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[starmark]

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Jotaro Kujo ⬤ JJBA: Stardust Crusaders
residential district ⬤ ???
moonblessing ⬤ Sanguis

info ⬤ permissions ⬤ kinklist

Comments

[hierophany]

Yeah.

[ Maybe he’ll figure it out eventually, that Jotaro isn’t like him. Doesn’t need to be doing something at any given time. For now, he hasn’t quite got his head around it. So comb it is. ]

Just like that. You’re so good to me

[starmark]

[Smoothly, slowly, he works the comb through Kakyoin's hair, not with any particular finesse or skill, but just with simple thoroughness — using it as much as an opportunity to feel the strands running along the lightly calloused skin of his fingertips as actually to straighten it out and set it back into place.

Stroke, stroke. There's a rhythm to this, too. It's lulling, pacifying. He can settle into it easily enough, and let the praise wash over him like a warm saltwater wave.]

I. Want to be good.

[He treads carefully, gingerly. Good boy is off the table, he knows that, but this much should still be all right.]

So if I do it wrong...then you should tell me.

[hierophany]

I will.

[ It feels nice, even if it was just the first thing that occurred to him. The slow movement of the comb through his hair. The scrape and slight pull against his scalp. The rise and fall of Jotaro’s chest against his, and the echo of dull not-pain at his neck.

This isn’t meant to be for him, but it’s hard to deny how wanted he feels right now. ]

You’re doing right so far. Doing good. You’re so good.

[starmark]

You really are beautiful.

[He works the comb carefully, step by step, first down along the sweep of Kakyoin's jawline and then back from his temple, smoothing out the kinks and flyaways until he's naturally ended up at the back of his head. Now he has to ease the fallen hood out of the way more carefully, but a twinge of tactile memory reminds him of the unique pleasure of comb teeth running along the nape of one's neck, and he wastes no time in doing the same, running it again and again from the back of Kakyoin's head down along the curve of his neck to his shoulders, searching for a reaction.]

Even when it's fucked up by the hood, it's pretty.