty trainees. Benji actually made fun of him for it once they'd gotten home, but his husband had gotten sort of defensive, saying he'd found it 'sweet.'

If one thing was sure, it's that they were not meant to be teaching whatever the fuck their missions required them to do. They were a messy team, full of messy people, who did things out of order and, you guessed it, messily. They'd found it fun, though, as far as fun could go when they'd had ten trainees puke their brains out after one of Benji's exercises (he'd called it automatic cleansing, which Ethan, Jane and Brandt thought was fucking weird,) and they had to promise to Hunley to never interact with young trainees ever again, out of fear of breaking them psychologically before they'd even gotten the chance to get in the field.

Ethan and Benji were spread on their couch that night, slightly tipsy from the drinks their team had shared in honour of the shitshow being over, and the former was fighting an endless battle with his brain to try and not blurt out what he really wanted to say.

"It's hot when you get all authoritative," he finally breaks, sounding insanely lame, averting his gaze from his husband's.

"What ?"

"I mean, when you...give orders," he further explains, trying to play it cool. "It's attractive. Is what I mean."

"Well," Benji snorts, "'course I give orders. I'm the voice in your ear. That's sort of my job."

"Yeah, okay. No need to be so cocky."

"Aw, E. You're so cute when you're flustered."

Ethan brutally blushes, sending him a glare that would've made anyone who wasn't his husband probably piss their pants.

"Not flustered."

"Whatever you say, darling," the other giggles, going back to watch their movie. "I hope none of the kids we've trained are going to die brutally in a traumatising field event," he then says, very calmly. "That'd be a shame."

"You're so weird," Ethan mutters, going to kiss him. "I hope so too."

"Mm."

They stay cuddled by each other's side until they fall asleep.

#mission impossible #mission impossible fic #benji dunn #ethan hunt #william brandt #jane carter #alan hunley

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silent-sanctum · 2 days

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✧ Polaris ✧ - Jotaro x Reader

PART 11: Someone Special

— The previous parts of the fic can be found in the pinned post of my profile. Hope you enjoy! —

I'm back with another Polaris chapter loyal readers and this one's a long one 😘😳 This one covers the Anubis fight but other than that, the chapter also includes another deep dive into Jotaro's psyche and feelings. So expect some hurt/comfort and fluffy times with our favorite delinquent. Enjoy! 💌

word count: 10.6k

The shallow dip of your body against the plush bed was the first thing you’d sense as you came to.

Opening your eyes and the dim environment of a mimicked bedroom was what greeted you next. Through the darkness, vague silhouettes of what appeared to be ruined furniture lay abandoned on their spots in the room- wardrobe torn from its hinges, clothes that used to shine for stage ripped on the floor, the glass on the mirror of your dressing table shattered in pieces,

And just like before, everything was just as cold as winter.

You pulled back the sheets and a chill snaked all throughout your limbs causing you to shiver, a puff of warm breath fleeting past your lips with every exhale.

None of this surprised you anymore. You’ve been here too many times to care more so you knew what to expect in each.

In this situation, you’d panic less for yourself but for the people near you out there, dreading the image of rose gold arcing through the air during a friendly fire. But you took a deep breath and turned to the window, gaze immediately turned towards the night sky.

Where it was devoid of light, a lone star remained in place to shine enough for you to see. For you to feel some comfort in the manor.

He was there watching over you. You trusted his words and it was enough of a push for you to get up.

You stood and reached for the nearest coat you could find on the tiles- a flimsy fur type that was a bit tight around you considering its size was meant for children. You shrugged them on regardless and with some semblance of warmth, you made your way to the door and stepped out.

Everything was how you remembered it with the mansion’s marble, granite, and antique light fixtures, but it wasn’t as polished as the first time. The walls seemed to decay with smudges spotting its once spotless surface and the tiles were matted over with something that dried out with time.

‘What should I do?’

You looked around, nervous but determined. ‘How do I get out of here without...’ You shook your head before the intrusive memory of what had happened could plague it again. ‘... escalating the problem’.

Your eyes fell on the open doors leading to the trees outside. For a second, your feet moved without a second thought, tempted to walk out of this hellhole and sprint free.

But as your steps landed on the third step of the staircase, you paused. ‘This already happened and you know what happens next.’ You continued down the stairs and with caution, you went to the entrance and stopped before the door frame.

‘Running away won’t do anything to avoid her and if that’s the case,’ you took one last long look at the swaying trees past the fence, and with another heavy exhale, you grabbed the handles of both doors and shut them close with a resounding echo. ‘Then I have to confront this damn Stand head-on.’

You turned on your heel and faced the empty hall. With all the frustrations in your chest, you called out into the air. “Come out! I know you’re waiting for me! I’m here!” When nothing answered back, you persisted, “What? Now that I chose to shut myself in is when you decide to be silent?”

“Stop being a damn hypocrite and face me!”

“You should watch your language child.”

Your breath hitched for a split second as the onyx Stand swirled up from the shadows from atop the staircase, tendrils curling in on with each other until it formed into the nightly figure that imitated your mother, blood ruby eyes rising from the dark to complete its look. You bit your lip and clenched your fists.

Its sinister, booming voice dwindled into its more “motherly” tone that could almost pass off as a witch. It bore its teeth. “Well princess, you didn’t bother running away this time? Why?”

“You made it clear that fleeing from this manor won’t do any good,” you bit back. “Because you rule this hellscape you’ve built in me.”

The Stand crooned as its shadowy tendrils crept down each step. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what you can do here.” The shadows crept closer to you, its tips dancing underneath your feet. “I don’t remember everything from before but from what I do recall, your user treated her child as nothing but a way to seek fame. And somehow, I escaped her and you’re here in her place to torment me for disobedience-”

You gasped as a freezing cold grasped your cheeks in a flash with the shadows now curling around your body. You felt your eyes well up with tears, breaths coming in fast as you clawed with the darkness and stared into the gleaming eyes of the feminine Stand that opened its mouth into a grinning snarl.

The haunting melody started to play in the background and a rush of paranoia surged, your fight-or-flight on the verge of activating. You could feel Silent Sanctuary wanting to break free from you with its need to protect. ‘No! Don’t... don’t come out please.’

“You are a smart child, little one. Don’t you see how you’ve decided to waste that potential with your insolence?”

“I didn’t want to live as my mother’s puppet. If anything, she was the foolish one for trusting that damn vampire-”

“YOU DO NOT INSULT HIM IN VAIN, STUPID GIRL.”

You bit back your whimper as its claws dug deep into your skin, an icy bite encircling you entirely except your head. “Now stop that childish rebellion of yours and sing for your mother, princess.” You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. ‘Persist. Don’t give in.’

A rational part of your brain switched on and in that brief moment of clarity, you found the words to respond with. “You’re not her. You’re just the petty remnant of the mother I used to know. A coward’s memoir.” Despite the cold, you gripped the clawed darkness and squeezed it with the anger that bubbled in you. “So stop pretending to be her and stop kissing DIO’s ass, you stupid ghost.”

The piano’s song cracked at a dissonance and the Stand towering over you stilled, its grin faltering into a disgusting frown. “How dare...” The tendrils crept up your neck, making their way up your jaw. “HOW DARE YOU?!”

You stiffened as the chill crawling on your neck surged up intending to swallow you whole. You squeezed your eyes shut and-

You gasped, bolting upright from your slumber.

In an instant, you wrapped your arms around yourself and pat yourself with a repeated pattern, taking deep breaths to calm down from your nightmare.

A hand laid on your shoulder and you gazed up at the wide blue eyes of Star Platinum hovering before you, his bulky figure hiding you from the harsh sun. Once you’ve eased yourself into reality, you took in the current situation- a sunny day in the middle of the desert, ashy remains of a campfire, the Crusaders up and about talking amongst themselves, Iggy nibbling with a piece of wrapper, and-

“You’re awake.”

You turned to watch Jotaro approach you with bottled water in hand. Looking at his bare arms and faded green top, you realized you were still wearing his gakuran from last night. He knelt beside you and handed you the liquid. “Did something happen?” You scanned your surroundings for any possible damage dealt. “Did I go off the deep end again?”

Jotaro shook his head and you sighed with relief, patting your heart. “That’s good.”

“Had a nightmare again?”’

“Same old,” you smiled with resignation. “But good news, I might have found a way to fight against it.” He nodded in return. With nothing else to say, he gestured to the bottle in your hands.

“Drink up. It’s scorching hot out here.”

“Speaking of scorching hot,” you shrugged off the black fabric and after one last feel of it, you offered it back to him. “Here’s your uniform. You’re gonna get sunburns if you don’t cover yourself from the heat.”

Jotaro cocked a brow and retrieved his piece of clothing. “I got set on fire for a second,” he huffed. “It isn’t anything new.”

“That doesn’t reassure things!” You said with a pout.

“I got to help the old man with packing.” The delinquent stood and donned his signature gakuran, completely ignoring your statement. “If you’re done hydrating, join the group meeting. We’ll just be there waiting.”

“Now hold on! You can’t just walk off after reminding me that you were burned alive!”

Jotaro put up a hand of goodbye and you scoffed.

“Yah!”

---

The drive to the nearby city was not as long as you had expected.

There wasn’t much stuff to pack into the jeep so the boys were able to finish the basic task without your help, and after helping a now-blindfolded Kakyoin into the vehicle, the Crusaders traversed through the sandy landscape, powering through the blistering heat, alleviated with the wind breezing past your face.

Transferring Kakyoin into a booked hospital room was the first to tick off the itinerary, prioritizing patching up his eyes by a Speedwagon Foundation doctor before they could permanently blind him.

They arrived at their destination without great delay and given that the only thing left for them to do was to determine where DIO’s hideout was, the Crusaders opted to use a bit of their time to explore the city, ask the locals, and gather supplies while they were at a well-populated area. Iggy wandered off on his own. To help? To laze about? It depends on that dog’s mood.

Of course, being wary of your surroundings never left your to-do list. You’d expect that being near a leader’s den would mean an influx of their minions would lurk about to guard their base. Not even that but ever since you’ve begun to see a chance of overcoming your night terrors, the piano would begin to play in your mind again, and that mysterious figure stalking in the sidelines would appear at random.

Your mother’s Stand was wicked. It knew your mind returned to a stable state and with that found something to fight against its attempts of gas-lighting, so it began launching a counterattack to crumble you back into a crippling mess.

But you knew better this time. Having experienced the rough of its worst, you understood better how the Stand operated in you. And so, walking through the streets with Jotaro became a test of your new trick. You allowed the music to play in the back of your head, slowly growing accustomed to its haunting keys despite some of its notes still making you quiver and anxious.

You paid no attention to the stalker in the shadows. You had no reason to be afraid of him in the first place when you had a Stand whose purpose was to defend her user. The delinquent was with you as well and any aggression pointed at any of his companions resulted in a solid jab to the face by Star Platinum.

All of that considered, it helped quell the rising paranoia bubbling in you.

Walking around crowded pavements in Egypt never felt so decent as it was in India.

The group had split up into 2 in the meantime with the assigned tasks of buying refreshments and asking people about any suspicious activity happening recently. Polnareff, Avdol, and Mr. Joestar were off to the shops while you and Jotaro were left with the latter. Iggy, being a canine unable to speak, went along with the trio.

You agreed to meet up at the hospital by afternoon and discuss the next course of action with Kakyoin involved.

Just as agreed on, after a day of roaming and talking, they all gathered by the building’s entrance. You had nothing special to report given that the locals had no clue about the issue at hand, to which the delinquent could attest, but the others shared something quite bizarre- of allegedly spotting “Jotaro” crouched by the jeep without you around, claiming you went ahead.

Regardless of the news, the trio bought a bag of oranges and with Jotaro peeling one of them, you gladly accepted an offered slice.

An ambulance arrived just as the Crusaders stepped into the establishment.

---

Their first-day efforts didn’t show any fruitful results even with the assistance of an undercover Foundation agent who’d been patrolling the area for weeks before their arrival.

The group collectively agreed to resume scouting the city the next day and with that, each Crusader went off to spend the rest of the day doing what they wanted before evening. Joseph and Avdol stayed near Kakyoin’s room, Polnareff expressed interest in exploring the nearby ruins, while Jotaro and you decided to visit the marketplace to shop for trinkets.

The idea was yours and given that he didn’t have anything else to do, he volunteered to come with you. Not that he was thinking it would be dull and lifeless without you around or that not having you near him would induce immense concern and paranoia, but they were in enemy territory and you shouldn’t be alone wandering around.

At least that was Jotaro’s way of reasoning with himself.

But your Stand’s ability is primarily born to- He shook his head. It still wouldn’t hurt to have a backup.

Why are you always in my mind? He let his thoughts continue. Why do I think about you all the damn time? Jotaro glanced at you walking beside him down lines of shops and tents, eagerly eyeing each stall with sparkling eyes and a rosy smile.

Could it be... that? If so, is this what it felt like?

When his heart would race every moment you looked up at him in glee wanting to check out a booth selling unique souvenirs? With every affectionate touch you gave him?

When he’d unconsciously begin to smile every time you did because of something you said or did?

When his chest would cave and throb in pain with every harsh sob and tears spilled against his top?

When every ounce of his being wanted to fulfill that wish you made back in Singapore; about wanting to watch the ocean with him after all of this was over?

Jotaro honestly didn’t know, but what he did know was that he liked experiencing them. In contrast to the irritating squealing and scolding of school girls and teachers, the constant attempts of bullies wanting to fight him, and the general stress that high school had to dump on him, being with you was a breath of fresh air he never knew he needed.

You were special to him.

And for now, that was at least something for the delinquent.

Lost in his thoughts, you had skipped ahead of him with two small plastic bags that hung from your wrist, leaving Jotaro behind a few steps but still within his line of sight. There wasn’t much of a crowd to begin with so it made watching over you easier.

Just as he was about to pass by another stall, something glinting sparked his interest from the corner of his eye- another vendor selling a collection of accessories and items that appeared high quality despite their simple designs.

Jotaro turned to look if you were nearby and when you weren’t, his focus returned to the booth with his hand already reaching for his wallet.

Shopping ended with your hands filled with souvenirs and his pocket slightly heavy.

---

The next day came and Polnareff, the apparent high-maintenance Frenchman that he was, suggested he visit a barber’s shop for a clean shave and simple hair trim. Jotaro was the first to notice the new sheathed sword in his hands but you were the one to bring it up.

The adult shrugged it off and told the dubious teenagers that it was simply a “token of hard work”, and even though it was suggested to leave the weapon in his room, Pol dismissed the idea and brought the blade with him to the shop. For what purpose?

Who the fuck knows? To Jotaro, there was no other reason to bring that thing out unless it was to earn bragging points.

Regardless of the trivial inclusion, the trio visited the barbers at noon. There weren’t many customers falling in line to get a haircut in the small building, which made the waiting time much more bearable. The man in charge was a nice person as well, greeting his new customers with standard courtesy.

He gladly led Polnareff to his seat while you and Jotaro took your spots on the lounge chairs by the shop’s window, where a stack of books was readily available for its customers. He pulled out one that cataloged the marine life of the Red Sea and began reading.

The delinquent caught you glancing. “Should I expect a perfect score when I quiz you about that?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Jotaro said. However, if he were to answer properly later on, he’s somewhat confident he can ace your exam. You huffed and returned to your book about true crime and mysteries. Damn. Now he caught himself looking over at you. That looks interesting too.

“You can read it after I’m done.”

Shit. Jotaro turned a page with traitorous flushed cheeks despite maintaining his well-kept stoicism. Though you weren’t helping with that smirk plastered on your face, nor was the gleeful humming of the Frenchman nearby as he had the man apply shaving foam. He clicked his tongue, and in realization, he said “Hey, shouldn’t our first stop be the police station?”

“Oh take it easy Jotaro,” Polnareff waved him off.

“A man’s gotta look his absolute best as the saying goes around this part of town,” the barber added.

The delinquent was about to make a retort until you placed a hand on his shoulder. “We can visit in a while. I checked their schedule ahead of time.” He stared at you for a second, took one look at your knowing eyes, and sighed.

“Fine.”

“Oh before I forget,” Pol reached down beside him and offered the barber the new sword. “You don’t mind putting this out of the way?” The guy gaped at the random piece of weapon handed to him but did what Pol said.

Jotaro still couldn’t believe the man would bring that with him everywhere. Even if he made no further comments about it, he held back a judgmental scowl and kept it behind a look of resignation instead. “Alright! Back to what I was saying earlier, I’ve done a fair amount of rolling around so I ended up getting kinda dirty.”

This time, both you and Jotaro glanced up from your respective books at the adult. “Make this face gorgeous again Mr. Barber~”

“Will do.”

A few seconds in and the minute the razor scraped an inch of the Frenchman’s face, he jerked upright and immediately complained of the blade being too dull for optimal shaving, telling the guy to either sharpen the thing or get a better one. “Good grief, you’re such a diva,” Jotaro said, unable to contain the judgment any longer. “Even Y/N’s not like this.”

“Aww come on guys!” Polnareff whined from his chair. At this angle, the drape almost looked like a bib to an overgrown infant. “Y/N! You must crave for a touch-up from time to time at least!”

“That’s not really a priority right now Pol,” You shrugged. “Besides, I can always have my beauty touch-ups after all this is over. Saves both cash and time.” And to that, Jotaro agreed. “Speaking of time- Hey mister,” You called for the guy’s attention. “Could you start with his makeover as soon as possible? We still have errands to tend to.”

“You’re right sir... ma’am... my apologies,” the barber said as he whetted the razor back and forth.

More time passed and by the time the blade had finished polishing, Jotaro ended up taking a nap with you still up reading, while Polnareff lounged back with a warm, wet towel resting on his face. Nothing much went on but the mundane sounds of the brush against foam and skin.

He could hear Polnareff hum in approval, praises spoken in French leaving his mouth with each smooth glide of the blade against his jaw. The barber responded when the Frenchman made a remark about continuing his good work down to his chin. Other than that, he could also pick up the sound of a book closing shut and the cushion lifted beside him.

“Mister?” At the rising caution evident in your voice, Jotaro pried one eye open.

And in a flash, he’s greeted by the sight of the barber brandishing the sword against the Frenchman’s jaw. The latter kicked into action and jolted the salon’s chair backward, enough for him to angle the blade away from his throat and launch it at the barber’s chest.

Polnareff leaped out from his chair and stood away from the guy, putting himself in between the threat and his friends. “Who the hell are you?! And what have you done to the barber?!” The man pulled out the blade lodged across his chest as if it were nothing, blood dripping onto the wooden boards below.

There was recognition in the Frenchman’s eyes. “Wait... could it be that... the sword is the Stand? A Stand that controls people?”

“Polnareff!” The man launched himself again but Pol pushed him back as he kicked the serving table towards him. Not that it mattered when he merely took the brunt of it and shoved it aside, already poised to strike him with a raised blade.

Silver Chariot entered the fight and the two swordsmen engaged in a one-to-one combat like old foes sparring just as before. They clashed blades and tossed each other around against the walls and furniture from the impact of their weapons. You and Jotaro could only watch and observe the fight that happened in front of them, trusting that maybe Polnareff would be able to find an opening.

But that wasn’t the case. He was struggling, growing more so with each time Chariot’s attacks were deflected and his slashes parried with ease.

In the end, Polnareff ended up on the ground just as the barber stalked towards him with a confident stride ready to slash him down.

At that time, a flash of rose gold zipped through the air and curled itself around the sword’s blade, tightening it and pulling hard enough to divert the man’s attention away from the Frenchman and draw him towards you instead. The second he faced the two guests, another fabric shot out to replace the other and encircled it around the guy’s neck.

Jotaro saw Sanctuary lift him up to the air, rearing back in an arc as if it were ready to be thrown. It took one quick shared look with you and he took the hint. With no hesitation, Star Platinum manifested with its fists clenched and ready.

As predicted, your Stand dragged the enemy by his throat across the air, ramming him straight onto his Stand’s gloved fist. With one loud “ORA”, Star delivered a heavy punch to the barber’s face and launched him out the window, shattering the glass in the process.

You, Jotaro, and Polnareff gathered outside the shop. “Think that finished him off?”

“It’s never that easy Pol,” you said without tearing your eyes away from the body. “They’re tougher than they look.”

“Plus that punch was shallow to him, even if it took everything I had,” Jotaro added. Shit. It’s been a while since we’ve seen a Stand like this one. On cue, the man twitched and in an animated fashion akin to a zombie, he sat upright and turned to his opponents.

“Not bad Star Platinum... Silent Sanctuary,” he said. “The rumors of your speed and coordination are true but now that I’ve seen it for myself, I can easily defeat them.” Jotaro stood his ground, admittedly a bit anxious at the sight of the man’s glowing, wicked eyes. His words felt threatening and as he got up, it felt like the battle had just begun.

A nearby civilian, a friend of the barber most likely, wanted to approach him but you stopped him and the other onlooking locals from nearing the threat. “Everyone stay back! The man is aggressive and dangerous!”

“Stay back if you don’t want to end up in ribbons!” Polnareff called out. “Go inside and hide!”

With everyone at a safe distance, you three circled the enemy user with extreme caution. “This isn't good. This one feels different than the others we fought before,” you said.

“You’re right. The more we fight this Stand, the faster it gets.” Everyone got into position and braced for what was to come. “Every next attack of his will be the fastest after the last!”

Jotaro took to heart what he said and kept a close eye on the man’s movements, and in a split second he could spot his gaze zero in on the delinquent just as he leaped into the air, screeching with a raised blade. I see how it is. He pushed both you and the Frenchman aside, away to safety, and stepped one foot forward with Star at the ready, arms raised.

I’m the one he’s after.

“Jotaro!”

Before any of the two could intervene, Star Platinum reacted accordingly and caught the falling blade between its palms, just before it could graze his forehead. The barber gaped at what had happened and in the next second, his Stand snapped the metal sword clean in half.

“That speed is remarkable. I’ll duly take note of that,” the man said with a quick grin as he fell to the ground face first, dropping the halved sword onto the dirt.

Jotaro stood by, continuing to watch over the now-unconscious barber with suspicion. Take note? It's not over?

“That can’t be it, right?” Polnareff said, eyeing the man.

“It’s too easy if it is,” you started after him. You turned to the weapon nearby. “Let’s first keep that away. We don’t want anyone touching it by accident.”

A strip of cloth crept its way to the fallen blade only to be stopped by the delinquent’s Stand taking hold of its edge. “Don’t. What if it takes over you?”

“My Stand is immune to other Stand abilities,” you said. “You know that.”

“Still...” Jotaro shook his head. He can’t fathom what he’d do if he had to fight with a supernatural entity that directly opposes his Star Platinum. An impenetrable shield that's able to react as fast as Star. “We can’t risk it.”

“It’s fine if the sheath is touched. The sword itself is the cursed object.” the Frenchman said, walking over to pick up the leather case and maneuvering it to slide the blade back in. “There. Now where do we put it?”

“How about we toss it to the Nile?” Jotaro suggested.

“Good idea.”

“Hey! This is the police! We’ve been reported that there has been violence in the area!”

The trio turned to face the single Egyptian officer dispatched to the scene. “Finally! Quick, this man needs help so you better get him to the hospital,” Polnareff said but the officer had already grabbed the Frenchman by his wrist.

“Possession of a dangerous weapon? You’re coming with me!”

“H-Hey!” Jotaro watched with unease as the man struggled with Pol, both their hands fumbling with the sheath. “I’m not the problem! Let go! You’re not supposed to touch this!” Anxiety spiked as his hand increasingly grew close to the sword’s handle.

“Excuse me, but my friend just picked up the weapon from that guy!” You attempted to reason with him. “He was only keeping it away for safety purposes! You can’t just take him into custody like this!”

“Polnareff, your hand-”

Before Jotaro could finish, the sound of the blade sliding against the smooth surface was enough for you and the police officer to pause and turn to the Frenchman. “Pol?” You uttered, already stepping away instinctively once it was clear something had already taken over him.

“It can’t be...” You walked back until you were standing beside the teenager. “It actually happened.”

“Hey, you drew the sword!”

Polnareff, or whatever took over him, turned to the officer with his blade raised. But he wouldn’t get the chance to strike as Jotaro launched the man with a kick to the nearby roller-shuttered shop, knocking him out but away from being slashed to death.

With his intervention, Polnareff looked over at the delinquent with that murderous intent clear in his eyes. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. I’ve never thought about fighting one of us before, let alone Polnareff of all people. This was a problem because as far as he can recall, Silver Chariot was one of the Stands that could go at the same speed as Star Platinum and possibly Silent Sanctuary as well.

Fending off against such a threat that could likely beat his Stand in a speed battle sent a chill down his spine. At that rate, Jotaro might end up in a position where there would be no choice but to kill an ally. To kill Polnareff. He clenched his fists to prevent them from shaking.

You reached out to place a hand on his bicep, reassuring him that he might not need to do that if you helped him in this fight.

The possessed adult chuckled. “Don’t forget I, Anubis, have studied all of Star Platinum’s moves. It won’t be too long until I learn Silent Sanctuary’s next,” he cackled. “Someone I’ve fought before can never, ever hope to defeat me!” With a battle cry, Pol leaped to the duo with instant blood lust.

In sync, you and Jotaro leaped back to dodge the first slash, landing firmly to stand next to each other as Star and Sanctuary appeared before them. With each attempted arc, silk cloths rapidly darted across his vision, blocking each attack from striking Jotaro.

Through an opening between fabrics, Star Platinum attempted to deliver a solid punch only for Polnareff to block it. Distracted, the humanoid tried to land another with its other fist but the Frenchman had already anticipated the next move.

Immediately after shoving off the gloved fist, the adult burst into maniacal laughter as it began to slash at them with increasing speed. Sanctuary returned to deflect each cutting arc, flashes of rose gold creating sparks every time it collided with the steel. Star kept up his guard behind the fabrics, alternating between deflecting the stray slashes and sending jabs through gaps in the cloths.

But with every attempt at landing a punch, Jotaro felt Star struggle to return back to its defensive stance in a split second despite the cloths shielding them from most of the slashes. He could feel the blade nick at the Stand’s skin with every attempt, reflecting surface cuts on his own skin.

This isn’t good. Jotaro heard you grunt beside him, breathing heavily as your Stand kept fending off the sword away from harming any of you. Yes, your Stand could tank hits but her user’s stamina could only last so long to keep it up. It’s getting faster and you’re starting to tire out. I have to stop that sword.

At that moment, Polnareff raised the blade in a familiar downward move. I can catch it again! But as Star Platinum was about to do so, the blade sped up mid-arc and slipped past his Stand’s palms. Jotaro could feel his chest race at the rushing blade. “I’ll have your head!”

A single strip of rose gold flashed a little above his eyes, deflecting the approaching blade away from landing on the delinquent’s forehead, but ended up cutting his shoulder instead. In that one-second opening, Star wasted no time and sent Polnareff flying onto the small tree. But the force of the hit also sent him back, knocking a fire hydrant off the ground in the process.

“Jotaro!” You hurried past the spraying water and crouched over to him. You sighed with relief as he got up with a bit more effort, wincing at the pain radiating from his shoulder.

“This is the fastest Stand we ever faced,” he started. “I don’t want to lose this fight but if I don’t fight Pol with all I have, we’ll die.”

“You guys said the problem was the sword right? Then there must be some loophole in that Stand’s tactics that’ll allow us to break that weapon for good,” you said. “No one has to die between us.”

Just then, Polnareff got up as well with the Stand that possessed him stating that their combined movements and attack patterns were learned. Shit shit shit. “So weak! Weak, weak, weak! But now that I know more, I’m going to show you something fun that’ll finish you and your little friend there for good.”

“Behold,” With a toss of the sword, Silver Chariot manifested once more and in a display of grand fashion, caught the weapon with its free hand, crossing blades with the cursed steel. “Anubis and Silver Chariot dual-wielding!”

Nothing much could be said from the both of you. Instead, you braced yourselves in your side of the playing field, waiting for one of the two to move.

To no one’s surprise, Chariot was the first to swing as it sped forward to thrust its rapier with lightning-fast movements, only to be countered by Star Platinum’s fist barrage. With the introduction of the one-sided sword, Silent Sanctuary joined the fray and swung its fabrics to parry off half of the hits.

Every now and then, you tried to ease the rate of incoming attacks by having a stray fabric creep around the battling knightly Stand and either entangle its metal limbs or toss it entirely either onto the ground or off onto the side. And for a while, it worked.

Midst the flurry of blades and fists, thanks to your interventions, Star was able to land a few punches on Silver Chariot, not that it dealt much damage when it took the hit like it was nothing and began its frenzied steel attacks again. Jotaro gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his face. The sword. Damnit, I need to break that sword but how?!

But Anubis grew stronger with each strike, with each parry, and with each counter. Now, you couldn’t even toss Silver Chariot around anymore as the Stand was able to deflect the stray fabrics off of him while still relentless with its steel barrage. It grew faster and faster and faster.

You suddenly stepped forward, holding Jotaro’s wrist in doing so as you shielded his tall frame with your smaller one. “The hell are you-”

“Sanctuary is born to defend me no matter what. If I’m in the line of danger, then maybe my Stand will be able to respond better and quicker.”

Jotaro wanted to refute and push you back before you could get hurt, but there was a bit of truth in what you said. With you in front, Silent Sanctuary’s fabrics grew in size and increased in speed the second its user neared the threat. Beyond the clash of cloth and steel, Polnareff continued to watch and observe with wicked eyes.

With the Stand distracted, it was Jotaro’s turn to launch a stealth attack. Star Platinum grabbed the nearest trash bin and chucked it straight at the Frenchman, drawing Chariot’s attention away from you to slice the bin in pieces.

But at that same moment, Star rushed over with a loud “ORA” and managed to land 2 solid hooks before the Stand recovered.

Star threw another object at it, a bush, but the Stand simply carved through the foliage before resuming its offense.

Before it could execute an arc to parry Star’s next set of punches, Sanctuary coiled a piece of itself around Silver Chariot’s dominant arm, pulled the Stand up to the air, and smashed it on the ground in a familiar whip-like manner. Once. Twice. Until it recovered again.

Polnareff clicked his tongue, looking dead at you. “You truly are becoming an annoyance. Always blocking. Always shielding. How about I fix that?”

All of a sudden, Silver Chariot stood still and out of the one Stand spawned dozens of identical copies. Jotaro’s heart dropped with dread. He remembered this ability back when the Frenchman dueled against Avdol. And there were so many of them.

Anubis-possessed Polnareff cackled as all the Chariots spun their rapiers. “How about you block all of these now Sanctuary?”

Acting according to its strategy, Jotaro was forced to leap back and away from you as multiple Chariots rushed to Star Platinum at once. You weren’t doing any better as the remaining clones repeatedly clashed against the wildly whipping cloths surrounding you.

Fortunately for the both of you, Star and Sanctuary were able to rid of the mirages with enough blind attacks and offensive defenses, but that left Jotaro having to fight off against the real Chariot while you defended yourself against a grinning, mad slashing Polnareff.

At this rate, Silver Chariot was at par with Star Platinum and to make matters worse, in the middle of fighting its copies, his Stand accidentally managed to chip away a piece of shoulder armor hindering the knight Stand’s speed. And now, he’s truly left standing ground behind Star struggling to block off the speeding thrusts.

And Jotaro began to shake from where he stood as a few stabs of the rapier managed to slip past Star Platinum’s guard and cut the skin off his cheeks, arms, and legs. T-This isn’t good. The damn thing is speeding up.

Even as his life was on the line, Jotaro glimpsed off into the side where you were facing off Polnareff wielding Anubis. You were on the defense as Silent Sanctuary focused on parrying all of the slashes instead of aiming for blind spots. You kept taking steps back, wincing with every advancing attack. The Frenchman pushed forward with his relentless swings, taunting you to risk a counterattack.

The delinquent clenched his fists as he watched you stagger the faster he became. If Jotaro had to knock an ally out to save another, then so be it.

With newfound resolve, Star Platinum dodged the next set of thrusts and swung a heavy hook to Silver Chariot’s armored jaw. Jotaro didn’t bother checking if the Stand recovered and bolted to your side with his Stand’s fist raised and ready to put Polnareff out.

He was a few steps away now and just as he was about to deal the finishing blow, you caught him sneaking or rather, at something approaching from behind. “Behind you!”

Star Platinum redirected his punches back to the threat lurking behind the delinquent. Jotaro glanced over his shoulder to find Silver Chariot recovered and caught off guard as his rapier got deflected thanks to the metal embellishments of Star’s glove.

However at the same time, Anubis-Polnareff diverted his attention the same time Star did, and in that millisecond window, the cursed steel of the sword found itself lodged deep in his abdomen.

He couldn’t even register the pain when it happened but he could gradually feel it coming as blood accumulated in his throat and spilled out his mouth.

But then it occurred to him. The sword’s stuck in one place. S-Shit, it’s not ideal but it’ll do.

You cried out his name in terror and several strips of rose gold lunged out to attack the boasting enemy, reacting in response to its distressed user. “N-No wait!” He spoke through the pain. The fabrics halted just before they could strangle the distracted Frenchman. Jotaro locked eye contact with yours and through unspoken words, you nodded with hesitation.

I have a plan.

Jotaro grabbed hold of the wedged blade with Star’s help, faking an act of pulling the sword out of him. “S-Stop. Don’t push it any further. It’ll be murder.”

As expected, Anubis cackled as he kept the steel firmly in place. That’s it. “I will not stop! I’ll push it in and tear your guts to shreds!” To further boost his ego, the delinquent allowed his grip to loosen for a minute.

That is until Star Platinum cried out a booming “ORA” as it began to punch at the sword, breaking it apart chunk by chunk. With the jackal now pleading for the teenager to stop, it further fueled him to continue until what was left of the sword was the handle.

With one last push, Star gripped the remaining piece in its hand, and with one last final cry, the warrior Stand finally crushed it to powder.

Anubis let out a yell of defeat as his form cracked and disintegrated along with its ominous purple aura that kept Polnareff under its possession. Free from control, the adult fell to the ground.

Jotaro stumbled on his feet, making sure to put pressure on the stab wound. He didn’t even notice the lodged piece had dropped shortly into a small bloody pool below.

“Good riddance... It’s finally over.” Now that it was, all the adrenaline that used to rush throughout his body left in an instant. His surroundings seemed to blur and sway. He began to feel lightheaded and his body felt like lead.

You hurried over to his side and kept him steady with half his weight leaning on you. The delinquent turned to your worried eyes and your frantic questions concerning his well-being. “That was a tough enemy... That last move took everything I had.” He continued to stare at you with his unfocused vision, reaching to touch your hand in a weak attempt to reassure you.

“But I’m glad it was enough to defeat him before he could hurt you.”

The world suddenly tipped over and the ground came up to greet him... or that would be the case if it weren’t for you catching him as his knees buckled and gave up on him. You laid him across your lap, cradling his head with one hand with the other pressing hard above his own on the profusely bleeding wound.

“This is new...” Fuck... everything’s so fuzzy now. Blood continued to gush out of the gash in his abdomen, seeping past both your hands. Not to mention the other minor cuts still bleeding elsewhere. Why does it feel chilly all of a sudden? “I never felt this exhausted...”

Above him, you whimpered as you kept alternating your focus on him and his wound. “W-What should I do?” You said in a foreign language he couldn’t understand. “Come on! Why aren’t you coming out this time?!” He could only assume you meant Sanctuary appearing to help apply pressure.

“Y/N...”

“No! Don’t do that! Don’t pass out on me!” You said in a panic. “Anyone?! Can someone call an ambulance please?!”

In the corner of his eye, he could pinpoint Polnareff stirring into consciousness. “What happened? Don’t tell me I got controlled!”

“Pol, go get Mr. Joestar or Avdol or somebody! Just get help!” You gritted out to him and when he asked back in confusion, you screamed at him to go get the old man. Not wanting to upset you further, he darted off to do as you asked.

“Jotaro-ssi...” Through hooded eyes, he gazed up at you. “Still with me?”

“I’m... I’m trying...”

“You better!” You said, your voice breaking into another whimper. You held his head close to you as you curled over him and kept pushing hard against his stab wound. “I know you like to be the strong, tough guy. So be one damnit!”

Jotaro was about to say something in retort but he found it hard to speak when it felt like his throat was clogged. Just then, he heard something. It was faint at first but it picked up volume with each passing second.

It sounded like a gentle music box playing a soft song for him to listen to.

It was soothing. Hearing it put him into a sense of ease and relief one felt just as they were to rest after a hard day’s work. Whatever sharp or throbbing pain he could have felt dissipated and replaced with a relaxing sensation he could describe as cool waves washing over the heat of his injuries.

Jotaro didn’t know if he was imagining it but he could’ve sworn Silent Sanctuary hovered behind you, watching over him with her head tilted and her fabrics thinned and moving as if they were being plucked like a harp.

His eyes were heavy and all he wanted now was to shut them close and fall into slumber.

Just as his consciousness was about to slip away, the last thing he could hear was the sound of his grandfather arriving flustered and your voice crying out and begging him to at least wake up for his friends. For his mother.

For you.

He won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

---

When Jotaro came to, his head along with the rest of his body still weighed heavy against the plush of the sheets blanketing him and the pillows cushioning him from all sides.

There was also the dull, throbbing ache from where he got stabbed sometime earlier than now. Given it felt like a tight band hugged his waist, he had expected to wake up to where somebody already wrapped a bandage around the area. Some band-aids helped with the other nicks he had on him.

His clothes were a bit different too- his hat and gakuran were hung on a nearby rack and his favored faded green top was replaced with a temporary red sleeveless one. He smelled nicer too, smelling like a mix of soap and citrus. How nice of them to sponge bathe me too.

Then there was the shallow dip beside him. He lulled his head to the side and found you sitting by his bedside, asleep on your crossed arms with your face tilted to him. A couple of stray hairs had fallen on your eyes. What a bother... Jotaro slowly brought his hand up to gingerly brush the loose strands away and tuck them behind your ear.

In turn, you furrowed your brows from the touch and he immediately drew back, cheeks going warm realizing what he’d done. You stirred for a couple more seconds before you blinked your eyes open. Seeing him awake was enough for you to bolt upright with surprise.

You were asleep though. Your nightmares. “Were you okay?”

You scoffed as your eyes began to swell with unshed tears. “I’m supposed to ask you that, you jackass.” Jotaro tilted his head in confusion. Did he say those out loud? “You should know you had me panicking like crazy back there. What were you thinking letting yourself get stabbed for that long?”

The delinquent waved it off. “It was nothing. I’ve been hit worse before-”

“But that was the first time you collapsed and passed out!” You hissed back. Jotaro’s chest twisted in on itself as he watched you furiously wipe your eyes and sniffle. He remembered what you shared then that broke you into a sobbing mess.

Seeing you in tears was a bit more unbearable than he’d expected.

“Don’t cry.”

You clicked your tongue, pouting afterward. “You can’t say that when I’m still reeling from what had happened.”

“Like I said, it’s-” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m fine now, alright? You patched me up and all.”

“Oh I didn’t do that,” you said. “Mr. Joestar was the one who did the bandaging. Avdol helped by calling a doctor to make sure nothing was infected.” For some reason, Jotaro was disappointed. Just a little bit. “Though the sponge bath was my idea so you’re welcome.”

“Also, they said that the blood loss was supposed to be severe since the cut was deep enough to puncture organs and a major blood vessel behind your guts, but you’re lucky that they found out most of the inner wounds were miraculously healed so all that was left was the superficial bleeding.”

He would have found that weird but he thought back to that moment of him on the brink of unconsciousness- Silent Sanctuary watching him, the music box’s soft chimes, the cooling sensation that swept throughout his body.

Jotaro had pieces he could put two-and-two together and it would make sense, but it was too sudden and out-of-nowhere at the same time. Guessing from your reaction, you hadn’t known the song played either so it couldn’t be that.

But he couldn’t be bothered to think too much when he still had a headache to deal with.

Knocking rapped on the door and in came Joseph holding a plastic bag filled with what he could assume were either snacks, medications, or contraband of some sort. “Hey, took you long enough to wake up sleeping beauty.”

Jotaro scowled, further fueling the old man’s glee. “That’s the spirit champ! Here,” he handed over the goods to you. “Avdol thought you guys might need some stuff while my grandson here recovers- Biscuits, juice, a pack of smokes?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Thank you Mr. Joestar,” you said as you shuffled through its contents just to see.

“Oh, by the way, Polnareff said he’s really sorry for what happened,” Joseph said, rubbing his nape. “He didn’t like doing what he did and he’d beat that shithead to a pulp if he still could-”

“Yeah, I kinda went a bit too hard on him.”

“What happened?”

You sighed. “I lashed out at him for hurting you and told him to get lost, but now that I think about it again I feel really bad. It’s not his fault.” To that, Jotaro scoffed but couldn’t help but curl his lip at the same time at the thought of you getting protective over him. You turned to Joseph. “I’ll apologize to him in a bit.”

“Knowing that dumbass, I think you should apologize now,” Jotaro said, crossing his arms. “He’s probably kicking rocks and pulling his hair out from all the guilt.”

“Now? How about you?”

“Y/N,” he gave you a pointed stare and cocked brow.

“Well,” You got up, still conflicted. “If you say so. But I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

His eyes fell shut before he muttered a quick “Take your time.”

---

You might as well label the Frenchman an overgrown kid by the time you said your apologies.

He was found pacing back and forth on the pavement outside the inn you were just in. You could’ve sworn he tensed when you approached him with open arms. For the most part, it was the adult who did most of the “sorry's" to your face even as you did your hardest to butt in and say that you should be the one to apologize.

It didn’t take long to get everyone back on good terms. Polnareff promised to buy you and Jotaro meals and left it at that.

It was evening on the way back and you crossed paths with the old Joestar and his friend lounging in the building’s lobby, discussing matters with a man of short build and suit. You didn’t know who the guest was but based on past interactions, you could make a knowledgeable guess that it was another undercover Speedwagon Foundation agent helping the team find DIO’s headquarters.

“Oh Y/N,” you stopped as Avdol spoke. “Has Polnareff found agreement with you? Or did you kick him off again for another day?”

“Come on don’t be like that,” you said. “We’re back to being buddies. He’s just choosing to walk around the city for a bit before midnight.”

“That’s good news,” he said with an approving smile. “Care to join us? Perhaps you have some intel on the headquarters’ whereabouts or at least any leads on who knows where it is?”

You shook your head. “I still have to check up on Jotaro. Maybe tomorrow when he’s feeling better.” You waved at them and went on your way. Behind you, you could pick up the duo’s conversation.

“But it’s just a stab wound. The kid’s alright.”

“Let them be Mr. Joestar. Nothing’s more comforting than being around a close friend.”

“But why wasn’t she like that around Kakyoin? He’s admitted to a hospital so you think she’d be more concerned for him.”

“It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

You left them to their gossips and continued down to the stairs leading to the 2nd floor. You kept going until you reached the delinquent’s room and just as you went for the handle, a faint thud could be heard from inside followed by someone gagging.

“Jotaro?!” Immediately, you twisted the knob and jerked the door open, rushing inside in fear something might have happened to your friend. The room was dark, the curtains drawn shut, and you found the bed empty and the bathroom door ajar, light spilling from inside. You threaded across the room and peeked through the crack.

Inside was the raven-haired teenager crouched beneath the sink, gripping the ceramic tight with one hand while the other lay on the bathroom tiles curled into a fist. “Fuck, stop it...”

Jotaro?

He didn’t hear you enter and just as you were about to call him again, he got up on shaking legs and raised his fist into the air. Then he swung it straight onto his wounded abdomen, causing him to gag and crumble back onto the floor.

“What are you doing?!” You swung the bathroom door open, surprising the delinquent from where he was crouched on the tile. “Are you crazy?!”

“Y-Y/N...”

“Come here.” You grabbed his wrist, pulled him up on his feet, and dragged him to his spot on the bed where you directed him to sit with his legs tucked under the sheets. “I shouldn’t have left you by yourself.” How long has been doing this since I was gone? Once settled, you switched on the bedside lamp and went to inspect his bandages.

“Stop worrying. I can ex-” You harshly sucked air through your teeth, glaring and hissing at him to shut up. And he did. You pulled his tank top up to his chest and assessed the injury with careful eyes. A large, dark red patch marked the bandages surrounding the wound but given its color, it was due to earlier bleeding instead of his current doing.

You sighed with relief and tugged his top back down. But you still had questions to ask. “Why did you do that? How long were you doing that?”

Jotaro didn’t reply His eyes looked elsewhere that weren’t in your direction, not wanting to respond. “Not answering? Do I have to be the most annoying person in the world to get through that stubborn head of yours?” You took your seat beside him, trying to get him to look at you. “Because I can. In fact, I can start now so don’t blame me if I begin-”

“I started overthinking.”

You paused. “What?”

“You heard me,” Jotaro said. “I got into my head too much I started overthinking.”

“That doesn’t give you the excuse to punch your wound to snap yourself out of it,” you took a deep breath before you could go off into another nagging session. “Besides, I know you overthink a lot. What makes this any different?”

“I nearly died back there,” he muttered as if he was almost ashamed it happened. “What could’ve happened if I did? How could I help protect the others? How would my mom react? I wouldn’t even get to make up for the awful shit I did and said to her and could’ve died a bad son. Would she even be alive in time to know?”

He exhaled a quivering breath. “But I lived, got to live another day, but it made me question myself even more- If couldn’t beat that thing, then how would I be able to beat the next that would come if they become more powerful and brutal than the last?”

You kept silent throughout his whole speech and watched him bear out the inner machinations of his mind, a crystal clear reminder of what both of you were- 2 teenagers on a death trip to stop an immortal vampire with his mother’s life put on a time limit.

‘What should we do?’ was what he first asked Mr. Joestar the moment he found his mom passed out on the floorboards. You can only imagine the burden he had to carry ever since that question; the notion that it was his obligation to save her, that no one should be more involved in this mission than him.

That he was responsible for her life more than anyone.

And you don’t know if this was him wanting to atone for all the surface-level mistreatment he’d done to her, or that it was simply out of the care and goodness of his heart.

Though it was a noble thought, it had its flaws and you made sure to bring those up to him. “Hey, look at me.” With reluctance, Jotaro did as asked. “You did what you could back then. You stood your ground against that cursed sword and found a way to defeat it even though it seemed impossible to do so.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for not doing better. Both of us are just high schoolers with ghost companions that fight these obnoxious battles for us.” You chuckled. “Putting it that way makes it sound ridiculous. We should be doing homework but here we are.”

Jotaro huffed, amused at your ramblings. “Still, I should’ve been stronger.”

“We all should, to be honest,” you smiled at him with a shrug. “There are tougher enemies? Then we band together and beat them using our wits. Find loopholes. More strategic thinking and less punching. You get it?” He tilted his head to the side. “What I’m saying is that we came to Egypt as a team and it should stay like that.”

You placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You will save your mom, alright? She’ll be okay and we’ll help make sure that happens.”

Jotaro regarded you for a moment with a contemplative stone-faced gaze, and your heart swelled as he chuckled shortly after. “I guess you’re right.”

It was then you noticed the time on the clock. 10:30 PM. “Oh god, it’s getting late. How are you feeling? Do you need water? I heard you puking earlier.”

“I’m just tired and my head still feels like shit.”

“I guess I’ll take that as my cue to leave then,” you said as you made a move to get out of bed, only to be stopped by the delinquent’s hand darting forward to hold your wrist. You turned to him in confusion.

“Aren’t you sleeping here?”

“Mr. Joestar reserved this room for you. In fact, he booked all of us separate rooms.”

“Alone? How about your nightmares? Who’ll make sure you won’t make a wreck again?”

You smiled at the concern seeping out of the delinquent. “I’ll be fine. I told you I found a way to avoid that from happening.”

“Oh.”

It was silent for a minute, neither you nor him wanting to speak or move in the dimly lit room. You trailed your line of sight to the hand still holding you from standing. “Then... uhm... shit. I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Jotaro let your wrist go and hid his reddening face instead. “This is so fucking stupid.”

“But could you...” He mumbled the next words. “Sleepover?” You widened your eyes at the request and your cheeks flooded with warmth. “Who knows? I might end up punching myself again while you sleep.”

“Yah, don’t you dare.” You puffed your cheeks and with indignance, you tucked your feet back under the sheets and made yourself cozy on the fluffy pillows beside Jotaro’s. “You’re really trying to piss me off with these threats of yours.”

With audacity, the delinquent curled his lip upwards. “You’re still here though.”

“Well of course,” you pouted as you fidgeted with the sheets. “I realized I needed to pay back somehow for all those nights you watched over me. And now I got the chance to do so.”

Then there was silence from his part and this time, you wanted to bury yourself whole to spare you from the embarrassment of saying that to him. You turned your head to face him with a snarky quip in mind, but you caught yourself from saying it when you found him staring at you wistfully with hooded eyes, that subtle smirk now wiped off his face.

Flustered, you blurted a quiet “What?”

Jotaro sighed and shook his head as he switched the lamp off. “Nothing.”

Now engulfed in the darkness, you burrowed yourself further in the sheets as the delinquent did the same. You tried to shut your eyes and let what little drowsiness take over, but no matter how hard you tried doing so, you couldn’t fall asleep.

So with all your probable solutions thrown out the window, all that was left was turning to your side. Beside you, Jotaro still laid on his back to not cause any pressure on his injury, but his head was tilted to face you. Both of you were awake, and it dawned on you how chilly it had become late at night.

“Can I?” You whispered.

The delinquent nodded once without a moment’s hesitation. With his permission, you huddled closer to his side and curled up against him, head laying on his shoulder as you sighed at the combined warmth and smell of citrus permeating you. “You think Mr. Joestar’s gonna flip when he finds out he wasted cash on an empty room?”

“The old man won’t mind,” he mumbled. “He’s filthy rich to even notice.”

“How proud of him then...” You yawned as you nuzzled closer to him. “Do you also think... he won’t get... chatty with the others?”

“Hm?”

You slurred the last remaining words as you faded off into unconsciousness. “Because... I’m here with you.”

---

As you muttered out your last words of the night, Jotaro huffed and tucked his chin on your head, gently pulling you closer to him.

“I’m here with you.”

His heart thumped at those string of words spoken for him. Jotaro flitted his gaze to you finding comfort in his hold.

His special someone.

Me too...

“Who gives a shit what he does or says,” Star appeared momentarily to draw the sheets over both of you. He shut his eyes and followed you into slumber. “Just sleep.”

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jotaro kujo #polaris au

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fluffypotatey · 3 months

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Why is mini figure Mac half shirtless when he was so flustered over Swk helping him with his clothes. What happened to turn him into that loud creature we see now.

death changes people, i guess

#he was feeling a Mad Max style would be great post-revival #also less clothes = less timee to get dressed #AND WHO IS TO SAY THAT SWK ALWAYS FUSSED OVER MACKY’S CLOTHES #WHO IS TO AAY I AM WRONG #like imagine swk always fussing with his subjects clothes and even more with Macky because they’re super close #and while Macky might enjoy the attention he also feels some embarrassment like he’s being babied when done in public #especially when the fussing is in front of the Brotherhood #so once revived (Lego figurine) Macky is very pissed & on the revenge route so decided that a good mini fuck you to swk = less clothes #bc now no one can fuss over them being tied on wrong or something #lmk #lmk six eared macaque #but honestly the figurine is so funny to me #it looks like he’s wearing a fishnet body suit and like Macky are you trying to kill swk or seduce him which is it????#it’s giving 80s cartoon villain vibes #asks #shadowpeach

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aeb-art · 5 months

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soooo… i did another comic with geo (who of course belongs to @8um8le)! it ending up stretching the page quite a bit, so the rest is under the cut o7

and geo proceeded to win every single round of pool that night, the end, thank you for reading this far 🙇

i'm still not super confident in writing for geo, but i had too much fun with this to care ehehe 🥰 this is the year of indulgence, everyone!

edit: i just realized that I PUT THE CIRCUITS ON THE WRONG ARM! it's supposed to be on my right not my left, oh i'm so mad 😭💔

#2024 #stellar city #sc geo #sc ash #self insert #self ship #this is skipping foward a while in time from the new years comic damn i'll get to the inbetween later maybe idk #timeline would be nye kiss > stalling > actual confession > dates that are either confined to the mall or over video call > this #i think if it's not related to an event the security guards dress in civilian clothes to cause less of a scene if possible #shoutout to the furnace robot i'm in love with her also i decided that under her faceplate is a flamethrower i think that'd be fun #also i know realistically geo has clothes that aren't suits BUT the idea popped in my head of the mall toons having to fight him on his out #agrees to not wear a nice suit jacket and leave his shirt untucked on the condition that he can keep his gloves #like that's a ridiculous scenario but i lost it laughing #would you believe me if i said that's what made me do all of this #also the 'i won't let them ruin this' is also like… oh sweetheart how do you know YOU won't be the one to ruin it? lmao that'd be fun #i totally gave up on that last panel ngl i couldn't think of what to put on the signs lmao #okay i've rambled more than enough! everyone have a beautiful day/night xoxoxo love you mwah

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yeonban · 7 months

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I love how DH's attire when he transforms into IL in and of itself shows the difference between him and DF

#muse: dan heng.#DF was so stifled and suffocated by his role and the people around him and it Showed in the way he dressed #He was very proper at all times; no stray strands of hair; not a millimeter of skin showing; always looking his absolute best #meanwhile DH is so much freer than that. after leaving the Luofu there's nothing shackling him down anymore. he can just Be Himself #and that also shows in his outfit as IL. it shows so much skin and in such places that it would've been SCANDALOUS for DF to wear it #and DH doesn't care about how he looks that much either. as in yeah he does take care of his appearance as much as he can #but he couldn't care less about whether his hair ends up messy or whether part of his clothes get torn or if he's dirty after a battle #obviously it's not preferable and he likes looking acceptable but he's NOWHERE near as strict about it as DF was #DF used to have a status to live up to AND he was taught since childhood to hold himself as if he's perfect and superior #DH has the reputation of the most wretched person in the Luofu & he was taught nothing like DF. he was shackled in a dirty prison instead #idk just... looking at DF and DH side by side you can instantly tell so many differences between them. even the look in their eyes #DF has the vibe of an immortal royal looking down on you; DH has the vibe of a young man looking at you as he would to an equal

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thenatashapulleyuniverse · 10 months

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for all the angsty kingdoms fics out there, is anybody whipping up the typical "person in the past learns about all the wonderful things and terrible things created in the future" fic OR EVEN "person from future really misses this one thing now that theyre living in the past" fic that comes with time travel stories because i realize we literally have NONE of those

#like we get a snippet of that vibe when jem just walks in on agatha half naked and kite thinks hes absolutely fucking insane for this #even though underwear changes in the next few decades so agatha was basically fully clothed to him #do ya reckon joe can invent the radio #ALSO WAYS OF THINKING?? THAT CHANGES TOO.#KITE AND JOE WOULD HAVE ABSOLUTELY DIFFERENT VIEWS ON SOME THINGS BECAUSE THEY ARE PRODUCTS OF THEIR TIMES #anyways kite: *dresses in layers and layers*#joe with his slightly less layered fashion: oh babygirl im about to rock your world #the kingdoms #natasha pulley

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vigilantejustice · 2 years

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have wanted to go to the beach so bad lately which is super weird considering my lifelong position as a beach hater

#i’m thinking it’s got less to do with the beach + more to do with getting some real good vitamin d #my life is v inside so i’m for sure hugely low on it #anyways the beach is a nonstarter because the sand + water is just awful #but also because i’m very much a fully clothed person + i can’t go to the beach in jeans or like a dress + a jacket #have also wanted to swim big time but there’s not really anywhere comfy to do that #i’m very grateful to have grown up with a pool for a lot of primary school nothing like swimming during the christmas/summer holidays #like a super warm day swimming for hours + then just hanging out in your togs watching the fox8 simpsons marathon while your mum makes #cheese toasties for lunch #absolutely unparalleled feeling of comfort #personal

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cosmogyros · 2 years

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#small personal vent:#winter is coming and therefore it is hair-removal season for me again 🙃 fmllll #i'm not bothered by my body hair (specifically legs) when it's summer and i'm only wearing dresses anyway #bc then my legs are bare all the time and nothing is touching the hair #But If Clothes Touch The Hair!!! I Die!!!!!#like many autistic people i have various sensory issues but this is one of the worst of them #the sensation of clothing on my skin over body hair is one of the worst feelings i know #it makes me freak the fuck out mentally like mosquito bites do #it's like i just lose it #the sensation is SO DISTURBING my concentration goes down the drain and i get short-tempered and jumpy #but removing the hair is - although necessary - also such a huge fucking hassle #i just did my legs alone and it took a solid hour #exfoliation; hot bath; washing; drying; epilation; moisturizer #and that'll last me less than a week #grump grump GRUMP #in general being autistic is pretty cool but there are definitely several aspects i am Not Into #cosmo gyres #personal

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fingertipsmp3 · 9 months

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Lads. I have a trial shift at this coffee shop on Monday and I think the weather is still going to be hot but idk if wearing shorts is acceptable at this workplace or not. Further details in tags

#my previous/most recent workplace was pretty relaxed in terms of uniform. you were encouraged to wear shorts or whatever you felt #comfortable in if it was hot. the only necessary uniform items were polo shirt & apron; they didn’t even get on my case if i forgot my name #badge. but this place?? i don’t know #i’ve gone back about a year on their social media and i can only find a few photos in which people are wearing shorts #and they’re ALL men. i see women wearing cutoff linen trousers but i don’t own any of those types of trousers #which makes me wonder if there’s some kind of unofficial standard that’s higher for women. or is it just because women get cold easier?#i DO NOT get cold easily. i can overheat in like. january #plus just general movement is harder for me atm because of my bad knee. i sweat from the exertion of just walking so the less clothes i can #wear in order to mitigate this; the better #i think either my birth control or my painkillers also make me sweat more than usual lol :(#i did see a review stating that they have air conditioning as of a month ago but who knows 1) where it is and 2) if it works #it’s probably just pointed directly at the customers and not behind the counter where i’ll be standing suffering among the equipment #i wish i’d taken the time to notice what was happening when i went in to interview. but it was a cold rainy day so wouldn’t have had much #bearing anyway. if I’M in long pants (and i was that day) you know all is fine #i just don’t know what to dooo. i mean i have long pants i can be relatively cool in but they’re festival pants with ridiculous patterns #on them and they’re also too big for me because i’ve lost weight & apparently gone down to a size 14 (!!) since i bought them #nothing says ‘i will be a great worker’ quite like my green festival pants with pink flowers on them falling down in the middle of the room #i was pondering leggings but when i wear just leggings and not a dress or anything with them i feel all exposed and nasty #even if i Know they’re not see through. i just can’t do it #my shorts are kind of long shorts and i also have ‘smart’ shorts but i don’t have anything like cargo pants or cutoffs or linen trousers #idk. i would message the hiring manager and ask about dress codes during the hot weather but she said it’s her annual leave #so she won’t even be there.. also i think she hates me & the only reason i’m anywhere close to a job offer #is that her lesbian second-in-command saw me wear croissant earrings to the interview and identified me as one of her own #i have no proof of this but i feel it’s true. anyway. i think i’m going to wear khaki green jeggings; bun my hair & try not to die #honestly my hair is usually the number one reason for me overheating lol. like the temptation to shave my head gets stronger every summer #OH MY GOD i just forgot my fucking trump card i cannot believe this!!!! my knee. my injured knee. that i often wear a brace on for pain #relief. see but the thing is; if i wear the brace will they become worried about my pain levels & therefore my ability to do the job?#i don’t wear the brace that much anymore. but if i wore it - INSTANT excuse to wear shorts. hmmmmmmmm #let me know what you think i should do lol. and help me pray for the heatwave to break #personal

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somedaytakethetime · 10 months

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And back on another note, let's get to part 2 (of lord knows how many) of my quest to re-write myself into a new person. Still on inspiration images...

I went through all my crap stuff today! Sorted out all of my accessories, sorted my fix pile and donated all the clothes that I'll never wear so there's no point in taking them in to fit me. I'm pretty sure that I'm still going to get rid of more clothes in the upcoming months as I go through the things I have and what I'll realistically wear but I feel much better having cleaned up even more things now!

But that's not the point, the point is that today I'm going to sort through the rest of the knit items. So... let's get the move on 😩

Starting with colourwork sweaters! I didn't save a ton of those, because realistically... I love knitting colourwork. Small colourwork projects that is, sweaters? Meh.. not a huge fan. BUT.. I like the look of them and I would like a few little things that say 'themed holiday' 🥺

Let's start with things that can look normal:

(links: image 1, image 2, image 3, image 4, image 5, image 6, image 7)

All of these can look perfectly fine for daily wear if they're knit in very subdued shades, I think. Granted that umber 7 is definitely very much 'gingerbread biscuit' but if winter isn't the time to dress like a cookie then when is the right time?? 😤

Now... let's look at something else...

(links: image 8, image 9, image 10)

I'm honestly convinced it's the blonde lady's fault that I have so many things saved.. I'm not sure if I actually want the sweaters or if I want to smooch her 😶 BUT ANYWAY LET'S FOCUS! Do I want a Valentine's sweater? Yes. Do I need one? Probably not. And tulips? SHEEP?? DO I NEED A SHEEP SWEATER?? MY BRAIN WOULD SCREAM IMMEDIATELY 'YES' BUT THE ANSWER IS PROBABLY NO! These are adorable in my eyes, but would I actually wear them? Only the hearts one and probably not in red..

Now let's look at something totally different. Skirts and dresses! Never made them in knit, but they sure look cute

(links: image 11, image 12, image 13, image 14, image 15, image 16, image 17)

So here's the dilemma: I think these are really cute (I'd make things in neutrals again, nothing bright or super colourful. Except skirt 14, it reminds me of folk skirts from several places in Europe and I love it so much) but a) would I wear them? Also.. would I like the way I look in a knit dress or mini skirt? Spoiler alert and sort of trigger warning I guess: I don't really love the way I look all that much, if anything, I sort of hate how I look and I feel stumpy, ugly and pudgy.. my legs, being as short and stubby as they are, are likely my least favourite thing along with the massive size of my hips and derriere (Hi, I'm pear shaped! I have a set of child-bearing hips that's... atrocious to me..). So, I do love the look of these but.. I'm not the level of slender and tall most of these women seem to be, so I would look rather different in these clothes... it's on the table, but also very much up for pondering. Unless I can stop hating myself? Probably not going to happen..

Now let's move on to happier pastures. Scarves!

(links: image 18, image 19, image 20, image 21, image 22)

I'm a huge fan of a silly little scarf. And a neck warmer. And just a big ole scarf in an interesting patter. I have a choking kink, I guess, I like something choking me out during the winter.. plus, neck warmers? Perfect for the scoop neck and lower necklines that I have! These are just a sample of what I have saved up, I have a small big obsession with neckwear and I don't know why.. probably the choking kink

And finally last category for the knits? Mittens, beanies and socks!

(links: image 23, image 24)

I'd change that condomhead look of number 24, not a huge fan of that vibe, but all in all I don't need a ton of these. I also have a balaclava and a few kerchiefs saved but I'm not sure if I'll make those. Maybe just one balaclava? For the construction of it. Also because I do get that cold even if my country isn't super cold at all..

(links: image 25, image 26)

Simple and all I need: one or two pairs of convertible mittens/gloves and some fingerless mittens. Don't need more than this. I have many fancy designs ones, but those, if I were to make them, it would be because I REALLY love the design and I'm in a world of LOTS of patience..

(links: image 27, image 28, image 29, image 30)

Now socks? Socks I'll need to make some decent amount of them. I wear socks year-round, so I would need a few pairs of them to go through. I've rounded up a few different heel constructions, toes I think they're all the same for the exception of number 28 where you can pick a choose (I can't remember the rest honestly, I don't remember the descriptions). I want to learn a few different methods for sock making, I'm really interested in a toe up sock. I've made socks before but they were cuff down, I don't have beef with sock making, I just enjoy learning new techniques.

I think with that I've rounded all the knitwear. Well, for the most part. There's still things that I didn't mention like my interest in making knit bras just because. I think they would probably be really comfortable for me, I'm an A cup so I don't need any support at all and I have a fierce hatred of The Brassiere™.. I still need to plan out really well what I want to make and which colours I want to use. I want to create sort of a minimal wardrobe type of thing, I'm just old and tired of owning a lot of stuff and feeling suffocated in piles and hoards..

Up next, I'll actually round up outfit inspiration images. Just for a visual of which style I actually gravitate towards, plus what would actually look good on my stumpy, lumpy, wee self. If I learn how to hate myself and how I look less, that would be major help too for all of this 😂 I need to make a proper narrowed list of basic things I truly need, everything else will be add-ons just because.. but that requires severe planning first so... yeah.. 😩

#there's body image stuff in this one so... yeah...#that's going to be a recurring theme as i move along with this #the best part of making your own clothes is that you can own whatever you want #but the absolute worst part is that if you hate yourself? well.. it doesn't improve having to measure and see yourself in several angles #but anyhow hopefully i learn to hate myself a little less as time goes on #and maybe if i look better in clothing then i also hate myself a little less!#but we're finally out of the knit stuff.. next up will be *actual* sewn stuff #which is way faster to get done.. that is.. if your drafted patterns still fit Sunny..#gonna have to fix all those blocks and make sure they fit bestie...#Sunny takes a deep dive into the world of adulthood dressing #Re-writing the Old Testament with Sunny (a modern vain tale)#wardrobe planning

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blondedmuse · 5 months

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MISERY BUSINESS

felix catton x reader

synopsis. ꩜ based off of this request.

author’s note. ∿ i need this man so bad it’s not even funny. smut (fingering, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, praise, marking, voyeurism I guess idk) it's been a while since I wrote something on this account and its not proofread so be nice, also a bit of a rushed ending??

word count. ⨾ 2.7k

The harsh thud of the car door closing awoke you from your mid-day reverie by the lake. The sun was beaming down on you almost bare body, only covered by a bikini. It was hotter than usual and everyone else at saltburn seemed to share your complaints. The heat aside the weather was pleasant—Felix on the other hand looked less than.

He looked annoyed, almost upset, even from far away. When he exited the car Oliver and Felix went their separate ways, Oliver looking just as unhappy. You wondered what happened in just few hours that could’ve soured their moods but it was only a few moments later when Felix approached you, grinning in attempt to hide the scowl he was dressed in minutes earlier.

Once he reached your figure he towered over your body as you laid on the dock. Having well acknowledge the heat now and your lack of clothing he discarded his shirt and quickly lowered his frame over yours so that his was barely hovering over yours.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head with a small grin. “nothing.”

You scoffed. “Liar.” He raised his brows.

“What’s wrong?” You prodded again. He dropped his head in hesitation, his lip between his teeth as he contemplated telling you what happened on his and Oliver’s road trip, what he felt, what the truth was—but he couldn’t. Not yet anyways.

He looked up at you. “I- Oliver just said something and it hurt me more than I thought it would.”

You sat up, the two of you adjusting your bodies as you did so. You stared intently at his face, watching how his eyes glossed over and how he could barely hold your gaze. It was a different demeanor than what other people knew, one of the more human parts that made people fall in love with him.

You lifted his face towards yours. “I’m sorry.” The silence that followed after your statement determined he wasn’t interested in sharing anything deeper than the surface of the matter.

He looked back at Saltburn then back at you. “Don’t be.”

You scrunched your brows. “Hm?”

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve listened to you earlier. You kept saying you had a bad feeling about him and I didn’t really take it to heart…til’ now I guess.”

“Oh, Felix,” You sighed, cupping his face, your hand over his jaw subliminally believing that it would release the tension he held there.

“He’s out tomorrow.” His hand caressed yours as it rested on his cheek.

“Really?”

“Really.” He confirmed. “Maybe now I can get you, alone, yeah?” His body pushed yours back down on the doc so he was hovering over you once again.

"Felix," You laughed. "Always distracting me, aren't you."

"No 'm not," he mumbled, nipping at your earlobe. "You weren't doing anything important anyways."

"I was going to ask another question," You giggled.

"Okay," He answered, pushing himself so that he kneeled above you, a knee on either side of your torso. "What?"

When he was playful like this he was such a beautiful sight in front of you, you almost felt bad asking him a question as if you were ruining the mood.

"You're not really kicking him out are you? I feel bad."

He sighed. "I am kicking him out and you shouldn't feel bad, he’s in the business of misery it’s almost like his job to make people feel bad." He crawled back over you once again, something heavier within him now. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, his clouded eyes. His mouth made its way back to your body, this time trailing down your stomach, beginning to leave marks you knew you’d have to hide at the party tonight.

“Felix,” You frowned. “I just-”

He cut you off. “Enough, alright. He was a creep anyways, you said it yourself,” He told you and you nodded, internally agreeing.

“He’s going home after the party.”

The feel of his voice as he mumbled into your skin was enough for you to stop thinking about the situation for the moment. It wasn’t until nightfall you were reminded of Oliver's unrelenting presence—it was his birthday after all. Still, no matter where you were in Saltburn, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes upon you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were never alone.

"Can we go somewhere a little more private?" You asked Felix and he hardly registered the question. His hands up your dress the lights were dim, colored strobe lights bleeding in from the outside. The room was close to empty but the music could be heard throughout the house. You could ask him anything to anyone and it wouldn’t really mean anything—and it didn't help that the two of you were getting dizzy on champagne.

So, you didn't ask you question again but your eyes flickered to the maze that could be seen from the window and he understood what you wanted.

"Whatever you want, angel." He grinned, pulling his hands away to grab yours, taking you to the garden.

You scrunched your brows together. "I should be calling you that y'know."

He laughed with you. "You have wings too."

"But I'm a fairy"

"Close enough." You laughed to yourself as you and Felix walked through the house and towards the maze. There was a bottle of champagne in your left, Felix’s hand in your right, grounding you with each step. The more the time passed the less ideal it felt to walk in heels—you thought of ditching them all together. Still, they held the integrity of your costume, matching the chosen Midsummer Night's Dream theme. You'd dressed up as a fairy, donning flowers in your hair and a frilly slip dress, the costume obviously incomplete without wings.

Your heels pierced through the dirt once you’d made it to the grass, your feet sinking slightly with each step. You groaned to yourself, not going unnoticed by Felix.

“You okay?” He asked, stopping to turn to you.

“My heels,” You answered.

He furrowed his brows. “What about them?”

“Well…” You hesitated. “They’re killing my feet and they keep sinking into the dirt. They’re gonna get dirty.”

“We’ll we can’t have that know can we,” Felix replied, picking you in on fell swoop, your body now in his arms, your legs dangling from his grasp.

"Felix," You giggled his named through broken laughs, surprised with the immediacy of his action.

"What? You know I'd do anything for my best girl," He told you, returning the wide lipped smile on your face.

"I didn't ask you anything."

"You didn't have to."

You went limp in his arms as you sighed, comparable to an act of defiance as if you were annoyed, as if he did something wrong; but you knew he couldn't if he tried. He shook his head but the smirk on his lips was undeniable as he carried you the rest of the way to the center of the maze.

"You're insufferable, won't even let me carry you," He carped, putting you down and letting you lean against the cold metal of the statue as you put the bottle of champagne on the ground beside you.

"I did and you love me," You retorted, inching your face towards his, leaving a sliver of space between your lips. The bronze on your back that chilled your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Felix's body, from the warmth of the air around you. It was intoxicating, his breath on your skin and the breeze of the wind. Looking up at him you could see that carnal glimmer in his eyes when his hands roamed your body only moments earlier, and this morning on the dock. It was something you craved and that was something he knew and savored the fact.

"Well I can't deny that," He smirked before closing the gap between the two of you. You could feel the indent of his grin as he kissed you, his lips turned up into a wicked smile, something more depraved, but still, nonetheless, Felix.

"Why don't I finished what I started earlier, love?" He asked against you not bothering to pull away and you only moaned in approval. His lips traveled from yours to the lobe of your ear so he knew you could hear him clearly.

"You need to use your words, darling."

"Yes," You keened, wanting—needing more than what was being given.

"Good girl," He hummed, his hands drawing down the straps of your dress before they traced down the rest of your body all the way to your thighs. He hooked his hands under them, lifting you to sit on the base of the statue.

"This okay?" He asked, looking into your eyes for conformation, the raise of his eyebrows encouraging it verbally as well.

"Yeah," You sighed breathelessly. "But I still need you."

He smirked again. "Let me fix that then."

Felix's hands gently lowered the front of your dress, exposing your breasts and taking one of them into his mouth, moaning around it.

"You're beautiful, darling" He mumbled, groaning as his tongue slid over your hard nipple. His words were genuine but you couldn't help but feel a little cheesy, kicking your foot playfully at his leg and you felt his erection, hard as you did so.

"And you know that already," He chuckled, sucking your nipple more aggressively. "But it's true." His words made you ache with impatience, whine with desire. Felix pulled back before lowering himself to his knees, his eyes not daring to leave yours. Only when he licked an agonizingly slow, sloppy stripe against your clothed cunt his eyes focused on the sight in front of him.

You breath hitched in anticipation as he pulled down your panties with his teeth and taking them off, shooting you a wink as he pocketed them. Immediately after his gaze moved back to your wet pussy, wasting no time in tasting you.

He dropped his head and his tongue slithered to your clit, flicking the pearl a few times before wrapping his lips around it. Your core was hot against his face, your scent, heady and electrifying; he could spend hours between your legs. Your hand went to claw at his hair, your fingers entangling with his brown locks.

"Ri-Right there," You breathed, attempting your best to string a coherent thought together, but it was hard when one of his hands massaged the outside of your thigh while the other came up to your empty hand. Your fingers interlocking, his thumb kneading the side of your palm as he sucked harder at your clit. You squeezed it as you released strangled moans, strained from the attempt to stay quiet.

"You can be louder, love. No one else is going to hear you except me." You didn't believe him, swearing you heard something in the bushes move along with the fact that there was a full blown party happening in his house right now; but you couldn't help yourself either.

He slipped two fingers into you, eliciting a lewd moan with ease. Your legs pressed together and he almost felt suffocated at the momentary feeling of being entirely enveloped by you—but it was exactly what he wanted.

"Oh God, Felix," You fingers digging deeper into his scalp and he groaned.

His movements were mindless and uncalculated, but they had you reeling each time. He knew your body like a book, where to touch to have your head spinning. The longer he spent between you legs, the louder your moans got, your hips helplessly bucking up to meet his fingers and mouth.

"Atta' girl," he murmured against you core. "Cum for me, love, I can feel you squeezing me."

Your movements got sloppier, raunchier, as your orgasm approached swiftly. It struck you like a bolt of lightning, your body overtaken with rapture and relief. Felix watched as you come down from your high, his fingers still working you over.

"You did so well f'me," He coaxed, finally removing his fingers from your core and scaling up your body, his moving to cling to yours and swallowing any soft moans you had left.

"Need you," You whispered as his lips nipped at yours.

"Need me or my cock?" He chuckled, drunk on you.

"You know what I mean," You replied, hands already to undo the buckle of his belt.

He stopped you before you could go any further. "I know, I just want to hear you say it, darling."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, the smile on your lips indicating otherwise. His brows darted up, goading you on.

"Please?" He pressed and you exhaled in pleasure, in desire.

"Need you inside me, Felix." The corners of his mouth turned up into that smug smirk you've known for so long and he nodded in thanks.

"As you wish, my love."

He was rock hard, heavy and hot in your hands, precum dripping from his tip. You were just as wet and desperate as he reached down as he lined himself up with your entrance, sheathing himself inside you without another moment of hesitation. His arms caged your body under him as he hissed at the feeling. He gave you a a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you.

"You're so tight," He praised as he kissed you, moaning into your mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips started slow, gently rolling into yours, your clit brushing up into his pelvic bone at just the right angle. Felix tuned into how your moans falter when he hit just right spot, the sensation going straight to your core.

"Feels so good," You keened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

"Yeah? Tell me about it," He asked as he increased his pace, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless, evoking obscene noises from you. You wrapped your legs around his torso, heels digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly.

You were sure your nails were going to leave a mark as they clawed into his shoulders while his hand slowly travelled to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit to help you reach your climax. You clenched around him in a manner so desperate, cunt fluttering around his cock. You didn’t have time to tell him you were cumming, screaming and sobbing as ecstasy hit you like a brick wall. You arched your back as his name fell from your lips again and again like a hopeless prayer. He followed suit seconds later, soaked with you as buried his head into the crook of your neck. He came with a strident cry as he bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You went limp under him as he panted weakly with his voice hoarse in your ear.

Still hazy from your climax your eyes widened as you saw Oliver walk into the maze. Felix didn't hear him, but he took note of your expression.

"What? Are you okay? What's-"

You interrupted him. "Oliver." Felix's head whipped around to the man standing behind him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Felix exclaimed and you pulled your legs from his torso and fixed your dress. Felix pulled up his trousers, buckling up his belt before fully turning to face Oliver.

"What are you doing here, mate? I mean, really?" You didn't say anything, composing yourself as Felix stood in front of you. Oliver opened his mouth to speak but Felix cut him off before he could explain himself.

"Actually I don't wanna fucking know, I've seen enough." He sighed and looked back to check on you.

“I think you should go,” You said to Oliver. “Before you do anything more to embarrass yourself.” The words were harsh as they came out of your mouth but you didn’t know what else to say. You watched as he walked away with his shoulders slumped, no doubt some guilt weighing them down.

“Are you alright?” Felix asked you, turning back around. You nodded still processing what had just happened as it seemed the champagne had worn off a while ago. You grabbed the bottle off the ground and held it up, offering it to Felix with a smile he didn't hesitate to reciprocate back.

"To Oliver's fucking party!" You laughed confused as ever, taking a swig of the bottle before he grabbed it from you.

"To Oliver's stupid fucking party."

#jacob elordi #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton saltburn #saltburn #oliver quick #blondedmuse.nsfw #felix catton x reader smut #felix catton smut #jacob elordi smut

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etfrin · 6 months

Text

⤷❝The Study | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | riding, toxic relationship, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating (no actual cheating occurs), riding, dom sub undertones, degradation (he calls you a slut once), hair pulling, edging if you squint, crying, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), creampie, dry humping, clothed sex (you were still wearing a dress) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: A video of you flirting with an elitist goes viral and Snow calls you to his study to confront you about it and it ends up in sexy times ;)

⇢☾A/N: btw for those who doesn't get why Snow asked reader to mark him, it's to show the Capitol that despite rumors, they are actually very close. And uhmm I hope you guys like this!

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune >

< tags: @roryzzz @stelleduarte @strengthandstay @skywalker1dream >

The marriage was a facade, a show for the Capitol that the president didn't stand alone. The people in the manor were the only people who knew how fake the marriage was. Some of the elite of the Capitol could also tell. People can fake everything but not love, never love.

You learned early on Snow wasn't capable of love. A lover wouldn't do half of the atrocities Snow committed as he got to power but he had never done anything to you. You didn't exist for him in the manor and he was always respectful when you were by his side.

It was manageable, the life you had, nobody could mistreat you, not as the First Lady of Panem. However mistreatment and flirting are very different things, and the people of Capitol aren't a stranger to wandering hands and lustful eyes.

You didn't think Coriolanus would mind that you sometimes let the hands linger. That you would bask in the attention you were so deprived of from your husband. You were proven wrong as a video of you and an elitist was going viral all over the Capitol.

You didn't cheat on Snow, but you were too close to the stranger. His hand on your waist and your smile too wide. Cheating or not, it wasn't any less inappropriate.

A remainder by your servant made you walk to the study in which Snow spent most of his time. You were wearing a knee-length white dress, something that clings to your curves. It was a desperate, pathetic attempt to distract Snow. A part of you knew it wouldn't work and would make your mistake more obvious but it was an attempt better than none.

You knocked at the door and you could hear him say come in. So you did. Your hands are behind your back, and your eyes look at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“Do you know what you have done?” He asked, you still couldn't look up to meet his gaze. Your fingers fumble behind your back as you bite your inner cheek. You give him a nod.

“And what have you done?” He questioned, his voice like the calm before the storm. “I created unnecessary gossip that isn't good for your reputation,” you mummer.

“What else?” He said, his tone suspicious and waiting for the confirmation. That's when you look up at the most beautiful demon you have ever seen. He looked all glorious with his suit and hair slicked back. “I didn't cheat,” you said, firmly, your eyes fierce and reflecting the truth of your words.

When Snow didn't reply, you insisted again, “I. Didn't. Cheat. It's a line I will never cross, Coriolanus.” Again, he didn't say anything, instead, his gaze went up and down your body, his expression unreadable. You flushed from his stare, not sure if wearing this dress was the right move after all. The man had always surrounded himself with those stupid white roses and this was the symbol that you had noticed.

“Come and sit.” You begin to walk towards the chair only to be interrupted by his words, “No, not there, in my lap.” You freeze from his words, but your brain tells you to obey his every word.

You make your way to him, your heels clicking against the marble floor. Your hands are sweaty and your heart is in your throat. You reach him before you straddle him without a word being uttered. Your dress hitching up to your thighs. Your hands around his shoulders as you wait for further instructions from your husband.

“What do you think we should do to make the rumors go away?” He asked, his voice deep and so seductive. You weren't even sure he realized the effect his voice had on you. You let out a small gasp when his hands held your hips, cementing your place in his lap.

His hands were warm and perhaps maybe it was biased but you thought they would be ice cold. Instead, his palm laminated heat against the thin fiber of your dress making your skin warm. Your former flush turns into a deeper shade of red.

“We could…” you couldn't focus, how could you when he was touching you like this? When he was so close. He was never this close to you before. Ever. His touch reminded you of the fact that despite everything he is a man and your husband at that. A demon in human flesh.

“We could do more PR,” you mumbled. He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “I mean if we do it right, I am sure it will work,” you fumbled. He gives you a nod.

“Take off my shirt,” he demanded. Your eyes widen and you hesitate. “Do it or I’ll make you.” he threatened and you know not to take his words lightly. With shaky fingers, you unbutton his shirt. The process was slow, meticulously slow. His toned physique comes into complete view, making your breath hitch. Fuck, he was a Greek God of tragedy and sin.

“Mark me up,” he said, his tone emotionless. “What?” you questioned, surprised. “You think you’re acting innocent?” he sneered, “You heard what I said, my wife. It's because of your suggestion. Mark. Me. Up.”

You swallow down your nervousness and bring your lips forward to his cheek. You pressed a soft kiss there and felt him tense underneath you. You drag your lips to his jaw and nip the skin, the tip of your tongue soothing the small teeth mark as he lets out a grunt. It was music to you. A masterpiece of symphony and you needed more, so much more. Snow had you deprived for months and it's time to take.

Your lips continue to nip at his jaw, placing sloppy wet kisses as his breaths get heavy. You moved down to his neck, a moan leaving your lips as you attacked his skin with your teeth. Sucking onto his pulse point and moaning when the salty taste of his skin hits your taste buds. Your hand goes to his neck, tilting his head to give you more access. All the while he lets out quite controlled sounds. You licked his Adam's apple before wrapping your mouth around it to suck a purple bruise. Marking him up just as he wanted.

His hand on your waist gave you a firm squeeze which made you bite harder and made him hiss. You lean back panting, as you admire your artwork of teeth marks and red love bites. You pressed down into him and moaned as his hard bulge pressed right against your clothed cunt. Your panties were soaked by now. “Snow,” you whimper.

“Corio, call me Corio” he whispered. His eyes briefly turned to a white bouquet of roses before he met your gaze. You didn't think much of it and whispered, “Corio.”

“Corio,” you tried the name again on your tongue and watched his eyes darken. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his. “Let me kiss you. Let me make you my husband, please,” you whispered.

You waited for a verbal answer but all you got was another squeeze on your waist. You were desperate enough to take what you could get. You started by grinding against his bulge. The juices that made your panties soaked are now ruining his pants.

You let out a breathless moan as you gained delicious friction against your pussy but it wasn't enough. There's no hell and heaven for which this would be enough. You crashed your lips to his. The kiss was all carnage and desire. Uncoordinated, something so unlike Snow Corio that it made you moan into his mouth. Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. Your lips glide against each other perfectly. His tongue took over your mouth, not leaving any place unexplored, untouched by him.

You break the kiss with a gasp. Your hand going towards his pants to unzip. The motion stopped as Corio held your wrist and you looked up at him. “You’re my wife, you're my right,” he said, “but do you deserve it?”

It was more than a question, it was a promise waiting to be made, a bond waiting to be sealed. “I…” you begin to speak, you meet his eyes, sea blue you wanted to drown in, “Never again, Sn- Corio. Never again.” “Please,” you added for extra measure. You had his taste already, no one else could ever compare. He had to know that too because he gave you a sharp nod.

You get up from his lap, taking off your panties first, not bothering with the dress. You knew he liked it now, more than you thought so he would. You find your rightful place in his lap again, his pants and boxers past his knees.

His cock was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. It looked painful and it was because of you. You. You wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

Instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. You raise yourself a bit so his cock can align itself to your entrance. Your dress is raised to help you. Even if his cock was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock. You knew your pussy would stretch around him, that your walls would be a splendid fit around his length. You were too impatient for any sort of foreplay, you wanted the stretch, you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

You let out a whimper as you began to sink onto his cock, your eyes flicked to him and his eyes were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now. His hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. It was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to let out a groan.

“I respected you like a lady but sluts don't deserve respect,” he said, his lips parted as he let out a heavy pant. You let out a whimper, your mind hazy as your cunt tries to get used to his length. “I.. am sorry,” you whine, how many times do you need to repeat? When will he be satisfied with your apology?

“Prove it,” he said with a smirk, “Prove that you deserve to be my wife and the First Lady of Panem.”

You follow Corios’ command. Your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. Your fingers fist his shirt as you begin to ride him. Raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. He reached the deepest spot inside of you like this. His cockhead grazing your spongy spot as you fucking yourself on his cock. Your arousal and his pre-cum being smeared all over your thighs.

The sight made his breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking his cock like a good wife. You looked completely debauched like this, your hair wild, your lips red and swollen, your hands digging into his shoulder. Your nipples are hard and obvious through the white dress.

He wasn't supposed to lose control, this was happening for a reason. No matter how many deem him God or devil in the end he was a man. And no man is perfect. He pulled you closer to him. One of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. Another of his hands in your hair, tugging the strands without a care about how rough he is being. It makes you moan, your head on his chest now. His hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

His pace was slower than yours. Each thrust of his was made for his indulgence in your velvet walls. The drag of his cock was perfect, his speed however was making you feel insane. You needed him, faster, harder. Used would be a much more correct term. You wanted to be used by your husband. And right now, you were but it wasn't enough.

You let out mewls and whines to make him break his languid pace but Corio gives you no mind. His fingers interlanged in your locks, his hand still pressing you in and his strength made it so you couldn't take control. He was drunk in the pleasure your pussy gave, his head resting on his headrest, his lips parted to let out a grunt with every thrust.

You weren't a person for him, not right now, a fleshlight perhaps. It didn't matter what you felt, it mattered what Snow felt. Snow felt amazing, he felt stupid for denying himself this for months on end. He would never make the same mistake again.

Time passes and you don't know how long Corio has you like this, your nerves raw as your pussy impossibly sensitive. Tears were falling from your eyes and staining his shirt but moans slipped your lips every time he pushed in again.

“Corio, please,” you try to plead, raising your head to look at him. “Please, please can't anymore.” He turns his head to you, his fingers that you seemed to have forgotten were in your hair tugging your strands roughly.

That was it. You gasp out as the pain becomes a trigger to make you cum on his cock, your pussy tightening around his cock like a vice as the orgasm washes over your body. It was intense and you had snapped. “Sorry! Sorry!” You begin to sob, “I won't ever look at a man that's not you! Sn- Corio please!”

His languid thrust had sped up, his arms caging you to his chest. The last thing you heard before he spilled his seed inside of you was, “Snow lands on top.”

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ichorai · 6 months

Text

wool ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; when you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, slightly suggestive

warnings / includes ; set before events of tbosas so no actual spoilers, making out, clemensia appearance, mentions of other characters, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could, let's pretend the academy also serves dinner

a/n ; this man has consumed me body and soul. this fic was inspired by the song wool by flatland cavalry on the movie soundtrack! let me know if you guys would like a second part :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus Snow was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He bore an aristocratic last name—yet you noticed that his dress shirt’s buttons seemed to be various different shades of black and slightly misshapen. His voice, so sweetly saccharine, charming, seductive—would whisper falsities like it was second nature. He would often claim that he wasn’t hungry, but you’d catch the longing glint in his pale irises as he eyed the steaming bread rolls Sejanus slathered with generous helpings of butter.

Control. That was all he needed.

It crumbled, ever so slightly, when you nudged your slice of apple pie in his direction. His eye twitched, and you pursed your lips, pulling your plate back to you. You ate quietly, and Coryo stared at you all the while, as if he were mentally dissecting your mind—studying you.

You knew. It was all too clear, even if he wouldn’t tell you. And if he wouldn’t tell his closest friend—or, the closest thing he had to a friend, the two of you certainly did things that friends wouldn’t do—he most definitely wouldn’t let it slip that he was financially strapped to anyone else.

That same day, he met you in the back of the library. The two of you were supposed to be studying history—Professor Demigloss was one of the nicer teachers at the academy, but that didn’t mean he was any less strict with grades. And neither you nor Coryo could afford slipping now. Not if you both wanted to get into university. Being on top meant that there was only greater distance to fall.

But there were… distractions.

Mainly, his foot knocking against yours under the table. Your hand over his jostling knee. His teeth digging into his bottom lip. When you shifted so that your thighs brushed against his, the books spread out over the table were entirely forgotten.

He pushed you against the bookshelves a mere second later, the wood digging into your back uncomfortably, and kissed you until you grew dizzy. You were a welcome distraction—he could taste the apples on your tongue. The way you snaked your arms around his neck, toying with his pale blonde curls, pulling him closer until his body slotted against yours just perfectly—clicking into place like a pair of magnets facing opposite directions. It was desperate and heavy and he could only barely pull away to inhale sharply before cradling the base of your head to tilt your jaw back and kiss you even harder. Coryo swallowed any muffled whimpers that slipped from you when his free hand traveled lower.

Lower, lower, dangerously low—

When Clemensia’s voice echoed through the library in search of her lab partner, the two of you sprang apart, gasping for air.

She rounded the bend, and her dark eyes landed on the two of you. Keen, observant, narrowed. Coriolanus was flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen, chest rising and falling erratically. You were looking anywhere but the two of them, smoothing out your clothes and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Oh! I guess I’ll just have to find another time to bother you, Coriolanus,” she tittered, sickly sweet. She tilted her head with a tempered smile. “What’re you guys studying?”

Snow rolled his eyes in exasperation. “History,” he said. Curt, simple.

“Right.” She eyed you curiously. When she spoke again, it was directed more to you than him, sounding uncharacteristically void of frigid scorn. “I’d be careful if I were you. You sure he’s not just sleeping with you because you’re the top of the class?”

You stiffened, and Coryo bristled.

“I’ll be fine, Clem. See you tomorrow.”

There was another beat of terse silence. Her eyes darted warily between the two of you, and she whisked away in a flutter of red and black.

You blew out a breath. Your mouth tingled with the phantom memory of his lips planted over yours, and your cheeks flushed with heat. The two of you sat back down, both quiet. You worked in fluid tandem with each other, as you always did. His hands kept to himself this time.

“I’m not using you,” he whispered, eventually. “It’s not like that.”

“I know,” you replied hesitantly, testing the waters. “It’s not like you’d need to. Your grades are just fine as is.”

The two of you kept working until your fingers cramped with overuse and his head pulsed with the beginnings of a migraine.

“Dinner?” you asked once the clock struck six, nudging him. “I think they’ll be serving mashed potatoes today.”

His stomach clenched at the thought of warm food. Control.

“Sure,” he replied coolly, flicking his books closed and gathering up all the papers to stuff into his bag. “I’m sick of mashed potatoes, though.”

You shot him an incredulous smile, brows quirking up. He was lying, but you didn’t know. “Not even when it’s seasoned with roasted garlic? A dash of the freshest of herbs?”

The blue of his eyes gleamed when they bore into yours. “Not even then.”

“You’re a strange man, Coriolanus Snow.” Your lips twisted downward, but it was more of a smile than a frown. When your eyes darted below to glance at his school uniform, you couldn’t help but notice the unironed creases in the carmine fabric. One of the buttons—the very top one—was oddly shaped and a different color from all the rest. It reminded you of his dress shirt. You quite liked that dress shirt. He looked handsome in it, but you chalked it up to his uncanny ability to look handsome in just about anything.

Your head tilted to the side, molten eyes fixed on the button. You knew. He knew that you knew. Panic seized in his chest, an irrational clawing sensation searing within his lungs. Would you tell the rest of the class? What would you say to them? That he was living as filthily as a District boy? That he skipped meals because he couldn’t afford them? That his cousin mended his clothes for him?

But your frown-smile deepened. Fondness stained your expression, clear as day. Coriolanus found himself surprised, as he often did around you.

“I love your buttons, by the way,” you mumbled, reaching out to trace it with a finger. He held his breath on instinct. “Is it a stylistic choice? Having them all irregular like this?”

Stylistic. Coriolanus almost laughed.

“Mhm. It’ll be in fashion one day. I’m just ahead of the trends,” he murmured charmingly. A bluff.

When you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, Coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his.

“Maybe I’ll start wearing mismatched buttons now, too. Rebel against uniformity.” You stood up from your chair as you spoke, not catching the way Coriolanus’ expression faltered momentarily with your last three words. It was a joke, he had to remind himself. Just a joke. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner. I’m starving.”

He jerkily stood up. Grabbed your hand just because he could, fingers folding over your wrist. He could feel your pulse, thumping quicker and quicker. You regarded him curiously. Snow’s remaining spindly hand cradled your face and he stepped closer, intuitive eyes roaming over your face, wondering just how much of you was real. How much of you was lying, just as he was?

His lips fell over yours again. This time, the kiss was sweeter. Slower, more languid. His nose brushed over your cheekbone, warm to the touch. You hummed pleasantly against him, before placing a hand flat over his chest—over the crooked button—and pulled away with a dazed smile. It felt dangerously good that you hadn’t tugged your hand out of his grasp yet. His grip tightened in a near possessive manner.

As the two of you began walking out of the library, Coriolanus couldn’t help but think back to your hyperbole—about how far from starving you truly were. You wouldn’t ever know, not when your family was the very epitome of Capitol wealth. But he was glad he wasn’t the only one lying, for once, even if your lie was merely an inflation of the truth.

After dinner, Coryo worked off the top button of his uniform with repeated tugs to the threads, pulling apart Tigris’ handiwork. He slid it over the table to you, watching the way your countenance softened in endearment. He kissed you again in the dark hallways outside the cafeteria, finding it difficult to get your lips to melt away from your tightly-stretched grin.

He walked home with a mirroring smile and a missing button that night. One less piece of the wolf’s sheeply clothes.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 month

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TF141 & sexy clothes

Gaz absolutely supports you wearing whatever you feel sexy in. however, in his heart of hearts, he believes the sexiest thing you can wear around him is your pjs, your ratty old tees, your sleep shirts, your big hoodies, your slouchy garbage clothes. he just wants to know you're comfortable. not to mention the idea of you letting him see you the way nobody else gets to... letting yourself be totally vulnerable around him... that lights up a certain (slightly needy) (slightly possessive) part of his brain. interesting how easily his hands can slide past the hem of your clothes when they're bigger and slouchier, too.

Ghost loves lingerie, though. like wrapping a present just for him. it's less about the lace (or the bows, or the straps, or the leather, whatever you prefer) and more about the time and attention you're expending to make yourself look all sexy. all this work? for him? even if his usual compulsion is to act aloof and pretend it's no big deal, he can't hide the greedy way his eyes devour you--for me? don't mind if i do. it's a toss-up whether he decides to unwrap you completely or just push his calloused hands into your lil outfit and muss you up until it's not covering anything anymore. or maybe he'll just leave the wrapping on so he can keep admiring all your hard work while he pumps into you.

Price says he loves you in lingerie, and he does. he doesn't tell you how fucking crazy you drive him when you're dressed for business. that might mean the clothes you wear into the office every day; it might mean fatigues; it might mean a particular uniform; it might be sportswear. he's big into seeing you focused and in your element--your competence is sexy--while also knowing there are so few layers he'd need to peel off before he could have you completely forgetting yourself if he wanted. and hey! if the lace at the top of your thigh-highs happens to be peeking out from under your pencil skirt, or if your ass fills out your uniform just right? that's just fine with him. you do you. (for now. he'll do you later.)

Soap's preferences are simple. he likes access. skirts. dresses. obviously, if he could convince you to be naked 100% of the time, he would. sundresses are pretty, though. so are your studded black skirts if you're gothy. or your sharp, practical, form-fitting pencil skirts if you're professional. you can even wear a kilt if you'd like. his kilt. he doesn't mind. (he only asks that you wear it as it's meant to be worn--without a thing underneath.) on days you do wear a dress or skirt, you're lucky to make it out of the house without him darting after you, pulling the hem up your thighs, and wondering aloud how you managed to find any undergarments at all; he'd swear he hid every last pair. he peels your underwear off--don't protest, hen; you know how this works--and after that, your chances of getting out the door are slim to none.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

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tteokdoroki · 9 months

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✩ — ANGELS SHOULD NEVER FALL THIS FAR FROM HEAVEN ⁀➷ everyone believes satoru gojo to be an angel. your mother considers her new son to be a blessing, even if he’s bratty and spoiled. but never once did think teasing him would make your step-brother to act on such ungodly desires. (3.2K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, pwp, college!au, religious imagery, step-cest, groping, fingering, ‘just the tip’, exhibitionism, clothed sex, male masturbation, slight degradation, bratty behaviour, use of oneesan, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, cumplay, fem!reader, step-bro!gojo.

things to note. lol sorry it’s been a while !! trying a new layout also posting this into the void while i work on kinktober eee !! idk i’ve had a rough time trying to write a one shot so im glad i could make this !! special thanks to @kishibye for beta reading. i hope you enjoy this bestie boos ily <3

“what are you doing?” there’s a sharp edge to the tone of satoru’s voice, splayed across his tongue that holds back a stream of curses. his eyes speak fury in their piping hot flames of wild cerulean as he watches you enter the kitchen and shoot straight for the snack cupboard.

you can feel the weight of his gaze as it crosses the slopes of your body, from the back of your head, twirling around your curves before ultimately falling to your behind.

playing innocent, you stand on your tip toes and grasp at the bag of chips you’re after. the ones on the top shelf. “whaddya mean ‘what am i doing’?”

“what do you mean what do i mean?” your step brother retorts childishly, as if you’re two kids fighting on a playground at recess.

you click your tongue and pay him no mind. “don’t be such a baby, satoru,” you wave a hand in his face in a haughty manner. “use your big boy words.”

gojo suppresses a whine when your shirt rides up and reveals your skin to gorgeous eyes. he lets it gargle around in his throat like the sting of cool mouthwash, before striding over to you — grabbing the chips and slamming the cupboard shut so hard it makes you jump.

“you can’t just walk around dressed like that.”

he gestures to your get up — the clothes you wear when nobody’s home. your sapphire silly and scallop-edged panties, your old and ratty band t-shirt haphazardly thrown on.

“why?” you turn around to come face to face with your younger (step)brother, noting the way his stare hones in on the plush meat of your thighs as you squish them together — leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“my friends are coming over.”

“so, what’s the big deal?” there’s something about pissing gojo off that entertains you. he’s a brat by all means, raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and daddy’s dollars tucked into his pockets. whenever there’s a problem, all it takes is a classic ‘toru temper tantrum and your parents are on the scene to fix things for him. he’ll never know the hardships of being raised by a single mother, always having a little less than most. he walks around in his own little bubble of riches - and you can’t help but want to pop it. “shoko thinks i’m cool and geto will probably jack off to me later. it’s whatever.”

“but it’s not whatever,” you can practically see satoru fight the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child — even going as far to have the audacity to pout down at you. “you’ll just embarrass me. so do us both a favour and put some clothes on, nobody wants to see all that ‘round the house.”

“do you own this house?”

“no but i-“

“but your daddy does. and daddy isn’t here! so shut up, satoru!” jabbing a finger into his chest, you smile up at your not-so-little little step-brother, evilly. “i make the rules.”

“oh fuck you. all you do is mooch off of my dad, princess. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your mom whoring it out for him.” he sneers in response, upper lip curling into a distasteful snarl like a dog with a stranger on its territory. his words, though cruel and foul, are far from the truth and you know that he doesn’t mean it. satoru is a brat that throws acid laced words at anyone who gets in his way — yourself included.

even though you agree that your parents tied the knot all too fast — barely giving the two of you a chance to get to know each other as siblings. they were in love and far too happy for the rivalry between their children to get in the way. you know that the fact pissed gojo off to no end, he hated how your mother doted on him and how he’d always needed to fight for his father’s attention. now it certainly wasn’t ever going to be on him. but the two women in his house instead.

your poor, spoiled, baby brother.

however, you won’t let his words and how he projects onto you, hurt you. “whoops! looks like i dropped my will to give a fuck!” whilst pretending to drop your snack, you bend over in front of him to reveal inches of beauty marked and blemished flesh, drawing hungry seafoam eyes to the bounce of showing your ass — testing your little step brother. “i don’t care satoru, i’m older.”

satoru’s mouth snaps shut after moments of wordlessly opening and closing. he stands frozen on the spot, as if he can’t seem to process the very idea that his older step-sister had just flashed him to prove a point.

but just when you think you’ve won, the silver-haired brat is pressed right up behind you, forcing your body to bend over the cold marble counter that instantly has your nipples hardening against the icy surface. heat rushes to your face, blossoming just under the barrier of your skin as his hard on nestles it’s way between your ass cheeks — a symphony of your surprised squeaks echoing through the modern kitchen.

“hey! what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

instead of responding, he pushes your head down against the counter — circling his increasingly wet erection against your behind, manhandling the globes of flesh back onto his dick. “not so fun, is it.” he coos down at you, voice chilly and full of condescending highs and lows. “yanno…you’re awfully mean to me.”

saliva pools on your tongue, weighing it down in your mouth like a paperweight as satoru’s girth slips downwards, seedy tip brushing over panty clad and your swollen clit. “aren’t oneesan’s s’pposed to take care of their baby brothers?” his breath is hot and ragged against your ear as gojo haunches over you, caging you in like a wild animal as you thrash and writhe under his touch.

you can’t even bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame when gojo’s left hand dances between your tangled limbs and slips past the frilly band of your underwear — ghosting over the throbbing pearl laying between your sticky pussy lips. “step…step brother!” you whinge at the tingle of pleasure that blooms in your lower tummy and spreads like angel wings throughout the rest of your body.

satoru takes turns playing with you, alternating between his nimble, skilled fingers and his seedy girth that smears precum all over your inner thighs and panties. “like that even fuckin’ matters.” he laughs, twisted and proud. “could you get off like this? yeah i think you could…. you’re already so wet. just from grinding on your little brother’s cock.”

your legs grow shaky at his ministrations, beads of your juices oozing from your empty entrance to stain the man’s sweats, slicking him up as if it’s a signature of your claim. “‘toru!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into the depth of your skull. “m-more.”

“look at how fast you fold for me…” he pushes up your shirt so that the fabric pools around your waist — pawing at the fat there, massaging your hips softly as if he isn’t violently, cruelly rubbing one out on your achey pussy. “i don’t think you’re in a position to ask me for more, big sis.” satoru taunts, a heavy hand coming down on the bare skin of your ass, leaving a raw handprint in its place. “such a nasty slut, i bet you’d let me fuck you like this too. out in the open, where anyone could catch us.”

you yelp in surprise at the feeling of gojo’s messy, cream coated cockhead nudge at your entrance from over your panties — a slender finger pulling the soaked material to the side so he can fuck you with his tip. “oh, i bet you’d like that, huh baby?” he continues to purr, jutting his hips forward ever so slightly — feeding your greedy cunt a few more inches of him. satoru’s barely sheathed inside of you, but you’re already stretching deliciously around what he’s given you. he’s fat, girthy just as he is long and his mushroom tip drags along sensitive spots in your walls you didn’t even know you had.

he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.

you sob, wail and writhe on your little step brother’s cock, nails clawing at the marble counter while your breath escapes you. “satoru, please fuck me. ‘m sorry… sorry—!”

“shh big sis, you’re being too loud,” he cups a hand over your mouth. gojo eases two digits past your plump lips to pacify your cries as he shallowly pumps his wet cock into the heat of your sex — gritting his teeth to hide his own moans. “we…fuck, you’re tight as shit… we wouldn’t want my friends to know that you dress like a slut for my cock, would we?”

you shake your head with a muffled moan, suckling the taste of yourself from gojo’s fingers and breathing heavily through your nose. “no, we wouldn’t. that’s right. good girl, oh shit.”

satoru laughs, a little cocky and a little drawn out in a long, whiny whimper over the wet slap of the backs of your thighs in the front of his own. but he trembles from behind you, like his legs are about to give out every time your creamy cunt sucks a little more of him in. it’s a miracle he’s managed to hold you both up.

guilt wracks your body intertwining with the red blood cells coursing through your veins and carrying limited oxygen to your brain — your head practically empty at how your little brother ruins you on half of his fat cock. this isn’t right, this is completely wrong and yet you feel yourself coming undone — weak in the knees and shaky in your lips, the dam in your lower tummy threatening to burst at any second and flood the room in an erotic river of your arousal.

pushing your head off of the counter, you lean into satoru, throwing your ass back onto him in rhythm with the harshness of his thrusts. everything is hotter, heavier and you can’t even think about how much of a bad step-sister you are when he’s dominating your body like this. the silky locks of satoru’s silvering hair press against your shoulder and he wraps a fist in the fabric of your shirt to pull you further back onto his cock.

“‘m gonna c-cum, oh god!” you squeal, flinching as your juices crudely slap against the kitchen floor. “i’m so close!”

he pants into your ear like a desperate dog, fully wrapping himself around you and trapping you against the counter so that you have nowhere to go except towards your high. “yeah?” gojo breathes heatedly, temperate breath cascading over the back of your neck and only adding fuel to your fire of desire. “i can tell, you get like this. all needy ‘n cute when you’re about to cum.”

his words have you clenching around his bulbous tip every time it pushes up against the pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had — your arousal catching in the pretty blue veins that spiral around the length of gojo’s shaft. “you don’t think i can’t hear you, big sis? late at night when you think everyone’s sleepin’….” his whistle tone moans are quickly replaced by deep growls and grunts that only just manage to escape from between the gritted rows of your step brother’s pearly whites. “when you stuff those tiny fingers into that tight little hole and—“

he reaches down between your mess of slick soaked limbs to land a harsh smack against your quivering pussy, sending the foamy ring of white where your bodies join flying about the place. “—and make yourself cum to the thought of me?” he continues, breathing ragged and laughing at you again when you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“s-satoru!”

he soothes you with quick circles over your swollen clit and kisses to your shoulder — being careful not to leave marks. “oh did that hurt, baby? am i the mean one now?” licking a stripe up the side of your face and tasting the sweat on your glistening skin, satoru rambles on — filling you up with praises and copious amounts of precum. “you know i—fuck— you know i love you. my precious big sister, so fucking good to me. let’s make you cum, yeah?”

you’re allowed to rut back on him for a little longer, since he loves the sound of his name whirling around messily on your tongue, all high-pitched and sugar coated for him. if only you knew how badly he’d wanted you, how pissed he was when his father went on to marry your mother. gojo has wanted you since the very first night you met — his every waking thought has been carefully carved to lust after you, think of your eyes, your smile, your lips. fuck, everything about you has satoru under some kind of spell.

“r-right there. right there, t-there!” you chant the words like they’re the a prayer, as if they’re the only ones you know, allowing satoru to throw you through the loop of pleasure until you’re too far gone to stay on the ride.

angling his slender hips upwards, his cockhead bares down on the gummy centre of your g-spot just has he buries himself inside of you — right up to the hilt. “h-here? this where you want me, big sis?” gojo’s amused gasp turns into a coo when you let out a meek hum of agreement, babling wild nonsense and drooling into the counter you’re pressed against. “mmhm, got you creamin’ around me already. so cute, so good when you listen. when you’re a good t’me, oneesan.”

the honorific alone has your mouth running dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. though the syrupy pap, pap, pap of your sex says otherwise. it tells the truth of your sin.

and the thing that you don’t know about satoru is that he loves to give, feeding pieces of himself to you as he fucks you wild in the middle of your family kitchen. he wants you to have all of him, every corner and inch of his body just like he dreamed about. he knows it’s forbidden and that it’s wrong, but he can’t help but relish in the feeling of your pretty pussy sucking him in so selfishly, greedily clamping down on his thick base.

he would give you anything. anything you wanted and asked for if you’d let him. his hands slip from your waist to intertwine with yours splayed out on the cool marble surface, using his last spurts of energy to drag you towards your orgasm and the deep depths of sinner’s paradise.

“fuck me, fuck me, baby.” he growls possessively against the shell of your ear. “let go for me. lemme see how much you love your little brother—“

the crescendo of your pleasure is at an all time high, about to come crashing down on you like a tonne of heavy bricks.

that is until the door bell rings, accompanied by the sound of geto’s voice from the outside of the house. “yoo, satoru! open up!”

you’d think that you’d have been good enough for your little step-brother to keep going — to push onwards and let you cream all over him before he went to attend to his silly little friends. but he flips the script, pulling out of you just as you teeter over the edge to ruin your orgasm.

“no, no, please!” you sniffle, teary eyed with dissatisfaction sitting in your lower belly — the need to cum still there but the feeling of emptiness within your dripping walls taking over. “satoru…” you whine.

when you look behind you, he’s too busy finishing himself off — his black shirt between his teeth, sweats hanging low on his waist while gojo palms his hard and heavy cock as he pleases.

it’s coated in your arousal, shining under the artificial lighting in the kitchen and you watch with a pout as gojo jacks himself off to the view of your ruined cunt. he thumbs the seedy slit at the centre of his bright red tip, hissing through the sensitivity. he’s a picture perfect vision, appearing as an angel before your very eyes. a mop of halo white hair flop backwards with satoru’s head, rich sapphire eyes locked behind fluttering lashes that glisten with pearls of pleasure filled tears.

you know not to be mistaken, you know that satoru is more like an incubus than the heavenly being he presents as. the parts of your brain with better judgement see him as the sinner who made you fall from grace, committing such a heinous act. the desperate side of you with a brain full of lust and smoke screens sees your step-brother as a god who controls all of your desires.

you think you prefer that side of you more.

meanwhile, a drop of sweat runs a track down the length of satoru’s neck, catching on the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his euphoric laments. you find yourself jealous that his own fingers are wrapped around his sloppy dick instead of drawing shapes against your aching clit. you envy how good it must feel for satoru when he finally cums. ropes of thick white sling around his knuckles, much paler in contrast to his pearlescent skin tone.

a deep, gravelly moan erupts from his hot mouth like lava, accompanied by curses and the stuttered syllables you recognise to be your name while he finishes himself off. gojo jerks his sensitive cock over your ass to paint you with the last spurts of his release. it’s a claim on you as your step-brother, a way in which he can show you that he always gets his way no matter what.

whilst still recovering, your step-brother drags a slender finger through the puddle of cum he’s left on you, and drags it down to your stretched little hole before pushing it against your overstimulated clit. “hmm, so pretty.” gojo grins, slow and sly, when you twitch and attempt to jolt away from him. then unexpectedly, he lands a hard smack against your bum — revelling in your sweet cry of pleasure, impatience and pain. “go put somethin’ on, will ya, sis? my friends are still waiting outside.”

“i…i hate you.” you whimper shakily, brain frazzled from the situation.

satoru might be a spoiled brat, but he’s not mean enough to leave you here a shaky, dripping mess so he helps you to your feet — tenderly fixing the hem of your shirt and panties back into place (failing to wipe his cum off of you beforehand). you’re still pouting from your ruined orgasm once he’s done, and he nudges the underside of your chin with a singular knuckle.

“don’t worry big sis, i’ll come take care of you later. maybe i’ll even let geto watch since you love prancing around half naked for him too.” he teases, squishing your cheeks as you try to swat at him. “and you don’t hate me, you love me and this cock. clearly.” gojo sings and sends a cheeky wink in your before prancing away to open the door for his friends.

he pulls his pants up as he goes, not minding the wet patch you’ve left on him.

whereas, you scurry up to your room before they can greet you and gojo tells them that you’re feeling unwell.

that day, you learn two valuable lessons:

one — never mess with a spoiled brat, it’ll never end well for you and gojo will always get what he wants no matter who pays the bills.

two — geto really does like to jerk off to you, even more so when he watches his best friend punishes his older step-sister with enough orgasms to make her forget why she was in trouble with satoru in the first place.

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