#C left them to die right

[cloysterbell]

'Cause that's what us, we mere mortals, do. We die. And sometimes it's not pretty. It's ugly and it's messy and it's painful.

[yeeiguess]

Caught up to the lasted bnha chapters... y'all

[akkivee]

mtr has my favourite brand of codependency (husbands with their new doctor bf who def cannot survive without each other lmao) but all the divisions have their own versions of codependency and I Like That tbh lol

[luulapants]

Existential despair is so common in a person's twenties, I think, because up until that point, we've had a pretty clear road map for what's expected of us and we haven't had much reason to question that map. There are still a few milestones outlined for us (start a career, get married, make babies) but more and more young people are entering the post-school world and realizing:

A) that career thing just isn't happening like they said it would

B) I'm not ready to get married/I don't want to get married/marriage isn't the sort of life-altering event that it used to be

C) I'm not ready to make babies/I don't want a baby/I can't afford to raise children right now (see point A)

And in the absence of these milestones to shoot for (which one could argue weren't the promise of fulfillment they claimed to be in the first place), what we're left with is this aimless abyss of "the rest of our lives" sprawling out ahead of us with no indication of how it will go or what we should be doing to shape it. Young people start their first jobs, find they hate them, and think to themselves, "Is this it? Am I just supposed to do this job until I'm too old to do it or die first?"

Which is, yeah, really fucking depressing!! So here's my best attempt at an alternate roadmap for young people that don't vibe with the old model. Please feel free to add in your own suggestions!

Learn how you work and what you want out of a job. Unless you've been in a job-specific training program that gives you hands-on experience, your first jobs should be experiments. Learn how a full-time job feels for you, what elements are more or less difficult. Different workplaces have different cultures and expectations - what do you need out of a job environment? Do you need to find fulfillment in your job or is it enough for it to pay the bills and leave you time to find outside fulfillment? Do you want to climb a corporate ladder or are you content to hunker down as long as your bills get paid? This period of experimentation is exhausting and may feel like it's consuming your whole life.

Learn how to make time for things outside of work. Adapting to a full-time work environment often leaves you feeling so drained that you can't do anything but go home and collapse on the couch every day. That's fine - for a little while. But it can also become a habit. You need to learn how to do things after work or you'll go crazy. Go to a trivia night. Start an exercise schedule. Take a class in your community. Find volunteer work. Join a band. You will find that putting more things into your day makes you feel like you have more time, not less.

Find a community. Making friends as an adult can feel impossible. Where do you find these mysterious friends everyone seems to have?? This goes along with #2, though. As you start regularly attending the same activities, you will find that repeat interactions with the same people turn into friendships or at least friendly acquaintances. Say yes to invitations. Get involved in your local community. Strive to be connected enough to bump into people at the grocery store.

Unlearn bad lessons. We all internalize some messed up things when we're growing up. As you start off your adult life, that's the time to actively work at unpacking the things you've brought with you from childhood and deciding which things are helping you and which things are harming you. This might mean therapy or joining a spiritual group or reading new things or just making special time to be in your own head.

Learn the lessons you missed. In this, I mostly mean practical things. "Adulting." Areas of your day-to-day practical life that are causing you extreme stress are probably related to a knowledge or experience gap. Do you hate cooking and cleaning or were you not taught how to do it properly? Are you afraid of making medical appointments or is it just something new you're not used to? Does money make you queasy or do you need to learn how to make a budget?

Find something fulfilling. This can be your job. It can be volunteer work. It can be faith. It can be a hobby. It can be creating things. It can be challenging yourself physically. It can be activism. It can be going for walks in nature. Everyone finds fulfillment in different places. If you're not finding it where you are, look somewhere else.

[kinascum]

TAG! pt2 - C. STURNIOLO

SUMMARY. A little taste of the other side can't be bad for your system, right?

CONTENT. smut, degrading, oral m, f recieving, getting caught, mocking, over all mean!chris. this is kinda bad...

WC. 1.8k

pt1 (matt)

You lay in bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, the aftermath of the thrilling night air still clinging to your skin. The moon's glow has long since been swallowed by the early dawn, leaving the cabin bathed in a soft, blue light. The smell of pine and lake water lingers in your nostrils, a reminder of the game that had led to something so much more intense. Your thoughts drift back to Matt's strong arms, his hot breath on your neck, the way he'd claimed you so fiercely in the woods.

As the first light of day peeks through the cabin's windows, you hear the clatter of pans in the kitchen. You sit up, the events of the night replaying in your mind, your cheeks flushing with a mix of excitement and dread. You know the others are up, but you can't bring yourself to face them yet. You wonder if they heard anything, if they suspect what happened between you and Matt. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the day ahead.

Slowly, you slip out of bed and tiptoe to the bathroom, the floor cold against your bare feet. You splash water on your face, trying to wash away the evidence of your desire. The taste of him is still on your lips, a secret you're desperate to keep hidden. You glance in the mirror and see the marks on your neck, a map of passion left by his fingers. A shiver runs down your spine.

You slip into a t-shirt and shorts, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to the memory of his touch. You take another deep breath and head towards the kitchen, ready to face the day. As you enter, you're met with the sight of Nate, Nick, and Chris, all busy cooking up breakfast. They look over, greeting you with sleepy smiles and nods. You force a casual grin, hoping it hides the tumult of emotions roiling inside you.

Chris's eyes linger on you a moment longer than the others, a knowing glint in his gaze. Your heart skips a beat. Did he hear something? Did he see something? The silence stretches out, filled only with the sizzle of bacon and the crackle of the fireplace. You grab a plate, trying to act normal, but the weight of his stare is unbearable.

"Morning," you murmur, reaching for a slice of toast.

"You're up early," he says, his voice deceptively casual. "Couldn't sleep?"

You swallow hard, feeling his eyes on you like a brand. "Just had a bit of a restless night," you reply, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn't too noticeable.

He chuckles, a sound that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Must have been something in the air."

The tension in the room is palpable, thick as the smell of coffee. You sit down at the table, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. The banter and jokes of the morning feel forced, the usual camaraderie tainted by the secret you share with Matt. You can't help but wonder if the dynamic of this trip has shifted permanently.

When Nate, Matt and Nick announce plans to go fishing, you're both relieved and nervous. It's just you and chris in the cabin. You watch them leave, their laughter fading into the distance, leaving you with Chris and his unspoken accusation. The kitchen feels smaller, the air heavier. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, feeling his eyes on you.

He turns from the stove, the spatula in his hand, and crosses the room to stand in front of you. "So," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "you couldn't keep your hands to yourself, huh?"

Your stomach plummets. He knows. You look up at him, trying to read his expression, but his face is a mask of anger and something else—desire. "What are you talking about?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

He takes a step closer, the heat of his body almost tangible. "You know what I'm talking about," he says, his eyes dark. "You and my brother in the woods."

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat. He's seen it all. The way Matt had used you, the way you'd let him, the way you'd loved it. Chris's gaze is like a predator's, hungry and unforgiving. You know you're in trouble, but the way your body responds tells you that you might not mind as much as you should.

"I-I didn't mean for it to happen," you stutter, your voice barely a whisper.

He laughs, a cold, harsh sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "You're funny," he says, his voice dripping with contempt. "Or maybe just a little whore who can't keep your legs closed."

You flinch at the words, the sting of his accusation piercing your soul. But deep down, you know there's a part of you that craves this, that wants to be degraded and used by these men. You feel your pussy throb, betraying your thoughts.

Chris reaches out, his hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. "You liked it, didn't you?" he asks, his voice a menacing whisper. "You liked being Matt's little plaything."

You nod, unable to find the words to deny it. The fear and excitement mingle inside you, creating a cocktail of emotions that make your head spin. His grip tightens, and you find yourself leaning into it, your breath coming in shallow pants.

"Good," he says, his voice dark. "Because now, it's my turn."

He pushes himself down to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. You can see the challenge in them, the dare. He's going to show you just how much of a slut you really are. You know you should be scared, should be fighting him, but instead, you're eager to see what he'll do next.

He pulls your shorts down, exposing your damp panties, you whine. "So eager," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Look at you, begging for it."

He shoves your leg over his shoulder and pushes your panties aside as dives in, his tongue lapping at your clit. You moan, the sensation overwhelming, his words echoing in your mind. You do want this.

He eats you out with a ferocity that matches his words, his tongue and teeth playing with your sensitive flesh. You squirm under his touch, the pleasure building rapidly. He's not gentle, his teeth grazing your clit, his fingers digging into your thighs. But you don't want gentle. You want him to consume you, to make you feel like the dirty little whore he's painted you to be.

You whimper, your eyes rolling back in your head as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. And just as you're about to fall over, he stops. You look up at him, panting, desperate for release.

"Not yet," he says, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "We're just getting started."

You watch as he stands, the lust in his eyes unmistakable. He's in control now, and you can't help but feel a thrill at his dominance. He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet, leading you to the couch. He sits down and pulls you onto his lap, your ass nestled against his crotch. You can feel his hardness through his shorts, pressing against you, a constant reminder of what he wants.

He shoves your face into his neck, his hand squeezing your breast through your shirt and pushing your hips onto him. "You're going to cum for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "And when you do, you're going to scream my name."

You nod, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You're so close, so close to the edge, and he's the one holding you there. His hand slides down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit, playing with it mercilessly. He knows just how to touch you, just how to keep you on that knife's edge.

And then he's gone, his hand leaving you aching and needy. "Take off your shirt," he commands, his voice low and firm.

You do as you're told, the fabric sliding off your shoulders to reveal your naked chest. His eyes rake over you, and you feel a flush of heat. You're exposed, vulnerable, and it only makes you wetter. He leans in, his mouth closing over your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. You arch your back, your hips grinding against his cock.

He chuckles, a dark sound that sends a thrill through you. "Eager little slut," he says, his voice muffled against your skin. He pulls away, leaving your nipple wet and sensitive. "Now, let's see how much of a whore you really are."

He pushes you down onto the couch, your legs spread wide. He dives back in, his tongue flicking against your clit, his teeth scraping your inner thighs. You can't help but moan, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful. He's relentless, his mouth working you over until you're nothing but a writhing mess beneath him.

And then, just as you're about to climax, he stops again. You whine, your body begging for more. "What's the magic word?" he asks, his voice taunting.

"Please, chris" you gasp, your voice desperate.

He grins, a wicked look that sends a shiver down your spine. "Good girl," he says, and then he's back, his mouth on you, his tongue and teeth and lips working in tandem to drive you wild. You can't hold back anymore, your body bucking as you scream his name, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

Chris doesn't let up, even as you beg for mercy. He eats you out like you're his favorite meal, like he's starving and you're the only thing that can fill him up. Your pussy is soaking wet, his mouth working relentlessly, his tongue flicking and teasing, his teeth grazing. You're so sensitive now, every touch feels like it could send you over the edge again.

"You're mine, yeah?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Mine to use, mine to fuck, whenever I want." The words are a dark promise, one that sends a thrill through you even as you squirm under his touch. You know he's not playing around, that he means every word.

And yet, as he stands, his pants tented with his erection, you find yourself looking up at him with a mix of fear and excitement. You know what's coming next, and you can't help but want it. He strips off his shorts, his cock springing free, thick and hard. "Open your mouth," he commands, and you do, eager to taste him, to be used by him the way you were by Matt.

He takes your face in his hands, his grip firm as he guides his cock into your mouth. He's not gentle, pushing in deep, filling you up until you gag. You can feel his muscles tense, the power of his body as he uses you, as he takes what he wants. It's intoxicating, the way he's claiming you, making you his.

His hand is in your hair, pulling you closer, controlling every movement. You're just a toy to him, a means to an end, and you love it. You love the way he's using you, the way he's degrading you. You suck harder, your eyes watering, your throat aching, but you don't stop. You want to please him, to make him cum, to show him just how much of a slut you really are.

You feel the tension in his body build, his breath coming in harsh pants. "That's it," he groans, his hips thrusting. "Take it all, baby." And then he's coming, his hot seed filling your mouth, down your throat. You swallow, eager to taste him, to show him you're his.

But just as he pulls out, you hear the door creak open. You freeze, your eyes snapping to the entrance. There, in the doorway, stands Matt, his eyes wide with shock. The room goes still, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace.

You're caught, a whore on her knees with Her best friend's brother's cum on her face. The look in Matt's eyes is unreadable, a mix of anger, lust, and something else—possessiveness? You don't have time to think, to react, because Chris is already packing up, tucking himself back into his pants with a smug smile.

"Well, look who's back, baby" he says, his voice cold. Matt doesn't answer, his gaze locked on you. You scramble to your feet, your heart racing.

You start to pull your shorts up, trying to cover yourself, but Matt grabs your wrist, his grip like steel. "What do you think you're doing?" he asks, his voice a dark whisper. "You're not done yet."

taglist! @sturnstvr @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @meowira @secretagentspy @shadowthesim @mattybsgroupie @baileysturns

love, paz

[morning-star-joy]

daydreams

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak Jackson Era

Summary: It's been years since Joel's kissed anybody, and your lips are all he can think about.

Tags/Warnings: Soft, Touch-Starved, Pining Joel. Grumpy x Sunshine. Resolved Tension. Mentions of alcohol and food consumption. Brief mentions of sexual desire. Entirely in Joel's POV. No mention of Reader's age or appearance other than wearing lipstick in one scene.

Wordcount: 6.4k

A/N: Really enjoyed exploring an entire Joel x Reader fic all in his head, focusing on how he falls in love with Reader. Big thank you to @joelsgreys who was excited about this idea with me, and @cupofjoel who always inspires me with her own amazing work (and that Clicker joke she made that ended up in this fic hehe)!

Here's my Kofi if you're interested in supporting my work further💜

Beautiful dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

People fucking love you.

It was the first of many things that Joel was burdened to discover about you, small facts and inconsequential incidents about who you were as a person that floated around in his subconscious until they burrowed under his skin, much like you did.

He could remember checking his patrol schedule on the board one chilly autumn day. A scarf that was decades old but new to him, too soft for his rough skin, was wrapped around his neck and keeping him warm while he peered over the heads of two men crowding in front of the arranged names.

Despite Joel’s size, he had always been good at not being seen if he didn’t want to be, at least when it counted. It was a harder habit to keep up with in Jackson, a place where everybody wanted to know anybody at all. The feeling of at least one set of eyes on him at all times when he walked the streets was an odd juxtaposition to the foreign comfort that radiated inside the town’s tall walls.

Not a watch kept on him, but curiosity that peered at him around every corner. He had thought it would die down eventually, but it lingered with a stubbornness even years later.

Now though, both men didn’t have a care in the world for his presence behind him, crowding around the board and a pair of names he couldn’t quite glimpse until one of them turned, jumping at the sight of the unintentionally imposing figure at their back.

“Oh!” the man let out a noise of surprise before recomposing. He was a newer patrolman, his name starting with a C, Chuck or something. “Joel, hey man. Didn’t see you there.”

The familiarity in the way his name is spoken makes Joel bristle for a moment, but he calms his raised hackles before it can be noticed.

Back in Boston, his name had been a familiar one spoken too. But hints of apprehension, even fear crept around the syllables of those who knew it, those who had heard it whispered in the alleys of where he’d left somebody’s blood splattered against the dilapidated brick walls.

“Hey,” the other patrolman offers in greeting when he notices the pair aren’t alone anymore, and Joel nods, glancing towards the two names their heads had been bent down around when they moved out of the way.

There’s a name he doesn’t have a face to place to it, another person new to patrol. He’d only seen the name in passing on the board each time he checked assignments recently, though this time it's right above his own, listed as his partner on his next route.

“Lucky man,” the other patrolman says with a clap to Joel’s shoulder, and he hates it, jaw setting tight enough that the first patrolman gently nudges his friend away with a wary look.

“I’m always stuck with Willy,” the first one says, and Joel glances back towards the board, searching for that name and seeing it paired with Chad. Names for faces, a common courtesy in the settlement, one he still had a hard time keeping up with sometimes, even years into being here. “Been dying for a chance to head out with her.”

There’s a gesture back towards the name paired with Joel’s, and he stares at the letters written into the thin wooden plaques that are used to arrange assignments on the board. Stares so much even as his fellow patrolmen leave, chattering amongst themselves about Joel’s new partner as he frowns in confusion over why it wasn’t his brother’s name.

“You could use some friends,” Tommy explains with a jovial smile when Joel shows up on his doorstep to question him about the change, though there’s an undertone of ribbing to his tone that makes Joel glare at the younger man. “I figure she’s the perfect one to bring you out of that stubborn shell.”

Joel scoffs at that, brows still knitted together in frustration as he gets ready for bed the night before he’ll have to wake up early to head out with this unknown person on patrol. He’s annoyed over the idea of something as irrelevant as socialization trumping protection on his route, frustrated that he’d have to watch his own back for the dangers only a human could pose, as much as the trail ahead of him for Infected.

But then he meets you, and he understands.

At least, Joel understands why those men had been jealous of his patrol partner when he shows up at the assignment board the next morning, hoping to grab a hot drink in one of the thermoses provided before heading out. He prays for at least the last dregs of some coffee when he sees a small gathering of other patrolmen, including the two from before. All smiles and laughter, until one turns their head towards him.

Joel meets your eyes for the first time, a smile gracing your face as he does so, and he understands.

“Joel Miller,” is the first thing you ever say to him by way of greeting, uttering the syllables in near disbelief, like he’s some fabled myth you’ve finally caught a glimpse of. There’s an infectious, positive energy in the way you say his name to him, in the way you say everything, he’ll come to find. Like there’s things in the world still worthy of being spoken with such excitement. “Good to finally meet you.”

He just nods, eyes flickering to the disappointment on the faces of those gathered around you as your attention focuses solely on him. You move closer, holding up two thermoses in hand, Joel’s gaze narrowing down to them as you gesture with each and ask, “Coffee or tea?”

With a blink, he stares at each before looking back up into your face, noticing the hint of amusement across your features as his lips part, and the first thing he utters in your presence is an awkward hedge of, “Uh.”

Your lips quirk up into a wider smile, and Joel notices then that for all its brightness, it's almost half a smirk. There’s humor in your gaze, and he feels those sharp hackles of his start to rise again until you clarify kindly, “Which do you prefer?”

His brows knit together, looking back down into your hands, and he realizes you’re offering him the choice of which one he wants for the morning.

“Coffee,” he says instantly before his mind can catch up, and the point of your teeth peek past your lips now in a grin when you pass the thermos to him.

“Smart man,” you comment in passing, oblivious to how the two simple words will stick into his mind and replay themselves in the exact tone of your voice for weeks to come. “I prefer tea, anyway.”

You raise your own thermos to his, eyes twinkling with that same good humor, that warm mirth that suddenly makes Joel’s stomach flip when you add, “Looks like the start of a beautiful partnership.”

It is.

Joel hates to admit it, but you work startlingly well together.

He’s paranoid at first, glancing back over his shoulder at you every now and then, but your eyes are always trained on the area around you, keeping diligent watch. Except for when he’s staring at you for too long, for reasons he doesn’t know yet, or is too stubborn to believe.

You somehow always catch him in those stolen moments, smiling at him when he whips his head back around to refocus on the trail in front of him. Sometimes there’s a soft chuckle under your breath when he does so, and those are the times he stubbornly faces ahead for the rest of patrol, so you won’t see the heat creeping into his face that he curses every time you bring it out of him.

He’s too goddamn old to be blushing like a schoolboy, but around you, his body betrays his age and does it anyway.

Sometimes you talk to him. Joel can’t figure out for the life of him why. You certainly aren’t the type to ever be searching for conversation, a whole host of willing participants to speak with you gathering around you every morning before you set out for patrol with him.

But you talk to him anyway. Offer things about yourself and ask him questions in return, ones he hardly answers with more than a few words, if he even replies at all.

That doesn’t bother you. You continue the conversation, and though he barely says a thing, you manage to make him still feel involved. Like you’re not just talking at him, but with him.

It’s just something about you, Joel eventually realizes. There’s a charm about you that goes beyond just a natural charisma. It’s a force of gravity, as inexplicable as it is irresistible, pulling in those around you, and they don’t even care. They want it.

Because you’re not simply bubbly and friendly, but you’re warm. Warm and bright, pure sunshine that brighten up the shortening days, and at some point through that fall of patrolling with you, Joel finds himself riding beside you instead of in front of you.

He nods more to what you say, following along better to whatever stories you’re sharing that morning, tales you never seem to run out of. He starts to answer your questions with sentences instead of words. Sometimes, he sneaks glances at you, and he’s always shocked in the moments when you’re already looking at him.

At first, Joel thinks he’s caught you in those moments. But you just smile at him when his eyes meet yours, unbothered by him noticing your attention on him, and he’s the one turning away yet again, facing the trees away from you so you won’t notice what that soft laughter of yours does to him.

You’re also more than capable in a fight, proving yourself time and time again in sticky situations, and soon enough, Joel doesn’t really mind waking up those early mornings when he knows you’ll be waiting for him with a thermos in each hand. He looks forward to an unnecessary apology on your lips if there’s no coffee that day, and the way you make him take a hot drink anyway—sometimes a pastry too, gently chiding him on taking better care of himself.

“I need you all big and strong for patrol,” you teased him once, but you still glance up and down his body with an appreciation he doesn’t think should be for him, even as he greedily drinks it in anyway. 

Then you wink, and he finds himself unable to make eye contact with you for the rest of the day.

Even then, he knows you’ll have his back, as he has yours.

Yeah, you work well together.

So well, in fact, that he finds his mood takes a sharp decline when he checks the assignment board months into being on patrol with you, and sees Tommy’s name paired with his again.

It makes sense. Winter arrives in Jackson, and with it, increased numbers of Infected on patrol. Joel needs to work with Tommy to clear out the routes hit the worst by hordes, for the good of the settlement.

Joel had never hated practicality before, but he does in that moment he first sees your name paired with Chad.

Chad, the young man with a stupid grin on his face while his buddy expresses jealousy over the “luck” of his assignment, and Joel hates the feeling of the same jealousy curling in his gut.

He hates it when you’re not waiting for him in the mornings. Hates it when your smile isn’t for him, when he’s not listening to your voice express every emotion imaginable in whatever story you’re telling him.

He doesn’t even realize what he’s feeling, doesn’t know that he’s lonely until he’s waiting for Tommy one morning when his brother kisses Maria goodbye before going on patrol.

It only hits him then, with the warm, open affection Tommy gazes at his wife with before leaving, and how she watches him with fondness as he goes. Only then does he feel the hollow ache in his chest, a gaping hole that’s only caved in deeper when your presence came and went.

He’s still thinking about it that night when sleep won’t come to him. Rubbing together his lips, chapped from the cold winter air from being outside all day, he wonders when the last time he’d had another mouth pressed to it.

Jesus, when’s the last time he kissed someone?

It’s a stupid thing to think, an embarrassing thought that has him turning onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillow. His arms outstretched beneath it, he groans into the fabric, trying to shove away the emptiness even as it continues to ache.

It fucking aches, and it shouldn’t. He was too old, had gone through too damn much to even care about kissing anybody.

So he tells himself he doesn’t. Convinces himself he couldn’t give less of a fuck about not being able to remember the last time he’d kissed somebody. Pretends he doesn't care about holding another person in his arms, lips pressed together just for the sake of it.

Joel likes to think he does a pretty good job of not caring about it, up until the next time he sees you.

You’re standing at the table of food and drink before patrol, eyes scanning over the pastries available with an intense look of deliberation for what you were craving that morning. When you find what you want, your lips part, tongue darting out to lick them in anticipation of your treat, and Joel’s blood runs hot in a way he thought himself no longer capable of.

He watches with rapt attention as you bring the scone to your mouth for a bite, how crumbs of it flake off onto your lips while you nod in satisfaction at the taste.

It’s a taste Joel wants to capture for himself. He wants to find the sweetness of the pastry on your lips, to press his mouth to yours and have you fill that emptiness, to have you soothe that ache in him with the exploration and discovery of you.

“Joel Miller!”

He blinks, hazy vision refocusing on the tantalizing soft look of your lips to see them curved up into a smile, and his eyes flicker up to see you looking right at him as you call to him, speaking his name like he’s still some legend you can’t believe exists until you see him again.

Yet again, he’s caught right in the center of your web—so many times now, that he almost starts to wonder if he willingly walks into it. Merciless to whatever you intend to do with him now that you have him right there, right where you want him.

But you just smile, head tilted with your gazes locked together, and suddenly he doesn’t care if you trap him or if he’s giving himself to you. You have him, and that’s enough.

Then, your lips part, tongue catching those crumbs still stuck to the corner of your upper lip, and Joel’s own lips part, breath hitching through them.

You notice.

You have to notice, because the edge of your smile curls up even more, eyes striking with the joy of a newfound discovery about the stoic man you’d found steadfast by your side for months of patrol, a silent presence now outright ogling you the same way everybody else did.

Everywhere you went, you were sure to find people lazing about in the warm rays of sunlight you cast from your very soul.

Joel wondered if you ever got tired with how much you gave. 

How much everyone took.

And now here he was, taking just the same. Your stunning vision reduced to an idle daydream, one you’d caught him in the very first moment he’d had it. 

Joel thought about what he must look like to you then. Just a lonely old man, longing for a touch. Like a mangy stray turning up at your doorstep, desperate just for the offhand chance of an ounce of kindness you had made the grave mistake of showing him before.

Because now he would always be back, aching for more.

Pathetic.

He turns from you at the sharp voice of self-hatred in his mind, walking away at the same moment you take a step forward. Joel brushes past those other souls just as eager, just as desperate for your attention as he tries to get far away from what you make him feel.

But it stays knotted up in his chest, ever more evident in your absence, the memory of your smile like a pain throbbing in his bones, ringing in his mind when he brushes off Tommy’s concern with a gruff “doesn’t matter” before heading out.

Because it doesn’t.

It doesn’t matter.

But it does.

Jackson had not only brought safety and comfort, but the luxury of wanting.

And, dear Lord, he wanted.

He hasn’t stopped wanting, not since that first morning when he really noticed the curve of your lips, the shape of them taunting and tempting him. 

Now he notices them every time he sees you. The slight quiver of them in a brush of cold winter wind, and how you pull a tube of homemade chapstick out of the pocket of your jacket to run over them. How you rub your lips together to spread it along each gorgeous line and indentation before popping them out with a smack, and Joel nearly fucking moans at the sight the first time.

God, he wants so badly.

He needs, he thinks sometimes, on the coldest, darkest nights. Thoughts of your mouth and what it would be capable of plaguing his mind as he breathes hotly into his pillow and tries to stay still, tries not to rut into the mattress just from the thoughts of what a simple kiss from you would feel like, giving and taking until it was impossible to tell where he ended and you began.

Because it was you.

It was always you.

Some days, it’s all Joel can think about. Your eyes, your hands, your laughter, but most of all, every bend and curve of your lips. 

It’s embarrassing how much just the mere thought of you consumes him. 

And it’s frightening, the power you would have over him if daydreams ever became reality.

What makes it even worse, is that he thinks you know. Joel’s almost sure of it, the way your eyes linger on him whenever you pout or purse your lips together at something especially grumpy that he says.

It’s like you’re doing it on purpose now, and he falls for it anyway, gazing at the fullness of your mouth, the most beautiful color he’s ever seen, with an aching want that he pretends never happened when it turns up into a smile.

Time and time again, you catch him wanting.

And you let him.

You never make a move to stop him, to call him out on it. Instead, you feed the fire, with a kindness in your smile and a mischief in your eyes that Joel is fucking addicted to.

If all you’re doing is stringing him along, he’s more than willing to let you do it, if it only means that the joy that lights up your face whenever you see him never dies out.

He sees it again one afternoon when he runs into you on the street, a bundle of produce from the greenhouses tucked underneath one arm that he almost offers to carry for you by some forgotten reflex, manners he used to have, when you distract him with a question of, “Are you going to that dinner for the patrolmen Maria is putting on?”

“Uh.” Joel winces at how he always finds himself hedging around you. He doesn’t think the things he’s said in your presence is enough to fill a page, even though you’ve plagued his thoughts enough that he could write a whole fucking book on you. 

There’s already a little smirk on your face as he hesitates, and he clears his throat, shifting on his feet with startling uncertainty you always drag from him as he finally responds gruffly, “Yeah, I s’pose so.”

“Great!” you chirp, your free hand patting him on the chest as you move to brush past him, fingers idling on the buttons of his flannel, gliding down along them in a way that sets all his nerve endings alight. “Save me a seat, would you?”

His body turns with the motion of you stepping past him to watch you go, breath caught in his throat as he wonders if you’re joking or not.

Regardless, he saves you a seat when that night comes.

It’s not like anybody wants to sit with him anyway. Most of the others seem to avoid him like the plague. Even years into being in the town, and Joel still feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb.

He doesn’t blame them. Even with his rough exterior growing softer than it had been in decades, he was a shit conversation partner. Joel just didn’t know how to do the things that they did anymore, not amongst strangers. He was happy enough with his own people, and he wishes that he was back home, playing guitar or watching movies with Ellie instead of sitting here alone, reminded constantly of everything he was lacking in.

When he’s asked if the seat next to him is taken so somebody can sit with their friend, Joel hesitates, resisting the urge to just get up and leave altogether when a familiar voice rings out, “It is!”

His head turns, and there you are, face aglow with a warm smile when you round the table towards him, and Joel is already halfway up out of his seat before he even realizes what he’s doing.

Your smile turns to him, eyes brightening with a spark at his quick movement that makes his heart pound in his chest, before you’re taking the back of the chair from the other patrolman’s grasp with a sweet, “Thanks, Astrid.”

When you start to pull the chair back further to sit, Joel takes it from you to do it for you, and it’s the first time he sees genuine surprise flash through your eyes. Still, you smile, and there’s a quiver of excitement to your lips that turns his aching into a yearning the longer he looks at them.

It’s also then when he notices that they’re painted, a shade of lipstick that fills them out further, complimenting your beauty with the way you had dressed so finely for the occasion tonight.

To sit next to him?

The question of futile hope echoes in his mind as you sink into the chair with a grin you’re trying to hide, and his hands are shaking as he pushes the chair in and takes his seat next to you again, something he also tries to hide as he folds them together and tucks them under the table.

When a bottle of wine is offered around, Joel can’t hold in a quiet chuckle at the way you jump in excitement for a glass. It's tilted in your fingers, the liquid swirling gently around the glass before you take a sip, and he’s enraptured by the sight of your lips wrapping around the rim, unable to glance away from the mark you leave on it once you set it back onto the table.

He’s fixated on that lipstick stain, can’t fucking look away from the shape of your lips painted onto the glass, and Joel starts to vividly imagine you leaving that mark on him instead. He wants evidence of your kiss all along his skin, down the collar of his shirt, smeared across his own lips as he takes your mouth in his, again and again.

He wants those marks trailing down, down, wants those painted lips teasing him until it smears all across that pretty face, wants them wrapped around his—

“Joel.”

His head snaps up, catching the gaze of his brother across from him. Tommy’s brow arches in question as he asks, “You good?”

“Yeah.” Joel clears his throat when his voice comes out thick, shifting in his seat while his folded hands move into his lap, shifting the napkin to help his new…issue. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Really?” Tommy asks, his gaze one of suspicion, and maybe a bit of amusement as he drawls, “‘Cause I asked you if you wanted a glass of wine about three times, and you didn’t respond.”

Joel pales at being caught, jaw ticking with annoyance at the glee in his brother’s eyes when they snap to you sitting beside him, and he reasserts roughly, “I’m fine.”

Tommy backs off then, turning his attention somewhere else, and Joel almost relaxes until you hold your glass out to him and offer with a smile, “Want to try some of mine?”

The look in your eyes when the blood rushes back into Joel’s cheeks is nothing but goddamn trouble, and he fucking loves it.

You watch him as he stares at the mark of your lips on the glass. He imagines what it would be like to wrap his own lips around it, wondering if he’d taste you with the wine, and he quickly clears the lump that tightens in his throat before mumbling, “No, thank you, ma’am.”

A grin plays on your lips at that, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more in his life than to kiss you at that moment. He wants to grab your face and pull you into him so fucking bad, wants your mouth to claim him, bruise him, make him hurt until he heals.

Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, still folded in his lap in a vice grip over his napkin now when you tease, “Ma’am, huh? I think I like that one.”

You wink, and all the blood flooding into his face suddenly rushes south.

Without a doubt, you had him completely fucked.

You talk to Joel the entire night.

Your head is turned to him throughout dinner, and you ask him more questions than ever before. Unlike your patrols, where you were content to tell stories, and he content to listen, you gently prod him to tell you his own. 

Joel’s voice is quiet when he assents, the low, gentle timbre hardly audible over the din of conversation around the long table. He’s sure he must be boring, a drab collection of colors long washed out in comparison to your blinding vibrancy, but you may as well have been the only two in the room with the way you listen to him.

You’re leaning in with your chin resting on a closed fist, nodding along to what he says with eyes dancing over his face so intently, as if to memorize him the same way he did you.

He’s surprised that he wants you to.

At the end of the dinner, when everybody’s bellies are full and they’re filtering out the door, Joel isn’t even shocked that he’s unwilling to leave your side. Though he is startled when the question slips quietly past his lips, “Mind if I walk you home, darlin’?”

You look back from where you were grabbing your jacket with wide eyes, stunned at the unexpected question and the pet name that had escaped him without a second thought. For a moment, he’s worried he finally scared you away, but then you smile.

“I’d like that.”

Joel nods, trying to calm the racing of his heart as he gently tugs the jacket from your grip and helps you put it on. He doesn’t miss the shiver that runs through you when his fingers brush against your skin, and suddenly there’s a feeling of anticipation simmering low in his belly, a warmth that spreads through his chest when the two of you stroll under the streetlights and eventually reach your doorstep.

You don’t let him turn away.

Somehow, he ends up on your couch. His boots and coat are left by your front door as he sits next to you, a glass of wine finally in his hand to ease the strain of his nerves. Your legs are tucked comfortably underneath yourself, the side of your face resting on the back of the couch, gazing up at him as you talk about nothing in particular.

You never seem to run out of questions for him. He answers the ones he can, and you’re not offended when he avoids the others. 

Tonight, Joel asks you questions too. Things he once thought didn’t matter anymore, but right now, he wants to know them all—where you grew up, your favorite movie, the concerts you’d been to before the world went to hell.

It becomes a back and forth—you ask him a question, he answers. Then it’s his turn to ask a question, and you answer.

Hours go by, wine is refilled, and when it’s your turn again, you ask him with such startling gentleness, “How long has it been since you kissed someone?”

Joel freezes.

His breath catches in his throat, and he can’t bring himself to look at you. He knows that when he does, he’ll see for sure that you’ve been aware of his pining, his fantasies, all along, and he doesn’t think he can face that.

Instead, he takes another long sip of wine, swallowing down the liquid courage before he answers lowly, “It’s, uh...been a while.”

Silence falls between you then, with more weight to it than any before in that night, and he has to fill it. So he does with the first thing that springs to his mind, “What about you?”

You hum thoughtfully, even as his heart lurches in his chest when the question spills from his lips. He can’t believe he actually fucking asked that, and then you actually answer it, “A couple months ago.”

Joel’s head snaps up, eyes glancing over your face as you trace the rim of your glass with a thoughtful expression.

“Was it…” he hesitates, before deciding he may as well say whatever he wants now that he’s already gone ahead and fucked it all up by asking about it in the first place, “good?”

“Nah,” you sigh, shrugging casually as you smirk in amusement at the recollection, “it’s like he was eating my face.”

Joel snorts at that, brow arching as he retorts dryly, “You go on a date with a Clicker or somethin’?”

You laugh then, head tilting back with the joyful sound, and he realizes it’s something he wants to hear for the rest of his life, even as you playfully nudge his shoulder and mutter, “Shut up.”

He chuckles along with you, looking back down into his glass as a sigh falls from his lips, and he mumbles more to himself than you, “Not sure I’d be much better, at this point.”

Suddenly, you shift beside him, pulling his attention back to you as you sit up straight. There’s a spark of interest kindling in your eyes, one that makes his throat go dry as your eyes slowly scan over his face, down to his lips.

They part under your attention, and your pupils dilate in the darkness of the room, pulling a soft exhale from Joel’s mouth at the sight of you wanting.

You.

Wanting.

“I don’t know about that,” you murmur as you set your glass down on your coffee table, then do the same with his, tugging it easily from his grasp before leaning in towards him. “But we could find out.”

Joel licks his lips, and you’re on your hands and knees now, crawling towards him on the couch as his eyelids flutter and he rasps out, “I—darlin’, I don’t think I—”

“You don’t want to?” you whisper, stopping instantly at the idea of going too far, and horror rushes through him at the thought of you believing he didn’t want you.

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. He exhales heavily into his palm, trying to find the words before he removes it to admit, “I just…don’t think it’d be that enjoyable for ya.”

You scoff, leaning forward to settle on your knees right beside him, fingertips finding the edge of his jawline. They run across it, and Joel’s eyes fall shut, sighing from the sensation of being touched after so long, of it being your hands on his face when you cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones so softly. 

You stroke his skin like you were holding something delicate, and not a living, breathing instrument of death with the scars to prove it right under your palms.

What did you see in him?

“Joel,” you breathe, and a whimper gets caught in his throat, his eyes blinking back open, struggling to refocus on you under the heavy heat of the moment. “Do you want to?”

He doesn’t have to think twice, doesn’t even want to as his voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, a desperate beg of, “Yes.”

Your lips are on his then, and his hand finds the small of your back, tugging you into him as he groans into the mouth he’s been dreaming of, day and night, for months on end.

Joel tries to be gentle with it, but it feels so fucking good, and God, now his hands are shaking. He has to grip onto your waist tightly to anchor himself to the moment, to remind himself that you’re there. This isn’t one of his vivid daydreams, or images that taunt him in his sleep that he’ll wake up painfully hard from.

No, you’re here, lips pliable and just as wanting as his when his tongue tentatively traces the shape of them, knowing the curve of your mouth from long stolen glimpses even with his eyes closed, even through just the touch of his lips to them alone. 

Your mouth opens eagerly, and he licks into it, moans deeply into the sweet taste of you. His hand slides up your back to cup your neck, fingers tangling into the back of your hair as he tugs you forward by the waist until you’re settled in his lap, so he can wrap you up and pull you into him completely.

When your lips leave his, he tries to chase them with a whine stuck in the back of his throat, and he can feel that pretty smile pressed to his skin when you kiss along his bearded jaw and down the strength of his neck as it strains under your attention. 

Joel’s head falls back, sinking into the couch with the feeling of your lips descending, until there’s a sweet bite of pain that pulls his lips apart. It tugs a throaty grunt straight from the pit of heat building in his lower stomach, his hips bucking up hard into your own.

His hands are clutching your waist, the sweet syllables of your name pouring from his mouth like a prayer. The sound of his desperation, his need for you vibrates against your lips as you suck a mark on his neck, your tongue flattening against it and pulling another weak bucking up of his hips.

Your head lifts, gazing down at him with lidded eyes and a giddy smile at this mountain of a man you’d pulled apart and wrapped around your finger so easily, before you tap that very finger against the same spot on your own neck.

Joel’s jaw drops.

“I—sweetheart, I—”

He can’t find the words, can’t explain how he’s afraid he’s far too rough to do such a thing. It’s been too long, he’s out of practice, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

You just smile down at what he leaves unspoken, some look in your eyes that makes him tremble as you brush your hands through his hair and whisper, “You’re capable of much more softness than you realize, Joel Miller.”

A warmth eases his concern at your words, and he lets you guide his face to your neck, his lips finding your skin for a tentative kiss there. You’re putting yourself in his hands now, trusting him not to break you, just as he trusts you to lead him through this forgotten territory until it was familiar to him again.

Joel breathes you in, large hands grasping at your back as he pulls your body firmly against his, tongue darting out to taste your skin before he bites down softly.

There’s a moan that floats from your lips then, the most sweet, seductive music to his ears that’ll replay in his mind for nights to come, and Joel sucks at the skin, eager to leave his mark on you as you did him. He’s grasping desperately at your body now as you grind down into his lap, unwilling to ever let you go now that he has you.

Heavy breaths fill the air as you bring his face back up to yours, and you just kiss. Lips swelling from the attention, and Joel never wants to stop, even though he knows he’ll have to eventually.

When he does, the two of you finally needing to actually catch your breath, your forehead rests against his with a quiet sigh. It sounds dangerously like contentment, and it takes a moment before Joel realizes that such a thing isn’t so dangerous anymore.

Your nose bumps against his, and he whispers hoarsely, “How was that?”

You laugh, sounding just as breathless and raspy as him, and he can’t stop the goofy smile that stretches across his face when you hum, “Mm, I’ll need more evidence before I draw any conclusions.”

Joel’s lips meet yours again, a softer kiss shared this time, leaving the promise of more that he’d never thought he’d be able to make before he pulls back, and your smile returning his own tells him all he’s ever needed to know.

“That can be arranged.”

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐎 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄) ❞

c/w: spoilers for 261, angst, possible happy ending? i'm so sorry lmao.

Body and soul — many in jujutsu had spent millennia contemplating the connection between these two — were they two separate entities co-existing, or were they always one, until they parted in death? And even if they were to part — does the soul still linger? 

You didn’t know — and you didn’t care. 

“What do you mean you don’t care what happens to your body?” Satoru wiped the blood from his hands, before brushing past you to wash it in the sink, diluted scarlet swirling down the drain just as your stomach had upon hearing what he said. 

You only knew that your heart belonged to one man. And he would take it with him with his death. Even as he left his body behind. But your heart wasn’t your concern, no, his body was. 

“Sweetheart—“ 

“No, don’t,” you already know what he’s going to say — a quick witted joke that you have no faith in him, empty reassurance that he’ll win — anything but an answer to your question, “I don’t know how people call you uncaring, the only person you don’t care for is yourself,” 

The Strongest. The Six Eyes User. The Gojo Clan Leader. Anything — anything but calling him who he is — Satoru Gojo. 

He’s shaking his head. “I’m not going to lose, so it’s a pointless—“ 

“Satoru,” and you grit your teeth, wondering if your words were a curse themselves, and that you dare not utter them, but you do anyway, “you don’t know that. Not for sure,” your words are a whisper, one you think wouldn’t be heard and manifested by a higher power — because you know that jujutsu is too cruel not to. 

“What is a dead body? I’ll be gone,” his back still faces you, wiping his hands off, and you’re shaking your head, “the body and soul—“ 

“They are one, in far too many ways—“ your eyes burn with tears as you hear his sigh, “so Geto’s body deserves a burial, but yours doesn’t?” 

You stab at a nerve — it’s a low blow, but one you had to deal, if only to get through that damned infinity of his — the wall he had kept up, even with you. Close, but never close enough. 

“Don’t—“ he cuts you off, gentle but hard, sword hitting shield, sparks fly as the metal meets, “it’s different—“ 

“How?” 

“I gave my consent, for one,” he says, his hands leaning against sink, head hanging, “and my body isn’t being used for a cheap trick,” and the bitterness still lingers on his tongue, and you know the moment flashes before his eyes, again and again — if he hadn’t hesitated, if he hadn’t let the past hold him, if he didn’t been such a fool—  “they need me—“ 

You need him. 

“I know, I know they need you,” you swallow the bile rising in your throat, but you spit acid all the same, “but do they have to take your dead body too?” 

And he finally turns, skies softening when they see the drops slipping down your cheeks, and his steps echo in the silence of the bunker, hollow just as this conversation was, “Y’know I have to,” 

“I know that, I know Yuta is making the right choice, it’s for the good of everyone,” except you, except us, “but it doesn’t make it any less difficult,” 

And his arms wind their way around you, pressing you against him, his fingers winding through your hair, “I’m going to come back to you,” hands sliding down your sides, “I always will,” 

“It’s not just this,” your fingers cup his cheek, his face leaning into your touch, “you’re not alone, Toru. I’m here.” 

“You’re here, huh?” he murmurs, more to himself than you, “if I die, you have my full permission to kick my ass,” 

“And I will be,” you kiss him, fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, brushing against his undercut, “I don’t care about the strongest,” your lips brush soft kisses against your cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, before finally finding his lips, “I only care about Satoru Gojo, I just need you, only you,”

He presses his forehead to yours, nose brushing his, “You have me,” but you didn’t know for how long, how long you could touch his cheek like this and not feel cold rigid skin underneath your fingertips, how long you could kiss his lips and have him kiss back, and how long it would be until you could hold his hand again, “and you have my heart,” and he gives a small chuckle, “maybe not the part everyone wants—“ 

“It’s the one I want,” you cut him off with a soft kiss, “I want all of you, every inch, but your heart? That already is mine,” your head pressed against his chest, feeling the muscle contract underneath, as if it would reassure you that it would keep doing that. 

But it didn’t. 

“I’ll stay,” Shoko furrows her brow, “he would want me to,” Satoru Gojo’s body laid on a slab of cold metal,  cold as his skin was now — and cold as your heart was now, without the warmth of his love to dwell in. Ugly stitches marred his stomach, right where Sukuna had sliced through him — you watched it, you couldn’t look away, and you watched the smile on his lips until it fell slack. 

Just like the rest of him. 

“He would understand why you couldn’t—“ 

“It really did upset him that you didn’t object,” and Shoko’s mouth opens and closes, her eyes shutting, “but I know that’s only because you had faith he would win,” and you add, “and he knew that too — he was just pouting, what he does best,” and your fingers trace over his lips — Shoko had done a good job cleaning the blood from his face, “did best,” and Shoko frowns again. 

“You don’t—“ 

“I’m his wife,” you say, “for better or worse, it’s my duty to stay with him, it’s the least he deserves,” your fingers skin over his forehead, before pressing a sweet kiss to the rigid skin, knowing that the smooth skin would be overwritten with jagged stitches — the thread pulled from the fabric of your own life that laid before you, leaving you in pieces, “because he may be a monster, but all of us are the real devils — for letting him bear it alone,” and you shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek, “I won’t make that mistake again,” 

You miss who you you used to be without this weight around your neck, desd bodies piled on top of your back, back broken under the grief, and yet you still walked on. Because you know it’s what he would have wanted, as his ghost whispers in your ear. 

Body and soul — if it was one, you wondered if he could feel your touch, sense your presence, and hear your words. And you hoped he could — but you know he was listening somewhere either way, so you whispered the only words you meant with your entire heart and soul—

“I love you," you murmur, before turning away — you don't see the way his fingers twitch for you.

Those words were still a curse all the same.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

[thecapricunt1616]

Cinnamon - (c.b. one-shot)

Snippet (more BTC): “Can I- take your panties off…p-please?” He asked shyly “wanna make y’feel good - wanna taste your pussy I miss it s’much - tastes so good baby please lemme taste you” he said and his whiney husky voice mixed with his breathlessness from being shoved into the fabric of your dripping cunt made you clench around nothing. 

♡ One Shot Inspo: Cinnamon invokes lust and is considered an aphrodisiac. It can be used in love spells as well as for sex magic. Burn cinnamon to stimulate your spiritual powers and increase your psychic ability and awareness.

♡ Summary: Carmy hasn't had pussy in 2 weeks....he nearly died (he's a drama queen, but you love it) So, being the loving amazing GF you are you Mountain Dewed it up down left right (oh!!) switched it up like Nintendo - and did it so well you put his ass to sleep. (I listened to Espresso the whole time writing this its literally all I could think about hahahah)

♡ W/C: 4,140

♡ Posted Date: 05/12/2024

♡ A/N: HEYYYY!!! Okay okay so MORE STAGEFRIGHT because the amazing wonderful talented goddess level writer @l4long-winded sent in ♡THIS♡ big brain beautiful ask, and let me tell you I had some THOUGHTS!!! I have such a worship kink so .... yeah this was v fun to write. I hope you love reading as much as I loved writing. My dear please send in a request whenever you want!! Requests are open per usual :D

♡ Warnings for BTC: Kinda Sub!Carmy, Smut, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, No use of Y/N, No use of physical descriptors, Black!Fem!Reader friendly (i'm pretty sure pls tell me if smth needs editing!), Kinda Virgin!Carmy, Not edited (we die like men)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

It had been quite literally a fortnight since Carmy had been able to fuck you. It was all he’d thought about, well - when his brain wasn’t busy going a million miles an hour about the restaurant, which is exactly what had taken up so much of his time lately. He’d usually be grateful for this kind of work, the kind of work that he’s going in at 3:15 and not getting home until 11:30 pm or midnight when you were already fast asleep. 

He was exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually - but sexually?! He wasn’t sure he had ever been so wound up before. His nightly sessions of jerking his cock in the shower, biting his hand to keep as quiet as he could while he thought of the view of you when he came in that night. One leg hoisted up, nightgown ridden up over your ass. The one you knew he loved, and some of his favorite panties. 

You called them your lazy girl panties because you told him you only wore them when you weren’t expecting anyone else to see them, but that very fact meant drooled over them. The slight discoloration from being so old, the little threads hanging off the leg holes and waistband. The tiny hole right in the waistband that he loved to thumb with while cuddling in bed. 

 Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours. Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes. 

That had been how long he had gone without being inside of you. He didn’t know his dick could get depressed, but his dick was fucking depressed. Getting off felt like a chore. When he’d jack off, he took an extra 15 minutes yanking on the thing because he could barely cum anymore, even though his balls were aching like he needed to. 

Every time he got home, he’d stand in the doorway, just watching you. You would be peacefully asleep, chest lightly rising and falling, your beautiful body covered by some loose sleep thing. A loose sleep thing that he fantasized about ripping off into shreds. 

Tonight though - he could cry. You were up - you were fucking awake. Through his own selfish desires he didn’t even realize it was abnormal, the only thing he could think about was the blood rushing to his cock at the mere idea you could possibly potentially be in the mood. “Baby?!” He nearly tripped over his own two feet rushing to your shared bedroom. 

You were sat up on the bed, book on your thighs - a loose nightgown that accentuated your curves and hugged your peaked nipples uncovered by any bra. He could bust in his pants and all you were doing was reading. Reading what? He could care less honestly because his cock was starting to hurt. 

You sat up, putting your legs over the side of the bed to get up and greet him “Bear! How was work love? I wanted to stay up so that we could - what’re you…” you trail off confused as he slinks to his knees before you, between your thighs and lifting up your leg, putting the top of your foot to his lips. 

“In…22 minutes” he starts between kissing up your bare ankle and calf “it..will have been..15..days..” he stopped at your thighs, his cheek smushed against the flesh, he looked like he could both cry and that he was coming home. “Since I touched you. Please. Please baby - can I make you feel good? Mm?” He mumbled into your skin. “Please princess? I’m dyin’ here. I’m fuckin- I literally cut my hand t’day thinkin’ bout you. I fuckin need you” he kissed over each little tiny inch of your flesh. He was…worshiping you. 

The idea sent waves of warmth flooding your core. “Yeah baby?” You took his hand, seeing a bandage over his knuckle and kissing it gently. 

The feeling of your lips to his skin made him whimper “please- please please please” he begged, sitting back on his feet and looking up at you through his bangs, pushing his hair back quickly before his hand found your calf once again, rubbing little strokes into it “please?” He asked softly, his big blue eyes blown wide with lust. 

You gently cup his cheek “and who’s fault is it?” You were teasing now. But you knew the bastard loved a challenge, and you also had been horny and your fingers were nothing compared to Carmys. 

“Mine. It’s mine. My stupid fuckin job angel I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, how can I make it up? What can I do pretty? Mm? I’ll do whatever you want” he begged you and kissed over your knees and calves, pressing short little pecks to the skin. You grabbed his greasy curls at the root, raking through a few of the knots gently before pulling him to look at you and he moaned gently at the sudden firmness 

“Do you know I’ve been fingering myself to fall asleep. All alone - for all those days you said. My poor hand” you held it up and he brought it to his lips on instinct, kissing the pads of your fingers before opening his mouth expectantly. “Good Bear” you purr and his eyes flutter shut as you stuck in your middle and ring fingers, slipping them over his tongue. He moaned at the contact, not holding back. 

You smiled a bit, tugging his jaw open and he looks up at you, cheeks flushed and drool beginning to drip down his chin. “You’re pretty” you said softly and he swirls his tongue around your fingers before sucking on them gently, not breaking your gaze. Your stomach flips with excitement, your panties becoming uncomfortably wet but you weren’t going to let that show. He deserved to beg. 

“Do you deserve to be sucking on my fingers though?” You pull them away suddenly and he gasps a bit a the unexpected emptiness of his mouth, a pathetic little pout appearing on his lips. 

“No” he said softly and you grab his cheeks, smushing them gently “but I can make you feel soooo good - you deserve it” he told you and you pat his cheek gently with your hand, your wet fingers leaving a glistening streak on his cheek. 

“I know I do. Are you gonna eat me out? Like a good boy?” You laid back on your elbows, spreading your thigh and resting one of your feet on the edge of the bed, showing your panties that had grown a large wet spot during your conversation. He watches every move you make, his eyes focusing on the wet spot you sighed softly, deciding to take pity on him. “You can sniff my panties, you little freak” you giggle and he looked up at you like a kid on Christmas 

He wasted no time shoving his nose right in the wetness, inhaling your sweet yummy scent and groaning “thank you” he mumbled into the curve of your ass, his hot breath against the skin causing your clit to twitch and goosebumps to appear on your skin. You feel him taking another deep breath and nuzzling his nose back and forth to get deeper like a dog and you couldn’t help but giggle, raking through the knots in his curls as he stuck out his tongue and caught the fabric of your panties with his teeth, sucking the juices out of the fabric and moaning hotly. 

His hands were everywhere, rubbing over your calves, your thighs, your stomach, pushing your nightgown over your tits and rolling a peaked nipple between his fingers. You bit your lip, head falling back slightly and grinding your hips into his face, using his nose to get yourself off. “Go ahead Bear take off your jeans, you’ve been good t’night and I know you’re probably hurting” you told him 

He sighed into you gratefully “y’too nice t’me” he kissed over your clothed pussy a few times as he unbuckled his belt with shaking hands, the anticipation was killing him. 

“No me being nice would be telling you that you could touch yourself. And no dripping on my carpet” you told him as he pushed his boxers and jeans enough to let his cock free that was indeed dripping already. His boxers were creamy and wet with pre, he had been pathetically grinding against the boxspring as he sucked your panties like it was his life source. 

“Shit-“  he said, wrapping a fist around his weeping tip as he continued tonguing and nosing at the fabric between your legs. “Can I- c-can I please?” He begged pathetically, that softness to his voice you loved so much. A sweet whiney grunt leaves his lips as you pull his hair, forcing him to look at you. 

“What have we talked about? Use your words.” You said firmly. 

“Can I- take your panties off…p-please?” He asked shyly “wanna make y’feel good - wanna taste your pussy I miss it s’much - tastes so good baby please lemme taste you” he said and his whiney husky voice mixed with his breathlessness from being shoved into the fabric of your dripping cunt made you clench around nothing. 

“I wanna cum twice before you even think about touching yourself. Also take your shirt off you’re way overdressed for my taste.” You dropped his hair and he nods obediently, standing and shoving off his jeans and tugging his shirt off by the neck in that stupid jockish way that had you wanting to shove him down back first on the mattress and ride him until his balls were empty. 

Instead you kept your cool, crossing your arms over and slipping your nightgown over your head before taking off your panties, flicking them at him playfully to which he balled them up and pressed them to his nose, inhaling deeply. This caused you to laugh as you adjusted your pillow to lay back, spreading your thighs and gathering some of your wetness from your hole, dragging it up to your clit and rubbing little circles into it. 

“Mmm are you gonna keep sniffing those like a pervy-puppy or are you gonna come make good on your promise. I’m surprised this poor hand hasn’t fallen off” you teased and he dropped the panties where he was standing, coming and crawling on the bed, laying in front of you and hoisting your thighs over each of his shoulders 

“Mmm” he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut and leaning in, resting his cheek on your thigh and inhaling. “Smell so fuckin’ good” he mumbled “mouth is literally watering” he kissed your inner thighs sweetly, ravishing the skin in gentle affection. “God I missed this fuckin missed this s’much. Every morning this pretty fuckin pussy is just beggin me” he kissed your mound gently, dipping his tongue out and moaning at the taste of sweat and lotion on your skin, lapping it up like a life source. 

“Yeah? I think you’re the beggar” you mused, jaw falling slack as he licks a stripe up your heat, moaning pathetically at your taste. His eyes rolled back slightly before fluttering shut in pure bliss “mmm so pretty baby” you coo and he smiled slightly, his cheeks a blushy pink that matched the tops of his ears. He nuzzled into you, nose rubbing over your clit in the way that made you gasp, your toes curling lightly “good boy” you praised, voice breathy and light 

“Taste so good” he mumbled into your cunt, squeezing your thighs gently with his tattooed fingers. He moaned into you, watching you with wide lustful eyes. 

“Those pretty eyes” you said softly, gently brushing his warm cheekbone with your knuckle and he hums into you gently. He sucked your folds between his lips, pulling away slightly and rubbing your thighs up and down with his calloused palms, squeezing gently. You moaned hotly and couldn’t contain the cry that followed when he finally stuck his middle finger in your dripping hole, hips bucking to try and get more of him. 

“So soft, so so soft” he mumbled into your clit before kissing it gently and taking the now swollen throbbing bud in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it quickly. His fingers twist and curl as he pumps them in and out at a languid pace. You felt that familiar jolt of pleasure as the pad of his finger brushed your g spot. 

“Augh- ah- yes bear” you mewled, “right there- there” you grab his wrist and squeeze it and in response he curled his fingers the same way and you dug your feet into his shoulder blades in pure extacy, causing him to grunt into you and curl and uncurl his fingers in a rhythm that had your eyes screwing shut and loud strings of curses and moans tearing from your chest as you came undone over his fingers, dripping down his wrist already. But with how long it had been since you had him this way, that was to be expected. 

“Good - good bear good bear” you mumble praise as your orgasm washes over you he works you through it, resuming pumping his fingers - your dripping arousal being able to be put to use as lube. The schlick,schlick,schlick sound of his fingers is what you come back to, your mind fuzzy and swimming through a warm sea of pleasure, sweet jumbled moans and whimpers coming from your lips. 

“God you sound so fuckin’ pretty baby I love you so fuckin much m’so sorry m’so sorry I haven’t been around as much” he mumbled into you and you shake your head 

“S’okay shhh- shh just keep doin’ what you’re doin’” you push his head back down, watching as his eyes flutter up to look at you and he sweetly offers his other hand for you to hold, your heart melting at the gesture. “Such a sweet boy” you coo, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He smiled a bit in response nuzzling his nose against your clit, his lips making cute little smacking noises against your cunt. 

“You’re so messy” you giggle a bit, seeing as the tip and bridge of his nose were wet with your slick, as was his chin and entire mouth area. “Your face is so wet baby” you told him and he looked up at you 

“Mmm m’neck is wet too” he paused to say before resuming and you gently caress his cheek, the only sounds filling the room being the wet drill of his fingers and the smacking of his lips, like he was trying to devour a popsicle before it melted. 

You felt your second orgasm quickly approaching, your walls fluttering around his fingers, he curled up into that spot and that was your undoing once more, your hips pushing back into the mattress and spine arching off the bed towards the ceiling slightly as your orgasm crashed over you with no mercy to be had. 

“Jesus- fuck!” You cried out and he held your thighs open for you so you wouldn’t crush him by mistake, your hands shaking as you went to wipe the tears that had gathered in your eyes that were screwed shut from the intensity and Carmy stops you, carefully wiping your cheeks with his dry hand and removing his other carefully, wiping it dry on the sheets he always changed for you afterwards and cupping your face while you came down. 

“You did so good baby, so so good” he kissed your forehead gently, rubbing your hair and caressing your back with loving strokes. When you were finally coherent enough once again, although you were exhausted - you realized Carmy was still rock hard, pitching a full tent in his boxers that were wet with pre as he coaxed you through your orgasm. 

“That’s gotta hurt” you told pull the fabric, causing his cock to come down with it and when you release it it springs back up to full standing causing you to giggle a bit 

“Mm does but m’back. I can’t go t’night babe. I was gonna go take care of it in the shower don’worry” he yawned, rubbing over his face you furrowed your brow, slightly offended. 

“What? Is my pussy not good enough?” You teased 

He looked at you quickly “wha- no - I mean- I mean yes? No- no your pussy is good your pussy is- is perfect I fuckin’ love y’pussy but I can’t go tonight baby my back fuckin’ hurts” he explained 

“I can ride you you know” you said and his big blue eyes widened a bit. You’d been together for 6- no 7 months, and it was true you’d never ridden him, not yet anyway. 

Carmen was a missionary man, not in the boring way, in the way that he’d get home from work and fuck your brains out while going on and on about his frustrations from the day. 

People wouldn’t usually call it dirty talk, but something it turned you on more then anything that between calling you perfect and beautiful and made for him that he was just casually going on about his shitty day like his balls weren’t essentially spanking your ass with how hard he needed it. 

“Uh- oh-o-okay. Yeah. Sure- I. Mmhmm” he said and fixed his pillow, adjusting his hips for you “hop on I guess” he said shyly and you laughed at his sudden switch in attitude. 

“Have you never been ridden you poor thing?” You asked and his cheeks went cherry red as well as the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose as you straddled him easily, resting your hands on his abs for leverage. 

“No.” He muttered. “I- I just…I dunno it never..came up” he swallowed thickly, averting your gaze nervously. 

“Hey.” You said “eyes” you told him and his eyes met yours immediately, “I’m honored to be the first person, yeah? I’ve told you a billion times bear - I love you. I love being able to show you new ways to feel good, it makes me so excited” you held his hips gently and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, needing to be touching you somehow. 

“It just…it doesn’t make me seem like…like a bitch does it?” He mumbled shyly, insecurity lacing his voice. You tucked your hands under his warm back, laying yourself over him fully, embracing him and resting your forehead on his. 

“You know how I feel about that word, and no it doesn’t make you seem less manly baby. If anything, it’s super sexy and it’s so sweet that you felt brave enough to tell me. Thank you for telling me. I’ve heard for the guy it feels really good cause all you gotta do is lay there, you wanna try sweetheart?” You ask softly, kissing the bridge of his nose gently and a small smile forming on your lips when you tasted yourself on your lips upon pulling away. 

“Yes please” he said softly, eyes fluttered shut as you cover his face in little butterfly kisses. 

“That’s my brave bear” you place a kiss to the base of his throat and he smiles a bit, cheeks going redder by the second. It was adorable how shy he got when you showed him affection like this, you knew he adored it more then anything - but he’d never be brave enough to ask for it - at least not yet.  

You sit up, “can I touch you baby?” You confirm, rubbing your hands down his stomach and his abs tighten at the contact. In response he nods, swallowing thickly and goosebumps rising over his skin. His cock twitches as you grab the waistband of his boxers “so sweet and responsive” you said softly, tugging them down easily as he lifted his hips for you slightly. 

“Jesus” you mutter at the sight of it, the tip weeping and pink crying to be touched. “Poor thing, you’ve been neglected- has Carmy been abusing you in the shower huh?” You said in the direction of his cock with a playful voice of concern. 

“Jesus fuckin Christ-“ he chuckled, covering his face with his arm a big goofy smile on his face. “You are gonna kill me” 

You smiled big, leaning down and licking a stripe up his length and he whimpers softly, abs and stomach clenching at the contact, a large bead of pre gushing from his slit that you catch with your tongue. He shivers adorably, groaning at the feeling of you licking over his sensitive tip. “If y’keep fuckin doin’ that ‘m gonna cum” he breathes, the vein in his neck present seeing as he was holding himself back, his balls drawing up and releasing in a rhythm. 

“Jesus baby i dunno if you’ll last that long we’ll have to do this again so you can get the full experience mm?” You grab his shaft, lining you two up and slipping it through your soaked folds, he let out a breathy moan, back arching slightly and you let out a sweet ‘mmm’ when his tip bumps your clit. 

“Please please please can I be inside you please” he begged pathetically, voice whiny and shaking - he was going to be coming undone very soon you could tell, which is why he was desperate to be inside of you before he was too soft to do so. 

“I dunno can I see those pretty eyes?” You asked, he was still hiding behind his arm, likely still feeling embarrassed this was his first time but you weren’t going to allow that. He shyly removed his arm, looking up at you and swallowing nervously. 

“H-hey” he said softly and you smile softly 

“There’s my bear” you leaned in, kissing him lovingly as you sink down on him fully, his jaw goes slack so you settle for kissing his chin and cheeks and nose “Feel good?” You giggle into his skin and he lets out a pathetic little ‘uh-huh’ 

“H-holy oh god” he groaned when you simply roll your hips, getting yourself off with the friction of the curly patch of brunette curls at the base of his cock. You sat up, using his chest as leverage to find a good rhythm bouncing on him and he nearly growls, a sound you’d never heard him make. 

“Ooo am I releasing the bear?” You teased and he chuckled a bit 

“Shut up- fuck Jesus oh god” his head falls back on the pillow “i-i-shit” he rambled and you giggle a bit, causing him to whine at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you continued to ride his cock with all the tricks you could remember. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever fucked you so quiet before” you tease, sure your hips and thighs were burning from how quick you’d built up to moving, but his eyes were practically rolling back and the whimpers you were drawing out of him were nothing short of heavenly. He was shaking for Christ sakes. “Are you gonna cum? Mm? Y’gonna fill me up baby?” You asked him, rubbing his chest gently 

He finally opened his eyes, looking up at you with those big blue eyes, blown out fully with lust, pants falling from his lips and his dirty blonde curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Mm-mmhmm” he moaned out, grabbing your hips to have something to hold and the action making him realize he could help you move. His jaw dropped slightly at the realization and he looked up at you for approval. 

You smiled and nod a bit “you can help honey- that’s really nice of you” you said and he helped push and pull you off his cock, he looked down, mesmerized by the view of his cock burying inside of you, he pushed you down with more force and you moaned, “just like that baby, you want it harder huh?” You ask and he nods quickly so you rolled your hips a bit harder. 

He bit his lip, nose scrunching up cutely. He was holding back. “Bear- I know it feels good but you can cum, you need to sleep” you cup his cheek gently and he looked up at you like a sad puppy 

“It feels s’good baby” he whined and you nod, stroking his cheek gently. 

“I know honey. We can do it again t’morrow night yeah?” You kiss his forehead and with that he releases into you with something resembling a cry covered with a grunt, of course he had to cover it. He pulled you into a deep messy kiss, wrapping his arms around your back, rubbing gently and reaching down to squeeze your ass, feeling cum dripping out of you down over his balls. He smiled a bit, pulling away to ask “Mmm can we sleep like this?”

[zzeraphilm]

Building Bridges

Regulus Black X Potter!F!Reader

Summary: After finding the note left behind R.A.B in the presumed Horcrux. The Golden Trio seek Sirius’ help in locating R.A.B, they end up finding him yet the reunion is not as expected. (Roughly set at the beginning of DH)

Note: Sirius didn’t die in Order of the Phoenix and Regulus didn’t die in the cave he just run off abroad to hide :p

I haven’t written for Harry Potter (ever) so apologies for any thing that might be out of character! ;-; i kept thinking about this rough idea during work

——————————————————————————

Harry looked up and locked eyes with his Godfather, Sirius had been silent the entire time. They were perched neatly in a two by two formation, his two best friends behind him and his only remaining familial tie. They had taken a portkey to the Scottish highlands, the icy gusts of wind cutting threw Hermione’s ponytail so high it nearly smacked Ron on the back of his head.

“Sirius, are you sure this is the right place?” Harry’s fingers clutched his forearms, rubbing them vehemently to produce some warmth.

In front of them was a lonesome cabin, mere metres away from the vast forest line that dotted along the coastal shores. Crashing waves hit the jagged rocks like the sound of an applause.

Sirius clutched onto the note the Golden trio had given him.

“For years I had questioned by brother’s last found writings. I am certain this is what he meant.”

The quartet marched ahead, the uneven stone path dug into Ron’s trainers, nearly tripping him, thankfully Hermione caught him by the seams of his jacket.

The door beyond had its metal hinges rusted beyond repair, a faint shadow of the number plate ‘8’ was the only reminisce of the original oak. Cracks and blackened mould painted over the door, weirdly however, the door knocker was untouched, no sign of usage or age. Despite Sirius’ persistence to wait to check the area, Harry banged his first against the wood, the booming shakes forced the door knocker to tap in sync.

There was a faint shout from within the cabin, heavy footsteps and whispers. Then silence.

The door creaked open, a woman tight lipped and furrowed eyebrows, her E/C eyes shot daggers towards Harry. She glanced at Ron, then Hermione and finally she focused on Sirius.

With a swift push, the door flung open revealing herself and a disheveled man behind her aiming his wand towards them.

“Sirius! Oh My! You’re alive!” She threw her arms around Sirius, behind Ron was flabbergasted, yet Hermione had her wand matched with the man behind the woman.

“Y/N, what are you- Regulus?” Before Sirius could enjoy his reunion with his long lost friend, he could only focus on his brother.

“Regulus Arcturus Black.” Harry spoke softly.

“Do not call me that,”

Regulus’ grip on his wand tightened with a slight shake in his wrist, his fingernails dug into his palms. “How did you find this place?”

Y/N took a few steps back and held onto Regulus’ raised arm gently easing it lower and lower.

“Darling, put your wand down. Your brother has finally come home yet you show him such malice. It has been years may we talk about this over tea,” her whisper felt like a soft hug unlike any other. “Please?”

After guiding the four to their small dinning table, Y/N left to the kitchen to boil the kettle. With only two chairs at the table, Harry, Ron and Hermione insisted on standing behind Sirius, who sat opposite his scowl faced brother.

After years of believing his brother’s death, Sirius now was sat face to face with the little boy he used to love. But they were both no longer just boys, now they were men, in the eye of a hurricane waiting for things to come to a crash. Regulus’ hair had become unruly, his curls was as just as untameable as Sirius’. His previously porcelain face, had deeply settled in scars and frown lines that framed his lips. He was far from the young boy destined for power and prestige. He now slept under a rotting roof with walls that could barely hold its own weight. Sirius was torn between grasping his brother after years of separation or running away from everything all over again. But war was coming and time was of the essence. They must leave Scotland for London by nightfall, with everything Regulus knew of the Dark Lord.

“Here, it’s just my own blend of floral herbs and spices. It is quite hard to purchase any professionally made tea round here. It tastes better with a bit of honey, don’t worry.” Y/N laid out two teacups, three short glasses and one tall glass full of her freshly brewed tea. In the middle of the table was a pot of honey with a teaspoon lodged inside. “Please bare with the glassware, we only have enough for the two of us.”

Regulus sat in silence, eyes closed lightly sipping his tea that had two teaspoons of honey mixed in.

“Let’s cut to the chase.” said Harry, Regulus still not paying him any mind, whilst Y/N’s eyes softened when he spoke.

“Regulus, we found this note in this locket signed R.A.B, your initials.” Hermione chucked the locket by its chain onto the table, skidding across to meet Y/N’s fingers. “We know its a fake. We need to know where the real one is now. Voldem-“

“Do not speak his name.” Despite his stern tone, Regulus had delicately placed his teacup onto the table with no splash.

“Under my roof, my home. You do not say that wretched name.”

Sirius slams his hands onto the table, abruptly standing up.

“Regulus, first you fake your death and now I find you cozying up with Y/N Potter, of all people! You are to give these children that bloody locket now or I will show you how Azkaban has changed me!” Sirius’ voice boomed against the four walls, leading Regulus to look up with a scowl.

“Brother,” the younger Black rose from his chair and stepped towards Sirius, in a matter of seconds he had grabbed the elder Black by his collar and slammed him against the nearby wall. His tongue spewed venom targeted his brother.

“You still remain as ill-tempered as always. You have no right to stand in front of me and disrespect my family. Leave whilst I show you mercy!” Regulus already had wand digging deep into Sirius’ throat, in response Sirius had gripped his younger brother’s wrist, attempting to claw his fingers away.

“Regulus! Stop it this instant!” Y/N screeched, pulling her husband away from his brother. Sirius dropped to the floor coughing, Regulus looked down at his brother with a glare, spat on the top of Sirius’ head and left the room.

Harry was left stunned in place. His Godfather looked like a shell of a man the moment he locked eyes with his brother. Now, his estranged aunt was comforting his Godfather after everything. How strange.

“Come, let’s move to the living room and we can all talk calmly there, without my husband.”

Ron turned to Hermione and whispered ‘husband?’ With his eyes darting across the room to focus on the many framed photographs of Y/N and Regulus. Hermione, as shocked as Ron was, merely shrugged and followed the adults to the front room.

Like the rest of the house, the sofa was barely useable, the longer they sat the further they sunk into the cushions. Harry, Ron and Hermione shared the three seater, Y/N perched at the edge of her armchair. Whilst Sirius leaned against the wall by the door with his head down, he felt beyond ashamed at his reunion with his brother.

Hermione coughed trying to clear the air of any tension, “Sorry that we didn’t get to have your tea Miss Potter- or uhm Black-“

“Y/N’s fine dear.” Her E/C eyes softened at the teenagers, they reminded her so much of her brother’s friends in their younger years.

“Y/N, how are you related to me? Sirius hasn’t spoken about you until earlier today.”

She gasped comically, clutching her chest to add to the act.

“Pads, you traitor! You were supposed to be my best friend!” She fake cried but Sirius looked up pleading to her with a string of unintelligible excuses. With a light chuckle her demeanour changed.

“No, in all seriousness I’m not surprised. You were never supposed to know about me Harry. We may be related by name, but not by blood. I was adopted into the Potter family, almost like dear Padfoot here.” Sirius huffed in response.

“I basically was already part of the family when I join you guys.”

Y/N chuckled sincerely this time, her left hand covering her smile, a noticeable silver loop around her finger.

“Yes and you ate all of my hidden chocolates by the third day you were with us!”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at this family’s banter. He was so used to the bickering and squabbling of the Dursleys’, and he hadn’t seen Sirius so animated with anyone but him and Remus.

“Harry, I wish I could’ve been there for you. But before your birth I had responsibilities that called for me that I could not disobey.” Y/N stood up and began to rummage through a chest of draws in the corner of the dimly lit room. She turned around and knelt by Harry’s knees placing a little cardboard box onto his lap. She began to slowly take out its belongings. An enchanted photograph, a notebook and a rusted Snitch.

“After my brother and his friends left for the Order, I tried to join but was vehemently denied by Dumbledore.” She lifted up the tattered notebook, “It would be too long to go into details but to summarise - he did not see me fit to fight alongside James. Instead I was given a separate mission that meant relocation to France. I too was tasked by Dumbledore to find a Horcrux, more so, I was tasked on recovering Regulus. I found both, clearly.” She placed the notebook back in the box and picked up the photograph.

“This was the last time I saw your father, my brother. 1979, their wedding. Look at how young we were Sirius!” She looked up, smiling lightly at the man holding back her tears, he now was leaning over the sofa looking at the photograph in her hand. It was the entire Marauder’s pack alongside Lily who hand her arms linked with Y/N’s both laughing towards the camera. Sirius had his arm slung over James’ shoulders whose tie and top button were undone. Remus and Peter were behind the two, ruffling James’ hair and chanting a silent hoorah for their union.

“That was quite a night, if I remember correctly you couldn’t stop crying at the reception. Saying how you always dreamed of having a sister and Lily was the perfect woman for the role. You were so drunk!”

“I was not!” Y/N screeched, Sirius only laughed in response.

The teens laughed at Y/N’s outcry. Harry kept watching the photograph loop, his parents and their friends could forever enjoy an eternal happiness in this photograph. He only wished he could experience all of their joy and warmth together in person.

“Ahem. As I was saying,” Y/N sat herself down on the armrest beside Harry. “I loved your parents Harry, I truly wish I was there for your birth, for everything. Unfortunately after that night, I had to fulfil my duty as Dumbledore’s foreign agent. By the time news reached to me of James and Lily’s death and Sirius’ arrest, it was too late. I was ordered to not contact you. So I,” With a deep sigh Y/N looked towards the hanging photograph of her and Regulus.

“I threw myself at work, by my fifth year of scouring the neighbourhoods of Europe, I finally found Regulus. And well, you can guess that happened next.” She dangled her ringed left hand over her knee.

“I never meant to keep everything a secret for so long, it became life consuming. By the time I had realised nearly 18 years had pasted, I was a different woman. I’m so sorry Harry.” Y/N clung onto her nephew in a tight embrace, tears dampening his shirt. He gripped her back in response as if she were to disappear from his arms. As they parted, Y/N’s sombre gaze started to brighten.

“Regulus means no harm to you three,” she turns to Sirius “Of course, you know your own relationship with your brother better than anyone else. I know you don’t plan on staying here any longer than you must, so let me handle it. Just stay here for a bit, I’ll get you the locket.”

Then she left the room, leaving behind an ear piercing silence.

“Do you think we could grab some food from the kitchen whilst she’s gone?” Ron uttered.

“I’m sure she won’t mind. Knowing her, she has probably hidden her snacks behind some bowls.” Sirius chortled, he drifted into the hallway and entered the kitchen.

He opened the cupboards one by one until he found Y/N’s fine china. And just as he guessed, she had placed a packet of custard cremes behind a stack of bowls. Still using the same hiding spot, shame there’s no chocolates this time. Before he could shut the cupboard door, he heard shouting from the slightly opened backdoor to the right of him.

“You have no idea what they’ve probably been through to even get here Reg!” Y/N was stood next to Regulus, who was smoking a cigarette and tapping his foot against the grass.

“He shouldn’t be here. I don’t care for the young Potter, he can do what he pleases with that damned piece of shit. I just don’t want to see him for one more second!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me! Don’t you dare speak ill about my nephew! And in case you forgot, you took my name! You’re a Potter now as well, he is your nephew! Don’t you care about your family? Your brother is here acting more of a father figure than anyone else could for that boy who has only known pain. You of all people should know what it’s like to live like that.” Y/N hand grabbed Regulus’ hand and lightly rubbed the back of his palm.

“…so he can be there for Harry but not me. Y/N, I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I can’t just let him back into my life like nothing happened. We left that world behind because of how much it has failed me. You. Us. I only planned my life with you in mind, not once did I consider my brother and now Harry to be there. It’s all too much. I just want things to go back to how it was. Back when it was just you and me.”

Regulus began to softly whimper, Sirius could see from the crack of the door Regulus’ shaking head of hair against Y/N’s shoulder, he saw his brother’s shoulders shake whilst he clung onto Y/N’s waist. Y/N lightly rubbed Regulus’ back with her right hand and patted his hair softly with her left. Just as he did when the two were children.

“I know darling, I know. But we’ll take it slowly. One step at a time. For now,” The two pulled back from each other, their foreheads pressed against one another. “We give them the Horcrux, and once it’s all over. We’ll invite them round for a proper meal. And we can finally clean up the place, yeah?” Regulus hummed a light tune and nodded, he closed his eyes and kissed Y/N’s lips delicately.

——————————————————————————

“Exactly as I suspected! Right behind the bowls,” Sirius returned to the front room before he could see the couple be affectionate to each other. The thought of his best friend’s sister and his brother together was still alien to him. He drew a biscuit from the packet and kept it between his teeth, then threw the whole packet at Ron who gladly caught it in his arms.

It was nearing sunset, they would’ve ideally made their way back to London by now. Harry couldn’t help but sit in silence admiring the photograph in his hands, clutching to it like a prayer.

Y/N and Regulus walk into the room, hand in hand. Before Sirius could utter an apology to his brother, the younger Black pushed his fisted hand towards him, then revealing Slytherin’s Locket in the palm of his hand.

“Take it. Take it and destroy it. Once you’re done with it. Y/N wants you back for a proper dinner.” Sirius slowly takes the chain of the locket, once the weight had been freed from Regulus’ hand, he unlocked his fingers from Y/N’s and disappeared back into the halls of their cabin. Y/N only looked towards them with a glint of hope.

“He’ll come round eventually, you know. He’s changed over the years.”

Whilst Hermione and Ron were nibbling at the biscuits, Harry turned around and stood to face his aunt.

“Y/N can I, can I keep this? Just for now, I’ll give it back once I come back to visit. I just, I really-“

Y/N only chuckled at her nephew’s nervous demeanour, “Of course love. Just make sure you look after it okay? Plus I’ll need you back here with your uncle here so we can take more photos to put up on my walls!”

Sirius, who was still chewing half of his biscuit interrupts “Actually I’m his Godfather,”

The H/C haired woman flipped her head around, “Since when? Why would James- Are those my custard cremes?”

——————————————————————————

“Goodbye Y/N! Goodbye Mr Regulus!” Ron waved as they walked down the stone path back to where they left the port key. He turned to Hermione, “You know maybe living out in the wild seems alright, you know? Pretty nice don’t you think?”

“You think you could make your own food and drink from just the bare essentials like Y/N?” The curly-haired girl retorted with a smile.

“Oh well no, maybe I could just conjure up something!” The two continued to bicker and laugh till the end of the path. Behind them Harry and Sirius stuck a few seconds longer to speak with Y/N.

“I’m sorry for the state of our cabin, my dear. I’ll make sure Regulus repairs all of the broken furniture before your return!”

A faint “I heard that!” echoed from the hallway. Y/N laughed and drew Harry into a hug, lightly patting his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon.” Harry squeezed her tightly and thanked her again softly, promising to return the moment he is finished with his goal. He turns back and rushes to his friends.

Y/N steps back and turned to Sirius. “Pads, tell me who else is left from us lot?”

“Ah well, Moony’s still kicking, still part of the Order.” The two laugh at the thought of their shared memories. A light sigh trails the end of their joy.

“Merlin, things really have changed so much now. I heard that it was Peter, yes?”

Sirius nodded, still resentful towards his traitorous friend yet his eyes gleamed with sorrow. Y/N rubbed his forearm in response to comfort him.

“You’ve got us now. Reggie will take a while, but you’ve got Harry and me. We’re family now. So, don’t be a stranger okay?”

After a lifetime apart, the two friends hug as if it was their last day at Hogwarts all over again. As Sirius walked back to the teenagers ready to go back to London, he took one last look at the cabin behind him. From an upstairs window, he saw his brother. The two nodded at each other, either out of pure politeness or an unconscious agreement to meet again, to rebuild what was lost.

[momoswifee]

Peaches and a Broken Car

Pairing: Mina x reader

Synopsis: Mina decides to take some time off and when she goes to her parents' house, her car suddenly breaks down leading her to meet Yn.

Warnings: The reader has abandonment issues and tbh I think that's it for now.

w/c: 5558

a/n: I've been working on this for a while now, I'm planning on making this a mini-series? I'm really excited to finally put this out and for you guys to read it! Again, I really appreciate criticism so that I can do better next time, so if you have any, please let me know :) Also big thanks to @cry4mina for their amazing brain that helped me figure out what to do with this story :)

Pt1- Pt2 - Pt3

Mina had always loved the art of performing. She found the idea of immersing herself so much in a character that she could be able to portray characters and tell their stories just by using her body language and facial expressions in a certain way fascinating. 

She loved the way she could tell stories of people for thousands of people to see, it was something she was very proud of. However, the fame that came with it was something that she wished was not part of this ordeal. Fame was something that many always wanted to achieve, the idea of being adored by many and of being an idol to others was for some their life dreams. However, Mina never wanted a loud and busy life, she had always preferred the quiet aspect of it. 

After finally finishing filming an adaptation of “All the Lovers in the Night”, which she considered to have been one of her most challenging works, she was on her very much-deserved holiday, which she planned to spend with her parents, who had recently moved to a quiet little town just an hour or so away from the city. 

“...turn left in 300 meters” 

Finally, Mina thought to herself, after hearing the GPS’s directions, showing how close she was to arriving at her parents. 

Suddenly, she hears a clicking sound before the car starts jolting.

What the hell?

Suddenly, the car comes to a halt, letting out a whooshing sound as a small cloud of smoke come out from its hood. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters as she gets out of the car after trying to park it as much to the right as possible. After a minute of silence, she tries to restart the car, in hopes it wakes up.

A glimmer of hope forms inside her as she hears the car slowly start before the familiar clicking starts again, making her turn it off, knowing she wouldn't go anywhere with that car soon.

Fuck

After the failed attempt at restarting the car, she decided to get out and see if she could call for car support so that she could get over this as quickly as possible. As soon as she’s out of the car, she's trying to call for support but soon notices that her battery is running out, making her dial the number as quickly as possible. 

“No no no no no” she mumbles as she watches her phone die. “You have got to be kidding me” she almost screams in exasperation. 

I cannot believe this is happening right when I decide to go on holiday, she thinks to herself sighing. 

After a while of sitting on the hood of her car, taking breaks from trying to restart her car long enough to connect her phone so that it could charge a little bit more to call for assistance, she sees a ball of white fur bark and run towards her. 

“Hi buddy!” she exclaims when the dog adorably walks up to her, pushing his head closer to her tight as if to ask for pets, making her laugh and crouch down giving him her full attention, slightly compensating for all that had happened until that moment. 

“Otis!” Mina hears from the direction the dog had come, assuming the voice as being the owner’s. “You can’t just run off like that.” says the voice, slightly off-breath as it approaches them. 

“It’s fine really!” Mina says, trying to sound reassuring, “He seems like a good boy…” she trails off as she looks up, meeting your gaze. As she looks at you, she feels her shoulders instantly drop, as if every ounce of stress accumulating in her throughout the day had vanished.  

“I’m sorry, he really just ran off as soon as he saw the car here.Is that your car?” you ask her as you leave Otis in her grasp to check it out.

“Uh yeah, I guess it had some engine problems? It never had any problems before, I was not expecting it at all” she answers, still upset at her car breaking down so near her parent's place. 

“If I could, I would totally help you out, but I’m not that good with my hands when it comes to cars,” You tell her sheepishly, “I do have the contact of a mechanic in town who could probably figure this out with no trouble” you add for Mina’s great relief. 

“Really? And do you think they could come today?” she asks with a hopeful tone. 

“Hold on, I’ll give them a call,” You tell her as you take out your phone to quickly call the mechanic. After the short call, you walk back to deliver the news. “It shouldn’t be long before they get here, they said they would come in maybe 20 minutes since it’s not that far.” You explain, making Mina feel like a big weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 

“I don’t even know how to thank you…” Mina says, smiling softly at you, making you laugh. 

“It’s fine, Your car will be in good hands too, don’t worry,” You say, shrugging. “You know…I really wouldn’t feel good with myself leaving you here alone though… would you like to come to the farm while we wait? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to!” you say, quickly adding the last bit, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. 

“I’d really appreciate it.” Mina says, smiling at you relieved, knowing that she’s going home soon.  

As you both walk to your house, you attempt to make small talk to avoid the awkward tension, learning that Mina is going to be spending her holiday time with her parents, in search of peace and quiet. 

After arriving at your place, Mina notices that you live on something alike to a farm, but a little smaller. As you wait by the porch, playing with your dog, Mina has the opportunity to check your little farm out, taking notice of the various fruit trees you had. 

She learns that you had once been a Hockey player in the city but due to a knee injury, you had retired and decided to come back to your hometown to help your parents with their business, eventually leaving it to you. 

After a while, the mechanic finally shows up at your house, with the car already towed, honking to call for your attention, making you smile instantly. 

“Hey pretty!” You say, getting up quickly to greet the person driving the car. Said person getting out quickly as well in time to greet you properly with a hug. “Mina, this is my friend Jeongyeon, she will be taking your car to the shop and give you a ride to your parents since it’s probably on the way.” You explain, detaching yourself from your friend, who gives Mina a small wave to greet her. 

“Well, I hope you have a good rest.” You say, guiding her to the car with Otis on your tail trying to get more pets from his new friend. 

“I’m sure I will.” She says, leaning down to pet Otis for the last time before she leaves.“Thank you for letting me stay here while I waited for the tow.” 

“Of course, it was really nice having you here.” You say, smiling shyly at Mina. 

Honk 

“Hey, love birds! It’s getting dark, we should really get going, so I can drop Mina off and close the shop in time!” Jeongyeon calls from the truck, making you both blush at her nickname. 

As she gets in the truck, she sees you waving goodbye and then remembers she had forgotten to ask you for your number. Before she can get out to ask, the truck is already getting out of your house. 

After a short-ish and quiet drive, she’s finally home. When she opens the door, her parents come rushing to hug her, worried because of the calls that went unanswered by her. After letting them know what had happened, she just went straight to bed, too tired to keep them company for much longer. 

As days go by, Mina has finally begun to feel more and more at ease, more in contact with herself. One day, as she’s preparing lunch, she hears someone knock at the door. 

“Mina, please get the door!” she hears her mom call from outside. 

When she opens the door, she sees a surprising face on the other side. There you stand, carrying a crate with a mix of fruits and vegetables, wearing your hat backward, sporting a small smile on your face. 

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Please come in” Mina hurriedly says, not wanting you to carry such a heavy-looking crate for too long. 

“I didn’t know you were the Myoui’s daughter.” you say as you enter the house and put the crate by the table. 

“Yeah…” she answers, still a bit surprised to see you there 

“I come here once a week to deliver fruit to them since the crate is usually a bit too heavy for your mom to carry” you explain, not wanting to seem like you just like to pop up to people's houses. 

“Thank you for that,” she says, touched by your consideration. “She told me that this week we’d be getting the fruit delivered, but I guess I forgot what day it was coming.”

After an awkward silence from both parts, you finally ask her how her time there has been, if she had her car fixed.  “Oh yeah, thank you! They already have the car ready to get picked up. I’m going this afternoon.” she answers, grateful for the break from the awkwardness. 

You only nod at that and give her a small smile, and you two get awkward again and stay silent for a bit, not knowing what to say. 

“Yn honey hi! Thank you so much for bringing the produce!” The older woman says, going to hug you. 

“Of course, I’m always happy to help!” You tell her with one of the brightest smiles Mina had ever seen, making her instinctively smile as well. 

After exchanging pleasantries, you decide to go back to work. As you’re almost out the door, Mina follows you, not wanting to let you go without asking you for your number.

“Yn! Wait up!” Mina says, following as you’re almost inside your truck. 

“Yeah?” You say, peaking your head out of the car, almost hitting it as you rushed to see what it was that Mina wanted. 

“I uh, I wanted to know if I could get your number?” Mina asks, suddenly shy. 

“Yes! I mean, yeah, sure, of course.” You say, trying to act nonchalant as you quickly hand her your phone.

“Let’s keep in touch, yeah?” Mina says as she hands you the phone, giving you a big gummy smile, making your insides melt. You’re only able to give her a nod, unable to answer her verbally. 

❂

“Did you just giggle?” JIhyo says, barking out a laugh as she sees you staring at your phone after receiving a message from Mina. 

“What are you talking about?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “Did a puck hit you too hard on the head?” you joke, trying to avoid talking about your shameful giggle at a text from a girl you had just met. 

“Hardy har har” she says, rounding the corner and following you as you move through the furniture looking for the renovated table Jihyo had ordered. “You can’t just lie to me, I know you like the palm of my hand! Jeongyeon back me up??” Jihyo says, turning to her friend for support. 

“Hm? Sorry, I was not paying attention at all. Can we speed this along, though? I have a job.” The older one says, putting her phone away as she moves to meet the other girls in the middle of the furniture maze. 

“Who were you texting though” Jihyo insists as she picks up the end of the table to carry it out.

“Oooh was it the girl I picked up from your place?” Jeongyeon joins in, teasingly wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“A girl?” JIhyo says, almost dropping the table. “Why am I the last one to know about this?”

“There is nothing to know about.” You tell them as you slowly put the table down, ready to put it on Jihyo’s car, ready for her to stop pestering you. “She had trouble with her car a while ago, so she stayed at my place while she waited for Jeongie to pick her up to take the car to the shop. Since she’s staying here for a while, we decided to keep in touch-” you try saying, but are cut off by teasing “ooohs” and whistles from both girls. “Just as friends!” you quickly add, rolling your eyes. 

“You know it would do you some good to get out of the house,” Jeongyeon says, bringing you closer when she sees you trying to get away from their teasing by going back to the shop. 

“I do get out.” You say almost indignantly, making both of them snicker. 

“You getting out of the house to go to work or to go to the farmers market does not count. You don’t even visit some of us in the city as frequently.” Jihyo says, already getting inside the car. “You don’t giggle at texts, you’re a loser, but I’ve never seen you like this. If this girl does that to you, you should give it a try, even if you’ve only known her for a short while. Get to know her.”

You only mumble in agreement, not wanting to commit to something yet. After Jihyo leaves, you try sneaking off into the store, knowing Jeongyeon will still try to talk about what had just happened. 

“Nope, come here.” She says when she sees you slowly backing away, pulling you by the hand to sit on the bench outside your store. “I know this is scary, you don’t like getting close to new people-”

“I do like it-” you start 

“Let me finish,” she says, cutting you off. “It’s good for you. We get together often, but since you came back you’ve been pulling out of social interactions. Mina seems like a sweet girl.” She continues, holding your hand gently. “I’m not saying you have to make a move, you’ve only known the girl for what? Two weeks?” she asks, getting an inconclusive hum from you. “Just get to know her, she told me she’s staying here for vacation when I drove her to her parents. You can make a new friend.” she says, ending her little encouragement speech. 

“You sound like my mom.” You grumble. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I love your mom.” She says, patting your head as she gets up. “I'll call you later, ok?” She says, already walking away. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to get to know Mina better, you’d like nothing more. Even after days of texting back and forth, sharing jokes and facts about you, you were still hesitant about letting someone else in. 

You sighed and looked at your phone, still open on the messages app with Mina’s text waiting for your response. 

Do you want to meet tomorrow? I can’t wait to see you again :) 

You smile down at it before finally answering. 

I’d love to. I can’t wait to see you too :)

❂

“This one almost fell off!” Mina says excitedly as she puts the peach inside her basket. 

“Yeah, they’re good to go right now, I’ll probably take them to the market this weekend.” You say, chuckling at her enthusiasm. “You should be careful though, if you pick them out with too much force, some parts that will get spoiled more easily.” 

After your friend's visit, you decided to invite Mina to your house to create a more intimate environment so that you could get to know her better without any stress from people being around. 

"Oh, look at this one! It’s you!" she says laughing, holding one out for you to see. 

You move closer to her, trying to see what she means as she points at the fruit. 

"You know, cuz you're a peach." she says, maybe in an unusual attempt at flirting. After a moment of silence, she turns away from you and goes to another tree to get away from what had just happened. You only stare at her with a dumb smile on your face, completely infatuated by her. 

“Are you flirting with me?” You ask, moving closer with a cheeky smile on your face. 

“Me flirt- flirting? Why would I- No of course not” Mina says, stumbling over her words as she moves further away. 

“Why did you call me a peach, then?” You ask chuckling, finally able to be close to her again. 

“Well because you look like one.” She says shrugging, looking away, not wanting to make eye contact. 

“Yeah, cuz we share oh so many similarities.” You say, tilting your head, trying to look at her. 

“Yeah, both round and red.” she says, shrugging, making you bark out a laugh. 

“You’re saying I’m round and red?” 

“You’re insufferable” she huffs and turning away again, only making you laugh more. 

“You can’t say I’m insufferable, we’ve only known each other for two weeks or so” You exclaim, still laughing. 

“Would it be bad if I was?” Mina finally stops, turning to you, and looking into your eyes. As you look at her, you find yourself unable to form any words, this seeming to be becoming a recurring occurrence now.  

You only shake your head no and move closer to her. You see her tense up as if she had stopped breathing, and unconsciously do the same. As you get closer to her, you’re now able to check ever single detail on her face, every single line, every single mole. 

“It would not be bad at all” You say, almost whispering with your voice shaking, as you adjust the straw hat on her head as it was slowly falling forward. 

“Yn!” you two suddenly hear, making you both hastily make some distance between each other. 

“Mom?” You call out, having recognized the voice, moving towards the sound, taking Mina’s hand in yours to follow you not noticing her almost freezing up at the contact. 

“Hi baby” she enthusiastically says, with open arms ready to engulf you in her arms. She, however, stops mid-way when she sees you holding hands with an unknown girl. “Who is this?” she asks, with a mischievous smile forming on her face. 

As soon as you realize what she’s talking about, you feel your face heat up, realizing that you were holding hands with Mina. Quickly, you let go of her hand, not wanting to make her feel comfortable, too embarrassed to notice the slight look of disappointment that had crossed her face as you did so. “This is Mina, she’s the Myoui’s daughter.” You explain, weekly gesturing to the girl beside you. 

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you!” your mom says, going to hug Mina, surprising her. 

“She’s always like this” you mouth to her when she looks at you for help. 

“Don’t run from me!” You hear as you see Otis speed away from your father, who’s chasing him. 

“Dad, stop pestering Otis.” You say, sighing, going in the direction your dog had run. 

“It’s not pestering, he loves it!” The older man says, before spotting Mina. “And who is this?” he says with a curious gaze and a little smile playing on his lips.

“This is the Myoui’s kid.” Your mom says, introducing her, and instead of a warm hug, he instead offers a warm smile, one too similar to yours. After a bit of short talk, and your parents wanting to start sharing stories about how you were as a child, you volunteered to walk Mina home. 

“They seem fun” Mina says as she walks by your side. 

“They’re pests.” You say fondly, not being able to contain your smile. 

“I’m glad we could do this today…” Mina says, sneaking glances at you, catching you doing the same from time to time. 

“It was really fun, yeah.” You say with a smile. Out of nowhere, a gust of wind hits you both and sends Mina’s hat into the field. “I’ll pick it up don’t worry.” You assure her, trying to chase it. 

“You don’t have to!” She calls after you, going after you. 

“I want to, stay there, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

After no longer than 5 minutes, she hears a thud and a groan, making her look your way, only to see you holding her hat looking quite disheveled, with furrowed eyebrows grumbling. 

“What happened?” she asks worried, seeing small tears on your pants.  

“I didn’t see the roots” You mumble, dusting yourself off with your free hand, before offering her a beaming smile. “I got your hat though! Here, let me put it on,” you say, dusting it off of any dust it might have before adjusting it on Mina’s hair again. “There.” You say, smiling, finding yourself in the same position you both had been in before your parents had come home. 

“Thanks” Mina mumbles, looking away, not attempting to make eye contact. 

As you both continued your walk, you could feel your fingers brush hers, making your face erupt in flames. You decided to look at her, sneakily and found yourself breath taken. It wasn’t just her shy smile that had your knees trembling, but also the light coming between the trees and how they hit her skin, how her eyes gained a new shine as she watched the birds chirping above you. You would never admit this out loud, at least not to her, but even though you had only known her for such a short period of time, you were absolutely smitten. 

“We should do this again,” Mina says as she steps on her parent’s porch. “I had fun.”

“Yeah.” You manage to get out, fiddling your fingers. “I’ll text you?” you ask, receiving a nod. “Yeah, I’d like that.” she says, getting closer to you. Before you can process it, Mina kissed your cheek and was already inside the house. 

❂

“We've actually been hanging out a lot, even if she's working too. Last Tuesday she took me to the lake, we spent the whole day there. But now she won't even answer my texts” Mina sighs, not knowing what to do.

“Well you've already tried talking to her, I'm honestly not sure what else you can do.” Sana, her friend, says through the phone. 

“Well, yes, but I actually thought things were going well.” The girl continues, pacing around. 

She knew that she couldn’t expect anything romantic out of this relationship, at least not at that moment, but she did think that your relationship was progressing in that direction, and she was happy about it, there didn’t seem to be any problems until you suddenly stopped answering her texts and only came by her parents place when she wasn’t there. 

“I’m not sure what to tell you, honey, I wish I could offer you more words of comfort, but it seems like this all came out of the blue so…” The older girl says. 

After a long talk, Mina decides to come down, only to see a very familiar crate full of veggies and fruit sitting at the table. She realizes then that Yn had come over to deliver the produce as usual, managing to avoid her again. 

“Mina hi! What can I do for you?” Jeongyeon says as she gets out from under the car she had been fixing, oil stains all over her. “Is your car giving you trouble?”

“Not the car, no.” Mina answers with a dry chuckle, looking around.

“What happened?” Jeongyeon asks, cleaning her hands, and guiding Mina to her office so that they could talk more freely. 

“I just…” she started, frustration settling in. “Is Yn alright? Has anything happened? Was it something I did?” Mina ends up asking, rapidly. 

“Hey no what?” Jeongyeon says, holding her arms, trying to calm her down. “It’s not you, ok? You did nothing wrong.” She says, trying to reassure her. “Yn has a complicated relationship with people. Has she told you about her retirement?” She asks getting up, getting a cup of water, and giving it to Mina, but only getting a negative nod as a response to her question. 

“I’m not sure whether it’s my place to tell you about all the details, that’s something Yn should tell you if she thinks she wants to. She had it pretty rough with her team after her injury, it hit her pretty hard.” Jeongyeon says, sighing after remembering how everything had impacted her friend. “After her injury, some people on the team started blaming her, people that were supposed to have her back, people that Yn trusted a lot. After that, she got too much in her head and started self-isolating. Those people leaving her, blaming her, made her start to think that others would do that too.” She ends, frustration lacing itself into her tone. 

“I didn’t know…” Mina says, almost in a whisper. “That must have been tough.” 

“It was, she has been trying to get out more and get better, but you know how these things are…” Jeongyeon says, searching for understanding in Mina’s eyes. “I know it doesn’t excuse her keeping you in the dark, but I hope it at least explains it.” 

“It does, but I still want to try and talk to her.” Mina says, getting up, ready to see if you were at your shop. 

“Yeah, but if you want to try today, you won’t have any luck. She went to the city, she’s hanging out with a friend.” Jeongyeon says, guiding Mina out, almost apologetic. 

“I’ll see if I can catch her at the market then.” Mina decides, gaining a nod from Yn’s friend. 

As Mina walks home with this new information she starts to understand why you had done what you did, however, she can’t help that she felt hurt by those actions. She decided that she had to confront you, to ease her mind and also in turn ease yours.

A couple of days later, her mom had decided to go to the market so Mina took that opportunity to go see you. When they arrive, they see you at your stand with your dad and waste no time to go over there. 

“...yes, Yn only started producing this type of tomato this year, but I really like them, especially in salads, they really bring out the taste…” says your father, engrossed in his tomato talk with a possible customer. “Mina! Hi!” He suddenly exclaims as he notices her presence. “I haven’t seen you in a while, have you been enjoying your time off?” He asks, after making sure the other customer did leave with the tomatoes he was so enthusiastic about. 

“It’s been great yeah!” Mina answers him with a tight smile, more focused on Yn and how she’s suddenly checking every single peach on the stand for defects. 

“she’s really been able to relax more, she works too hard”

“Do you come here often?” comes out of Mina’s mouth before she can stop herself, feeling silly since she is literally at her stand. There is a small victory since a small smile shapes itself on your lips unintentionally. 

“Yeah…” you say, not wanting to prolong this conversation, too scared of where this might go. 

“How have you been?” Mina tries again, not feeling deterred. 

“Eh I’ve been alright.” You say, offering her a small smile, but looking away almost instantly. 

“Are you not going to ask how I’ve been?” Mina says, trying to meet your eyes, finding them guilt-ridden. “Well, I haven’t been that great. My friend, or at least someone I thought was my friend, stopped talking to me and has been avoiding me. I’m not sure if she’s doing it because of anything I did, but she won’t even answer my texts so I can’t really know.” Mina finally lets out, unthinkingly letting out her frustrations on the situation as well. 

“No! No. I- It was not you, it was all me. I get too inside my head and end up pushing people away. This is no excuse, especially since I’m not even explaining it well, but I am still sorry Mina.” You quickly say as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have left.” She says, after a silent moment. “I texted a lot, I would think that that was an indicator right?” she says chuckling trying to lighten the mood, making you smile slightly relieved. “You do have to make it up to me…”

“I’ll do my very best,” you tell her, now smiling more openly. 

❂

As time progresses, you two end up making up, and you start visiting the city more because of Mina since she had returned to work. 

Knock Knock Knock

“Coming!” Mina yells from the kitchen, hurriedly going to the door, not knowing who could be at such a late hour. Once she opens the door, she is pleasantly surprised to see you there holding a bag of takeout with one of your big smiles on your face. 

“Hi” you say, already going inside, not wanting to stay out in the cold. “I brought take out from that place down the road.” You explain, already going to the kitchen with a familiarity Mina hadn’t noticed until now, but still a welcome one. As you both ate, Mina started realizing that the silly infatuation she had felt over the summer had evolved into a full-grown crush, and suddenly she didn’t know how to act. 

“Do you want to watch a movie after?” You ask her with a mouthful, which was honestly disgusting, but for Mina, who found herself realizing that she was unbelievably down bad for you, it was somewhat endearing. 

“You’re so gross.” She says, with no sentiment behind it,  a love-sick grin starting to spread on her face. “You choose, I’m cleaning up the dishes.” She says, getting up quickly not wanting you to see her smile like that. 

Once she returns to the living room, she finds you already sprawled comfortably on the couch with Spider-Man on the screen waiting for her to press play. Once you were both comfortably watching the movie play, you decided to explain to her little details that could help her better understand the plot and the reasons behind some behaviours of certain characters, and even though she had tried so hard to pay attention to those details, the only things she could focus on were how your eyes lit up, how you knew all about this fictional universe and how invested you were in it. 

“...and that’s why-What?” You ask, finally noticing her unnerving stare. 

“You’re such a nerd,” she says softly, her voice filled with adoration, making you flush under her gaze. “Tell me more about it.”

“Do you actually want to know?” You ask her, laughing, knowing she was probably not paying any attention to your side information. 

“I like listening to you talk.” She shrugs. “It’s cute. I might have to try and get a Marvel contract, maybe then you’ll talk about as me as passionately as you talk about Peter Parker.” She says, inching closer to you, with a teasing smile, and at that moment you thank everything divine for not being too close to her, or else she would’ve felt the heat emanating from you, from how flushed you were starting to get because of this banter of hers. 

“Do you think I’d make a good spider woman? Hm?” Mina says, feeling more confident after looking at your state, already so close, she could see your chest rising rapidly. “I’d let you try out the iconic upside-down kiss…” she finalizes, feeling a surge of confidence she normally didn’t feel, as she gently turned your face towards hers, getting closer and closer, already being able to feel your ragged breath mixing with hers. 

“Mina…” You breathlessly whisper, following her lead, your mouth opening slightly, not being able to stop your eyes from following her every move.

She only hums in response, tilting her head slightly to kiss you gently on the cheek, lips so soft you could’ve missed them. Instead of stopping there, she starts to slowly trail little kisses in your mouth’s direction. As she’s almost there, her eyes find yours as if asking for permission. You don’t even try and answer verbally, knowing full well you would not be able to do so, instead, you just let your hand go to her nape and gently bring her closer to you, letting your lips finally meet in a soft kiss. As you try to deepen the kiss, you feel her smile against your lips, making it impossible to do so. 

“What are you smiling about?” You ask, still impossibly closer, lips almost touching, not even wanting to think about putting some distance in between both of you. 

“Nothing” she simply says, pulling you in for another kiss, sharing the same thought of not wanting to be apart from you a minute longer. 

[jyoongim]

BLOOD & BLISS

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

Chapter four chapter six

Chapter Five

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Something smelled.

Every time you entered the kitchen, a putrid scent would assault your nose.

You didnt know where the smell was coming from, but you were determined to find it.

You had cleaned every inch of the kitchen, thinking it was some old food you had failed to dispose of.

But it still lingered.

You followed your nose, trying to locate the smell.

It led you to the cellar.

Did some animal get in and die from the heat? You mentally groaned at the thought at having to find some decomposed vermin and having to clean it up.

You held your reflex to gag as you descended the stairs. God it was rancid.

You didnt even bother to turn on the light as you traveled down to investigate. You looked around and from what you could see nothing was out of the ordinary.

But there was trash bags stuffed in a corner.

Alastor usually did well in making sure the trash didnt overflow, but you guess he had forgot.

Mustve been the deer you thought as you grabbed the bags and tried to move them.

But one bag was all too heavy for you to carry.

You huffed and grabbed at it again, thinking that carrying it at a different angle would help, but the contents of the bag shifted and must have not been sealed properly as something spilled out.

Cold, slimy liquid splashed your bare feet and you cringed.

This was definitely what was causing the smell.

Your stomach did flips as the smell assaulted your senses.

You figured you needed the light and made your way to find the switch.

Now seeing your surroundings clearly, you turned to see where you left the bag and froze.

Red. 

That’s what your eyes registered first. 

Thick red liquid was leaking out of the bag and when you approached further to the dumped contents your blood ran cold.

Was that a hand?

You felt bile rush into your throat.

There must be some mistake…what was a…a body doing in your cellar?

You shook your head and waddled back up the stairs.

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You were frazzled.

You poured yourself a glass of water. Maybe there was an explanation for this. There had to be right?

You took a deep breath. There was a body in your cellar. There was a dead person in your cellar. Could you even consider them a person? The state they were in…

Your eyes drifted to the pot on the stove. You approached the pot and opened it. The beef stew Alastor made. You sniffed it.

It smelled normal.

You picked up a piece of meat and examined it.

It didnt look like any meat you knew.

Your stomach curled as realization dawned on you.

Your husband had fed you human meat…

Your head was in the trash can before you knew it. Throwing up the water you had just sipped.

NO NO NO. NO NONO NO NO

You made your way to your pager, the line beeped and the deep brawl of your husband answered “Honey! Is everything ok? Im kind of busy”

You were panting, shock settling in you “I-I just wanted to know if you could come home straight from work today?”

The man chuckled “Of course dear. Why don’t you rest a bit you sound rattled” you bid him goodbye and sat on the couch.

Theres no way this was happening…

——————————————————————————————

Alastor quirked a brow when you didn’t come to greet him home.

The house was dimly lite except for the kitchen.

He smiled and found you sitting at the table, rubbing your swollen belly.

”You’re not indulging in a late night drink are you my dear?” He nodded towards the bottle of whiskey and glass in front of you.

You jumped slightly, having not heard him come home.

You quickly gathered yourself and have a shaky smile “of c-course not. I thought after a long week you would like to whine down”

He let out a low hum and made himself a glass.

Alastor noticed how you seemed…nervous.

You didn’t met his gaze and fidgeted in your seat.

”What’s troubling you cherie?” He asked downing the drink.

You wanted to blurt out and question him about the thing in your cellar, but you didnt know how he would react.

You had to wait for the right moment.

So you shook your head with a smile “Baby been giving me trouble that’s all. Didn’t realize how much I missed doing simple things without being out of breathe”

He laughed and leaned to place a kiss on your temple, a large hand over your very big bump. “You should take it easy. I told you you ain’t have to do anything. Just sit pretty and grow our child”

Your heart buzzed. 

There was no way your husband, your Alastor was a killer.

Maybe the hormones was making you delirious.

Maybe it really WAS just a deer carcass.

But you were certain you saw right…

”Did you clean today? You know chemicals aren’t good for you to be around. You shouldn’t be putting unnecessary stress on yourself darlin”

You pouted, wrinkling your nose “Something was rotten. You know how I feel about my kitchen Al.”

If you didnt know your husband, you wouldnt have noticed when he tensed up, but as quickly as it happened, it passed.

”Rotten?” He asked, face frowning.

You nodded “I threw out the strew, I think it went bad”

Alastor’s fingers drummed on your stomach and then he shrugged.

”guess Ill have to do better next time” he pulled you up and lead you unstairs to rest for the night.

”Guess Ill have to do better next time” what did that mean?

You had got dressed for bed and settled beside Alastor who pulled you to snuggle into his side.

You let out a yawn, eyes getting heavy “Al?”

He hummed in acknowledgment as he looked over some scripts.

“You would tell me if something was troubling you right?”

He glanced down to see you looking at him.

”Of course dear why?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes 

“Nothing just wondering”

Your soft snores filled the room and Alastor let out a sigh as he set down the papers.

He slipped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.

He looked around. While he had made sure to thoroughly clean up his mess, your cleaning was another level.

He sniffed and nothing but chemicals greeted his senses.

Something was rotten

Could you have…

He made his way down into the cellar. Flicking the light on, his eyes scanned the room.

The black trash bags were still in place.

His eyes narrowed noticing the red liquid coming from th bag.

Oh that just wont do.

He hauled the bag over his shoulder and went into the backyard.

Alastor wouldnt let his clean reality be faltered by his sinful deeds.

After all…

you didn’t need to know your husband dirty little secret….

—————————————————————————————————

Hi Jyoongim here !

I am at the point of the story where everything is now about to shit and dont know how long this story will be. Im thinking at least five more chapters (They will be long) but who knows. Blood and Bliss WILL have a second series, but until then…i would like to address something…. The next few chapters will have heavy themes. As a black writer i feel it is important that I show the history of my people and what African Americans had to deal with in the early centuries in the South United States. With that being said; be mindful and open-minded about the themes that will appear in the next few chapters Thank you

————————————————————————

@th3-st4r-gur1 @yourdoorisunlocked @popamolly @doggone-devil @rulesareshadesofgrey @zombiesnips-blog @boney-horse @ilikemyteawithmilk @alastor-simp @alastorsgirl48 @alastors666creampie @alastwhore666 @alastorssimp @alastorsaries @al1fers-haven @dasimp777 @thewinchestah @certifiedcrybabyyy @markster666 @okay-babe @catherine1206 @angelicorpses @hazelfoureyes @yunimimii @smoky000 @siiv3r @southern-bayou-beau @luzzbuzz @karolinda007-blog @catmunist @ivebeenthearchersstuff @evedenn @luluxx118 @vexendoe @preciousbabypeter @justtnat @willowshadenox @celestial-vomit @over-the-little-blue-house @impulsivethoughtsat2am @purplecatsandhearts @strawberrypimp666 @peachedtvs @peachedtv @altruisticalastor @chanty-loves-turtles @cxrsedwxrlds @nightshadelm @theangeliclibrarian @voxsmalewife

[nawoken]

   Yes, because I got bullied by both of the games I played so... I'm here to rambling some stuff that has been stuck inside my head since forever.

How about... Reader with cute aggression, especially for those small, fluffy creatures, like... cats! (Ơ w Ơ).

You can't help squeezing, kissing, and biting (lightly) those cuties. Yes, you have Grim, but he won't let you pet him since you're too much, his words.

And TWST boys that by some accident, maybe from alchemy class or their clumsiness. They, unfortunately, have turned into those mischievous creatures.

   You don't know that. You just walking around, minding your own business or headmage supposed to be business. Then, you saw it, a cat with the fluffiest fur and cutest eyes you've ever seen run by. And you know, you've fallen in love :)))

   TWST boys, now in cat body don't know that they're in danger, roaming around freely with the hope that someone they know will realize and help them.

   Oh, is that our calm and kind prefect? Surely, they can help our poor boy, right? No! They're deadly WRONG!!!

   The next thing our boy knows after approaching prefect is that he's trapped in your embrace, being kissed, squeezed, and petted while you compliment him on how smooth and healthy his fur looks.

   Damn it, prefect! He is not an actual cat, can’t you see it?! The answer is… No, you can’t. You’re busy admiring his cuteness.

   He is struggling, embarrassed by your doing. Some of them might feel ashamed since it feels like he is taking advantage of you… or the other way around, some just aren’t used to being pampered. But, the worst thing is… prefect, please don’t rub your face on his stomach! Mmraooo!!! :’)))))

   After a while, you finally stop, he sighs out of relief, … but why do you look at him like that? D..do you finally realize that he is not a cat?

   You stared at the poor creature in your hand, thinking. And, this made him concerned, what are you planning to do?

   Before he can do anything, you chomp on his face, more specifically, his muzzle … Yes, you do it without your teeth. But... YOU BITE HIM!!! ON HIS FACE!!! C...CAN THIS COUNT AS A KISS?!

He is panicked and stunned while you're in heaven. This might be the sweetest cat you've ever seen, he doesn't even bite or scratch you when you do all this to him.

Suddenly, pink smoke emitted from the cat, and with a "pop" sound, it turned into a human. Not to mention, you know him. Is it a good or bad thing? You don't know, the only thing you know is... you're DOOM!

You should know that this is a magical world, so you can't just hug any stray cat on the street, it can be anyone, not to say this is your crush. But you got tricked! By those sparkling eyes! And those fluffy ears! And now you can die from embarrassment.

Now, you're the one who panics while he just stands there, not knowing what to do or to say. The cure for this potion, it's a true love kiss. (Another version of the "The Princess and the Frog" potion but instead of a kiss from the princess, it's a true love kiss, why not? :))))

You two end up looking at each other for a whole minute before he decides to speak up but are cut off by you. "Please, just forget everything, this is so messed up of me, I promise I will try to make it up to you somehow, but please just erase that shameful thing I have done from your mind!" (QAQ)

Then you ran off, left him there with bewildered expression.

~~~~♡♡♡~~~

That's longer than I expected :'D

But, yeah, this has been stuck inside my head for too long, finally it can appear under the sunlight...

You know, I want to make a request for that idea. I've followed so many good TWST writers. But, well I'm shy and don't really sure how to, so I just keep it in.

The idea for this post is... I have a cat, she's been suffering from my cute aggression. Ehe, poor her, but she never bites me when I'm chomping on her muzzle. So sweet of her.

But yeah, I can't stop laughing when I think about TWST boy turning into a cat and being chomped on. That must be terrifying for him, but they still tried their best to not scratch you, their dear prefect. Except: Riddle, it's just his reflection, and he feels regret right after. And maybe Leona? Or, he just shows his claw to threaten you but doesn't actually do it.

Nom nom :3

MY ANGEL!!!

[imaginedisish]

The Only Exception (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! Ahhh here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This has been sitting in my WIPs since late November/early December. This is what I was working on before I got sick. I’m so happy it’s done. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, although I may have written something similar to this already. It’s very much inspired by “The Only Exception,” by Paramore. I’m hoping I didn’t use this song as a title yet....Oh well. ENJOY!

Summary: Din has been wildly overprotective of you lately, but maybe it’s because there’s something lying deep below the surface that’s been threatening to bubble over...

Warnings: SMUT!!!!! 18+ Please!!! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cursing, canon typical violence, Jedi!reader, Razor Crest still exists (and it’s def bigger in my head than it is in the show), praise kink, friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy and smutty dw, I only proofread like 2 times so it may be bad (it’s 3:16am...so...we die like men!), AFAB reader, uhhh I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,078

“I swear to the Maker, if you don’t get back on the Crest now, I’m gonna-,”

Din is cut off by the sound of your lightsaber clashing through the plastoid armor of the stormtrooper to your left. You swing your saber around, showing off more than you need to. You throw it down the alleyway, feeling through the force as it cuts through another stormtrooper before finding its way back to your hand.

“You’re gonna what?” You say, tilting your head to the side. You point your saber to the stormtroopers scattered around the alleyway. “I just saved you.” You close your saber and cross your arms cockily.

Din shakes his head, his gaze refusing to meet yours. “And where’s the kid? You just left him on the Crest?” You roll your eyes, turning your back towards him as you remove your cloak from your shoulders. There, in perfect condition, is Grogu, secure in a little carrier on your back.

“You really think I’d be that dumb?” Your words have a callous edge to them. Din had been far moodier than usual over the past few days, and with that came a strange overprotectiveness that you hadn’t seen before. It was starting to feel as if he thought you were going to mess up, that you couldn’t take care of yourself. “You think I’d put the kid’s life at stake?”

“That’s not what I meant.” The anger in his voice has all but melted away. You’re shocked by how defeated he sounds now.

You inhale deeply, taking a moment to calm yourself down. “So what did you mean, Din?”

“We don’t have time for this now.” He’s curt and almost a bit cold, his modulated voice echoing off the walls of the alleyway. “We need to get back to the ship.”

You hate the way he’s brushing you off, ignoring you, pushing you to the side. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need to put up with his shit. Not anymore. “What is going on with you?” The words come out louder, more aggressive than you meant them to.

Din takes a single stride towards you, his broad figure practically shoving you against the wall in the process. “We are not doing this here.” The feeling of him being so close to you clouds your mind. You can’t form a coherent thought, never mind a sentence. You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but you can’t. “Now cut the shit so we can get back to the ship.” There’s that anger again, that finality in his voice.

In the distance you can hear stormtroopers chatting, whispering your name, mumbling on about Grogu, warning each other about the Mandalorian. Din was right. There was no time to hash this out here. You nod, finally caving in. Din takes a step away from you, immediately grasping your wrist in his hand before making a break for the Crest, just on the other end of the alleyway.

Somehow you make it without being seen. Din lets go of your hand, motioning for you to get on the ship. You make a b-line for the back and carefully remove Grogu from his carrier, placing him in his crib. You stand frozen in place in front of it, watching his eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

You don’t want to move. You rather watch the child you had come to care so deeply for sleep peacefully than deal with a massively enraged Din. The oncoming fight would most definitely wake Grogu, so maybe it was best for you to hide in the little corner that you had come to call Grogu’s bedroom, completely unnoticed. But obviously, that’s not an option. You begrudgingly step towards the end of the hull and decide to keep your hands busy by organizing the tiny stock of food that lined a makeshift shelf along the far wall.

You can hear Din’s heavy steps on the other side of the ship, presumably heading up towards the cockpit. After a few seconds and many annoyed grunts from Din, the ship is lifted into the air and away from danger.

You try your best to bring yourself to get angry at him, to yell some explicative across the hull of the ship and spit a curse in his helmet-covered face. You wanted the consequences, for him to storm over and scream back. But you couldn’t – because things weren’t normally like this. Din had always been kind, caring, protective even.

He'd leave the cockpit to grab a blanket from his cot when you fell asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d come back and gently, yet silently, tuck you in with it. It was the only blanket he had. Sometimes you’d wake up in his bed, having been carried into it at some point during the night. He’d be awake, taking care of the child, flying the Crest, making sure nothing and no green baby woke you up.

You’d be lying if you said his doting behavior didn’t draw you to him, that it didn’t make you crave him. Every soft touch on your shoulder, every time you pretended to be asleep just to feel his arms wrap around you as he brought you to his cot. You’d let your stares linger a little too long from time to time, pushing past your reflection in his armor, searching for some sort of sign that maybe he feels the same.

You wanted him to come up behind you, rest his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the exposed inch of skin where your top and your pants just can’t seem to meet, and whisper in your ear in that husky, modulated voice that he’s sorry, that he’ll make up to you by-

“Never, ever, do anything like that again.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You quickly turn around, not realizing how close Din had gotten to you. His chest is practically flush against yours, the proximity causing you to stumble back against the shelf, threatening to bring it down with you.

Din immediately snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling against the cold metal floors below. Your arms instinctively reach up around his neck to stabilize yourself. You’re glued to him now, and you don’t particularly want to let go. You swallow harshly, intimidated by the way the beskar clad man seems to tower over you, by the way you can smell him, by the way his forehead practically touches yours.

You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows and doing your best to collect your thoughts despite the fog that the moment seemed to create in your brain. “Do what? Save your ass?” You spit, instantly regretting the harshness of your words, even if he deserves them.

“You weren’t supposed to leave the ship.” He’s stern, his voice somehow punishing. “You were supposed to stay here with the kid.”

You shake your head, feeling far too much like a child caught playing in the front seat of their parent’s speeder. “You needed my help! You would’ve died out there without me! And I can handle myself,” You yell, trying to ignore how you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “If this is about risking the kid’s life, I promise you I wasn’t. I would never put him-,”

He cuts you off, “I know you wouldn’t, that’s not what this is about.”

What? You think to yourself, confused beyond belief. If this wasn’t about the child, then what could this possibly be about? “So then what’s the problem?” You ask, more aware of the way that Din is holding you against him now than you were before.

You can hear Din inhale deeply through the modulator. “You.” A shudder rolls down your spine. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” There’s still an edge in his voice, but he’s calmer now, almost pained, as if considering your death in some dark corner of his mind.

“Sorry that my death would be such an inconvenience for you,” You say sardonically. “It’ll be hard trying to replace me with some other force-wielding wizard that’ll be willing to babysit for you, since clearly that’s all I am.” You wanted the words to sting him, to hurt him, and maybe they did, but it felt like a punch in the gut to simply think them. You wanted to grab the words from where they still hung in the air and shove them back into your mouth, to swallow them so that they could burn in the acid of your stomach.

Din tilts his head down, crushed, defeated. Your heart winces. Fuck. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His stare finds yours again, and you quickly look down at his shoulder, too embarrassed to have him look you in your eyes.

You shake your head. “But Din, that’s the problem,” You say, somehow finding the courage to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I supposed to know what you mean if you won’t kriffing tell-,”

“Fucking hell, I don’t want to lose you!”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

Din looks around the hull, as if the words he was searching for were hiding, wrapped somewhere around its silver walls. “I can’t lose you. And before you ask, no, it’s not because you train the kid or whatever the hell you think it is.” You can feel the pain in his voice, guilt quickly filling your gut. “It’s just…” He trails off, silence hanging heavy in the air.

“Well…what is it?” You mumble, struggling to force down the lump in your throat. You wish you could see his face, to get a sense of his expression, an inkling as to what he was really feeling.

“You,” He says, as if those three letters held some secret, omniscient being or meaning. To him, they did. It was you. You were the thing that kept him up at night, the thing that made him want to show every facet of his being for the first time in his life.  “You’re reckless and careless and sometimes you drive me absolutely insane.”

You scoff. “Wow, what a glowing review of my services!”

Din shakes his head. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re so much more than that, because even though you drive me crazy,” He pauses; the modulator picks up his breath as it catches in his throat, “I know I’d never be able to spend an entire lifetime without you in it.”

You’re speechless. An entire lifetime? “Din I-,”

“Close your eyes.”

“What? You just said all that and you want me to close my-,”

“Just close your eyes. You trust me, don’t you?”

Of course I trust you, smart-ass, You think to yourself. So, you do what he says, shutting your eyes firmly. Then there’s a hiss, and then something clunks loudly against the floor. And then…

It’s warm, and soft, and smooth, and all those other perfect words someone would use to describe the perfect kiss. He has a mustache under all that metal, and now you know, because it tickles ever so gently just above your upper lip. His hands squeeze your hips just a bit tighter, pulling you further into his chest.

His lips press deeper into yours, hungrier. You keep your eyes closed tightly, your hands sliding up and into his hair, combing gently. He moans into your mouth at the touch as he guides you away from the shelf and towards his cot.

“D-Din,” You stutter in between gasps.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You can feel the heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach, but there’s something stopping you, something telling you that there’s no possible way this could ever be real, that it wasn’t a set-up, that it wasn’t a dream. “Do you really want this?”

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you silently wish to yourself that you could see it. “Do you?”

You nod, repeating his words, “More than anything.”

His lips find yours again, his knee nudging in between your thighs as he pushes you down onto his cot. He’s on top of you now, his hands on either side of your body. “Wanted you for so long…” He whispers in your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” Fuck, he was going to kill you.

Din presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw. His hands stretch under the hemline of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your stomach and towards the edge of your bra. You shudder as he reaches underneath, slowly inching towards your chest.

Something was changing within him, and that something was you. You made him want to throw his Creed away, to ignore all he had been taught his entire life. How could you ever possibly be something he shouldn’t have? He needed you.

More than anything. And you needed him.

“Please,” You beg. “I need you Din, please.”

And just like that, something within him finally switched.

“Open your eyes, cyare,” He’s so quiet you almost miss it. His fingers dip underneath your bra, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly before doing the same to the other. “’Want you to look at me when I make you come.”

Panic rises to your chest. “W-what, are you sure? What about the Creed, what about-,”

“It doesn’t matter, not if it means I can’t have you.”

You wait a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but he doesn’t. You let your eyes flutter open, his curly hair and brown eyes flooding your vision. And Maker, there’s that smile, the smile you’d only heard through laughs and sarcastic, snide quips. You swear your heart skips a beat, maybe even two. He was perfect. Of course he was fucking perfect.

“You’re beautiful,” You whisper, your hands finding their way to his cheeks, his neck, your fingertips carefully running over his lips. His forehead rests down on yours, his eyes closing softly, reveling in the intimacy.

Din lifts himself off you and makes his way down your body, settling in between your legs. His fingers hook the waistline of your pants, tugging them down and throwing them somewhere in the hull. He feels your core through your soaked panties.

“So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” He coos, practically ripping your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “Need to taste you.”

“F-fuck, Din,” You breathe sharply as his tongue laps at your clit, your hips lifting off the mattress. Din presses an arm across your hips, keeping you down against the cot, his free hand spreading your slick, teasing your entrance.

“’Tastes so good,” He rasps, his voice vibrating deliciously against your core. “Doing so good for me sweet girl.”

His mouth sucks harshly at your clit, taking the small bundle of nerves into his mouth, lapping at you like he was starving. You wanted more, needed more.

“N-need you, Din,” You whine, your hips fighting against the arm that held you down. He pushes you down further into the mattress, his mouth pressing even deeper onto your core.

“Not done with you yet,” He grunts, pushing two fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out, fast and hard. You could feel yourself growing closer with each thrust.

You moan his name like it’s a prayer, and in this moment it is. “Din, please, I, just…” But you can’t finish your sentence. It’s all too much, his fingers, his tongue, his voice, him. He was everywhere and everything all at once. And yet you needed more.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” He says patiently, nonchalantly.

“I want…” Your words fail again. “I…need you to f-fuck me, please.”

But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going. “I said I wasn’t done with you yet.” You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, teetering just on the edge.

“I’m so close,” You pant in between ragged breaths.

And then, abruptly, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty. Before you can even think to sit up or reach out for him, he was back, his hips resting against yours, his pants and armor now somewhere scattered to the side. You could feel his cock throbbing against your inner thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you.

“Din,” You whimper. “Plea-,”

He buries himself inside you, cutting you off, stretching you out. “So fucking tight,” He praises, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into you, filling you up again. “So soft, so perfect.” His fingers find your clit, circling the nerves roughly.

His forehead rests on your own as his left-hand searches for your right one. His fingers intertwine with yours just above your head, keeping you from drowning, cementing you there with him. It all feels so good, each pump, each circle at your clit. You can feel your walls clenching around him.

“Taking me so well,” He soothes, rocking into you. “Such a good girl.” It was all too much, his words, his cock.

“I-I’m gonna-,” You choke, white heat flooding your vision. You know Din isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Come for me, sweet girl, that’s it,” Din moans, sending you over the edge. You feel yourself shattering underneath him, falling apart into a million pieces, only to be put back together again. His name slips off your tongue as he comes inside you.

His hips roll slowly against yours, gently rocking into you a few more times before pulling out.  

He shifts a bit so that you can comfortably lay on his chest. After all that, there’s only one thing you can think about.

“You wouldn’t be able to live without me?”

You look up at Din. His smirk stretches into a smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly, so simply, as if it was common knowledge. “I need you. I always have.”

“I need you too.” He was the only person you had ever needed, the only exception. You didn’t need to tell him. He knew. Always has, always will.

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing

[aajxs]

meant to be , s.g

synopsis - the one where you're in love and satoru doesn't realize until it's too late.

pairings - satoru gojo x fem!reader

contents - ANGST!!! , gojo is an asshole and y/n is too sweet for her own good , mentions of injuries and blood , major character death , prob ooc gojo

w/c - 1.8k

a/n - I got lazy asf at the end and didn't know how to finish this and I just needed it out of my drafts lol. this is kinda buns but I hope you enjoy it anyways!!

masterlist , part two .

There wasn't supposed to be any grade one curses on your mission. You were supposed to get in, exorcise the few grade three curses, and get out. 'You're strong, stronger than most, so why couldn't you beat them?' You thought to yourself as your back pressed into the concrete wall behind you. You had been sitting here for awhile, and the curses were long gone. You had beaten them up pretty badly, but you just weren't strong enough.

'Satoru could beat them, though. He's stronger than you ever will be.' Said that tiny voice in the back of your head, reminding you over and over again of your weakness.

You kept telling yourself that someone would come for you. Someone would realize you hadn't been at the school in awhile. Someone would come and find you. Maybe it was the false hope that was keeping you alive, maybe it was something else, you weren't sure. You were surprised you hadn't bled to death yet. It felt as if you had been staring aimlessly at the ground for days, yet it had probably only been an hour since the curses left you to die.

You felt a presence somewhere in the building and went to get up. Due to your weakened state you were unsure if it was a curse or another jujutsu sorcerer. You had one hand holding your bloody side, and another hand on the wall in a lousy attempt to get yourself off the cold ground. You cursed under your breath as you pushed yourself off the wall, forcing yourself to walk towards the suspicious presence. Your vision was blurry, you were bleeding from multiple places, and needless to say, you were going to need a new uniform if you even got out of here.

Your day was completely and utterly ruined. 'Not that it was going well in the first place.' You thought as you recalled the encounter you had with Satoru just a few hours prior to your mission.

"'Toru–" You happily began, but you were instantly cut off. "Don't call me that." Satoru irritatedly uttered as the two of you walked side by side through the halls. "Gosh, who pissed in your cereal?" You joked, letting out a small laugh as you purposely bumped shoulders with Gojo, making him give you an annoyed glance.

"Anyways, Satoru, I was wondering if you wanted to-" You began again, "No." He cut you off, quickening his pace. "I didn't even get to finish..?" You awkwardly said, your smile starting to disappear from your face. "Y/N, just leave me alone, I can't deal with you today." Satoru said, making you slow your steps. "What?" You frowned, "But we haven't talked all day?" You sadly uttered, bumping shoulders with him again, this time a bit softer.

He brushed you off his shoulder, "We don't have to talk every day." He said, obviously becoming irritated. "But we're best friends, why wouldn't we..?" You trailed off, confusion and sadness washing over you. When he didn't reply, you went to bump his shoulder again, but you were stopped by his infinity. "Why's your infinity on? You never have it up around me." Your frown deepened at the action. Did he really not want you around him that badly?

"I don't like you touching me Y/N, just go somewhere, I'm not in the mood for you right now." Satoru quietly said, "So you have to be in a certain mood to be a good friend?" You asked, growing more upset by the second, "You could just tell me that you're not feeling well and you don't want to talk right now, you don't have to be an asshole about it." You said, stopping in your tracks.

"I'm not feeling well and I don't want to talk to you right now." He said, his words laced with a mix of irritation and sarcasm. "Satoru if you don't want me around you just say that!" You said, making him abruptly turn to look at you. "I don't want you around me! Is it that hard to give me a little bit of space?! You're always right next to me, always bothering me to hang out with you!" Satoru snapped, "Well, did it ever occur to you that I don't want to hang out with you?! That I don't want to talk to you!?" He said, the hands that were once shoved into his pockets now balled up into fists.

Your lips parted in shock, and you stared at him for a few moments. "I didn't realize that was how you felt." You murmured, "I just-" Your voice cracked slightly, "Nevermind, 'm sorry I said anything." You apologized, attempting to blink back the tears that were forming in your eyes. Your shoulders lightly shook as you walked away, and you prayed he didn't notice your sobs. You didn't know why it hurt so much, it wasn't like it was the first time Satoru had said something along those lines to you.

You don't remember much after that, aside from the fact that you eyes still hurt from crying and Satoru didn't even try to make sure you were alright. On your way out you saw him playing around with Suguru and Shoko.

You let out a few more curse words before making your way towards the nearest wall. There was no use in checking out whatever or whoever had entered the building, you were going to die anyways. You knew your time would come eventually, but now? You're barely seventeen.

You leaned against the wall for a moment before giving in and sliding down the wall to the ground, your blood leaving a few marks along the way. You had barely felt any of your wounds due to shock, but now that the exhaustion was finally hitting you, your body started to hurt even worse than it had ten minutes ago. It wouldn't be long until you passed out from blood loss and finally met your end, you at least wish you could've gone out in a cool way.

You couldn't help the small cries you let out as you sat there, aching against a cold cement wall in an abandoned building. You're gonna die alone in some random, dirty building. You thought as your warm tears made their way down your battered cheeks. You heard the sound of rushed footsteps, and your immediate reaction was placing a hand over your mouth in a lousy attempt to quiet your sobs.

Your ears were ringing and everything around you was muffled, so you couldn't tell if what was approaching was far away or close to you. Your vision was blurred, and the tears only made it worse. In other words, you could barely see or hear a thing.

A hand abruptly grabbing your shoulder snapped you out of your own thoughts and triggered your fight or flight sense, aptly choosing fight. The hand that was once covering your mouth now clenched and pulled back into a weak fist. "It's me! Y/N, it's me!" A familiar voice said, making you slowly put your fist down.

You went back to your original position against the wall. Your eyes were droopy and you felt like you were going to fall asleep. "No– Y/N, stay awake!" The person said as they took your practically limp body into their arms. A hand reached to your face and began shakily wiping your tears, whispering curses under their breath as they cradled you.

"Satoru.." You mumbled, a weak smile appearing on your face. He perked up at your words, the hand that was wiping your tears now cupping your face. "Yes, it's me- Satoru, your Satoru!" Your Satoru. How you longed for those words to come out of his mouth for years. You know that's not what he means, though. You know he'll never be yours.

"Thought you didn't like me anymore, 'Toru..?" You weakly asked, tears still streaming down your face. "Fuck— I didn't mean that, you know I could never dislike you Y/N." He said, anxiety lacing his words. Your half-lidded eyes gazed at him with nothing but adoration, they always have. "I don't think 'm gonna make it, 'Toru." You tiredly said, offering him another weak grin.

"Don't say that! You can't leave," Satoru said, "You're important to me." A small frown appeared on his face as you let out a dry laugh. How could you be laughing at a time like this? "I don't get it," You began, "You've always said I'm important to you-" You cut yourself off with a cough, pain shooting throughout your entire body. "-But you always make me feel like 'm not worth your time." You said, blinking a few times to try and keep yourself awake.

"C'mon Y/N, none of that matters now," He said, his tone getting a bit louder, "Stop fucking talking and stay awake for me." Satoru pleaded, lightly tapping your face. If he could take back everything he ever did wrong to you, he would. "Satoru?" You asked, your voice cracked, the lump in your throat only growing with the pain in your body.

"I wanna go home, 'Toru." You cried, weakly gripping Satorus uniform. "You will go home. We jus' gotta wait for Kiyotaka to get here, 'nd we'll go home." He said before throwing his head back and biting his lip harshly, blinking back his tears.

Your side was throbbing, every other wound on your body was stinging. You looked sickly and if anybody saw you they'd assume you were a zombie. You and Satoru both knew that you couldn't live through this. "'Toru—" You began, a small hiccup erupting from your throat. "I love you, y'know that, right?" You uttered, licking your lips out of habit.

"I love you too," He admitted back, his cerulean eyes glossed over. "You're not allowed to die on me, Y/N." He frowned, his voice shaking and cracking every few words.

"I have one last request before I go–" You started, biting your lip when Satoru cut you off, "You're not leaving, don't say that!" He harshly said, his grip on your body tightening. "I'm weak, Satoru." You admit as you reach up to cup his face. He's not wearing those stupid glasses. You thought as you caressed his face gently, a smile appearing on your tear stained, battered face.

"Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are, 'Toru?" You say, not failing to catch him off guard even in your last moments. He gives you a nod as he takes one of his hands and places it over your own. "Can you kiss me on the forehead? Like you always do?" You question as you blink away a few tears.

He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips staying for a few moments, before hugging your body closer to him and tucking your head under his own. "Maybe in another life, I can be what you always wanted.." You mutter before closing your eyes. He could feel your body still, and finally let a couple tears run down his face.

It was never meant to be.

© AAJXS

[running-with-kn1ves]

Could you do Orc Tribal Leader X Reader on your wedding night?

A/N: I SWEAR I'm literally just writing the same stuff over again b/c I had a story just like this, but you know what I never get tired of it because its like a top fantasy bro. Hope this one was better than that version at least

Content warnings: Forced Marriage, kidnapping, attempted escapes, nonconsensual touching, infantilization of reader  

Synopsis: Your village, destroyed and burned. Your life picks up somewhere you would never have imagined. Maybe, death is a better option than being an orc’s spouse. 

Word Count: Approx. 2600 

The autumn solstice was a bountiful, beholden time of year. From the greeneries of cabbage and the fowls hatched in summer now fully grown, there was much to be harvested and ripened for the taking. Your town was boisterous, full of life with a variety of competitors and businesses attempting to lurch at any tourist’s or local’s wallet to get them to buy countless crops, meat, and woven goods.  

Your tiny tea shop, suffering from last July’s drought, was finally starting to perk up with re-growth. Black tea, jasmine, bergamot, even hybrid blends like crushed raspberry and chamomile-- you could assemble enough to raise prices, label the small reaping as an imported foreign good luck charm that when drunken, blessed women with marriage prospects and men with wealth.  

That was, before however, you became bound and gagged to a chair, pleasantries being exchanged around you in a language harsh in your ears. The fires... You remember them well, the putrid stench of charred meat from the butcher next door, his body even more ablaze. Your jade boxes of fine silk bags meant for holding gifts of tea, becoming laden with ash and dust. Every scrap of money you saved up under the floorboards disappearing into floating particles and melted coins.  

“Brutes,” Your uncle called them, “deranged beasts with only two things in mind: bloodlust and greed.” 

Orcs were not well-received in a conservative, fearful town of humans. Even the elves, seen as symbols of beauty in mortal standards, were causes of paranoia and irritation whenever they made their rounds nearby.  

It was no wonder that the lines of tusked, olive-fleshed creatures in animal skin were spotted, the guards of your small city went on a rampage. Bows and arrows were no match for iron bones and teeth of steel.  

You, were no match for anything wider than a tree trunk. So when fire caught to your village, your home now rampaged for its finest ‘offerings’ to the orcs, you were left to be eaten by the licking flames. And yet, was it a blessing or a curse that one of the warriors decided to haul you on his back, doting on how “nicely you’ll do” as a wedding gift. You didn’t realize that the gift was to be part of the ceremony yourself.  

With smoke in your lungs and your eyes blurred by dirt and ash, you watched the ceiling cave in on your tiny tea-filled shack, bright orange and red dancing from behind the window panes as you drifted away.  

Daraktan is spoken all around you, harshly and with flicking tongues. You can hear snippets of English, wondering what’s going on behind the black veil covering your head. You don’t dare remove it, recalling what the orc woman, supposedly your now husband’s ‘mother’ telling you in your native tongue.  

“Touch this, and you will surely die. My alfhild will remove it, when it is time.”  

And so, you wait. Digging your fingernails into your palms, crying quietly in heavy furs and leather, the occasional hand coming to pull your shaky one to their mouths, kissing the tip of your index finger.  

“Aka’magosh..” They mumble to you, seemingly more at the body to your right. 

The calloused hand of someone much larger than you, whom you have assumed is your husband from his constant appearance nearby, occasionally comes to grace your back, to rest a hand on the top of your head, to smoothen your veil or the soft fur shawl on your legs.  

His hearty laugh hurts your ears, the jingles of the metal jewelry he adorns constantly making noise as he shifts.  

“Please..” You whisper, praying, to whoever may be listening. Why you? Why, out of all the fair, eligible humans of your town, were you picked out from the rubble to be “saved”? To be married to a faceless orcish man, who would surely break you in half before morning? 

The bitter cold of coming winter brushes against your legs. You can feel that you’re not inside wooden walls, and yet unnatural lighting seems to shine through your veil at times.  

“Omulork, I think I will take my… wedding gift, to be with in solitude.” 

Loud, deep laughs fill the room, the guttural voices of female orcs being swallowed up by uncountable numbers of warriors surrounding you. Your body shivered as a gust of wind blew in, the autumn breeze barely being kept at bay from where you sat.  

“Enjoy the festivities, shedzvagas!”  

His unique husk leaves everyone in the room to cheer in their orcish language, tough and painful pats coming to your back, the festive shakes to your shoulder nearly making you topple. 

That same heated, abrasive hand comes to grab your roped wrists, lurching you firmly, yet gently from your place on the ground. Panic started to fill your stomach as it rose to your chest, the warm aura of an orc next to you radiating to heat you from the chilly weather outside.  

Now. It was now or never. You didn’t want to think anymore what he would do to you when you were alone, when you had no one to cry to for help.  

Your feet moved before the thought finished crossing your mind. Your hands shook as you stumbled in a sprint forward. You passed thick bodies as you ran blindly, making it a mere five steps before a pair of meaty hands grabbed you by the hips. 

“A feisty one, Gar’mak!” The sounds of the orc woman who forced you into your wedding attire spoke up, a drunken laugh leaving her plump lips. “Alfhild, better not leave it out of your sight.” 

You hated how clear the English they used was to your ears, how human they all sounded, how when they spoke in your native tongue-- it was meant for your ears. She wanted you to know, to let the fear soak into your chattering teeth.  

The orc keeping you captive merely laughed, tossing your weightless body to his shoulder just like he had done when pulling you from the cobble of what was left of your tea shop. 

You screamed, biting down on what you could reach from under your veil. But the salty, thick flesh from beneath you was aloof, offering no reaction as a double pat was brought to your buttocks.  

“Now now, Djenifor, don’t fuss.” Gar’mak mused, each step he took forward making your body thump against his. He held a tight grip on you, not caring for the scratches you layered his back with. “I won’t try to hurt you… I will keep you safe, try my best to keep your fragile body in one piece.”  

The coldening night air was a drastic change to the room of heavy body heat and weighty movement where the wedding ritual and festivities were held. Now, it was quiet. You could hear the loud chattering begin to drift, songs and chants rising again as they once had when you were unceremoniously married to your new ‘husband.’  

Gar’mak patted your butt again, moving down to rub at the back of your thigh with a gentle, firm rhythm. He seemed to hum to himself, satisfied with the nights events. Scored himself a spouse and the treasured belongings of a human town.  

He must be pretty proud of himself, you seethed.  

The tears were beginning to sting the corners of your eyes, frantically scratching at the orcs back when you felt the warmth of an enclosed area meet your skin.  

“No, no--” You began to kick, trying to shove off the arm holding you steady on the orcs’ shoulder.  

“Settle down now--” Gar’mak ordered softly, putting you down on the fuzzy ground. You managed to hit his face, the hard scrape of tusks scratching your hand as a firm nose nearly cracked your knuckles.  

The orc went silent. Quiet in rage, he rips your veil away with a grip hard enough to tear hair out if he so desired.  

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimly lit tent, lanterns glowing at the corners as the mass of a creature leers over you. You forgot just how… big, orcs were. From afar they looked small, bigger than a human, but no threat due to distance. But now… he was above you, twice your height, twice your size, twice if not thrice everything. His palm the size of your skull, his eyes gleaming and looking over your body, weak with exhaustion and fright.  

Small, intentional scars were placed under his auburn eyes, some kind of tribe symbol you were sure. Thick eyebrows furrowed at the way tears decorated your cheeks, the exhales from his flat nose blowing hot breath on your chest.  

“Please, I, I can’t, I don’t belong--” You fumble over yourself, trying to slide back on the floor of soft wolf and caribou furs.  

“Shh, shh now,” The orc puts a hand to your ankle, an action that jerks you to a stop. “I won’t hurt you, lebam…” 

You sincerely doubt that, but the sentiment sounds genuine from his broken, baritone voice. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, pulling slowly with immeasurable strength at your leg. You slide towards him with little strain, even with your muscles going rigid for you to stand your place, your fingernails digging into the ground beneath you.  

You shake out your name, reluctant to give it.  

“Ah. What a human name; a scared wee human, aren’t you?” 

You don’t dare to respond, waiting for the sound of your snapping ankle. 

“They call me Gar’mak, though that may be too difficult for simple human brains. Mak is fine, little Djenifor…” 

You don’t want to call him anything, to refer to him at all-- yet, he looks keen to hear you say it. There’s an expectation in his eyes, a flick of his giant tongue against his lips.  

“Mak..” You mumble, trying not to gag.  

“Yes…” The orc’s hand frees your leg, caressing up to your cheek as he wipes away a forgotten wet stream of tears.  

“Please, just let me go--” You beg under your breath, scared of the way he seems to be eyeing your knees, your frail neck, your round ears.  

“You know that’s not going to happen,” He doesn’t seem angry at you for asking, just… Sorry. “We are bound forever now; even the gods couldn’t tear us apart. Wherever you go, I will find you. Whenever I leave, you will feel me gone. By sunrise tomorrow your scars will be given, and you will become one of us.”  

The panic begins to settle once again in your stomach. Maybe, tonight, yes-- tonight, if you could escape. You could-- just maybe you could find a way, past their all-seeing eyes, their all-hearing ears, escape to the mountains they took to get you here. 

 “But can’t you change it back?” Your voice cracks, expression twisting into an ugly cry as you feel thick fingers dig into your hair. “Just, we can go back-- just let me be…”  

You sob for what feels like too long, hours maybe, Gar’mak’s eyes never leaving you as he pulls you to his thigh. He brings a cotton blanket to your legs as he shushes you, the tenderness of his eyes a foreign sight compared to the façade he forced you to endure during the night's festivities.  

When your cries had turned to miserable, quiet sniffles, a muscled knuckle finds its way under your chin. He turns your head to look at him, eyes red and droopy as you try to think of any method of escape.  

“You’ll learn to like it here, human.” Gar’mak thinks for a moment, caressing your leg with a single finger.  

 “We are far more civilized than your kind-- far more… Fair. You’ll be treated well. The spouses of warriors do not go unfed, unbathed. Unloved, most of all. You will be cherished; I will cherish you, as long as you let me.”  

The orc grips your jaw in his hand, firm enough to where his fingers made dimples in your cheeks, but softly to where you felt like a mouse in someone’s closing palm. A kiss was planted to your temple, your body pushed deep against your husband’s as he holds you close enough to suffocate. You wait for him to choke life from you, and yet it never comes. He is harsh with his touches, but not harsh enough to hurt.  

“Please, let's finish tonight how it was meant to go, hm? Let me hold you…” He murmurs, all soft and lamblike into your ear. It sends shivers down to your soles, hot breath layering your neck as he looks at your lips with such intensity.  

You fear saying no, but the word rises up to your throat.  

It doesn’t make it out in time. Lips engulf yours, the stiff coldness of bone-colored tusks brushing against your face as Gar’mak holds you tight. Just one kiss is enough to make his demeanor act up.  

Your unassuming, comfort-driven spot on his lap is altered swiftly. You find yourself straddling the orcs’ waist, a hand pressed against the back of your head as your tied hands remain useless against his chest.  

You don’t know whether to speak, to scream, to bite at his lips-- but you remain flexile, afraid of the rough hand holding your skull so tenderly, the other gripping your thigh to wrap around his flank. You’re like a resistant doll, licked lips becoming tender as the orc pushes against you with such tenacity.  

You see his eyes open, staring into your wide, unblinking ones. They seem to communicate more than just lust-- its desire, desire for your reciprocation.  

Gar’mak waits… he kisses you, eyes narrowed on standby for your submission. They’re hazy and make you wonder if this is enough to make him release his brutish side, the part that showed no mercy for your neighbors or your home. What would happen, if you broke away or dared to claw at him?  

That thought doesn’t stay for long, not when the tough hand on the back of your head moves to your neck, squeezing just enough to bruise.  

You wince, lips pursing in reaction just in time for his next tongued assault.  

That slight opening of your mouth, the press of your lips against his, is all he needed. You find yourself twisted beneath his body as you’re brought to lay on the furry floor, the orc lying above you.  

“That’s right, I’ll be soft Djenifor… just do as I command, keep smelling so sweetly for me.” 

Scars litter his shoulders and collarbone, metal necklaces and piercings dangling on his olive-green, lightly haired chest as you fear how much it would take for him to crush you.  

He’s so quiet, letting go of your mouth as the orc’s curled tongue licks a slow, wet stripe down your jaw. His hands grab your thighs to wrap your legs around him, intent on keeping you steady and so close you practically breathe the same air.  

Before he leans to kiss you feverishly again, the orc brushes your cheek with his knuckles, petting down the amalgamated fabrics you wear to commemorate your wedding.  

 “You’re so lucky I found you first, that I had saved you from that rubble without layering an extra scratch; my brethren would not be so kind.”  

He kisses your cheek, a soft, hungry grin playing on his plumped and tusked lips. “So stay pliant like this for me, wee human, and you won’t feel any pain.” 

You lay rigidly, squeezing your eyes shut as a tender, all-consuming kiss eats you up, preparing you for the night’s affairs.