#You're telling me I have to tag things too?

[jujutsubaby]

⛓️ lonely at the top ⛓️

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader x true form!sukuna ☆ summary: you are the great ryomen sukuna's favorite healer from the heian era, reincarnated in the modern time. for centuries, you have also been his favorite lover. but when sukuna returns one day with a shockingly handsome blue-eyed sorcerer, you cannot help but feel threatened. no matter what sukuna's plans are for this newcomer, however, you're willing to do whatever it takes to stay on top. ☆ tags: slight canon divergence, smut with a lil plot ¬‿¬ ☆ warnings: MINORS DNI!!!! handjob, oral sex (m/f!receiving; yes this includes sukuna's abdomen mouth lmao); voyeurism; exhibitionism; fingering; p in v; anal; overstimulation; masturbation ☆ a/n: ok the promised (and voted upon) sukugo fic is FINALLY here my loves :3 i had to add reader in the mix too though bc girls just wanna have fun. also writing this kinda made me a sukuna truther :/ maybe i understand gege and sukuna kaisen just a little bit more now :/ ANYWAY ENJOY!!! ☆ wc: 8k

when you had heard of Lord Sukuna's imminent duel with the infamous Satoru Gojo, you knew it would be prudent to practice your Reverse Cursed Technique. you had always been Lord Sukuna's favorite healer (among other things), but that had been the Heian Era. this new time was as foreign and strange to you as the delicate new body into which you had been reincarnated.

and so, when Lord Sukuna re-enters the compound you share with his other most trusted servants and loudly calls for you, you are prepared. flexing your practiced fingers and preparing to channel positive cursed energy, you hurry to the threshold from which his voice had emanated and immediately sink to a kneeling position, your head turned to the floor. as expected, Lord Sukuna had come straight to the healing quarters.

"you summoned me, Lord Sukuna?"

Lord Sukuna approaches you; his footsteps sound heavy and slow. he is exhausted, you can tell, but he does not seem grievously injured as you had expected. so why did he call for you?

your head still inclined downwards, you stifle a gasp as you notice rivulets of blood darkening the floor beneath you and staining your pristine robes.

"you will heal him," Lord Sukuna says simply. you hear a heavy thud hitting the bed you had prepared so carefully for your lord. actually, mystifyingly, you hear two thuds. you chance a glance upwards, and your heart drops when you see that Lord Sukuna has indeed deposited severed halves of some unfortunate sorcerer's body onto the bed. from his pallor, you can tell he has already lost quite a lot of blood. this is beyond any healing you have ever performed in any era. you briefly wonder whether your beloved lord is setting you up to fail when he speaks up.

"i trust you understand that failure is not an option."

"yes, my lord."

"y/n," he says more quietly. you nearly shudder at the sound of his tongue lavishing attention on your name. "i keep you in my employ because you are the only healer worthy of serving me."

it is a statement of arrogance, but it is also one of reassurance. someone who has served as his trusted servant for as long as you have learns how to understand his sometimes esoteric cues.

you feel a firm hand grip your jaw and tilt your face upwards. you are greeted by a sight you have not seen in centuries: Lord Sukuna in his true form, in all his magnificence. his tattoos stand starkly against his glistening torso. his arms, now four in number as you recall, are corded with muscle; the grip his massive hand has on your face could easily crush your windpipe — and yet, it does not. it never would, so long as you serve your purpose. you cannot help but bask in his glowing charisma. this was the sorcerer you were so proud to serve.

"it is my honor to serve you, my lord. i will heal the sorcerer, i swear it."

noticing your desirous eyes raking over his form, his cruel mouth forms a lazy smirk, which is mirrored in the mouth of his stomach. the effect is equal parts unnerving and disarming.

"come, y/n," Lord Sukuna says, pleased with your reaction to his true form. "let us see your patient for the evening." he seizes your shoulders with his second set of arms, and indelicately pulls you to your feet before marching you towards the bed.

Lord Sukuna must still be unused to inhabiting his true body after possessing so many weak mortal vessels, you muse, for he is being far rougher with you than usual. you find that you do not mind, however. in spite of the grave situation, you feel heat embarrassingly beginning to pool at the apex of your thighs at the feel of Lord Sukuna's thick fingers and their crushing grip on your narrow shoulders.

the man in the bed is muscular, although nowhere close to Lord Sukuna's physique. that said, he looks youthful, and strong enough to have put up a good fight. perhaps he would even be strong enough to recover from his horrendous injuries under your expert healing hands.

but who was this man? why was Lord Sukuna so insistent upon healing him? and how was he injured like this in the first place?

your eyes wander to his upper half, and you pause on his face. handsome, with delicate features and a shock of messy white hair. his eyes are slightly agape, and you note that they are the uncommon blue of a summer sea.

blue?

you gasp in spite of yourself and turn to your master, momentarily forgetting that propriety dictates that you not maintain eye contact with someone so many levels above yourself.

"forgive me, Lord Sukuna, but...Satoru Gojo?"

Lord Sukuna does not seem to mind your lapse in etiquette, as he meets your gaze with a grin.

"he put up a marvelous fight. talent like that should not be extinguished, even though most sorcerers doubtlessly dream of being defeated by somebody like the great Sukuna," he says.

Lord Sukuna was always able to make such grandiose statements about himself that would sound asinine coming from any mere man. with the great Lord Sukuna, statements like these are simply the truth. he has always been so far above any human you have known, which is why his fascination with Satoru Gojo is leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. mortal humans, including you, need to know their place. that maxim should include Satoru Gojo, too.

Lord Sukuna's voice shakes you from your reverie. "oh, and y/n?" his normally commanding voice is alarmingly soft, and laced with...something. something typically reserved for his favorites, like you.

"yes, Lord Sukuna?" you ask, carefully keeping your head angled downwards towards the bed so as not to repeat your earlier eye contact gaffe.  

you watch as Lord Sukuna reaches a hand out towards Satoru Gojo's listless face to slap the young man's elegant cheek.

"do be gentle with your technique. i want this one staying pretty for me."

ah.

so that was why Lord Sukuna had taken such pains to rescue Satoru Gojo.

with that, Lord Sukuna turns on his heel and leaves you to your patient.

you anticipated healing Gojo's injuries to be your greatest challenge yet, but it is far more taxing than you ever could have known. your Reverse Cursed Technique was meant for healing injuries, but what had happened with Gojo's body was almost beyond an injury.

it had taken you hours in the first place to even figure out a way to use your RCT in this situation, until you had realized that delicate threads of cursed energy still emanated from Gojo's body. even if it was physically severed, his cursed energy still lived, if only barely. it is a testament to the sheer magnitude of Gojo's cursed energy that some still survives; no wonder he had impressed Lord Sukuna so.

you use your RCT to trace the threads of cursed energy from one half of Gojo's body to the other; in doing so, you are able to treat the severing merely as a thinning of cursed energy, and thus as an injury rather than a full separation. you breathe a sigh of relief as you observe one thread of his torso knit itself back together under your watchful eye.

now to repeat the process for the entire circumference of his body. you stretch and sigh; this would be a long night. at least you have a way forward now, though. disappointing Lord Sukuna was never an option.

as you continue reconnecting the flesh and gristle that makes up Satoru Gojo, you find yourself increasingly unable to ignore his objective beauty. as a healer, you always possessed great admiration for the physical form, and Satoru Gojo just happened to be a prime specimen. perhaps the fact that Lord Sukuna had found him to be a worthy adversary (and prize, you remind yourself) also influenced your judgment.

you feel a strange intermingling of lust, jealousy, and envy at the thought. you are well aware that Lord Sukuna has a prodigious sexual appetite that requires countless mortals to satisfy, but you have long been secure in your position as his favorite plaything. now, however, compared to Satoru Gojo, you cannot be so certain; he possesses beauty and power in spades. 

you shake your head. this is neither the time nor the place to be evaluating Lord Sukuna’s judgment; favorite or not, it is your duty to complete the task he so graciously entrusted you with. you are not sure of how long you continue to sew Satoru Gojo’s body back together, but you are aware that the sun’s citrus glow has long faded.

Lord Sukuna had always reminded you of the sun, although you have never been bold enough to tell him such a silly romanticism. but in its radiant beauty, burning power, and distance alike, you see your liege. much like the sun, Lord Sukuna had shone on you, and in his light, you had blossomed. you had been an obscure village herbalist’s apprentice until he had found you; you had hardly even been aware of your latent healing powers. it had been Lord Sukuna who had seen your immense potential, and who had honed your sorcery to the level it was today.

even the fact that he had burned down your village the day he whisked you away had done little to dim your fervent gratitude.

the moon begins to rise higher in the night sky now, its light filtering through the shuttered windows of the healing quarters as you continue working. Satoru Gojo’s natural beauty takes on an ethereal glow when bathed in moonlight. the battle between him and Lord Sukuna must have been a sight to behold; as you reconnect his body, you feel his cursed energy growing and twisting into itself with taut strength. 

Finally, when his halves become whole again, you sit back and admire your handiwork. The full moon that night meant you did not require a lantern, but the moon is setting now, and you want to give Satoru Gojo’s body a final check. 

as you rise to leave the room for a lantern, you feel a hand clasp firmly about your wrist. you gasp softly. 

“have i died? am i dead right now?” Satoru Gojo’s voice is hoarse with disuse. you had not expected him to be conscious again yet given the state of him; you suppose the fact that he is is a testament both to your healing ability and to his innate strength. 

you sit back down, noticing that he does not loosen his grip on your wrist. 

“you are still alive, Satoru Gojo, for i have healed your wounds,” you reply matter of factly. 

his blue eyes, now that they are fully open and conscious, are even more shocking than they were when you first glimpsed them earlier that day. they seem to glow from within; they look like they hold full worlds within their depths. 

“that’s weird,” Gojo continues. “i could’ve sworn i died and went to heaven seeing as i’m looking at an angel right now.” only when you see that he is grinning impishly at you do you realize he is flirting with you. 

your lip curls in distaste, and you extricate your hand from his grasp.

“i am no angel. i am a sorcerer, as you are. you were as good as dead, split clean in half, but i channeled my Reverse Cursed Technique to heal you,” you conclude with pride. 

Gojo looks down at his stomach, shiny and pink with fresh scar tissue. 

“you must be some sorcerer, then. i was positive i was a goner back there. i’m not sure even Shoko could’ve healed me like this. really nice work,” he muses. he is right, of course. you are unsure of who Shoko is, but Gojo is correct that very few sorcerers could heal such severe injuries. all the same, you loathe the warmth you feel at his admiration; Lord Sukuna’s confidence should be enough for you.

“anyway,” Gojo continues, “who are you exactly? where am i?” 

“Lord Sukuna brought you here,” you say. “I am his healer.”

surely the mention of his formidable foe would shake Gojo’s arrogance. you relish the fear that Lord Sukuna’s name seems to inspire in other mortals. 

this was unfortunately not the case with Gojo. 

“that’s sweet, the ol’ guy wanted me healed up, huh?” 

you bristle. “you will address Lord Sukuna with respect!”   

Gojo merely laughs at your response, which infuriates you further. “i, for one, fail to see why he deigned to save such an insolent whelp like you,” you snap, succumbing to your rising temper.

“really?” Gojo asks, his blue eyes full of mirth. “guess you don’t get the old guy the way i do. i’m pretty sure I understand why he wanted me alive.”

“then be so kind as to enlighten me,” you say sardonically. 

“i’ve been the strongest sorcerer around for basically my whole life,” Gojo says. in spite of the sarcasm in your voice when you asked him to explain himself, he seems sincere. “fighting Sukuna was the first time i felt even remotely challenged. he even technically beat me, i guess.” 

he watches you, waiting for you to respond. when you are still silent, he continues.

“i’m sure he feels the same way i do. i know i challenged him the way he challenged me, and for sorcerers at our level, finding a true adversary is hard.  once you do find one, letting go can be just as hard.” Gojo sounds wistful; you wonder if he speaks from experience. 

“i guess what i’m saying is that it’s lonely at the top,” he finishes; his earlier amusement is gone, and he seems somber now. 

you find that you pity Gojo. to be a sorcerer can be a lonesome existence. Lord Sukuna, while alone in his caliber, at least has you and his other servants and devotees to warm and distract him. does Satoru Gojo have anyone?

you reach a hand forward and begin tracing the planes of his pale face with your fingers. he lacks Lord Sukuna’s raw power, but his beauty is exquisite. Gojo leans into your comforting touch. 

“how can i ever thank you for bringing me back to life?” he murmurs. as your hand passes near his lips, he stills it with his own and kisses it softly. 

you gasp sharply and withdraw your hand as though burned. 

“that was wrong,” you say urgently. “you cannot touch me like that.”

Gojo sighs. “you really are devoted to that old man, aren’t you?” 

“we both belong to Lord Sukuna,” you reply, emphasizing his proper title. “you must respect his authority over us both.” 

“maybe you belong to Sukuku,” Gojo says; you cringe at his inane nickname for Lord Sukuna, but you suppose anything is better than merely calling him an old man. “i, on the other hand, only belong to me, myself, and i.” 

you exhale in irritation. no matter how great a sorcerer Satoru Gojo is, his arrogance is certainly grating. part of you wishes you had left him severed in two — at least he was quieter that way. you recall Lord Sukuna once saying that the greatest sorcerers always seemed to possess even greater mental eccentricities; Satoru Gojo certainly proves that theory.

to your annoyance, as he speaks, he takes your hand in his again. you are bemused to find, however, that you do not wish to remove it. his hands are wiry, yet so powerful. there is power within your hands as well, you muse as you intertwine your fingers almost instinctively. your irritation, admiration, and pride are all coalescing into a confusing burn of…passion. how inconvenient. 

 “you are rather presumptuous, are you not?” comes a voice from the doorway. you gasp and tear your hand from Gojo’s once more, immediately prostrating yourself before Lord Sukuna. Gojo makes no move to even bow his head, meanwhile. typical.

“rise, y/n,” Lord Sukuna continues. “you must be giving our guest a rather unsavory impression of me with your theatrics.” slowly, you raise your face from the floor and see Lord Sukuna has crouched before you. he takes your face in one of his hands. you shiver — it has been so long since you have felt the touch of his true form. “am i not a benevolent master to you?” he murmurs; his face is so close that you can feel his warm, humid breath on the shell of your ear. it is all you can do not to tremble from desire. 

with you still reeling from the close contact, Lord Sukuna rises smoothly back to his feet and saunters to Gojo’s bedside. 

“you seem in high spirits, Satoru Gojo. i feared i had gone too far with you,” Lord Sukuna says, his tone casual as though he had not cloven the younger man’s body in two just hours earlier.

“oh, i can take much more than that, old man,” Gojo says, innuendo easily discernible from his tone. you cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes; from what you had seen thus far, Satoru Gojo seemed to flirt with everybody he meets. that said, the image of Lord Sukuna and Satoru Gojo, of what Gojo’s playful tone was implying…your mind’s eye is running amok, loathe as you are to admit it. doubtlessly Lord Sukuna’s true form and the sleepless stress of the evening are perverting your mind in unforeseen ways, you reassure yourself.

Lord Sukuna seems tickled by Gojo’s irreverence, and you try not to feel envious. “is that so?” he inquires. 

“a credit to your lovely healer, i gotta say,” Gojo continues, his shocking blue eyes twinkling as they meet yours. “she has a rare talent. you sure you need her? i have half a mind to take her with me when we’re done here.” 

you know Gojo is being insufferable right now, and moreover irreverent to Lord Sukuna. you know that. but he’s just so handsome, and so appreciative, and so talented in his own right…you feel powerless to stop the breath from catching in your throat, flustered at his attention. 

you find yourself thinking about how his smooth skin felt beneath your touch; cool, then warm as you breathed life back into him with your reverse cursed technique. taut, pulsating with the cursed power and blood in his veins. 

so lost are you in your meditations of Gojo’s flesh that you nearly miss what Lord Sukuna replies.

“y/n certainly is a first rate sorcerer,” he says, flinging a fond look over his shoulder at you; predictably, you preen at his praise. 

“what i enjoy most about y/n’s skill,” he continues, “is her fastidiousness. she leaves no stone unturned. in healing, jujutsu sorcery…and everything else. isn’t that right?” he asks you. 

“y-you are too kind, Lord Sukuna,” you bluster, trembling like a newborn fawn. you are usually so comfortable with him, but the presence of a stranger is making you look upon Lord Sukuna with new eyes again. 

“and i trust you have been equally thorough with our guest?” Lord Sukuna proceeds. 

“of course, Lord Sukuna.” 

“how disappointing to hear you lie to me, y/n,” Lord Sukuna tuts. “i know you have not been fully attentive to Satoru Gojo’s recovery.” 

your face grows hot. what did you do wrong? you take pride in your work, after all; you would never do a sloppy job no matter the patient, but especially not for one so important to Lord Sukuna.

“my lord? i am afraid i misunderstand you. i have followed only the most careful healing protocols,” you say; this is as close as you dare come to talking back. Lord Sukuna is kind and merciful and great, but much like the fire he commands, his warmth can flare uncontrollably and singe everything in its vicinity if you are not cautious. 

 “have you made absolutely sure, for example, that Satoru Gojo’s new body is completely functional?” Lord Sukuna prods. he has now turned to face you. one set of his arms is crossed over his chest, while the other is crossed behind his back. his face looks stern, but the mouth on his stomach betrays a smirk. 

“Satoru Gojo seems to be functioning as i would expect, my lord,” you reply.

“show me,” he says, stepping aside from Satoru Gojo’s bed. his body had been obscuring Gojo from your view, but you see now that the younger sorcerer has been watching the exchange with a hungry grin. there is clearly a subtext you are missing, but you dare not speculate what it is. 

you approach Gojo and perform an examination of his body, as you would any of your patients. you test his reflexes, and check his pupils’ dilation and contraction (during the latter, they look like just a pinprick lost in an ocean. nobody ever warned you of the six eyes’ beauty). when you palpate his ribs, he groans slightly; you feel the sound vibrate through your fingers.    

“he is recovering as i might expect, Lord Sukuna. of course, we must keep him under observation, but —” 

Lord Sukuna cuts you off with an impatient click of his tongue. “i will not tolerate your inattention to detail!” he growls. your heart starts beating violently, feeling like it’s throwing itself against your breast from within. 

you fight to keep your voice steady. 

“please forgive my stupidity, my lord,” you grovel, prostrating yourself once more. “i truly am unsure of what more you want me to check. please, if you could just help me, i promise this will never occur again.” 

you are mortified to feel the white-hot prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes. Lord Sukuna had never spoken to you this way, not even when you had just begun working for him. back then, you had known next to nothing compared to your knowledge now.  you rack your useless brain for something, anything, you might have missed, and come up empty. stupid, stupid girl. you just know this is the fault of Satoru Gojo, that irritating, gorgeous interloper. it is even more humiliating to be berated like this in his presence.

at Lord Sukuna’s silence, you direct your eyes as high as they can go from your position on the ground. you cannot see his face from this angle but you see his broad second mouth has gone from smirking to smiling outright with all its teeth. is he…not actually angry? 

you raise your head a little further, emboldened by the sight, and see Lord Sukuna himself smiling down at you, his two expressions identical. 

“what a pretty sight you make,” he coos, “on all fours looking up at me like that. my pliant, obedient girl.” 

he lowers one of his hands to cup himself through his loose pants, and you clench your thighs together; you are immune to neither the effect of his words, nor to the sight before you. 

he seamlessly bends down and raises you to your feet; as he holds you against him, it’s all you can do to hold yourself back from rutting against his massive body. but Lord Sukuna has always valued your restraint, and you know he has something planned for you. 

he rotates you now so your back is to him, and cages you tightly to his body with all four arms. you gasp; you have forgotten this delicious sensation, of being so thoroughly engulfed by Lord Sukuna that it is almost as if he has subsumed you entirely. he has turned you to face Gojo, who has been watching the scene unfold with great interest. you feel Lord Sukuna’s hardness growing behind you, but you resist the urge to grind into it and remain perfectly still. his pliant, obedient girl.

“now, go attend to our guest,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a finger. 

“yes, my lord,” you breathe, so aroused that you are nearly in pain.

 he then bends down until his lips tickle the back of your ear, making you shiver.

“show Satoru Gojo that that mouth of yours is meant for greater things than just making pretty little apologies to me,” he murmurs; you feel his voice reverberate through your whole body. the last thing you want to do is detach yourself from Lord Sukuna right now, but you know what  he desires of you, and you are always so eager to impress him. this is one of the things he loves about you, you know.

you return to Satoru Gojo’s bed as though to continue your examination; this time, however, you straddle him, desperate for just an ounce of friction to relieve your throbbing arousal. 

“i thought you had forgotten about me,” he pouts. 

“stop speaking, you stupid, beautiful man,” you reply, before tearing a kiss from his mouth. his lips are still slightly chapped from his hours of unconsciousness, and you rake your teeth across them. he groans into your mouth as you roll your hips until you feel him beginning to grow hard beneath you; the sensation sense frissons of pleasure through you, but you are single-minded in your task. you break your kiss abruptly and sit back, smirking at the pathetic whine Gojo lets out at your sudden absence. 

Gojo is only wearing a simple robe you had dressed him in after repairing him; this provides you with convenient access to conduct your examination. you withdraw a vial of oil you had kept in the pocket of your own robes (admittedly in anticipation of Lord Sukuna’s arrival), spread it across your hand, and begin stroking him. “it seems that everything is  in working order,” you remark as his erection grows under your expert ministrations. he moans and bucks into your hand. 

“p-please…” Gojo pants. the sound of his neediness goes straight to your core, which is rapidly growing wetter. this is not the time to pay attention to yourself, though; not when you’re attending to a patient. 

“‘please’ what, Satoru Gojo?” you tease; you know he has wanted to feel your mouth around him ever since Lord Sukuna alluded to it. you are enjoying watching this powerful sorcerer squirm by your hand, however. you glance over your shoulder and see Lord Sukuna is stroking himself off as well, his pants doffed entirely. you gulp; it has been so very long since Lord Sukuna has been in his own body; the sight of his girth is making you flush with desire. 

meeting your gaze, Lord Sukuna blows a kiss in your direction, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whining in sheer need to have him inside you. the sooner you obey him and pleasure Satoru Gojo, the sooner you may have the honor of feeling him stretch your walls; and so, you turn back to your guest. 

Gojo has the most pathetic look in his stunning blue eyes, driven half mad by yet unfulfilled lust. his plush lips are twisted in a pained grimace. you see him moving his hand to give himself the pleasure you are denying him, but you hold it in place firmly. 

“you’ve been such a patient boy so far; don’t ruin it now,” you coo, nipping his lower lip. you then undo his robe and crawl backwards until your face hovers over his engorged cock. you place a light kiss at its warm tip, licking off a bead of precum, before looking back up at him through heavily lidded eyes. Gojo tilts his head back, exposing the delicate white expanse of his throat. 

“Please, y/n!” he cries. “i need you!” 

the sound of your name on his needy tongue is having quite an effect on you, and you finally take pity on him; he only just recovered, after all. in one smooth motion, you take as much of his length as you can in your mouth. Gojo groans at the feeling of the warm wetness engulfing his cock, and you begin moving your head up and down, complementing the motions with your tongue as you cup his balls with your free hand. 

“feel free to gag her,” Lord Sukuna calls from his corner of the room. “her little throat can take it.” 

Lord Sukuna instructing Gojo on how to fuck your mouth is turning you on more than you can handle, and you moan involuntarily around his length. Gojo threads his fingers through your hair and pushes your head down on him; you swallow and feel him filling your mouth, his tip battering your throat mercilessly. you can tell from his increasing pace, from the guttural growls the feeling of you is drawing from him, that he must be getting close. 

finally, finally, you feel a strong, calloused, beautifully familiar pair of hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and you could cry in relief. 

“you have been such a good girl for me,” Lord Sukuna hums sensually. “and i always reward loyalty.” you buck your hips backwards into him, raising them to provide him readier access to your dripping cunt. you feel the pads of his thumbs stroke over your ass as his tongue begins lapping at your folds. his second tongue, you can tell, from its breadth and roughness plundering you. for all its added size compared to his primary tongue, however,  Lord Sukuna is no less exacting with it, and he is soon circling your clit with painful accuracy. he does not wait long before giving you the pleasure you crave, and almost embarrassingly quickly, you come all over his massive tongue with a wanton moan. 

with the sound of your orgasm, and the feel of your moan vibrating around him, Gojo fists your hair even more tightly and releases hot ropes into your throat with a growl. 

“swallow it all,” Lord Sukuna commands, reaching forward to stroke your hair. “swallow it down for me.” you are nothing if not obedient, and you dutifully swallow Gojo’s whole load, not letting a single drop go to waste. Gojo leans back on the headboard, spent, and relaxes his vice grip on your hair. you pop your lips off him, licking them clean and smirking to yourself at your ability to have someone like Satoru Gojo at your mercy. 

“i believe our guest needs time to rest before we continue,” you hear Lord Sukuna say from behind you. you turn and see that he is leaning back casually on one of the other beds in the healing quarters. “let us leave him for the time being, y/n.” 

you are a little disappointed to be stopping already, but you comply; Lord Sukuna is probably correct that too much excitement for Gojo could hinder his healing process. you make your way towards the doorway, yawning a little, when you feel a firm hand close around your wrist. before you have a chance to react, you’re roughly tugged backwards, spinning directly into Lord Sukuna’s firm chest. 

“i don’t believe i dismissed you, did i?” he purrs into your ear, and a thrill of excitement slithers through your body. 

“did i?” he repeats, pinching the tender skin at your waist at your silence. 

“n-no,” you gasp, hardly able to focus over your excitement for what will inevitably follow. 

Lord Sukuna twists his hand, making you hiss lightly at the pleasurable pain. 

“‘no’ what, y/n? how is it you should address me?” 

“no, Lord Sukuna,” you manage to breathe out. he lets out a low chuckle that reverberates through his chest before bending you over an empty bed, holding both your wrists behind your back with one of his hands as he pushes your head down with another. you are already incredibly aroused when you feel a third hand begin to explore your slick folds. 

“already so wet for me, are you?” he teases; you can hear the smirk in his voice. you can only whimper in response. he easily inserts two fingers into you, eliciting a sharp cry when he hooks them around and lightly tickles the sensitive spot that can make you come apart. 

“now,” you manage to grind out between your teeth. “please, my lord…i need you inside me now…” 

“making demands now?” Lord Sukuna taunts. “we certainly are feeling cheeky this evening, aren’t we?” 

in spite of his words of chastisement, however, Lord Sukuna seems intent on granting your wishes, and you feel his stiff head, moist with precum, brushing once, twice, thrice against your entrance, building up friction. then, in one decisive motion, he enters you at last; Lord Sukuna was, by all definitions and especially mortal standards, extremely well-endowed; however, you have been ready for him for so long that his length faces little resistance. you sigh in relief at the feel of his massive girth stretching your walls, making you feel so full and complete. at times like this, you feel that your body was created to accommodate him, that being used like this by him was your most sacred purpose.

you push back against him, trying to seat him even more deeply within yourself. in response, he strokes your hair affectionately. he then pulls out slightly, and with one more thrust, he bottoms out in you with a groan. 

he begins to drive into you with greater speed and urgency, two of his hands holding your hips in place so tightly that you know his broad fingertips will leave bruises. he adjusts his angle, pushing your face into the mattress and bending over you until your bodies are flush, and he continues at an unrelenting pace. your pleasure continues to build as he bottoms out again and again inside you, his massive second tongue slavering lasciviously over the curves of your back, until you come for the second time that night. you cry out in ecstasy without shame, feeling your walls clench even more tightly around Lord Sukuna. he groans at the sensation and sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he empties himself into you until his come drips down your thighs. 

utterly sated, you begin to crawl out from under Lord Sukuna’s massive form, your legs trembling with exertion, pleasure, and pain alike. your shaky breath leaves  your lungs all at once when he abruptly flips you on your back. he is so imposing and beautiful, hovering over you like this, with an inscrutable look in his cruel, narrow eyes. 

“i believe i already told you, y/n,” he growls, “you are dismissed only when i dismiss you. and i am nowhere near through with you yet.” 

holding himself up with two arms, he takes your hand with a third and draws it down until it is around his cock, which is already hard again. 

“look what you do to me,” he murmurs, before using your hand to brush his tip against your still-tender vulva. 

“i’m not yet ready, my lord,” you whimper weakly, trying to wriggle out from his grasp to no avail. you gasp as he grinds himself between your thighs and against your slickened entrance, growing harder still. the friction almost surpasses pleasure to pain after your powerful recent orgasm, and you keen loudly, unable to help yourself. “i-it’s…too much…i can’t take it,” you protest, tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

Lord Sukuna promptly silences your noisy cries by clamping a swift hand to your throat. 

“i alone dictate what you can and cannot take,” he declares, gently pressing on the sides of your neck and slipping a hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together. with uncharacteristic tenderness, he then kisses the tears from your cheeks.

 “and i know you can take this.” 

he stares into your eyes until you assent with a silent nod, and he smiles.

“good girl,” he whispers, before using his hand to pry your thighs apart and positioning himself properly.  he buries himself inside you again, this time with minimal resistance — between your and his combined juices, you are sopping wet now. encouraged, he hitches your leg over his shoulder for deeper access to your core and begins thrusting into you in earnest. from this new angle, he drives right into your most sensitive inner point, and you are sure your cries can be heard throughout the compound. you hardly care who can hear you now, though; you hardly even pay attention to Gojo, who is now looking fully alert and wide-eyed at the show he is getting. 

you dig your fingernails into Lord Sukuna’s sinuous shoulders and cry out again and again until your voice grows hoarse.    

“say my name,” Lord Sukuna commands between his own grunts of pleasure. 

“L-Lord Sukuna,” you moan, your voice shaking as his thrusts increase in pace. he wraps his hand around your throat again. 

“my true name, y/n” he growls. he drives into you faster; you know he is close, and it is your privilege to bring him over the edge.

as soon as he releases his grasp on your neck, you reach up, stroking your hand through his unruly hair before pulling his ear down to your lips. “as you wish, Ryomen,” you purr into his ear. he moans and nearly folds you in half as he drives into you at a diabolical pace. as he reaches his peak, he withdraws his length from you and unleashes his load all over your stomach, marking you as his own; the thought that you had this effect on him, this power over him, multiplies your own pleasure, and you climax once again, your legs shaking and toes curling in sheer bliss. 

Lord Sukuna rolls off of your body, both of you breathing heavily. 

“now, y/n,” he pants, “you are dismissed. i shall attend to our guest in your stead.” 

your exertions have exhausted you, but you are still obedient to him before anything else. and so, covered in both of your comes, his saliva, and a sheen of your own sweat, you bow deeply, and excuse yourself from the room. you are so utterly sated, so pleasurably sore, that all you can think of is taking a hot bath and resting.

well…almost all you can think of.

Lord Sukuna’s final statement has piqued your curiosity, however. and that is why, rather than returning right away to your own quarters, you find yourself kneeling on the floor peering around the curtain closing off the medical wing. if you are perfectly silent and still, you can remain undetected. besides, you reason, Gojo is still your patient, and so it behooves you to keep a close eye on his recovery.

(why leave everything to the imagination, after all?)

by the time you are settled in from your covert viewing spot, you see that Lord Sukuna is standing by Gojo’s bedside. the younger sorcerer is fully awake and alert now, peering up inquisitively with those blue eyes of his. 

“is it finally my turn now, then?” he asks; you note that he sounds slightly petulant and roll your eyes. was he really jealous now, of all times? 

You can only see his muscled back  from where you sit, but you know from how his shoulders shake that Lord Sukuna is laughing at Gojo’s insubordination. 

“you have seen what i demand, Satoru Gojo,” he says, crossing both sets of arms. “do you believe you can keep up, even in your state?”

you know that Lord Sukuna’s line of questioning is only pretense, of course. you recall why it was that Lord Sukuna had brought back Satoru Gojo for you to heal. and you remember his request — i want this one staying pretty for me, he had said. 

“of course i can ‘keep up,’” Gojo scoffs. “can you keep up, old man? you seemed to get pretty tired just then.” 

you grimace at Gojo’s disrespect, but Lord Sukuna is made of sterner stuff, and he just laughs even louder before clapping a pair of hands around Gojo’s beautiful face. you note that Gojo flinches, if only for a split second.

“such a mouth on you,” he hums, brushing a thumb across Gojo’s bottom lip. “just look at you. we will have to do something about that attitude.”

“like what?” Gojo asks, his eyes glimmering with anticipation that you can see even from where you sit. “what exactly is it you would do, Sukuku dear?”

“you seem to have your own ideas already. what is it you would have me do?” you can hear Lord Sukuna’s grin, even if you cannot see it.

Gojo simply winks.

“here’s an idea. why don’t you split me in half again?”

Lord Sukuna laughs heartily before leaning forward over Gojo’s bed, slightly obscuring your view. 

“what an idea, Satoru Gojo. would you enjoy that?”

for some reason, Gojo does not answer right away; you try to crane your neck around to see what is happening, but he speaks again soon.

“y…yes…” he responds, suddenly breathless. “i believe i w-would.” 

suddenly, you realize that, while you cannot see all of Gojo’s body from this angle, you can see one of Lord Sukuna’s arms moving rapidly up and down, and you can see a blush beginning to color Gojo’s delicate cheeks. your breath catches in your throat as you put together what it is you are witnessing. scrambling for a better view, you decide that both men are occupied enough that you can creep back into the corner of the room and hide behind one of the beds for a clearer angle.

“and are you certain you can truly take me? all of me?” Sukuna inquires, continuing his businesslike tone as though he is not currently stroking his rival off.

“mm-of course,” Gojo keens. 

“‘of course’ who?” Lord Sukuna prompts, repeating the routine he loves to do with you. 

“forget your own name, Sukuku? you gettin’ senile?” he pants with a grin that is equal parts lascivious and mischievous. this is bratty behavior Lord Sukuna never had to suffer from you, so you wonder with eager anticipation how he will respond. 

Lord Sukuna merely tuts in response. “what a shame. whether you can accommodate all of me or not, we will have to fix that smart mouth of yours first.” 

he fists a hand in Gojo’s fine white hair, easily palming his full skull as he pulls back until the blue-eyed sorcerer is looking straight up at him. 

“i happen to know the best cure for a smart mouth,” Gojo says with a feral grin. he darts his tongue out and swipes it swiftly across Lord Sukuna’s swollen tip. 

“get on with it, then,” Lord Sukuna growls, roughly forcing Gojo’s head onto his length. you grimace at the vigor with which Lord Sukuna rams himself down Gojo’s throat which looks so dainty to you, but he slurps eagerly on it; it seems Satoru Gojo is never one to shy away from a challenge. 

watching Lord Sukuna use Gojo’s throat so mercilessly, and Gojo meeting the task with such enthusiasm, you find yourself unable to resist snaking a hand down between your legs, where you feel heat and tension building once again. as you toy with yourself, careful to remain as quiet as possible, you see Sukuna pull Gojo’s mouth from his still-hard cock with a wet pop. 

“you have proven yourself to me,” he says, releasing his grip on Gojo’s hair to caress it tenderly back from his face. “and it is time for your reward.” you hold your breath; this should be a treat for you, as well.

with a grip on Gojo’s shoulders, he raises him from the bed; Gojo, still a little shaky on his legs, braces himself back against Lord Sukuna’s body. Gojo is by no means a small man, but his form is still engulfed when he is up against Lord Sukuna; you bite your lip at the thought and rub yourself faster. 

Lord Sukuna reaches around Gojo to the bedside table, where you had deposited your vial of oil, and lubricates his fingers with a few drops. his hands should still be slick with all of your combined secretions, you reason, but Lord Sukuna always takes extra precautions given his immensity. then, gently bending Gojo back over, he inserts one finger. Gojo throws his head back against Lord Sukuna’s chest and groans as he gets accustomed to the feeling, and he moans outright as Lord Sukuna inserts his second finger. 

the sight and sound send hot coils of pleasure through you, and you have to clap a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from mirroring the sounds Gojo is making. 

“are you prepared for me to split you in half again, as you so eloquently put it?” Lord Sukuna purrs against the shell Gojo’s reddening ear. 

“yes!” Gojo cries without hesitation.  

“would you beg for it?” Sukuna prods, not one to give his rival what he is asking for so easily. 

“please!” when Sukuna makes no moves to proceed, Gojo cries out again. “please, Lord Sukuna,” he breathes. “please make me yours.” 

“good,” Lord Sukuna says, leaves a bruising bite at the nape of Gojo’s neck. “well said.” then, preparing his length and using both sets of his arms to position himself and Gojo optimally, Lord Sukuna enters him with agonizing slowness. you are unsure of whether you even thought to hold yourself back from moaning this time, but it is drowned out in any case by Gojo’s own needy vocalizations. 

as he pumps in and out of Gojo, all three of you are overcome by your own pleasure, by the complicated dynamics you have brought into the medical wing and worked out in such a raw and wild way. your earlier feelings of confused irritation for Gojo dissipate as you watch his beautiful form twisting in paroxysms of pleasure; in him, you see yourself. as the two men climax at nearly the same time, scattering their pearly semen across the sheets and each other, you find yourself peaking soon after, tears streaming down your face in sheer joy.

As Lord Sukuna settles Gojo back down into the bed for him to continue his recovery, he gives him a fond pat on the head.

“you were magnificent, Satoru Gojo.”

the sorcerer gives a little self-satisfied smile before falling into a deep slumber nearly immediately, and you make a mental note to ensure that all the exertion did not compromise his healing in any way. before Lord Sukuna can turn back around, you gather your earlier discarded robe around yourself and quietly crawl back out of the room and behind the curtain, pleased with yourself for not being caught. 

or so you thought.

“there is no need to exit on my account, y/n,” he calls, not turning around. you gasp before re-entering sheepishly.

“i apologize, my lord. i merely wished not to disturb you both, so i did not make myself known,” you explain rather weakly. 

“i am pleased you… enjoyed yourself,” he says, finally looking over his shoulder at you with a knowing smile that makes you shiver with shame.

 “you seem to have enjoyed yourself as well, my lord,” you reply; your envy of Gojo for earning Lord Sukuna’s attention is building back up, and you are unable to keep it from your voice. 

“oh, y/n,” Lord Sukuna chuckles fondly, closing the space between you with long strides before he is clasping you to him. 

“Satoru Gojo is a novelty.” he leans down until your mouths meet, and your breath catches.

“you, however,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot, “are mine. do you understand?” 

“yes, my lord,” you breathe back into him, hardly daring to move.   

he steps back from you first, calling for Uraume much to your confusion. the soft spoken chef, a long-time friend of yours inside the compound, appears with their characteristic quiet swiftness. much like yourself, Lord Sukuna has implicit trust in their devotion, and so often depends on them for personal tasks even beyond their formal role in the kitchen. as such, you have both built a mutual respect for one another. you nod a cordial greeting at them, which they return.

“you called for me, Lord Sukuna?”  they ask with their careful diction. 

“please draw a bath and get y/n cleaned up for me,” he says. 

you look at him inquiringly, and he chuckles darkly, his previous tenderness all gone.

“you and your pleasure both belong to me, y/n,” he reminds you. “and i know i did not give you my permission to…enjoy the show.”  

you gulp, and he turns back to Uraume. 

“get her prettied up for me,” he continues  with a devious grin of anticipation, “and bring her back to me so i may discipline her appropriately for her disobedience.”

[wh1msic4alwasab1]

⋆˚࿔ 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

synopsis: how genshin men would degrade you <3

tags: degrading (obviously) facesitting, mentions of gagging, oral, penetration, explicit

wrd cnt: 800+

a/n: cooking up an hsr version soon

Ayato is always complete and proper in his semantics, he's fair and he loves to praise you.

But tonight...you stretched his patience too thin and his only choice was to stretch your little cunt til you couldn't talk back anymore. "Fuck, you're tight, honey.. this is what you want, isn't it?"

This day was big for Ayato, but you just had to keep pestering him with question after question. Usually, he'd entertain your playfulness but tonight was stressful. So he took it out on you instead. Call it karma?

"Clenching from my vulgarity..what a whore you are." He whispered into your ear, bending you across his desk, while all the guests sat outside having tea while you got fucked hard from behind by Ayato, who put a hand over your mouth, warning you greatly to stay quiet and stop those slutty moans of yours.

"Am I wrong or, did you not hear me? Ayato said lowly, slowly growing more and more annoyed and irritated at your misbehavior.

"Do you need me to gag that mouth of yours, y/n?” Sounding more like a promised threat than a question.

The only way you can get yourself out of this is giving Mr. Kamisato all he asks for and more, and be an obedient girl.

Nothing could really piss off Alhaitham as much as you, but not in the way that's most obvious.

He hated how much you doubted yourself, looked down on yourself, and harbored deep annoyance of the fact you didn't love the things about you he can't get enough of.

Sure, he could give you a little cute pep-talk but, fucking it into you is the approach that'll really make it stick. Some reverse psychology maybe?

After hearing you badmouth yourself for what felt like hours, he's stripping you of all your clothes and sitting you onto the couch armrest, forcing you to look him in the eyes; daring you to say those things again.

"Fucking pathetic is what you are. You're lucky I'm not fucking that stupid shit out of your mouth". He said, grabbing your hips as he sat down, positioning your cunt over him.

Not sure if you should just hover, his large hand lands on your ass, surely leaving a handprint.

"Sit down y/n." Alhaitham groaned, pulling your hips down onto his face and swallowing your clit with his tongue; his eyes never leaving you and your perfect tits.

Wriothesley loved showering you with compliments and nothing but the sweetest of words, but sometimes he just can't hold back all the filthy things he knows you want from him.

Oftentimes he's just worried you're gonna start crying, but fuck is it hot when you do.

"Fuck, I'm gonna ruin your pretty little mouth." He breathes out, watching you kiss up his cock. On your knees and eyes up is his favorite way to gaze at you, and it's just so easy for him to fuck your face.

"Wrio...you said-"

"Sluts don't get to talk." He cuts you off, his brows raised in amusement as he lights up a cigarette and throws the lighter somewhere, taking his cock in one hand to push past your lips as the other keeps the cig inbetween his fingers.

"Open that dirty fucking mouth of yours... can't take it all of a sudden?" He says, shoving it deep into your throat while his hand grips the back of your head, letting you take it at your own pace before he throws his head back and thrusts his hips up as he hears all the sloppy noises, waiting for your glossy eyes to make an appearance.

Now, Childe really tries to be sweet and praiseful, but he loves how disgusting and filthy you can be, and it's even better when he gets to tells you how much he loves it.

Wearing a new outfit wasn't something you expected to lead to something like this.

Definitely not being put in a tight mating press by your lover, pressed into the couch cushions while he left marks all over your neck and collar, biting and sucking places anyone could see to leave no guessing who's you belong to.

"Look at your thighs...they're just spilling out. You look like a filthy slut, do you want me to fuck you like one? Is that it?" He asked, pulling and smacking the material of your stocking that you didn't think too much of, but the minute he saw you walk out in them his cock wanted to spring out and get in between your thighs. But your pussy was an even better spot.

Deep and deeper be thrusted, the springs in the furniture squeaking while your voice almost did the same, cursing and moaning his name while he kept you close. Small protests for him to be quick fell from your lips, urging him so the two of you could get to where you were headed prior to this..."short" break.

"Are you gonna be a good girl or a fucking headache?" He asked, only fucking your harder and slower, a hand finding to squeeze the sides of your neck.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[pumpkinbxtch]

Hey!! Could you do aftercare Leo Valdez head cannons please!!

˗ˏˋ leo valdez | aftercare headcanons

☆ radiostar is playin': 1-2-3 by gloria estefan and miami sound machine...!

warnings; allusions to sex, language a/n; hey! you mean my favorite boy? absolutely yes. tags; @green-tea217

Maybe he doesn't look like it to some, but...

he's a total love machine.

he's all smiles afterward, feeling silly with that afterglow vibe he always tries to spread around, and it works.

both literally have that goofy grin while catching your breath.

you feel that love in your stomach and-

stop Let's move on!

yet you still end up drained.

Leo rolls over to see you (with flushed cheeks and sweat on his forehead) and admires how you slowly recover, whispering sweet (but also teasing) things to you.

"That's my girl," "Hmm, you've never looked better, huh?" and he makes you blush, but he also makes you feel loved.

Then he opens his arms and raises an eyebrow, testing the waters to see what you want at that moment.

If you hug him, he'll hold you until you say you want to move, cuddling with you while stroking your hair.

He traces your skin delicately with his index finger.

there are moments when you're drifting off to sleep in his arms, feeling the taps on your bare back in Morse code. "I love you."

"Me too," you respond weakly, smiling against his chest. He grins like a fool.

He also buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you run your fingers through his curls that tickle your jaw.

He looks for you a lot too, in a way to let you know how good he feels with you.

Anyway, if what you want afterward is a bit of privacy to be alone, he'll get up, put on his boxers, and walk to your side of the bed to tuck you in with the sheets.

"I'll be back, mi amor," he says after giving you a kiss on the forehead and brushing your hair away from your face.

That man cooks for you, like REALLY cooks. You know because you smell the pasta cooking in the kitchen from his room.

He checks on you and brings you water a couple of times.

He sits on the edge of his bed and hands you the glass with a beaming smile. When you give it back, he sets it on the nightstand for a moment and asks if you're feeling okay.

"Everything alright?" he whispers sweetly while holding your chin and locking his chocolate eyes with yours.

You nod, and he kisses you.

He tells you the food will be ready soon, then offers to take you to the bathroom so you can shower.

That mf has gotten really strong. He can carry you however he wants, but he does it by throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and runs to the bathroom laughing like a kid.

When you enter, you see he's already placed your towel nearby for you to take, and when you come out to dress, you see he's left your -his- clothes for you to wear.

Before you eat together, he does the same and includes tidying up the room.

he wants you to feel comfortable, happy, and he succeeds.

when he's ready, he hugs you from behind and kisses your neck, you jump when you feel his wet hair but it gives you relief to feel him close.

"Hungry?" he whispers in your ear while gently tightening his embrace and smiling like the damn devil because he's saying it with a double meaning.

"you'll be the death of me, babe" he says because he really can't help but drool over you when you walk around in his clothes.

Both return to bed for a cuddle session and sweet whispers in each other's ears.

he uses his warmth powers for you, which is the best when the weather is cold or rainy.

"You're too good for me," he says and gives you a slow kiss while caressing your cheek.

you enjoy resting on his chest, and he's delighted with it.

You sleep entwined with each other, he's the big spoon, you're the little one.

He lives to see you happy and satisfied, doing it with love and kindness because he's your man.

[misc-obeyme]

cc. your tags on the boudoir post. MAMMON recieving an album of those photos. i'd love to hear your thoughts on his reaction (and everyone else's, if you're feeling particularly inspired?)

Ah, Daisy, my dear, thank you for asking!

I apologize for this late response, but I knew I was gonna be getting wordy with this one. Because I looove the boudoir photos idea in general and OH MAN just thinking about all their reactions is making me crazy lol. I was going to just do my regular sort of response, but this turned into full on headcanons oops.

So just in case anyone missed it, here is the original post!

My thoughts change a little bit depending on whether MC is present when the characters receive the pictures, so I included both! I only did the bros but I might be willing to do the rest upon request!

the brothers react to MC giving them an album of boudoir photos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: suggestive but that's about it, nothing explicit

Lucifer

When you're with him, Lucifer is calm and courteous, but with a flare of arrogance. Of course you would give him such a special gift. It's only natural that you would trust such intimacies to him.

He asks you if you're trying to tell him something. Has he perhaps been neglecting you, MC? Did you give him this so that he wouldn't be able to help himself? He's onto you.

No matter your reason, he can't look through too many of the pictures before wanting the real thing that's sitting right next to him. Tell him you still have some of that lingerie in your possession. Especially if you happen to have some in his colors.

If you aren't with him, he's going to be a lot less arrogant in general. He will find you later, make no mistake. But he's honestly so touched by your gift that he spends a lot of time looking through the album, simply admiring you.

Mammon

Mammon is freaking out no matter where you are the time. If you're with him, it's definitely a lot worse. Blushing profusely. Opens the album then slams it shut because he can't handle looking at it for very long.

You can't help but giggle at his reaction and then it's all stop laughin' at him MC!! You'll need to take his hands or maybe kiss his cheek, let him know that you genuinely just wanted to give him a nice gift, you aren't trying to tease him or anything.

Ask him if he likes it. You'll get a serious response. Calms down enough to say 'course he likes it. Likes it so much, he suddenly can't keep his hands off you.

If you aren't with him at the time, he buries it under his pillow or otherwise hides it because this is now one of his treasures and nobody gets to see it but him!

Leviathan

Levi is another one who'd be a blushing mess no matter what, but if you're there at the time, he might retreat to his room and not let you in. He needs that barrier between you because if he sees you right now, his heart will explode.

He'll let you back in eventually, but it might be a minute. He needs to calm down. Are you trying to kill him, MC?! Even when he does let you in, he can't look at you directly. He's probably covering his face with his hands.

Reassure him that you gave these photos to him because you trust him with them. They're personal, intimate, and you want him to be close to you. He's going to calm down the more you talk to him. Pull his hands away from his face and when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, it flips a switch. Might even slip into demon form just to wrap his tail around you possessively.

If you're not with him at the time, he's going to need to take care of that raging boner of his right away. He won't be able to focus on anything else until he does. He's so embarrassed, he has to watch several episodes of Ruri Hana to recalibrate.

Satan

He will try to keep his expression unreadable. He's not having any over the top reactions, but as he flips through the photos, he keeps getting redder and redder. You're sitting right next to him, how can he not react? At some point, he has to close the album because he feels like he's looking at something he shouldn't.

Satan is quiet about how flustered he is, but he's having a hard time looking at you. He tries to say something and incomprehensible lines about how beautiful you are fall from his lips. He sounds like a broken record of spoken word poetry or perhaps a very drunk beat poet.

Recovers himself after a minute. As soon as he's composed, you're in his arms. You knew what this would do to him, didn't you, MC? You'll find yourself pressed up against the nearest wall in moments.

If you're not with him, Satan will tuck your album into a stack of his other books. He thinks it's well hidden there - in plain sight. But he's hyper aware of it. Keeps coming back to look at it. Ends up having to put it on the bottom of a stack behind a different stack to make it more difficult to get to.

Asmodeus

Thrilled. Absolutely thrilled in every way. Oh, wow, MC, you look amazing. He's breathless. He's entranced. He's even blushing because he knows what it means that you've given these to him. He's so in love with you, he can't stand it.

Asks you about everything you may be wearing. Comments on the skill of the photographer. Tells you that next time, you should do one together. He has so many ideas. He wants to do one where all you're wearing is jewelry - bright and sparkling, just like your soul.

Covers you in kisses. He's not shy about how this is making him feel, how much he wants you. He just wants to see your beautiful figure here and now in real life, MC! Won't you let him worship you?

If you're not with him, he will find you immediately so he can say all of the things he needs to say in that moment. You can't leave him alone with all these feelings, both physical and emotional. He brings them all to you without hesitating.

Beelzebub

It might take him a minute to understand exactly what he's looking at, mostly because he's never even heard of this. He doesn't know what a boudoir photo shoot is, so you might have to explain it to him. Once he understands, he starts lightly blushing as he looks through them. His expression is serious because he's beginning to see just how special this is.

Honestly surprised that you would give him something so intimate. He's touched. He's going to hug it to himself and look at you with tears in his eyes because he can't believe how lucky he is.

Give him another couple minutes to look through them and then he's having different feelings. He's not sure if he can hold back, MC. Tell him it's okay, that you don't want him to, and you'll find yourself on your back on his bed in zero seconds flat. You're quickly reminded why he's the Avatar of Gluttony.

If you're not with him at the time, he will figure things out on his own, though he'll have a plethora of questions for you later. He keeps it close to him at all times until you answer them because he knows one thing for sure - he doesn't want anyone else seeing these.

Belphegor

Oh, he sees what you're playing at. Trying to fluster him, are you, MC? Trying to rile him up? Are you sure you can handle him when you do that? He's so wound up by the gift he can't act normal about it. He's actually very touched by it, but he's not sure how to deal with the feelings, so he comes on too strong.

You laugh because to you, this is expected. You understand that this is Belphie's way of dealing with his own shyness. You respond by meeting him with just as much intensity. It's all kisses and touching and fumbling in the dark.

It's only later, when both of you are calm, when you're nestled in his arms, that he admits to you how much it means to him. That he tells you how he'll cherish the album you gave him. That he says he's stunned by how gorgeous you are, even more brilliant that the stars in the sky.

If you aren't with him at the time, you'll be dealing with a petulant but horny demon later on. He's going to be annoyed at you for leaving it for him and then not being there when it inevitably turns him on. Just as possessive as his brothers, he hides it in the attic where no one is likely to find it.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[starry-eyes-love]

Calm Me Down

Main Masterlist Joel Miller Masterlist

The next chapter in the Marriage Dynamics series

Pairing | Husband Joel Miller x Wife F!Reader- AU, No Outbreak

Summary | You wake up having a panic attack, and Joel calms you down. This results in the two of you talking, calming each other’s fears, and finally working through your problems. You feel movement in your pregnancy for the first time while Joel silently talks to his unborn child, asking for a gift that he doesn’t know yet but will receive.

Work Count: 5.5K

Warnings | Series is 18+, Minor DNI

Age difference (implied), language, descriptions of anxiety/panic attack, flashbacks, marriage dynamics (these two finally communicate), hurt and comfort, tenderness and love, mentions of pregnancy, you feel baby movement for the first time, mild reference to past cheating (your father and Joel's ex-wife, not from Joel or you), mild references in the past to physical abuse by your father, references to berating your father did to you in the past.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long on this next part, but here you are. As a reminder, I no longer do tag lists. Make sure to turn on notifications for when I post new written pieces.

“Baby, look at me,” Joel said sternly, turning you around to face him. He immediately searched your eyes to get you to look at him. Joel reached out instinctively and placed a steady hand on your belly, slowly rubbing it and feeling the soft swell of your stomach that was holding and caring for his child. He was trying to help ground you and reassure you that you were okay and that your baby would be alright, too.

These moments come out of nowhere: the sheer panic, the sweaty palms, the narrowing vision. You don't know why, but suddenly, it feels like the whole world is crashing down around you, like you are falling fast off of a cliff, unable to save yourself from sudden death. Your heart races, and you're stuck believing the lies in your head. The lies that you know are not true.

“I'm not good enough. I can't do this. I'll never be more than what I am now: a failure. My husband doesn't love me.”

This feeling inside seizes you, holds you tight, and doesn't allow you to take a proper breath. And that's ok, you think. You don't need to breathe, not yet. But the feeling doesn't stop, and your body eventually screams for another breath. The thing is, though, you can't get any air in, so you panic once again. The cycle never ends. It keeps repeating until you're drowning in your sweat and anxiety. You're having a goddamn panic attack, one that you haven't had in many years. To say you're embarrassed doesn't even come close to describing your emotions. The word you require fails to come to you, so you settle for fear, embarrassment, and loneliness.

You've been way too stressed your entire pregnancy. You're a week shy of being 20 weeks along with your third baby and your fourth pregnancy.

Yeah, we won't talk about that pregnancy. The daughter that you lost at 22 weeks pregnant. To this day, you still don't like thinking about it.

Even though this is a different pregnancy, things seem to haven't gone how you wanted. You finally did tell Joel that you were pregnant at your doctor's appointment when you started spotting blood. You were scared of admitting pregnancy to him, especially when you two had barely talked since Halloween. You didn't know why; you just weren't getting along. It's funny how life does that sometimes, isn't it?

Even though your 20th-week ultrasound was just a few days away, you felt embarrassed that nothing seemed to go as planned this time. You hadn't told Joel you were pregnant technically until you were having bleeding problems. You weren't sexually active with your husband. There was no celebration of being pregnant, just awkward silence, mostly of which came from you. Joel attempted to speak with you, but you'd always clam up and not talk. If you were being honest, it wasn't until late at night on Christmas Eve that Joel and you started to talk and get along again. 

Now, you lay awake in bed, your mind racing, running wild with panic at all the scenarios that weren't even happening. But it felt like they were happening now, and you were scared. You were drowning in panic, unable to slow your mind down, wishing for anything to stop it. 

I'm not good enough. My husband doesn’t want this and doesn't want to be with me. I'm such a horrible wife for not telling him.

Your thoughts wouldn't stop. Your mind kept racing, and you felt like you were drowning. The walls were once again closing in around you, sucking you underneath the surface. You desperately needed a lifeline to grab onto, something to save you from yourself. That's when you felt your husband reach out to you and pull you tight against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you to him while gently whispering, “Baby, come on now, breathe.”

Earlier in the night, Joel had decided not to sleep with his shirt on, something he hadn’t done in a long time. After his shower, he noticed the way you were looking at him. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, you looked at him like you desperately needed something primal from him.

“What's that look for, baby?” He said, glancing over at you and raising just his eyebrow. He was taunting you, wanting you to voice all those dirty little things that he knew you were thinking. He could tell by the look on your face, the way you were breathing, and how you were slowly squeezing your thighs together that you were turned on and sexually aroused. Joel may not be able to give you penetrative sex yet, but dammit, he could eat his wife's pussy if she wanted it. And Joel secretly hoped that you wished to do that tonight.

“I-uh, I-'' you said, stuttering and stammering at the words. You couldn't voice it or say it out loud for some reason. You were never afraid of dirty talk in the bedroom. But considering it has been almost 20 weeks, nearly five months since the two of you have done anything sexual, you were a bit nervous. 

“Why don't you finish getting ready for bed, baby, then come over here, and I'll get ya all nice and relaxed for bed.”

“What did you have in mind?” You asked, hoping Joel would voice it for you.

“Oh, darlin’, you know what I have in mind,” he said, slowly sticking his tongue out and moving it up and down like he does when he licks at you fast when he goes down on you.

You quickly nodded your head and then ran into the bathroom. You needed a shower and desperately needed a shave. You spent the next 20 minutes making yourself feel more sexy and presentable. But when you entered the bedroom, you noticed all your work was in vain. Joel was lying down and loudly snoring already. Immediately, your heart sank at seeing him fast asleep.

Joel intended to give you, his wife, some much-needed affection and attention. But he underestimated how tired he was. When his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light and asleep within seconds. You, however, had laid there with your eyes open, overthinking stuff once again.

You loved being pregnant, but you hated the first part of pregnancy, where the anxiety was horrible. Your doctor said because your hormones change so much in the first stages of pregnancy, anxiety is common among women. And boy, did you ever have anxiety, especially this time around with being pregnant in your late 30s. 

Even though your hormones were already leveling out, you were still nervous about knowing if your baby was growing healthy inside of you. You knew that after your 20-week ultrasound appointment, you would calm down. But you just had to get there first. You were nervous about losing this pregnancy. You remember the pregnancy you had lost; that 20th-week ultrasound showed significant problems. If everything would show that you were ok, just like the two other pregnancies did with your boys, you knew you'd calm down. You kept telling yourself that everything would be ok. But that crippling anxiety kept sneaking up at you at the worst times and holding you tight, like tonight.

The longer the night continued, the more you wanted to reach out and have your husband hold you tight to help calm your fears. But he looked so peaceful lying there sleeping; you didn't want to wake him. You both were getting along again, and there was no more fighting between you. So you didn't know where this anxiousness was coming from tonight. Your body felt off, and you didn't know why.  You had tried to fall asleep, struggling with your mind to get any rest. At one point, you had dozed off a little bit, but you quickly woke up in a panic, sweating profusely. You were smack dab in the middle of yet another bad panic attack. You haven't had one of these episodes of panic for many years. Usually, stress or something larger would trigger them, but nothing unusual has happened recently. So you lay there silently, trying to will all of these bad feelings that you were having away. But no matter what you did, you could still feel your heart race and your chest constrict. It felt like you couldn't fully take a deep breath.  You were drowning fast in terror and panic, not knowing if you could get yourself out of it anymore. You didn't realize in your panicked state that your husband woke up. But then, all of a sudden, when your chest constricted the tightest, and you thought you were going to die from lack of oxygen, you felt Joel’s strong arms wrap around you. He gently pulled you to him, where your back met his chest. He let out a long exhale while slowly whispering, “Baby, come on, breathe.

After Joel had laid down, he had fallen asleep suddenly, too suddenly for his liking. He wanted to cuddle you and give you much-needed attention and affection. Joel could see that you were stressed with work and raising the boys, and Joel's chaotic work schedule didn't help you. He recently hired a manager to work out in the field with Tommy so he could stay back in the office more and focus on the business side of things.  His contracting business was expanding, growing at a rapid rate where Joel didn’t need to be out in the field all the time working. He could take that much-needed break and focus his time and skills on the best ways of growing his company. 

Joel suddenly was jolted awake by something, but he was unsure of what.  When he opened his eyes, Joel saw your back as you were facing away from him. Joel thought maybe it was a bad dream that had woken him up.  Slowly, he ran his hand down his face, slightly shaking it and yawning to clear his head.  Upon looking over at you again, Joel saw that you were curled up into a ball, looking like you were resting peacefully.  He smiled silently, admiring you and what looked like your peaceful slumber. But then he heard it, the small sob that left your chest as you struggled to breathe in air.  Joel frowned, knowing all too well that you were panicking and having a bad panic attack yet again.

Baby, I thought we stopped these, he thought, not enjoying seeing his wife struggle.  He knew you were drowning in your head, unable to get your head above water as gulp after gulp of quick spurts of air were leaving your lungs.  You were like a lost ship out to sea, desperately looking for a way back into port.  Joel knew he was your only lifeline, and it broke his heart that he needed to be this again.  He loved you and always supported you, but seeing you panic like this broke his heart.  Something was bothering you, and he hoped, like hell, that someone wasn’t him.

“Baby, come on, breathe.” He said, slowly reaching out to you and pulling you into his chest.

But you couldn't; your heart was hammering in your chest, and it wouldn't slow down. “I can't breathe,” you said, hyperventilating and sobbing. You didn't know what was wrong or why, but it felt like you couldn't breathe. “Something’s wrong, Joel, I can’t- I can’t breathe.” You said, rushing air in and out of your lungs fast. 

“Baby, look at me,” Joel said sternly, turning you around to face him. He immediately searched your eyes to get you to look at him. Joel reached out instinctively and placed a steady hand on your belly, slowly rubbing it and feeling the soft swell of your stomach that was holding and caring for his child. He was trying to help ground you and reassure you that you were okay and that your baby would be alright, too.

As soon as your eyes met his, you started sobbing and saying, “I can't do this. I'm a failure. I'm always fucking up. No one cares about m-me or loves me.”

“No, babe. Come on now, look at me,” Joel said, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes to look at him.  “Come on, with me, yeah? Breathe.”  Joel then took a slow, deep breath, and you mirrored his actions.

“That’s it, sugar, nice and slow,” he said, breathing with you. He was trying to slow your breathing down. After readjusting himself, Joel sat beside you, gently taking your hand and placing it on his chest, holding it tight against him. 

“Feel how I breathe, darlin', now match it. Come on now, slow breath in.” 

*Joel took a slow breath in.*

 “Now, slowly breathe out.” 

*Joel slowly breathed out.*

“And again,” he said, getting you to focus on slowing your breathing down. One of his hands held yours against his chest so that you could feel the pattern of his breaths. The other hand was protectively lying over your bump, gently stroking the skin, centering both you and him that everything was alright with your baby.

After several moments of slowing your breathing and getting you to breathe normally again, you finally sighed and said, “Thanks, Joel.”  

Still sitting above you, Joel furrowed his brow as he looked at you. He didn’t know why you were having a panic attack tonight. It stressed him out and worried him, especially since you were pregnant. He didn’t want you to get too stressed out and put the baby you were carrying under any more stress. After a long moment of observing you, Joel finally sighed and asked, “Why d’ya think you’re a failure?” As he waited for your response, he slowly started stroking your belly once again.

“I don’t know, I- I was upset and spouted my mouth off. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Don’t give me that shit of ‘didn’t mean anything by it.’ Christ woman.” Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand while removing his other hand from your belly.  

You frowned slightly at his movements, knowing that now he was agitated. You didn't want to have any more arguments with him. You two have been finally getting along for a while, and you weren't in the mood to go back to the way things were, where you hardly spoke, and if you did, it would result in an argument. To you, those days were behind you. 

When Joel felt you stiffen below him, he froze. He was frustrated at the situation tonight. Something was bothering you to the point where it made you panic, and he wanted to know why. Why did you think that you were a failure? He felt his heart ache when you continued to look up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at him for fear that it'd start another argument. 

Since when did Joel Miller become such an asshole that his wife didn't want to look at him? Since when did he become your father?

Joel took a deep breath and sighed, realizing how harsh his attitude had been these past few months. Yeah, you two haven't had sex since Halloween, almost five months ago. He reasoned with himself that the lack of sexual intercourse was because of the doctor's orders. But you two haven't done anything else either. Joel didn't blame you; he blamed himself for the change. Tommy even commented the other day to Joel that his brother had changed, but not in a good way. Yeah, Joel Miller was an asshole. But what bothered him the most was he's been an asshole to you, and you've never deserved it.

Sighing at this realization, he turned towards you and gently touched your chin. “Hey, look at me, will ya,” he said, cupping your cheek with his hand. When you finally decided to look at him, he smiled tenderly and whispered, “I love you. You know that, right, baby?”

He felt his eyes sting when you didn't answer and just stared at him. Joel Miller has been drastically fucking things up.

“I'm so fucking sorry, darlin’,” he said while gently placing his hand back again on your bump. “I’m sorry for makin’ this. For fucking everything up where I wasn’t there for you emotionally like I should have been.”

You just glared at him, struggling to keep your tears from falling. “Y-you didn't, shit,” you said, brushing a single tear away from your cheeks. I’m not doing this right now. I’m not going to break down again, you thought. 

Joel could see you were struggling not to get emotional, and he was trying so hard to find ways to fix what he had already broken. “Baby, I was so mad at what ya told me on Halloween. That I wasn't rockin’ your sexual world anymore. I got, fuck baby, I got mad and jealous.”

“Seriously? What could you have been jealous about?” You said, snapping at him with more force than you intended. You were confused and slightly irritated at your husband. Joel was the one who shut you out after Halloween, not you. He barely spoke to you, held you; hell, he still hasn't even fucked you since that night. Sure, you pulled away, too, and you didn't tell him you were pregnant. But every time you tried to open up, he'd shut you down, yell at you, or treat you like you weren't his wife. You sat in silence, not knowing how to respond to your husband. Joel wasn't moving or answering you either, and for a minute, you thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep. But then you heard it, a sniffle, followed by a choked-off sob.

“Joel-” you said softer, looking over at him as you noticed tears streaming down his face. He placed a hand over his eyes, sobbing into it. You didn't understand what was happening or why he was giving you this emotional response.

“I'm s-sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that you d-don't want to be w-with me anymore.” Joel said, continuing to sob into his hand.

Where the hell was this all coming from? You thought. “Baby, what are you talking about? Of course I-”

“Don’t,” Joel said sternly, quickly brushing his tears away. Joel hated crying by himself, and he hated crying in front of you. After taking a moment to collect himself, he leaned down and whispered to your belly, “I'm so sorry that Daddy has fucked this up. I-I love both you and your mama so fucking much, ok?” He gently kissed your belly and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes away. When he sat up, he looked around the room, admiring the home you two had built together, with the front of him facing away from you.

Joel wouldn't look at you, even when you asked him. You were scared, scared of what was coming next. You knew this scene, knew it well from your father. It would be the moment that Joel would tell you he’s been sleeping with someone else.  He’d tell you that you were too much for him and that he couldn’t help it, that it was an accident. You also waited for the words ‘you ruined my life’ to come to his lips, just like your father told you before. But the longer you waited, the longer it was apparent that those words would never come. That’s when you felt your heart begin to race again.

“I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, love. Stop overthinking things. I just wanted to say that you deserve better; you both do. And I know I'm not your favorite human right now and that you’re ashamed to carry my child-”

“Joel Miller, what are you even talking about? I'm not ashamed of-”

Joel stopped you by raising a hand, silencing you, saying, “Please, just let me finish.” He then continued when he knew you wouldn't interrupt him again. “I've, I'm- shit- I'm not good with this stuff, with words. I just- fuck.” 

Joel didn't know what he was trying to say. He felt sorry for Halloween and for the miscommunication you two had. He’s been moody since then and not present in his marriage. He was also very sorry for not making you feel comfortable enough to tell him things again, like when you were first pregnant. But most of all, he was sorry for disappointing you as a man and husband.

When Joel realized the last admission in his mind, he felt tears well up again. You had opened your mouth to speak again, but Joel interrupted you by saying, “Ya know, I think my ex-wife was right all those years ago.”

“How so?” you said, tensing at the mention of her.

“She said I always fucked things up, and that's why she was- uh- why it didn't work out between us.” Joel almost said it. The thing he hadn’t told you. That his first wife was unfaithful because he wasn't present in their marriage and didn't give her enough support after Sarah was born.

“Joel,” you said while slowly grabbing his hand. “Baby, I'm not her, and for the record, you ain't fucking things up.”

Joel snorted at your comment, saying, “Darlin', we both know that ain't true. You're pregnant with my child. And you didn't even want to tell me because of it, because of me.”

“Joel, I didn't tell you because I was scared. I'm a woman in my middle thirties who told her husband life was stale in the bedroom. On that same night, he also knocked me up. I wanted to tell you immediately, but as soon as I attempted, you weren't there. You were working 16-hour days and moody because of no help at work. Yeah, I fucked up. I should have said something, but I was scared. I was scared I was trapping you in a marriage you didn't want.”

“What do you mean a marriage I didn't want? Baby, I love you and want you, always. I've never felt trapped, not ever. Why are you thinkin’ that?” Joel said, screwing his face up and not understanding why you thought he didn't want to be married.

“I don't know, just something my dad said when-”

“I ain't your old man,” Joel said, grinding his teeth and flaring his nostrils. At one time, your father, Pat, was Joel's best friend. But that abruptly ended when Pat laid his hands on his daughter and unforgivably hurt her.

“I know it's just- I was worried you didn't want this, want me. I know I'm a lot, a handful, that-” Your voice started to tremble, and your lip was quivering. You couldn't say it out loud. But Joel knew it was the last thing you heard your father say before you walked out of his life, forever.

Flashback

“Joel, I know my daughter, ok? She's a handful, a complete pain in the ass, and a liability. One that I wish like hell wasn't my damn responsibility anymore. So do yourself a favor; don't get involved. She'll just ruin your life. She’s already ruined mine.”

You had stood there and heard your father tell Joel, your new fiance, he didn't want you as a daughter anymore. That you being around was a burden to him and his life. You were standing in the kitchen as Pat, your father, talked to Joel in the living room. You weren't supposed to hear the conversation, and you knew that. But with what you heard, it had shattered you. You walked out of your father's house with tears in your eyes, never returning. It was good that you walked out before you heard your father's last comment. The one comment that yet today made Joel grind his teeth and see red anytime he thought about it.

“Joel, that girl of mine is nothin’ but a goddamn whore. A bitch, just like her mother. She'll just hurt you in the end. My advice, make sure you have a little something on the side, a nice piece of ass as I did, just as a pick me up. Trust me, you'll get sick of looking at her pathetic ass day in and day out. I did with her mother, and it felt great to go and get some much-needed attention from the girls I had on the side…”

After your father called you a whore and told Joel what took place when Joel had you hang out at his house, he felt sick and saw red with anger. Your dad's weekend trips and late-night house calls were due to him fucking around on your mom, a woman who was battling cancer and eventually lost. But the worst thing that Joel found out was that all those black eyes you were supporting in high school and college weren't because you got into a fight or that a boyfriend hit you. No, Pat was getting drunk and using his fists against his daughter's face. Joel also had a sneaky suspicion that the two cracked ribs you had in college also came from Pat.  Joel couldn't believe that his best friend did that, and worse, you never said anything. Joel would have stopped it immediately if he had known. Pat was no longer in either of your lives anymore.

Present Day

“Baby, you ain't too much, so stop thinking that. C’mere.” Joel said, having you come and sit on his lap while he placed his back against the headboard.

He helped you straddle him, putting your hard baby belly against his softer belly. Your bump prevented you from getting as close as usual, but it was close enough that Joel could still wrap his arms around you and rest his forehead against yours.  

“Now, darlin’, I want you to take a deep breath for me, ok?”  After you took a deep breath and slowly let it out, you felt your heartbeat return to normal, along with his.  

“I’m so sorry, Joel, that I didn’t tell you-”

“Don’t. Please darlin’. I-I don’t care what we’ve done before. I care about the right here and now. Please.”

You could feel how stressed Joel was. How his muscles tensed with you, referencing you were sorry again for not telling your husband at the beginning of your pregnancy that you were pregnant.  If you could do it again, but differently, you would.  But that’s not life.  Life is about living in the moment, feeling emotions, and allowing yourself to experience it in its messy glory.  It’s about making mistakes and then learning from those mistakes.  But most of all, it’s about forgiveness, hope, compassion, love, and understanding.  You both understood that the choices made these past few months were out of anger, frustration, and loneliness.

With your eyes closed and your understanding of the situations that have surrounded the two of you for a while, you quietly said, “I love you, old man.”

Joel let out a small snort at your teasing. ‘Old man’ was a nickname you gave him long ago when the two of you started dating, and now it was a term of endearment. 

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, slowly nuzzling his nose against yours.  

When you pulled back and opened your eyes, you saw your husband looking at you lovingly.  His eyes were so soft, tenderness seen behind them. He was your lifeline that tethered you to this world, keeping you anchored and not drifting.  When he slowly kissed you, you felt him tell you in the kiss that you were loved and that everything would be alright.  He was your rock, your protector, your soulmate. But more importantly, he was your Joel. The man who saw you for what you were inside. He saw past your faults and insecurities, of you believing you were too much. He gave you a safe place to land and be in the moment.  You had a lifetime with him, helped him raise Sarah, and gave birth to two strong-willed little boys you loved dearly. And now you were pregnant again, with a baby that was half him and half you growing inside of you. This little one was very much a surprise, but the best possible surprise.  It forced you both to stop your chaotic lives and slow down to remember what life was all about Love.

After several tender kisses, you started to giggle against his mouth.  Joel pulled back at your giggling, confused at your antics. “Darlin’, are you laughing at me?”

You continued giggling and said, “No, Joel, I’m not,” but then you giggled again.

“Baby, please-”

“Joel, I just felt the baby move.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, surprised, looking at you with excitement. “R-really? Just now?”

“Yes, just now, when I was thinking how much I loved you and how much this child is teaching us that we need to communicate still, to be strong, and-”

Joel slowly moved his hands down to your stomach and rubbed it tenderly.  He knew he wouldn’t feel movement for another few weeks.  But seeing you feel life for the first time was the best possible gift one could experience with you.  The joy on your face at the realization that a baby was growing inside you, one that he helped create.

“There it is again,” you said, smiling and giggling. You placed your hand right over Joel’s hand, right where you felt movement.  It felt like a cricket, or something ran across your stomach, but from the inside.  It was always the oddest feeling that you’d feel. It wasn’t a full kick yet; those would come in a few weeks.  But in this movement, it always made you laugh when you’d feel it for the first time.

When you looked up at Joel, you were beaming with the biggest smile, while he had the most tender look in his eyes. Softly, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over your skin, giving you and his baby affection. “She's telling her mama that she loves her.”

“Joel, it’s too early. We don’t-” you said, choking up with emotion.  Joel knew you wanted a girl so badly, especially after the two of you lost the only pregnancy before where you were pregnant with a girl. It was a sore subject for the two of you. 

Before, when you were pregnant with a girl, Joel had come home early from work because you said you weren’t feeling well.  He noticed you were sleeping on the couch when he entered the house. Joel quietly went upstairs and showered, but you yelled for him while he was washing his body. Joel quickly rinsed himself off and ran out to the living room, wearing nothing but a towel with water still dripping down his back. When he got to you, you were sitting up and crying.  When he had asked you what was wrong, you pulled back the blanket, and Joel saw a large pool of bright red blood on the couch. You were rushed to the hospital by ambulance, but it was already too late.  The girl you were pregnant with had no heartbeat detected. You stayed in the hospital for observation, delivering the tiny baby that night. 

After you were asleep in the hospital, Joel had gone home. He took the sledgehammer to the couch, tears streaming down his face while hitting it. Tommy found him beating the hell out of the sofa, crying and screaming at how much he hated the world for taking the one thing that you wanted away from you: a little girl.

And now, all these years later, when you hear Joel reference a girl, you can’t help but get scared. Sure, you hoped for a girl and dreamed of it again, but you also didn't want to go through losing another baby once again.   

“It’s just a hunch, darlin’, and don’t worry, mama; I’ll keep you both safe.  Now come on, time for you both to go to bed.” Joel said, wrapping you in his arms to help silence your fears.

Joel laid you down and got you situated after he brought you some water to drink.  He pulled you tight to him, your back against his bare chest as he traced small circles on your belly, helping you quickly fall asleep.  After Joel knew you were sleeping soundly, he quietly whispered, “Little one, please stay in here no matter what, ok? I don’t know if you’re a girl or a boy, but I think you may be a girl this time.  Regardless, your mama needs you to be healthy, and Daddy needs you to be healthy. You’ve heard bad words these past few months when your mama and I have been arguing. But please know, I’m beyond excited to be a dad yet again, your dad. I love you both so much, ok. Stay in there, and let your mama have a nice, easy pregnancy, ok? I love you.”

Joel stilled his hand on your bump, gently holding it snug while he drifted off to sleep. Neither of you knew that deep inside your belly, a tiny baby girl was growing nice and strong. Even though this pregnancy was difficult at times, that baby had no plans of leaving anytime soon. She would be the miracle and the one thing that helped you focus on fixing your marriage once and for all. 

They say that life throws the most challenging curveballs when you least expect them and that sometimes those challenging events shape you into a better human being. That’s always been the story for you and Joel, and now, you both are about to enter the exciting part of your pregnancy—the one that will reshape your current Marriage Dynamics.

End of Chapter

[annwrites]

exactly what he needs, pt. 2 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt 1 | pt3

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: you & nate hang out in your room (after he snoops through it right in front of you), then ask each other questions, & he dresses & does your hair before you head out to spend the evening together.

— tags: conversing, getting to know one another

— tw: sexualization, lying (nate manipulating the truth), dollification

— word count: 6.2k

— a/n: I edited this numerous times, but fucked myself over by writing part 1 in present-tense to begin with, which I'm not always great at. So, if I messed up the tenses anywhere, please ignore it. Going forward, I'll probably be publishing further installments in past-tense.

Next post will be reader & Nate going shopping & having dinner!

The next morning when you wake, it only takes a few minutes for you to remember that Nate will be there in a little less than an hour, and the nerves immediately set in.

Surely people will see you getting out of his truck. What will they think?

You shake your head. It doesn't matter. Not really, anyway. You don't much care what any one person of the student population thinks of you.

You know high school is just a blip—a very brief moment in time, where it seems like every little thing you experience can be the end of the world, but it's really all just the beginning.

People will think whatever they like. It's not your job to try and change their minds. Not that trying to do as much would work anyway.

Once you've quickly showered, dressed, pulled your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your way, and eaten breakfast, you don't even have time to wait by the door as Nate's truck pulls up. You quickly pull on a pair of boots and step outside, locking the door behind you.

When you look up, your stomach does a flip when you see Nate holding the passenger-side door open for you.

You walk over to him. "You don't have to get my door for me, you know."

He shrugs, taking your backpack from you, setting it in the backseat with his. "I want to."

You tell him thank you as you climb inside and he shuts the door behind you.

Once you're on the road, he's the first to break the silence. "You can listen to whatever you want on the radio."

In truth, it's a bit too early for music for you. "I'm ok."

"Did you eat already?"

You nod. "I had a bowl of cereal."

He gives a slight frown. Not a very healthy start to your day. Something full of sugar.

"Do you want me to pick you up something on the way?"

Your eyes go wide. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though. It's nice of you to offer."

He decides tomorrow he's bringing you breakfast, and he won't be asking for permission beforehand.

You're both silent again for a moment and the truck slows as he pulls up to a red light. He briefly wonders if you know how to drive. If not, he'd be a more than willing teacher.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something personal. If you do, just tell me to fuck off and you don't have to answer."

You look at him. "Ok..."

The light turns green and the truck picks up speed again. "I noticed neither of your parents were home yesterday. Were they both at work?"

You grow quiet for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between the two of you as you look out the window at the passing houses.

"My dad was...is. He travels a lot for work, so he's not home much."

He nods, deeming it good news, at least for him. "And your mom?"

You're quiet for even longer this time. Then, "I've never met her."

Minus Lexi, you've already divulged more to him in that short sentence than you have to anyone else at East Highland.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He's not sure that he means it. He despises both of his parents and, if anything, in this moment, is envious of you, due to your lack of relationship with both of yours.

You shrug. "It's fine."

He wants more than just 'it's fine'. He wants to know more, as it's clear it's something which bothers you. He wants you to give him emotional vulnerability for just a moment. Something he can use in the future to work his way in closer to you.

"Do you know anything about her?"

You shake your head. "My dad refuses to talk about her. After a few fights when I was younger where I tried to get him to, I gave up. It's probably for the best. She made her choice, and I think me knowing anything about her would just make things...more difficult. My life, I mean."

Even if you still felt like you were chasing shadows sometimes.

He nods. If nothing else, it's one less person he'll have to go through to be with you. Two less, from the sound of things.

Finally, he turns into the school parking lot, taking his usual spot and he shuts the truck off.

"I'll get your door for you," he states before getting out.

You unbuckle yourself, not sure what to think of his insistence with the whole door thing. It just doesn't seem to be something men much concern themselves with anymore—getting a girl's door for her—at least not teenage boys, that is. But perhaps he's different. Maybe it's just the way he was raised.

Nate opens your door and grabs his backpack, sliding it over his shoulders, then grabbing yours as well.

You get out and go to take it from him, but he continues holding it.

"Turn around."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but do as he's asked. You quickly realize what he's doing and adjust your arms as he slides your bag onto your back. He's really going the extra mile to be a gentleman, you think.

Once the truck's doors are closed and he's locked the vehicle, he places his hand against the small of your back as you walk into school together.

You look perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, your anxiety levels are rising with each pair of eyes turning your and Nate's way.

When you spot Lexi, the look on her face is nothing short of bewildered. Next to her sits Cassie, who's fuming.

You're torn away from looking in their direction by Nate coming to stand in front of you. "See you in third period."

You nod and give him a small smile, going to sit with Lexi, despite Cassie giving you that same glare from yesterday. A worse one, really.

"What the hell was that?" Lexi asks, her tone full of concern as you sit down beside her, setting your bag on the table.

"Nothing. He just drove me to school, that's all."

"And home," Cassie says, voice full of malice.

Lexi looks from her sister, then back to you. "The two of you are not hooking up."

You flush. "No. He just gave me a ride, that's all."

"Ok, but why would he do that? The two of you never talk. You're not even friends."

You do your best to ignore Cassie's unsettling stare.

"I'm just—" You immediately shut your mouth. You should've thought further ahead, should've thought about what excuse you would give people when they inevitably ask why the two of you are hanging out all of a sudden.

Nate asked you to keep it a secret and you aren't about to betray his confidence. If you do, you're sure he'll fail and never bother asking for help again.

"Just what?" Lexi prods.

"We're just hanging out. It's not a big deal. I promise."

Suddenly, Cassie stands, angrily grabbing her bag, jerking it off the table and storming away.

Lexi rolls her eyes. "Just ignore her. I don't know why she's still hung up on him, anyway. He treated her like crap." She shifts in her seat, facing fully toward you now. "What I can believe even less, however, is the fact you're giving him the time of day. He's an asshole. He was abusive toward Maddy and wanted to keep screwing Cassie so long as she kept it a secret. He uses people, Y/N."

Abusive? You knew he and Maddy had argued quite a bit, but nothing that severe.

"What do you mean by abusive?"

She shrugs. "I don't know much, since she and Cassie obviously aren't friends anymore. But I know a good portion of it, at least, was emotional. Maybe verbal, too. Then again, I don't think she was any better." Lexi glances behind you, and you don't dare turn around, now worried the subject of your conversation is who she's looking at. "She gives as good as she gets."

Once the school day is over and you go to drop off your books at your locker, you find Nate leaning up against it.

He smiles when he sees you and you give him a shy smile in return.

You put your things away, then look to Nate.

In truth, what Lexi told you had gotten to you a bit. You try to tell yourself that it's all nothing more than hearsay, and you're only tutoring—not dating him—so whatever had occurred between he and Maddy and Cassie is none of your concern.

"You ready?"

You nod, and, just like this morning, he places his hand firmly against your back.

Once you're in his truck, you notice Maddy staring at you today, just a few cars away. She and Kat are both looking in your direction, Maddy clearly getting worked up and Kat obviously trying to calm her down, and your eyes widen when she begins heading in Nate's direction.

Before she can reach him, however, he gets in the truck and pulls out of the lot, leaving her standing there, staring after the two of you.

You're glad whatever was about to happen has just been avoided.

Over the next week, you and Nate go to your house every day after school to study. You gradually get to know more about one another, like you learning he has a brother—which you'd somehow managed to forget over the years—and he tells you how passionate he is about personal fitness, something to which you don't much relate.

It'd been abundantly clear since day one that he dislikes his father. But that dislike—even if he talks about him very little—clearly, somewhere along the way, became loathing. It's all in the tone he uses, the language he uses when he's brought up.

But the thing that always seems to calm him—make him happier—is talking about you.

He asks you every question in the book: favorite food, color, flower, song, type of music, art, what you want to be when you graduate, the kind of house you want to live in. The list is endless.

And then the day came when he asked to see your room, with you standing awkwardly in the doorway as he surveys every inch.

He starts with your bed, your fluffy white comforter with small pink flowers printed across it, and your plethora of pillows. And then he notices the small brown teddy bear leaned back against said pillows. He briefly picks it up, smirking to himself, then looking at you.

“Do you sleep with this?”

Your face goes blood-red. “Y-yes.”

He studies it for a moment longer, making a mental note to one day buy you one himself, wanting you to sleep with one that’s come from him instead.

In truth, while you think about you sleeping with a stuffed animal as embarrassing—at least for another person to now know about—it’s a major fucking turn-on for him. You’re that innocent that you still sleep with a teddy.

He sets it back down, throwing a “that’s very sweet” your way before moving on to your bookshelves.

Not that he’s read or heard of the grand majority of the novels you have, he can tell by the titles and covers alone that they’re all either romance or fantasy. He supposes he understands that: you trying to escape through stories. Stories where you can go somewhere else, be someone else. Have a new family, new friends.

And then he thinks it incredibly sad—just how lonely you are.

It’s not like he isn’t already aware of it, because he is—has became more and more so as the last week has gone on. Everyday he’s come to your house it’s been empty. But to see your shelves crammed full of books—your one attempt at escaping into a better life—he vows in that moment to start working faster at bringing the two of you together into a relationship.

You need him.

You like stories about princesses trapped in towers and white knights coming to save them? Then that’s exactly what he’ll be for you. He’ll rescue you from the lonely hell you’re living in and give himself to you fully. He’ll dedicate all of his time that he can to you. And he plans to spoil you fucking rotten.

He looks over the various trinkets you have set on—and on top of—those shame shelves. Porcelain figurines of unicorns and cats, a small jeweled crown, some candles and a few faux plants.

He turns back to you. “Which one is your favorite?”

You shift nervously from one foot to the other. “The Lord of the Rings, actually. I…I really like Éowyn and Faramir’s story.”

He nods.

He’s never watched the movies, and has obviously never read the book, so he makes a mental note to at least do some reading on the characters you’ve mentioned to understand you better.

He then looks over your entertainment center and the small collection of DVDs you have alphabetically organized in one of the cubbies. Beauty and the Beast, Ever After, Stardust, The Last Unicorn, The Princess Bride, among a few others.

He then steps over to your closet and pulls the doors open without even asking your permission first.

You don’t much react to him doing so, supposing that everything in there you’ve worn to school at some point anyway.

He’s met with skirts and sweaters and dress blouses. Another thing he’s going to have to change—your wardrobe. It isn’t exactly “frumpy”, but it isn’t feminine enough for his taste, either. He wants your clothes to reflect who you truly are. Sun and baby doll dresses, and tennis skirts with the right pretty tops will suit you far better. Sandals and delicate flats. Your hair curled and actually down for once, perhaps with a bow in it. And he’ll buy you a few nice pieces of expensive jewelry as well. Maybe take you on a shopping trip to Tiffany one day.

He closes the doors in front of him.

What he really wants is to go through not just your bedside table, but also the top drawers of your dresser. He's curious if you've ventured into the territory of lingerie and sex-toys yet. And if so, what your preferences are.

He doesn't like to imagine you using more than a vibrator on your clit to get yourself to orgasm. As for lingerie, he doubts that you own any, but he often pictures you in lacy panties and pastel teddy nightgowns.

He adds such things to his mental shopping list of things to one day buy you.

Speaking of orgasms, however, he'd come thinking of you nearly every night for the past week.

He imagined you on his bed, naked, your pussy soaked for him, your legs spread wide as he teased you until you were begging for him to put himself inside of you.

He imagined all the things he'd teach you in bed, sure that you're inexperienced.

And only after you promised him that you're his—belonged to him and wanted no one and nothing else but him—did he finally join your two bodies together.

Finally, he sits on the edge of your bed. He then glances to the chair which hangs from the ceiling in the back left corner of your room, directly facing where he now sits.

You walk over, sitting in it.

He then lays back on your bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor, arms folded behind his head—God, he’s so tall.

“Do you not get lonely here?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.

You lift one of your socked-feet onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your bent knee. You shrug.

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows furrow. “Do what?”

“Act like you being left alone all the time doesn’t matter. It matters; you matter.”

You remain quiet. Then, “I’m used to it. I like being alone.”

He refuses to believe that, knows it’s bullshit.

You’d only spent a week together, and only a little over an hour every day at that, but it’d not taken but a couple of days for you to—at times—talk his ear off. At one point, it’d nearly gotten on his last nerve, until his stomach dropped and heart broke when he realized why: how fucking long had it been since you’d had someone—anyone—to really talk to? Someone who bothered to truly listen? How long had you stayed silent, withdrawing further and further into yourself, until you’d built up an entire fantasy world within your mind and soul, which became your new reality?

And so he promised to himself—and mentally to you—that he’d never, even if it were true—tell you he doesn’t care what you have to say. He won’t be just one more person to hurt and let you down. Just like he knows you won’t be as much to him.

You’re good for him. He could tell as much from the first day he spoke to you.

He stares at you for a moment, making you squirm. “I don’t believe that.”

“Ok.” You don’t particularly feel like arguing. He can believe whatever he wishes.

He frowns. He dislikes that you don’t seem to much care what his opinion of you is. He supposes it’s a strange dichotomy. Going from Cassie who, it was all she cared about, to you, who clearly can’t care less.

“You’re really telling me that talking to barely anyone at school, except occasionally Lexi, and being alone in this house all the time doesn’t ever get to you?”

You shrug. “It’s just what I’m used to.”

In all the talking to him you’d done over the past week, all of it had been surface-level. About history or the new book you were reading, or something you’d read in a news article. None of it was actually truly about you.

If his plan to get in deeper with you—to know you like no other person on the planet does—is going to work, then you need to give him more.

“What if it wasn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “What if we started hanging out more often than just when we study after school? We could text or something, too.”

You appreciate his being concerned for you, you think it really kind of him. Even if makes you the least bit uncomfortable. You tell yourself it’s simply because it’s something you’re not used to: someone showing genuine concern for you.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

He looks at you again. “You wouldn’t be. I like spending time with you.”

You’re not sure how to respond, so you just say thanks.

“I feel like for the last week I’ve done nothing but ask you questions about yourself. Is there anything you want to know about me?”

He’ll never admit it, but your lack of interest in him hurts his feelings. It makes him feel like you aren’t nearly as attracted to him as he is to you.

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He smirks. So that’s why. Always so fucking considerate; his sweet girl.

“You won’t.”

You think for a moment. The things you really want to ask him about are too personal this early on (even if you’d told yourself such things were none of your business, you can’t help wanting answers). Like why he despises his dad so much, and what happened with him and Maddy and Cassie. And what happened at that New Year’s party which landed him in the hospital?

You start smaller. “What made you want to play football?”

He considers giving you some bullshit answer—which will seem a plausible enough explanation—and giving you the actual truth. Finally, he decides on both. “It gives me something to do, for one. A reason to push myself harder. It gives me something to focus on. And football is a contact sport. So when I’m pissed off, I finally have something to take it out on.”

“Like when you’re angry with your dad?”

He grows silent.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

He shakes his head. “It’s ok. It’s not like I’ve exactly been subtle about my dislike of him.”

He doesn’t elaborate further than that.

“So…what’s your favorite color?”

He laughs. “I don’t know. Black, I guess.”

Somehow it seems fitting for him.

He looks at you, able to read you. “But that’s not the kind of question you want to be asking, is it?”

“I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”

He leans up on one elbow. “Then how about we make it fair? You ask me one actually personal question, and then I ask you one. And we both have to answer. No matter what. As soon as one of us refuses to, I head home.”

You think about it for a moment, worried about the sorts of things he may ask, but you have an out. “Deal.”

He smiles. “Alright, ladies first.”

“Will you tell me what happened during New Year’s?”

He sits up fully then. “Fezco smashed a bottle over my head, then beat me within an inch of my life. He got the upper hand immediately by doing what he did with the liquor bottle. He almost fucking killed me, all for a worthless druggy.”

Your brows furrow. “Who?”

“Rue went to him with some made-up story about me harassing her and some friend of hers online. When in reality I want nothing to do with her. So then he threatened to kill me and finally fucking tried to.”

“Why would she do something like that?” It feels like he isn’t giving you the whole story. He’s laid out the edges of a puzzle, but is withholding the middle.

He shrugs. “She’s a drug addict, how should I know?”

Before you can reply, can think of a polite way to say: so what’s the real story here, he takes his turn.

“How come we were never friends?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were five-years-old. We grew up together, have known each other for over a decade now. And only in the last week have we really finally talked, or spent any amount of time together.”

You lean back in your seat. “Well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean that fact has to serve as some prerequisite to becoming best friends or something. Sometimes people, even from a young age, just don’t click. You were always running around on the playground, playing sports with others. I was always sitting off to the side and reading or coloring or playing with toys. I guess you were just more outgoing than me.”

“You know what they say: opposites attract.”

You tell yourself he’s just referring to friendship.

He lays back again. “Well, it may’ve only taken eleven years, but we’re friends now. I just… I just wonder what things might’ve been like had it happened sooner.” He sighs, then, “Your turn again.”

To an extent, you wonder that, too. Mostly just what it would’ve been like to have a best friend for that long.

“What happened between you, Maddy, and Cassie?”

“Not going to give me an easy one, huh?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Me and Maddy had been together since sophomore year. I guess we just grew comfortable with one another, even if we weren’t always happy. Even if it wasn’t always healthy. It didn’t start out toxic. We were happy at first. For awhile. A long while. But she just…it was like she wasn’t pleased unless we were fighting and then making up.

“It was just a constant cycle of her beating me down, then trying to build me back up again through sex. She just…she made me feel like shit about myself. As both her boyfriend and a man. It was like it wasn’t bad enough: the shit I dealt with at home with my dad. She just had to become one more problem in my life that I was forced to deal with.

“I’d hoped that if I loved her hard enough, if I gave her enough, she’d love me back the way I wanted to be loved. The way I loved her. Turns out I was just a fucking idiot.”

Tears sting your eyes. You feel so sorry for him. To be so young and to have already known an emotionally abusive relationship was heartbreaking. It was one reason why you refused to date at such a young age. You were all too young to understand yourselves, nevermind another person. Not in the context of loving and taking care of them, at least. You all were barely even fully-formed people yet.

So that was what Lexi had been referring to before. Just like everything, there were always two sides.

“And Cassie?” You ask, softly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Just a giant fucking mistake. We first hooked up a couple weeks after Maddy and I had broken up…again. It happened on New Year’s Eve. I just…maybe I was trying to get even for what Maddy had done to me at the beginning of the school year—fucking a guy in the pool at McKay’s house—right in front of everyone.

"And then we hung out more, and at first I thought she was different. Maybe better for me. Until she started blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and texts, screaming one night in my room about how crazy she was, how she’d never let me be with anyone else. How she was better for me than all the rest.”

Your brows raise. That unhinged? Cassie had always seemed so sweet and demure to you. But you’d also hardly ever been around her outside of school.

And dating—being in relationships—seemed to sometimes bring out the worst in people. Facets they themselves didn’t even know they had.

“I’m sorry, Nate. I never knew Cassie was so…” You trail off, until he fills in the rest for you.

“Psychotic?”

You laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but…” You shift legs, wrapping your arms around your other one now. “Your turn.”

He remains lying back, wanting this question to come off as something he’s casually asking. Whereas, in reality, he’ll be holding onto every word of your answer.

“Have you ever dated before?”

You feel like you suddenly want to use your out, but refrain. It’s a simple enough question, with a simple answer. “No.”

He looks over at you. “Never?”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh.”

His brows raise. He’d never known you to have a boyfriend before, but until recently he’d not exactly kept tabs on you.

It surprises him.

“Have you never kissed anyone or had sex?” He prays the answer to both is no. Also hopes you don’t cut his questioning you short.

You’re quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another. Until, finally, you decide to answer. “No. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Not having done either of those things is a choice, just like having done them is as well.”

He sits up, hunching over to try and hide the erection he can feel forming.

No one has ever been inside of you—not in your mouth, not in your pussy, and not in your ass. Another pair of lips have never even touched your own, another tongue has never tasted you. Another pair of eyes has never explored your lovely naked body.

He wants to know what you do, then, to satiate yourself when the mood strikes. Do you rub at your clit until you come? Do you finger yourself—he wonders if your hymen is still intact? Do you bunch a pillow up between your legs, humping it until you've finished and the case is soaked? Or do you take and rub your teddy against your wet, needy pussy until you’re sore and can’t take it anymore?

God he wants to know what you fucking taste like. Wants to feel your fingers in his hair as he goes down on you. Needs to know what your perfect pussy feels like around his cock.

But he knows it’s too soon for any of that. For you, at least.

“That’s not something to be ashamed of. Not nowadays. You should be proud of yourself for having held out this long. I admire it.”

You shrug. “It’s not that hard to do.”

He smirks. “That’s because you’ve never done it before. Once you’ve been with someone in that way…giving up that kind of intimacy is difficult.”

You think any kind of intimacy must be hard to let go of after having it. Whether it’s emotional, intellectual, physical…sexual. Maybe it’s one more reason you keep most people at arm’s-length. If you never let anyone in, then you’ll never have to worry about losing them.

You clear your throat. “My turn.”

He lays back again.

“Can I ask about your dad?”

He flexes his jaw. “What about him?”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

There’s a long pause and then he finally sits up. “I guess it’s time for me to go.”

You plant both of your feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of your swing-chair. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I was just curious. Since he always seems so…perfect, you hating him, I guess, is just a source of confusion for me. Then again, maybe that perfection is the source of it: your hate. I don’t know.”

“That’s part of it. But not all.” And that’s all the answer he’s willing to give you.

Letting onto his hate for his father in the first place was a mistake. But that loathing sometimes seeped out. And he feels like he can be honest with you. He trusts you. So, sometimes he lets go a little. That lid he keeps so tightly screwed slips loose sometimes in your presence.

He stands and you fill with guilt.

You’d gone too far. You’d known better—that asking about his father would end up being a mistake—but you’d brought him up anyway. And now you’d ruined the day.

“You really don’t have to leave. We can talk about something else?”

He pretends to consider that for a moment. When in reality, he’s all too-pleased that you’re so eager for him to stay.

Then, he steps over to you, standing in front of your seat, towering over you as you look up at him. He briefly thinks that this would be a perfect position for the both of you to be in as you take him into your mouth.

Then, he kneels down. One week was all it had taken for you to bring him to his knees.

He reaches up, grabbing either of the ropes the chair hangs from from on either side of you. “It’s Friday.”

You smile nervously. “That’s very observant of you.”

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle. “I just mean that it’s only four o’ clock; still early. We could go do something together.”

He begins to lightly swing you, just barely.

“Like what?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I could take you to dinner, take you shopping. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, even if you just want to drive around.”

You don’t know how to respond to his offer. “You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”

“Not at all.” He wants so desperately to touch you, but he sees you like a newborn fawn, easily frightened; skittish. So he refrains. For now at least.

You glance to the set of glass doors beside the two of you which lead into your backyard. At the sun still high in the sky and tree branches blowing lightly in the wind. And then you look back to Nate, seeing no good reason to waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside.

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Good.” He stands, offering you his hand.

You take it, doing the same. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to change again. Don’t really want to go out in sweats.”

He nods, going to leave, then stops by your closet. He pulls the doors open and you watch as he pulls out a light-pink sundress, then turns back to you, holding it out in your direction.

“You don’t have to wear it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on you at school before. Just thought it might look nice.”

You gently take the dress from him.

He speaks before you can tell him no. “I’ll be waiting in the living room. Take your time.”

Once the door has shut behind him, you look down at the dress in your hands, then at the things you usually wear—the clothes you feel most comfortable in—beckoning you from your closet.

While you dress, Nate leans back on the couch, hoping you wear what he’s picked out for you. In truth, he wants to dress every inch of you. He wants to do your hair, your makeup—even if you never wear any. He wants to pick out a cute matching pair of lingerie for you—so only he knows what’s under your clothes—your shoes, your jewelry, even your perfume.

He isn’t sure why it means so much to him—perhaps it’s just another thing he feels the need to have control over. He wants you to look nice. He knows you’re capable of matching his ideal picture of what he wants you to be in his head.

When you finally emerge from your bedroom fifteen minutes later—you’d spent half of that time sitting on your bed considering putting the dress away—he’s left speechless.

You’d put on the dress, along with a cute pair of sandals, your toes already painted a pleasant shade of pink, which just so happens to match the item you’re now wearing. And between your breasts hangs a necklace.

You stand in the entryway awkwardly, one of your hands clutching your other arm. “I feel ridiculous,” you whisper, your face red.

He stands, coming to position himself in front of you. “You look beautiful.”

You’re surprised by his response. Wearing something which shows off so much of your body makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You’d considered putting on a cardigan to cover your arms, but it’s almost ninety-degrees outside. So you decided against it.

He reaches around to the base of your ponytail, his thumb, index and middle finger gripping your hairband. “May I?” He asks, looking down at you.

You feel dumbstruck by the sensation of the base of your hair in his grip, so you just nod.

He gently pulls the band free, your hair falling over your shoulders and down your back, coming to rest just above your ass.

He’s never seen hair as long as yours before. Why the hell do you keep it up all the time?

He flexes his hand, the holder now firmly around his wrist and he reaches up with both of his hands, running his fingers through your soft hair, massaging your scalp as he styles it.

You just stare up at him, his face the picture of concentration as his fingers work against your head, through your long strands of hair. Your eyelids droop just a bit out of the feeling of relaxation that comes over you, goosebumps rising on your arms.

Nate takes note of that, as well as the quiet whimper in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against the base of your neck for just a moment. He likes that you like the way he’s touching you. He wants to know what other places his fingers and hands could explore that would get him similar results.

Finally, once he deems your hair presentable to his personal satisfaction, half of it falling down your back, the other half split evenly over both of your shoulders, he slips one hand into his pocket, the other coming to rest under your chin, making you look up at him again.

He feels blood rush to his cock at the flushed, lax look on your face as your hooded eyes stare up into his own.

“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks very pretty like this.”

“It gets in my way,” you state, your voice now having a dreamy quality to it.

He really likes you like this. All soft and submissive and dressed how he likes. He wants you wrapped around his finger sooner rather than later. Completely his in every single fucking way imaginable.

Today will be one step closer to getting that future.

He deems what you’ve said a good enough answer, but he knows you’ll have to get used to it. Your hair being down suits you far better than it being up.

He steps away, walking over to the door, holding it open for you.

Once you’ve locked it behind you, he holds open the passenger side door of his truck for you, same as always, shutting it firmly once you’re inside.

[rayssyscourse]

endogenic doesnt mean that someone is not disordered from having a system, it just means that their system didnt form from trauma. in the same vein, traumagenic doesnt mean that a system is disordered, only that their system formed from trauma. endogenic systems can be diagnosed with osdd and did.

im tired of seeing posts about a disorder i have that people dont want me to interact with because of the -genic label i choose to use. the -genic label i chose to use, mind you, because people wouldnt stop taking posts i made about being disordered and adding anti endo tags to them.

honestly i think -genic labels are silly anyways. they tell you zero information about a system past how they formed, which in the grand scheme of things is much less important than how that system might be functioning now.

I think I get where you're coming from. My main question is, how would an endo system get diagnosed with did/osdd? cuz the definitions of those is having a system formed from trauma, so how could you have one of them and still be endogenic? (genuine question, I'm not trying to attack you, just confused)

anyways, I think you have a good point that -genic labels are too broad and don't tell you very much about the system itself. however, I do still think it's fair for people to want traumagenic only or endo only spaces. the -genic labels have a lot of issues, yes, but they do hold *some* meaning.

[indestructibleheart]

I was tagged by the incredible @cricketnationrise, @ninzied, @cha-melodius, @kiwiana-writes, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and @stellarm this week. Thank you, beloveds!

Like my Inspiration Saturday for this same fic yesterday, this is one of those things that you will know if you know... You know?

Here are several sentences I wrote yesterday:

"Well, thanks for getting David out of me." Nora pulls a band from her wrist and wraps her curls into a bun atop her head; a few too-short ringlets slip from her fingers and fall to frame her face. "Too bad you can't do anything about the taste of raw fish inside my mouth." Alex blinks several times, long lashes fluttering like those of a baffled cartoon. "Wait," he says flatly. "You're telling me that the horrifying and powerful demon that was possessing you… is named… David?" "Mmm-hm." Nora grins crookedly and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Menacing, right?" "Yeah, I'm quaking in my boots, sweetheart." Alex snorts. "What, was he your fucking tax attorney, too?" Nora laughs loudly in response, the force of it throwing her head back. Henry turns to the file in his hand, trying to ignore the clench in his stomach as Alex's gaze traces the length of her throat.

Tagging some lovelies under the cut. If you have not been tagged and you want to be, consider this your tag!

@anchoredarchangel, @cha-melodius, @firenati0n,

@guillermosfamiliar, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @hippolotamus,

@inexplicablymine, @itsmaybitheway, @jettestar,

@junebugclaremontdiaz, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @missgeevious,

@mulderscully, @myheartalivewrites, @nontoxic-writes,

@notspecialbabe, @priincebutt, @rmd-writes,

@rosedavid, @three-drink-amy, @treluna4,

@vanillahigh00, @welcometololaland, @orchidscript,

@ships-to-sail, @stereopticons

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Hype Boy | I.N x Reader

-> Pairing: Yang Jeongin x F1 Racer!Reader

-> Request: from @mirlisfreespace

-> Synopsis: Jeongin makes the best hype boy for his girlfriend. Part 02 to I Promise You

-> Warnings: Self-doubt. Anxiety. Negative thinking.

-> Word Count: 390

-> Requests: Open.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead.

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

Jeongin spent nearly five minutes searching for his girlfriend when he finds her in one of the side rooms designated for when someone needs to take a break. Her knee is bouncing anxiously, as she bites her lip, and looking as if she's mentally a million miles away. 

"I've been looking for you," Jeongin says, letting her know that it's just him. "Is everything okay?" 

"I don’t know why I’m even doing this," she replies, avoiding eye contact by looking down at the floor. "I'm not even that good. There are so many other racers that are better than me, faster than me, and more experienced than I am. What am I doing here? I don't deserve to be here." 

"I think your full of shit," he tells her sitting next to her. She glares at him, her eyes glossing over. "You deserve to be here.” he continues, taking her hand in his and making her look at him with his free hand. “You've worked your ass off to get where you are today, and I couldn't be prouder of you. Don't let anyone make you feel or think otherwise."  

"You know how competitive Formula One can get," she sighs.  

"Which is testament to how hard you've worked to get here. It's proof that you deserve to be here just as much, if not more, than the others," he counters. "Now, stop doubting yourself, get in that car, and show them what you're made of. Show them why you deserve to be here." 

"What would I do without you?" she asks a faint smile on her lips as she looks at him loving. 

"You don't have to worry about that because I'll always be here, supporting you and reminding you of your worth," he smiled, pressing a kiss to her hand. 

"I love you," she says pressing a kiss to his lips. 

"I love you too," he says and stands up, her hand still in his, and leads her out of the room so she can prepare for her race. 

As they walk back towards the main area, Jeongin can't help but feel a surge of pride for his girlfriend. He’s witnessed her dedication and passion for racing firsthand, and he knows that she has what it takes to succeed even further in the competitive world of Formula One racing. 

TAGGING: @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings-library - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry

@rainydayteacups - @tinyelfperson - @laylasbunbunny - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things

@kayleefriedchicken - @everythingboutkpop

[unluckilyimnot]

Could you write about confessing your feelings and asking out nagi and gagamaru (separately) only for them to be like “i thought we were already dating??” Thank you!

i thought we were already dating ? nagi, gagamaru

m.list II rules

note : hiii ! sorry i take a while, i was really busy <3 here it is ! it hope you like it

Nagi

Nagi and you were about to go home when you thought it was the best timing. He asked if you wanted to come with him to the arcade after school, so you obviously tagged along - never missing an opportunity to spend time with him. You love it too much, spending time with him even if you're not doing much.

But as you walked out of the arcade, a strange feeling took upon your heart and it was like you'll never be able to feel it again. You needed to take a step further. Or at least try.

You never felt more nervous. Your heart was racing inside your rib cage as you stopped in your tracks. Nagi turned around to look at you, puzzled as to why you would stop when you were whining a while ago about how tired you were.

Playing with your nails a little for you to build up your confidence, pushing away so scary voices in your mind telling that it will ruin everything. You finally look up to him, a small blush all over your cheeks.

"I really like spending time with you, much more than just friends ! Would you go with me ?!" You yelled without realizing it, closing your eyes as shame came along with your speech.

When you open them again, you're met with a rather lost Nagi. His head tilted to the side.

"Aren't we dating already ?" He asked, not even thinking twice when your blush worsened in an instant.

You were too shocked to answer, but if you weren't you would've hit his arm so hard. Yet thinking about it, it just makes sense for him to say that.

Taking a few steps toward him, you still hit his arm before taking it. "You know that we have to talk about it Together before it's settled?"

He hummed in response. Not adding anything but it was enough. You're already used to it.

Gagamaru

Your steps resonated in unison with Gagamaru's as you walked further into the lovely park you just found near your place. You never really had the time to take a walk to clear your head or just enjoy the good weather, but since you got closer to Gagamaru, you happened to spend a lot of time outside. It doesn't matter if it’s just walking in silence or happily talking about your interests. It can be in a zoo, around the town, deep into the countryside where he used to live. You just like it a lot, even more since he’s there.

It was always good to hear him talk about things he likes or how much of a nature lover he is. You’re always lull by his voice, calming your sometimes busy mind.

You lost track of how many times your hand brushed, how your heart skipped a beat every time or how you have to look away when he looks at you for a little too long and your cheeks get hot. You don’t remember the first time you started to long for it, a new “date” with him, but you for sure have a lot of feelings for him now. It was just so hard to talk to him with how oblivious he is.

Yet your hand brushed his once again and this time, the warm feeling didn’t stop as he took your hand in his, stroking your skin with his thumb from time to time. It was too much for your heart and mind. You pulled kindly on his hand, your eyes shyly looking into his. You didn’t let go but there was a step between you too, you could tell he didn’t understand what was up.

“I like you.” You didn’t need to think much. Those worlds flow down your mouth naturally, and you should’ve told it earlier. “Would you go out with me ?”

You felt relieved to finally say it, feeling your heart lighter and expecting a smile. Instead you were met with a frown. “I thought we were already dating !”

You blinked once, then twice before scoffing to yourself.

“When did you ask me out ?” you teased, taking a step closer. “I can’t remember well it seems.”

He felt flustered, you could tell by his avoidant look. Getting a little closer and getting up on your toes, you pecked his cheek. “So ? Will you ?”

No need to say that he was even happier after you asked him, in the end.  

i hope you liked it

[jacksmusesdrv3]

I know I've twisted myself into a goddamn pretzel the past five or so years trying not to be 'too much' and backing off when I am

but

A good deal of why I started the #dr literacy tag is precisely because of this- I am beyond tired and fed up, with the kinds of things that people have ignored and left on my back- whether it's to do with Kokichi, or V3 overall. It's easy to deflect and call me 'delusional', and five years later never even consider the implications of having called me that over what I've been trying to grapple with, much less apologise to me sincerely and genuinely try to understand where I'm coming from and why it's so hard to discuss in the first place- not to mention why it's so easy to make mistakes not least because the way Kodaka plays with themes can be decidedly insensitive (and I was clearly out of my depth with that when I started this blog)

This isn't about all of you. A good number of people here have been wonderful about this, even if they don't understand all too well. But frankly such people are the exception rather than the rule, and the rule is that people don't bother to interrogate their own biases about Kokichi, or really grapple with the way him and V3's narrative might be constructed with bias. And this unwillingness to accept ambiguity and nuance results in some genuinely hurtful behaviour towards people who try to point out that, maybe, not everything was even his fault, or that his character and situation is far more layered than it appears on a first run of the game. Or even a second, or third.

So I'm gonna need people in that camp to swear that you'll do better about this going forward. No really. This situation I've been in didn't come out of nowhere, and while I've beaten the proverbial horse to death that I haven't always been fair or reasonable either, that does not mean I should just back myself into a wall and take the status quo that is 'Tsumugi is telling the truth and Kokichi is just a clown' as a 'fact of canon'. Because there's a very good chance that that might not even be true, and that there's even more tangled messes Kodaka left in the text to unpack that you never even thought of, and that really NEED extra care and nuance to fully understand.

I know you're probably sick of hearing this from me by now. But this is an issue that can never be helped until it's faced head on, and the effect of basically being pathologised over it (due to *checks notes* autism), is seriously damaging- the inability of people to address things as serious issues and themes rather than 'just the pet theory that came out of my nutty head', is something I cannot, on principle, force myself to accept. So please just think about the way you're approaching issues in the future. I will try to do the same.

[willowser]

honestly if i had a bigger brain, i would write an entire android shouto fic

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[jakeperalta]

spent weeks psyching myself up to stand up to my mum and then immediately got shot down by her 😃👍

[kindheartedgummybears]

sitting here... thinking about... it🥰

Taylor and Tabitha with green eyes

[exhausted-archivist]

On the topic of the inherent racism in the Qun and its people, with how baked in racism is, you can't buff it out and reformat. You can't remove it, and BioWare has only been doubling down on it up to Tevinter Nights in 2020. Which means you need to be careful with how you interact and build on it. At least that is how I approach it, in general I don't like to engage with it because it's just so difficult and not in any thought provoking or insightful way. So I refrain from doing so as much as possible in public spaces anyways, because it is so inherently unsafe for me to do so. From an interaction with fandom level, but also on a personal level because some of it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

I am extremely weary of how da4 is going to portray them, I hope it will be better since the writing team has been moved around and there have been some acknowledgements on poor writing of stereotypes and biases in 2020. Which I take with a salt mine worth of salt, especially with the way the new comics like the Missing having lingering themes and stereotypes remaining. How Patrick Weekes described the rebelling antaam in Three Trees to Midnight (Tevinter Nights 2020) was the biggest red flag, followed by the yellow flag from As We Fly short story by Lukas Kristjanson (short story 2023).

With how BioWare has racism and harmful elements baked into the Qun and people in general it is going to difficult for them to fully separate it, update it, or reformat it. But I hope they do. I hope that they actually attempt to make it better like they have suggested they would. Because it is so harmful and they should. I don't think they'll get it right on the first try, but I hope they try. It won't magically fix the racism in the fandom but I would like to not feel the need to crawl out of my skin when playing a vashoth. I would like to see the franchise grow and become better than it started out as. I don't want it to stay stagnant for the sake of "consistency" which it doesn't have by design.