#and having no choice but to let others carry out your will

[bleuu-moon]

Ghost who gets separated from everyone during a mission gone wrong, and whilst trying to figure his way back to the evac point, stumbles across a hostage they had no idea was being held there.

Of course, his first instinct is to get you both the fuck out, but he doesn’t take into the consideration the bad shape you’d be in. It takes him a good ten minutes to actually to pry you awake from exhaustion, and when he gets you on your own feet, you can barely cope with your own weight. You’re disoriented, hardly conscious, the only responses you give him are of grunts and mumblings of one syllable. He’d be lying to himself if said he didn’t consider leaving you. Not for good, but just until he can give someone else your location, and clean out any other fuckers surrounding him. But then you whine out, properly, it’s almost inaudible, but he hears your cracked, strained voice through the distant rapid fire.

Please—please let me go home.

And his mind gets made up. Ghost has no choice but to carry you out, but before he does, out of habit, he reaches towards his comms, forgetting about the stray bullet that’s now wedged right through the middle of it. But he tries it, three times, and the final time is when the static stops and it cuts out, for good.

He finds himself smack in the middle of enemy territory, carrying your limb, idly conscious frame in his arms. Rushing towards the exit, any exit, heavy with caution as he creeps around corners and through doorways, finally reaching a door with “Выход” printed over the top.

Exit.

The minute he steps outside, that’s when he hears it — the thud of a NH90 in flight. And it gets closer and closer, until it passes you both overhead. The same one that he came here on. Ghost watches as it flies away from him, heading towards the snow coated, mountainous horizon, until it’s merely just a black dot in the sky.

He knows that something must have happened to cause such a rapid evac, and he knows that he’ll for sure go down as MIA. But what he doesn’t know is what to do with you, and how to get out of the hostile environment with you both alive.

[k8martins]

*✸ naked in manhattan

summary: reader is kate martin’s first love and wants to reconnect after she comes to new york for the draft, based on naked in manhattan by chappell roan

request: no / yes

warnings: some suggestive stuff towards the end

a/n: i lovvvved this rec i really hope i did it justice… got carried away again and i’m lowkey drunk rn so

“hey kate, it’s me… congrats on the draft! i know we haven’t talked in forever and you’re busy but um… i don’t know, maybe we could meet up sometime? if you want? just let me know. bye.”

the fact kate didn’t answer the call at all made you rethink your choices of not just calling her, but buying a ticket to the draft. your stomach churned after leaving the voicemail, cringing at all of the awkward pauses. you spoke cautiously out of fear of misspeaking somehow, even though you rehearsed the message a thousand times beforehand. it’s like you knew she wouldn’t answer, but still anxious that she didn’t. did she choose not to pick up? is she even thinking of me? all of the torturous scenarios ran through your thoughts, but you ultimately chalked it up to her being obviously busy.

either way, kate had to have at least acknowledged being in the same state as you again; new york. there’s no way she could’ve simply forgotten all the years of dating through high school, and eventually the painful breakup early into freshman year of college. the relationship between you and kate was near perfect; you complimented each other physically and emotionally, and everyone considered you and her as a power couple. there was no doubt that you wouldn’t stop loving kate even after breaking up for the sake of long distance. you had tried to make it work, but kate’s busy schedule and being in different states made for a rough patch in the relationship. the break up inevitably left both of you on good terms, but the constant busyness in both your lives ended up drifting you away from each other. you still exchanged small texts here and there for birthdays or holidays but both of you simply let it happen, since there was pretty much no time to work things out. days without talking turned into weeks, then months, then years without a full and genuine conversation. it broke your heart, but you knew kate was pursuing her dreams out in iowa, and you were doing the same in new york.

you stared at tomorrow’s wnba draft ticket sitting on your desk in your small apartment. it was a sign of a girl that you once knew inside and out; a girl you still tended to imagine roaming through your apartment as if you lived together, as if things were still the way they were before. your mind analyzed the times both of you would talk about eventually living together, and experiencing future years together. the way kate’s eyes would light up at the possibilities of doing anything with you; the mundane or the magical. the more you thought about your old relationship with kate, the more it validated you in wanting to meet up with her. it didn’t have to be anything more than a friendly hang out, but deep down you wanted her back more than anything. realizing these thoughts took your breath away, you forced yourself to breathe deeply and shake kate away from your mind. at least for a little bit.

——————————————————————————

your playlist wasn’t exactly helping you stay calm while getting ready for the draft. listening to music was always a way you tried to get your mind off things, but as chappell roan sang her song it was like she knew about your situation with kate.

“in new york, you can try things,

an inch away from more than just friends”

you skipped the song and continued applying mascara. still, your heart pounded at the thought of seeing kate at the draft. even before you bought a ticket, you envisioned the night in your head; tall and beautiful kate walking up to the stage, her enchanting blue eyes meeting yours from the crowd. kate wasn’t even sure of getting drafted for certain, but you had high hopes for her.

getting up from your desk, you walked over to the full mirror. you kept it casual, wearing a long black dress and minimalistic jewelry. would kate even notice me in the crowd? did she even listen to the voicemail? the thoughts were never ending, but you had to move forward. you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

as you stepped into the draft building, you wouldn’t be surprised if you fell over right there. an endless sea of guests filled the room with dim overhead lights and a large sprawling stage up front. you found your seat in the way back and waited. recognizing all of the accomplished athletes was nothing compared to who you were really looking for. you craned your neck looking for kate, eventually landing on a girl with long blonde hair down her back, assuming it’s her. you stared at the back of her head as if it held a secret message, replaying your past memories with her in your head over and over. the girl you considered an extension of yourself was now in the same room as you for the first time in years, but far away, and on a completely different track in life. still, you thought of your voicemail, glad you at least reached out.

your eyes were glued to kate when all of a sudden she turned her head and looked behind her. immediately looking away, you were too late as she picked you out in the crowd, noticing your stare. out of the corner of your eye, you saw her do a double take on you. it was like the eye contact alone knocked the wind out of you, and your body rushed with emotion. kate now knows you’re here.

the draft was a long process, but something you were willing to sit through, because you knew kate had great things coming. at one point, a woman was announcing the 18th overall pick for the las vegas aces, and you monitored the movement around kate. people had moved near her with cameras, and all eyes were on her. your heart raced as you realized you were watching your ex girlfriend’s dreams come true right in front of your eyes, except you weren’t necessarily apart of it. you ached as you wished so deeply to be sitting next to her, still as her established lover, and supporting her through and through. you had told her during the breakup that you support her no matter what, but it was never the same since the split.

“with the 18th overall pick, the las vegas aces select, kate martin.”

you knew it. your mouth hung open as you watched kate get up and walk towards the stage, just as you imagined so many times before. the people who hugged her on her way up were watched with envy. yet you still joined in on the roaring applause, your eyes growing teary. it was all hitting you at once; how you regretted ever drifting from her, and how badly you desired to be with her every step of the way. why did i ever let that happen?

kate stood on stage holding up her new vegas jersey for a picture. her gorgeous appearance hadn’t changed much since you last saw her, except for the perfectly straightened hair and minimal makeup, which you remembered she never knew how to do complex makeup looks anyway. you then began to daydream about doing it for her, but snapped out of it when she began to step off stage. you didn’t want to make eye contact with her again, but couldn’t take your gaze away from her. and sure enough, you locked eyes again as she walked back to her seat. basically flinching, you looked away and felt irritated at yourself. you sat through the rest of the draft until it came to a close.

——————————————————————————

the stone wall was cold on your back as you stood outside for fresh air. you weren’t going to leave just yet in hopes for the traffic and commotion to die down a bit. you were checking your phone repeatedly, growing tired and doubtful, uncertain if you even cared about meeting up with kate anymore. it was late, and the night was cool. everyone you watched had someone, and somewhere to go home to. hand in hand with their other half, walking away into the night. again, your mind replaced every couple you saw with you and kate. you checked your phone once more for any updates, and felt nothing when there was none. the blank home screen kickstarted your brisk walk to the car, trying not to get too upset. you threw yourself down in the drivers seat when you felt your phone buzz.

“where you at?”

damn you kate. as your heart dropped to your stomach, you nearly teleported out of the car. forgetting to even reply to her, you aimlessly started down the crowded streets. numerous people gave you looks as you quickly shoved against the flow of people. one person in particular had muttered criticism as he moved past you. you stopped in your tracks to turn around and yell an apology, and kept walking with your head still turned behind you. suddenly, your whole body grew tense as you felt a stern grip on your shoulders. whipping your head around, you were face to face with kate martin. unable to stifle your reaction, you slightly yelped with wide eyes. kate laughed at both your reaction and the unreal feeling of seeing you again.

“kate!” you exclaimed, throwing up your hands in disbelief while looking her up and down.

she simply hugged you in response. it was a swift motion of being swept into her arms, a tight hold as if you were going to disappear. you could’ve stayed like that forever and wouldn’t mind. your body nearly went numb with the overwhelming feeling.

“congratulations, kate. i’m so proud of you,” you managed to say within her iron grip.

kate pulled away and thanked you. “you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this moment,” she admitted. and now that you saw it, you noticed the emotion in her face as well.

before you could say anything, she moved her hands back to your shoulders saying, “we have to go, there’s still a ton of people trying to see me but i only wanted to see you.” she rushed the second half of the sentence but you could tell she was being genuine.

you grabbed her hand and led her to your car in order to escape from the media. hand in hand, the two of you were practically jogging. despite the fast getaway, kate was trying to tell you how she was happy to see you at the draft. giggling like an idiot, you both got in your car and caught your breath.

“i cannot believe you’re in my car right now,” you said, looking over at her with your best ‘i want you so bad’ look.

“i can’t believe i ever let you go,” kate said, casually looking away after saying the most un-casual thing ever.

your heart skipped a beat. the way you looked at each other was like you never left high school, and you never broke up. all the feelings were still right were you kept them, and kate reciprocated.

“so… where are we gonna go?” you asked sheepishly. the question was obviously meant to address the present moment, but you also hoped she would read between the lines and answer it in the context of your relationship. either way, you didn’t care what happened that night. you just wanted to be with her and nothing else.

“hm… the bars are gonna be packed so…” kate trailed off, looking back at you.

“are you saying you wanna go back to my place? wowww kate moving a bit fast,” you joked, making her laugh and blush.

“we’re not strangers babe. you know me so well,” she said with her addicting smile. it’s like she was purposefully trying to stop your heart. anything and everything she said or did made you crazy.

“fine we can chill at my place.”

as soon as you pulled out of your parking space, the years between you and kate not speaking were erased and forgotten. the conversation started up immediately and didn’t die down until you got to your apartment. hearing kate’s lovely laugh was something you missed so dearly while talking to her, along with the stupid jokes she would make. it was all the same old kate you knew before.

you keyed into your apartment and let your hands fall at your sides.

“well, this is where i’ve been livin’. it’s not much but it’s cute i guess.”

kate seemed weirdly impressed with your apartment. “you guess? this is actually so cute! the decorations…” she mumbled as she ran her fingers along the counter tops and looked all around.

here she was once again re-enacting the exact scenarios you imagined in your head. slowly walking through your apartment, taking everything in. it was as if the stars aligned, but you had to keep your cool. for what, you weren’t sure.

“so… i have a few drinks if you still feel like drinking,” you gestured towards the fridge as she closely walked past you. she smelled faintly of a nice perfume which made your head swim. all you wanted to do was climb on her and kiss the way you used to, but still weren’t certain she wanted to do the same just yet.

the night descended into many shared drinks sitting on the couch watching dumb shows. the two of you finished cup after cup, with almost no end in sight. kate’s draft gave an actual good excuse to drink, and both of you took it up without fail. your vision was growing hazy and you had trouble even speaking, but kate still looked stunning sitting in front of you. neither of you cared how late it was getting, although you were still concerned of kate’s plans.

“don’t you have to like… go to vegas or something?” you slurred your words, smiling dumbly at kate.

“no, not yet. i’m staying here for a few days.”

you could hear the intoxication in her voice.

“are you sure?” you questioned, laughing at nothing.

kate gave you a look and it became apparent that she had places to be, but simply didn’t care to leave your side. the way she looked at you made you proud of your self control. you didn’t want to move too fast after not seeing her for years, but the chances of taking it slow were becoming more and more slim. either way, she still made you nervous with her devious looks.

“i’ll be… right back, i just wanna… change out of this dress real quick. it’s so annoying,” you blubbered to kate and stumbled towards your room.

“woah wait you’re gonna fall,” kate laughed at you and got up, following close behind you.

“no i’m notttt!” you made it to your room and began doing everything but taking your dress off. your drunken state made it hard to actually change out of your clothes. you stood there merely tugging at your dress and pulling at the straps. both of you burst out laughing at your stupid mannerisms, another moment you missed.

“here lemme help you,” kate muttered.

you were still giggling a bit as kate gently took the hem of your dress and pulled it up above your head.

“i’m not looking by the way,” she said.

“girl look all you want,” you practically begged.

so there you stood in your bra and undies, in front of a fully clothed kate. she looked you up and down with a knowing smile. she stepped even closer to you and placed her hands on your waist. you looked up at her and you looked in each others eyes with the same desires in mind. your mind swam desperately, trying to find the perfect words to say, but too drunk to succeed.

“kate… i’ve been wanting.. missing…” you started off.

“i know, baby…”

she was still able to read you. although you were too drunk to acceptably articulate words, she gently cupped your face and pulled into a deep kiss. it was like a part of you was unlocked again, a part that was hidden away for so long. you ran your hands through her highlighted hair and grasped it, making her groan into the kiss. her hands were unable to stop roaming your body, a place she hadn’t explored in quite some time.

she broke the kiss to sit down on the bed, and gesturing for you to get in her lap. you laughed in excitement and also relief that she wanted to do the exact things you did. you essentially straddled her lap as she immediately reconnected the kiss. your mind was in disbelief that you were finally making out with kate martin again. the kiss was meaningful and hungry, it was a wordless way to tell you everything you needed to know. it told you about everything you had missed. you pulled away to breathe and she instantly connected her lips to your neck. remembering how she is, you realized you were in for several hickeys.

“kate baby… go easy on the… the hickeys…”

“yeah right,” she said breathlessly.

you bit your lip and succumbed to the melting feeling of her lips on your neck and collarbones, which was its own form of intoxication. you were willing to let kate do whatever she wanted to you. your trust was still there.

the effect of the drinks had still not worn off as each movement began to blend into the next, smudging together in your thoughts like a romantic impressionist painting. kate had less clothes on, and both of you were ending up in different positions than remembered. but things were objectively slowing down, as the both of you grew tired. kate had moved you onto your back, lazily and slowly kissing down your body.

you felt yourself beginning to drift off as kate simply rested her head on your chest. her blonde hair was now very messy, her beautiful face now exasperated and lips puffy from extensive kissing. you began stroking her hair and almost let yourself doze off before kate began to mumble.

“i love you.”

the phrase alone almost woke you up entirely.

“i love you more kate.”

it was then you could finally fall asleep, with the world in your arms.

[misc-obeyme]

Spears Crossed

LISTEN. Nobody said I was good at titles, okay? Spear Lessons was bad enough, but I didn't wanna just call this Spear Lessons Part Two, you know??

Anyway, this is the second part to Spear Lessons. I am completely addicted to medieval sparring youtube now and there is no turning back for me. Also might be a little in love with Raphael, but that's a different problem.

GN!MC x Raphael

Warnings: none, 'tis still fluff

You stood in the RAD coliseum, your feet spread and knees lowered in a fighting stance. You clutched a spear in one hand, held up and slightly behind yourself, waiting. The large space was filled with tense silence.

Across from you, still several feet away, Raphael stood straight, but relaxed. His spear was held in his hand, pointing up to the ceiling. He seemed perfectly composed as he kept his eyes on you.

You crouched slightly, waiting for him to make the first move.

When Raphael stepped back, bringing his spear down into position, you knew he was deliberately going slow enough for you to see what he was doing. It irritated you just a little. After all this time, why was he still going easy on you?

Because of this, you were prepared for his lunge. You brought your spear down and around, tucking it on the inside of his to easily knock it to the side. It stabbed past your head harmlessly.

You took advantage of the moment and stepped forward into your own thrust, aiming the tip of your spear at his chest.

Raphael stepped backward, pulling the tip of his spear just beneath yours so it was positioned to knock you out of the way.

Your spear listed to the side a little as you pulled it back into yourself, rearranging into a prepared stance. The tips of your spears were now crossed and they clanked against each other faintly as you each shuffled your feet in preparation for the next attack.

It was a split second decision for you to take the offense, stepping forward before Raphael could, bringing your spear into line to hit him.

Raphael deflected your spear almost too easily. He may have started slow for your benefit, but you recognized when he got serious.

That was when his spear slid across the top of yours, the tip aimed right at your neck.

Your best choice was to duck, so you did. You took several steps backward to further avoid the strike. Then you turned a little to re-enter the fighting space and thrust your own spear out at Raphael. You kept your dominant hand on the bottom of the spear, using your arm's strength to send it out from you as far as it would go.

You nearly clipped him, but Raphael knocked it aside in time.

You were breathing a little heavily now, but you were proud of yourself for getting that close.

You didn't let up. You decided a series of quick thrusts was the way to go - throw him off by not letting him take a break from defending against you.

You moved forward with each thrust, your feet carrying you across the coliseum floor easily, the continual jabs from the spear being repelled each time. But you noted how Raphael's parries were getting sloppier and sloppier as you pressed him.

So you continued, kept going until you saw the perfect opening. Raphael's spear was already slightly off to the side due to meeting your last thrust. So you used your own spear to press his down, forcing the tip to the ground. Then you thrust, letting your spear slide up the length of his until the point reached his throat.

If you had been fighting for real, he would be dead.

Raphael looked at you over the tip of your spear, which was made of a harmless rubber and was now bent in half against his neck. His surprised expression suddenly melted into a smile and your heart constricted when you saw the pride there.

You laughed, overwhelmed at the fact that you had finally beat him. For months now, you had been sparring here in the coliseum and you had never once managed to hit him. Every time, Raphael deflected your attacks.

You dropped your sparring spear, a simple thing made of wood, letting it clank against the ground.

"I did it!" you exclaimed.

You didn't wait for a reaction from Raphael, you simply ran toward him and flung your arms around his neck.

There was another clank as Raphael dropped his own spear - also for practice and made of wood and rubber. His arms caught you and he stepped back a few paces from your momentum.

You suddenly found yourself staring directly into those blue eyes. They were as calm as they always were, but there was something else there now. A spark of feeling that you couldn't quite decipher. It was more than pride, it was fondness, it was accomplishment.

Memories flashed through your mind - all the days you had come here with your practice spear, ready to lose yet again. Every time Raphael had carefully shown you the nuances of handling the spear correctly. Whenever he took the time to explain to you what you were doing wrong. The adrenaline of a sparring match firing you up, the rapid beating of your heart, from exertion and exhilaration and something else you couldn't quite admit to.

"I'm proud of you, MC," Raphael said. "You've really mastered the use of the spear."

It was such a simple statement. It was just like him to say something like that to you so easily, with all his emotions simmering beneath them. He remained so calm upon the surface, but his words gave him away.

"You were still holding back," you said quietly. "I saw how you fell into the stance so slowly. Don't do that next time, okay?"

Raphael chuckled. "I won't, I promise."

You pulled an arm back so you could let your fingertips brush through his hair, just barely catching the edges of the gold diamonds.

All the feelings that had built up inside you throughout the time you'd been learning from Raphael finally spilled over.

It seemed that Raphael could see it happening in your eyes because his arms tightened around you.

That was all the encouragement you needed. You cupped his face with your hands and kissed him.

The spark you'd seen in his eyes flared up between you instead, a swirling flutter in your stomach as he returned your kiss.

You pulled away with a little gasp, your nerves jangling.

Raphael's eyes were shining. "MC," he said. "I want to give you something."

He let go of you, though you could feel the reluctance as he did. You waited, watching him.

Raphael lifted a hand, a glow surrounded him, and the rain of spears he was so well known for began. You didn't need to step out of the way because you knew they wouldn't touch you.

And they didn't. They didn't even hit the ground. Raphael grabbed one and the rest disappeared. It looked just like the Celestial Realm spear he had been using that day you first saw him on the grass on the RAD campus. Bright and shining, all gold and steel.

Raphael held it out to you. "I want you to have this."

Your eyes widened. "Y-you… what?"

He smiled, stepped closer to you, lifted one of your hands to hold the spear with his. "You've earned it," he said. "And if there's ever a day when you need to defend yourself for real, you'll have a weapon that will never fail you."

The thoughtfulness of this gesture made you feel like you might explode into a tiny burst of spears yourself.

"Are you sure?" you asked.

Raphael's expression became serious. "I have never been so sure of anything in my life."

You turned into him, overwhelmed. And although the bright and shining spear was still clutched between you, Raphael kissed you again. It was full of all the things he hadn't said - everything you already knew from the look in his eyes and the spear in your hand.

It was a bit risky, perhaps. You were both keenly aware of what had happened the last time an angel fell in love with a human. But you were also prepared for any adversity that happened to come your way. Even if it meant that in the end, it would only be the two of you and some stolen Celestial Realm spears.

Spear Lessons | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[whorediaries-09]

if you tasted poison;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- angst, sexual assault. a/n- please do not continue under cut, if any of the topics trigger you.

prequel masterlist series masterlist little train.

you were woken up by a loud thud on the door. out of instinct, you tried to crane your neck to locate the source of the sound. instead, a sharp pain shot throughout your body, tears at your waterline.

'she's not a death eater?'

'no. did you bring the veritaserum now?'

as the tears flowed down your cheeks, your vision cleared. severus snape and lucius malfoy stood by the door, discussing about you.

'we must trust the dark lord's choices. if we question it, it may backfire on us,' snape said, looking over at you. 'ah, she's awake.' lucius sneered.

'do you not trust my judgement now?'

'i'm a solemn servant of the dark lord, not yours malfoy,' the latter let out a breathe.

'the dark lord trusts me, you can't hold me captive,' you said. on a second thought, it wasn't the best decision to indicate any signs of life between them, yet here you were. lucius lifted a brow.

'you're awake now are you, mudblood?'

'must have fallen asleep. really comfy place to sleep actually,' you bit back.

'mind your attitude,'

'or what? your little snake friends will gather around and kill me? death doesn't fucking scare me,'

'you've got a nice tongue for somebody who'd in dire need of medical assistance,' lucius commented, his steps faltering near you. 'mind your attitude, or i might just feed you to nagini.' he bent over your form, tilting his head to meet your eyes.

you spat on his face.

he seethed with anger, getting away from you.

*-

for the second time that day, the door creaked open. you heard the familiar steps near you, carrying a tray, the metal of utensils clinking against each other with every movement.

'eat, i've got to keep you alive, in the least,' he said, throwing the tray on your lap. he swished his wand, setting your hands free.

'no funny business,'

he stood by you, watching as you wolfed down the food. it was bland, lacking any form of spices, and cold, but it didn't matter. as long as it was something edible, you were happy with it. you needed to be alive, and you would get out of here, alive. you drowned the glass of water, breathing heavily as you finished the food.

'good girl,' he said, taking away the tray.

'don't call me that, lucius,' you warned. he swished his wand, tying up your hands. but this time around, he let you up in the air, floating within his eye line.

'no? what should i call you then? a filthy whore perhaps?' he said, sliding the shoes off your feet. you screeched, the pain shooting right through you.

'don't touch me!' you shouted, trying to get away from him. but he had you in place, as you floated like an object in the air. he had complete control over your body.

'no?' he asked, breathing you in, his fingers raking over your form. you felt the tears clot your vision. 'i fear,' he whispered, 'you're not in much of a position to give orders.'

his hands were cold and disgusting on your body. he held your head up, craning your broken neck on the other side.

'shame,' he breathed, ripping apart your clothes, matted with your blood. 'what a fucking shame. such a pretty mudblood,' he said, eyes cold as ice gazing over the exposed skin of your naked body. his words were vile and cruel, stabbing within you. as his hands touched every part of your body, as you hung mid air, helplessly, hot tears pouring out of your eyes.

'lucius, please, please leave me,' you begged, feeling pathetic. he laughed cruelly, bitterly and coldly.

'can't,' he said, burying himself within you. 'you feel so good.' pure hot white rage filled you up as he pushed himself within you, your nerves flowing with disgust.

'taking it like such a good girl,' he groaned, his filthy hands roaming all over your body. 'what a good whore,'

*-

it was cold. your body was restricted and lump on the ground. you could feel the blood dry at your lips. your body ached from all the abuse lucius had dawned upon you. you hated yourself for it. you ought to have had been more careful. it was your fault, letting lucius catch you when you'd been sneaking in his manor.

the disgust of the feeling of his touch still tasted like poison on your tongue.

you hated how you couldn't spit it out.

you felt your body growing lump, the hot tears a quiet contradiction to the coldness. the agony was too much. you felt pathetic, your eyelids becoming heavy, as you felt your breathing falter.

you didn't have it in yourself to go with grace.

you were dying for somebody who wanted to be the hero, flying around and saving faces. you'd be buried by him as he wore the same jewels you gave him.

and with your gathered storms, you watched as the soul torturously died within you. you felt your battleships sink, killing you softly, killing you treacherously. drowning you slow and heavy, pulling you under the waves which carried you to the shore.

it was as if you saw your life flash within your mind, when you heard the voice of the loss of your life. when you saw through your tears, the sparkle of life you'd burned reflect in front of your eyes. when you felt the cold yet cozy touch, so unfamiliar yet so similar.

you felt yourself being pulled against his chest, as he whispered, into your ear, holding you close,

'fuck, please, hold on,'

pathetically, you closed your eyes, the sight of tears in the gray eyes you lost the last.

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original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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[thedeviltohisangel]

FOR A FORTNIGHT THERE WE WERE:

What are Callum and Evelyn up to at this point in time? What does their life in Vancouver look like?

Let me know what recent happenings I should explore next…

Evelyn giddily smiled from the window of her plane as it taxied to the waiting SUV, a hooded figure emerging from the backseat.

It had only been a few days since they’d parted ways in London but her chest had ached every second. Nightly FaceTimes and incessant sharing of reels only went so far to close the gap between her and the man she loved.

The plane came to a stop and she was out of her seat, no care for her belongings, and at the doorway impatiently tapping her fingers against the hull.

“They’ll have the stairs connected in just a moment, Miss Shaw,” her flight attendant said calmly. Evelyn felt like she didn’t even need them. Felt like she could fly down to his arms with how high on excitement she was. Ever since the press tour had ended for Masters of the Air and they had transitioned to the beginning of an Emmy campaign, things felt so much lighter. They had made it through the occasion of showing the world exactly how and where and when they had fallen in love. Answered all the interview questions about how they knew it was becoming real and how they navigated the discovery. Had survived the gifs of them staring at each other and holding hands and whispering in the others ear. The TikTok edits of Callum opening her water bottle or playing footsie or her head resting on his shoulder between interviewers. Evelyn felt free of ever having to explain again why she had made the choices she had and felt free of ever having to justify their love for each other and free of trying to convince people that, even after two years, it was real and lasting and forever.

The flight attendant opened the door and she was down the stairs with a smile just as she realized he was working his way up them. Anything to get to each other even a moment quicker.

“My fucking baby,” he groaned as they met halfway, her arms squeezing tight around his neck and his arms lifting her by the small of her back. She buried her nose in the side of his neck and breathed him in deeply as he turned and carried her the rest of the way to the pavement. “How was the flight?”

“Boring without you to sneak into the back cabin with.” Every private flight they took together went by quickly when there was a private bedroom in the back for them to take advantage of. Whether it was fucking or love making or discussing their future, it was the way she preferred to fly and doing so alone completely paled in comparison.

“Where’s all your stuff?” he asked as she dropped onto her feet.

“Still up there. Would’ve taken to long to grab it and I wanted to be able to grab you as soon as possible.” She pinched at his butt for emphasis.

“Let me go help him.” Cal pecked the tip of her nose and went to offer his assistance to the men loading her larger suitcases into the back of the car, all her belongings that her team hadn’t brought when they’d arrived a week ago to get the rented townhouse to her standard before she landed, and the flight attendant carrying her duffle bag of personal items down the stairs that she had left behind.

“Thank you, Violet. You didn’t have to do that,” Evelyn said as she jogged to take the bag from her.

“It’s not a problem, Miss Shaw. Just happy we could fly you safely into the arms of Mr. Turner once more.” There was a teasing twinkle behind her eyes and Ev blushed. She got to keep the plane in the divorce and all the members of the team had expressed their excitement in the change of leadership. It was nice to have smiles and giggles back in the passenger seats.

Just as quickly as the bag was in her hand, Callum snatched it right out and carried it over to the trunk.

“Evvie, I love you more than anything, but the house is already half full with your clothes and shoes. How much more did you really need to bring?” She was only going to be in Vancouver in between press commitments for season 2 of House of the Dragon before she’d be back to pre production meetings for her new Star Wars film.

“I need exactly what I brought. Kelleigh and I have a lot of things planned while you guys are on set all day.” They had both been furiously texting for weeks about the cafes and shops and day trips they wanted to take together while they were in the same city with their men over the summer. Evelyn was looking forward to spending time with her friend almost as much as she was her boyfriend. “I can’t just sit at home playing with myself while I wait for you.”

“I mean, you could,” he shrugged as he opened the car door for her to slide into, “I wouldn’t mind coming home to that after a long day.”

“I haven’t had sex with you in almost a week. Trust me when I say you’ll still be coming home to plenty.” He smiled as he kissed her properly once they were tucked into the backseat and the car took off towards their temporary Canadian home. Cal was used to staying in hotels or small apartments but Evelyn had wanted something more substantial. A townhouse they could make into a home for the three months they were back and forth with each other. A little semblance of normalcy to host their friends for dinner and dance to a record player and all the new rooms that could spend their free time christening. It stirred something in his chest when she had presented him with options and called it a home away from home and asked him, almost sheepishly, if he was ok with her following him around like that. Though they had been each others for two years, it had been tumultuous until the divorce papers were signed and they were truly free of her ex husband. He had been dumbfounded she’d even asked before recovering quickly and affirming her with kisses that he literally could not have wanted anything more. “You’ve shaved recently,” she remarked as she stroked her fingers along his soft cheeks and jaw.

“Tried to keep the scruff for you as long as I could.” He puckered his lips and she obliged.

“Golo miss me?”

“Whines at the empty side of the bed every morning.” The pup couldn’t even bring himself to jump up and steal it. He knew it was reserved for his mother and would keep it that way until she appeared. Only then would he jump onto the bed to sneak between them. Her smile faltered slightly as her eyes dropped to where their fingers were tangling together in her lap.

“I took that test we were talking about the other day.” Cal assumed the outcome based on her demeanor alone. Assumed it as soon as she didn’t mention it off the plane. “It was negative. Just a scare.” He nodded and tangled their fingers tighter. While Evelyn had been scared, marriage and children so far away in her mind after her ordeal, she knew they were top of mind for him. Knew he’d had a ring with her name on it six months after their first date at a Chelsea pub.

“Not the right time anyways,” he mumbled into the top of her head as her cheek dropped to his chest. He hoped she couldn’t feel it racing. A part of him had thought this would be a good forcing mechanism towards taking the next step. Solidify that they were headed down the path of marriage and a family. A path she talked to him about when they were dreaming against pillows but never seemed to want to commit to any of the details of. She always told him one day. Had recently switched to one day soon. He was holding onto those four extra letters with an iron grip and the control to not ask her everyday if it was the day soon had arrived was grasped just as tightly.

“I love you,” she whispered as she looked up at him. “I missed you. Don’t like being away from you.”

“I love you, too,” he said with a kiss. “Got me forever, you know that.” Evelyn hummed with satisfaction as they kissed a few more times.

“That’s a long time to put up with me.” It was said with a smile but meant as a probe. Deep down she knew the second she had told Callum she’d missed her period that he had joy lit behind his eyes. Knew how he would never push her for the future they both wanted to come sooner but was growing impatient at feeling like she was holding herself back from truly being happy with him.

“I’m at my happiest when I’m putting up with you,” he teased back as he smoothed her hair back from her face. “I don’t know how many different ways to assure you that I want to do life with you, Ev. Every last breath of it.”

“I know that, I promise. And I’ve been working extra hard with Dr. Silva to try and get over this block in my mind about marriage-“ He smoothed his thumb along her cheekbone and kissed her forehead to ease her out of her spiral.

“Ring or no ring, piece of paper or not, you’ve got me forever. I want you to heal at the pace you need. Forget about me and whatever shit I spew when I’m drunk on loving you.” Did calling her his wife and calling himself her husband mean something to him? Yes. Was he fully aware that the terms had lost their significance to her? Also, yes. But he was also rational enough to know whatever version of her he had, he would be content with. Having even a sliver of her was worth more than anything. Anything.

“You’re my partner in life. That means give and take. I can’t just keep taking from you and not giving. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.” His eyes flickered to the stranger at the wheel. He didn’t feel a fight brewing but the conversation was already too personal for his own comfort. For the protective streak in his heart that urged him to keep her safe.

“We’ll finish this at the house?” he asked with another kiss to her forehead. She nodded but sat up, no longer intertwined in his lap. Her gaze went out the window and she sighed as the city passed by.

“I wish my head was simpler,” she whispered after a few moments. He found her hand in the middle of the seat.

“I think you’re beautiful and crazy and I love you exactly as you are. Wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Not even my obsession with onion rings?” Cal pulled her closer with a laugh and she fell back into him with ease.

“No. Not even that.”

[slowlymyavenue]

An experiment in subtlety

We've all got our favorite sorts of control.

Some enjoy the overt, the powerful, that feeling of your mind collapsing beneath the weight of another's will.

Others like the dance; verbal interplay, moving back and forth and escalating until the inevitable submissive climax.

There are merits to all of them, but my favorite is often the more subtle methods. Simple, subtle shifts in the mind, you might say. So, shall we begin?

In my experiments, I've always found the moment a subject slips into trance to be of particular interest.

How much of the setup is required, how much can be dismissed, how much is purely a matter of preference?

(This post requires a bit of participation, if you'll humor me. Try and pinpoint the moment your mind stops operating freely, the phrase that finally causes you to fixate fully on my words. If you're feeling generous, let me know in the comments below.)

What I've found is the latter, in almost all cases. That is to say, the bulk of the induction process is purely an issue of preference. The detailed setup, the verbal patterns? These are enjoyable components of the process, but that search for the moment of submission inevitably leads to the conclusion that they are largely for pleasure, and not strictly necessary. You slip in and out of trance as a natural process, day-to-day, and those moments need no suggestions to occur.

The moment that drops you, then, is a simple, subtle shift. One moment, you are actively in control of your thoughts...the next, you have surrendered that control to my words, chosen to let me guide you from that point forward. It's a fascinating thing - one particularly effective turn of phrase, a well-timed pause or lilt, and you're infinitely more receptive.

But I don't intend to sound arcane. You've likely seen Gestalt images - those pictures that can be two different things depending on how you look at them. A vase that is also two faces, the duck that morphs into a rabbit. The shift from wakeful to entranced is quite similar. I wonder if it feels the same for you.

You're staring at an image of a vase, and your eyes travel just a tiny bit to one side...suddenly there are two faces where the vase once sat. You're reading my words, lucid and by choice, when something I've said catches you in a stronger way than the rest... and then you are being carried along by them, no longer able to look away.

The change may be profound, but the path there is subtle. All the words and images evoked are simply means to an end, to recreate that small and simple moment.

It may have already occurred by now. Perhaps you are no longer fully conscious. Perhaps you were no longer fully conscious even when you began to read. It depends on how attuned you've become to my words - if at all.

Consider listening to a song that you know, in those few moments before you recognize it. The change between familiarity and clear, concise memory is another, very similar, phenomenon. You know the song when you first hear it, but the second you recall every line of lyric or melody is a separate moment.

Which situation is more analogous to slipping into trance, for you - or is it something else entirely? Do you like to feel your will being slowly seduced and subverted by mine, or is it more pleasant to be surprised by the sudden loss of control?

These questions are mostly rhetorical. After all, your mind is getting more and more hazy as we continue this somewhat single-sided discussion.

It isn't necessary to think in order to read my words, and reading my words without thought makes you feel very good. Relaxed. Comfortable. Even aroused.

The trick of a subtle shift is that at a cursory glance, it seems I've sabotaged it by asking you to pay closer attention. When you are watching closely, it makes sense that you'd be able to catch it - stop yourself, or choose to succumb. The reality, as you are beginning to realize, is quite the opposite.

Watching closely does not detract from that subtle moment, rather it makes the shift more effective. You can enjoy all the facets of the induction, and they become more compelling as your perspective changes and you feel it happen, all the while doing nothing to prevent it. You can practically feel my words acquiring a real, physical pull, drawing you deeper into fixation. It's always so nice to follow along, anyway.

This particular descent will leave you more dazed than the usual ones. You've been paying closer attention, leaving more of your awareness to be dissolved, melted away. That's alright, it will pass. You'll find yourself more easily able to fixate on my words as a result, and that's the point, isn't it?

Allow the blank, dazed feeling to arouse you more - or for the first time, if it hasn't already.

Let yourself drift in a comfortable sort of mindless fog, and begin to touch yourself for me. Let yourself linger more than usual on the sensation of pleasure you feel when you read my words, and especially when you follow and obey. Savor the haze that covers your mind, feel how it amplifies the arousal, makes it so much easier to touch yourself than to think.

Bring yourself to orgasm, and discover how long the subtle shift lasts this time. Like and reblog this post. Follow my account.

Tell me about your experience, if you like. Otherwise, drift slowly up towards lucid consciousness, and allow yourself to shift back to wakefulness. Take your time, there's no hurry.

As always, enjoy.

[sentientsliotar]

What if Light developed aphantasia?

Say when Soichiro fires the blank, Light sustains a head injury- and recovers entirely except he now cannot picture anyone’s face so he can’t use the death note.

Light could definitely get Misa to write names for him, he would still have a lot of power as Kira. But there’s something poetic about god-complex Light having to rely on others to use his divine powers.

[strang3lov3]

Dirty Laundry

Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Tags - 18+, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation on a washing machine, dirty boxer sniffing (you fucking freak), fantasizing about a dirty old man, unprotected piv, creampie, curmudgeon joel talks you through knife safety, washing machine repairs, and overstim. 8k words, idk what the fuck happened. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal , @beefrobeefcal , and @papipascalispunk for helping me edit this monstrosity and @joelsgreys for letting me scream about washers and dryers for days <3 A/N - i have worked harder on this than my finals, but that should surprise no one. i only have one more left and then you should be seeing more of me this summer <3 i have a lot a lot a lot planned and I've been so excited to share new shit with you. Roman girlies, I haven't forgotten about you. He's up next. Anyway, you maniacs know what you’re here for, so please enjoy.

Joel’s best kept secret is his Whirlpool brand washer and dryer set, which is hidden deep in his basement. You stand before it now, loading your dirty laundry into it, using what is definitely too much of Joel’s detergent. 

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say his washer and dryer set was his best kept secret, until you came along and forced his hand. Everything was fine, and then you showed up, both yourself and your basket of laundry soaking wet, leaving Joel with no choice but to lend you a hand. Biggest mistake of his life. 

As great as Jackson is, it still comes up short sometimes. Not with everything; you’re beyond blessed to live in the safety of its walls. Just technologically, sometimes it can leave you missing the finer things. It's not Jackson’s fault society is twenty years into an apocalypse, thus running on twenty-plus year old appliances. The older ovens, refrigerators, and other appliances that were built in the seventies to the nineties or so are surprisingly doing alright, but the ones built when manufacturing began to take a turn for the worse around the later nineties and 2000s are beginning to crap out, especially the washers. God, you hate laundry day. The washers at the laundromat in Jackson always give you a hard time. Week after week, your chosen washer won’t start, or it’ll stop mid-cycle. The laundry attendant, Patti, often helps you wash your clothes by hand which is nice, but still frustrating for you both. 

On a busy and gloomy Sunday a couple months back, you were lucky enough to pick one of the less temperamental washers and hardly had to fight or beg and plead with it to get it to wash your clothes. However, your luck ran out when it came time to dry, your dryer wouldn’t run. Refused to start, even with Patti’s help. Worse yet, every other dryer was in use at the moment.  You were shit out of luck. Patti offered you a sympathetic smile and sent you home with a baggy full of clothes pins and a wagon to carry your basket of sopping wet clothes. The clothespins were a nice gesture, but didn’t help much as you didn’t have a clothesline. And - you had to laugh - most of them were broken. Oh dear, sweet Patti.

Once at home, you did your best to hang up your clothes on your porch, laying them out over the thick wooden railing, securing them with rocks. The wind was blowing something fierce that day, and then you felt it – a raindrop. And then another, and another. Before you knew it, you were caught in a torrential downpour, with your clothes blowing every which way. Working to gather your clothes as quickly as possible, you haphazardly chucked the rocks that were keeping them still in every direction, your neighbor Joel interrupting the task when he came outside and started to shout at you. Joel’s a man that can only be described as crotchety. A curmudgeon, even. 

“The fuck are you throwing rocks at my window for?” he shouted, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind and the rain smacking your porch. 

“What?” you yelled back, “Joel, I can’t hear you.” 

“ROCKS,” he shouted again, “Why are you throwi–” Joel realized it was a lost cause then. He could see in your face that you couldn’t hear him, you looked puzzled and annoyed for a moment before you returned to throwing rocks and gathering clothes. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. Through the pouring rain, he marched across both his and your lawns and right up the steps of your porch. “What are you doing?”

“I was at the laundromat and the dryer stopped working so Patti gave me clothespins but I don’t have a clothesline so I tried to lay them out on my porch with rocks so they could dry but then it started to ra–” Getting the picture, Joel had stopped listening to you and joined you in gathering your clothes tossing stones back into the rock edging surrounding your house. “What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Nothin’, just– come on. Let’s go – we’re goin’ to my house,” he answered, dumping the last of your clothes into your basket. 

“Why?”

Lightning shoots from a nearby cloud, with booming thunder following suit. Joel’s soaking wet, as are you. His hair was dark and stuck to his forehead, his thin t-shirt clung to his body, outlining his soft, pillowy tummy and belly button and his thick, muscular biceps. “Go, go, go,” Joel shouted, waving you away. “Just go. Move.” he grunted as he lifted up your laundry basket and hauled it across the grass in quick strides. He held the basket on his hip as he opened his door for you, guiding you inside with a push to your lower waist. 

Your shoes squeaked as you followed Joel through his house. He took your basket down his basement stairs, “Be careful for me, stairs are steep,” he warned you, “Don’t need you crackin’ your skull open. Got enough shit to deal with.” It was sweet, knowing that he was looking out for you – even with the irritation lacing his tone. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw what Joel had led you to. A washer and a dryer, olive green in color. He opened the door of the dryer and shoved your wet clothes inside it, then took off his own soaked shirt and pants and tossed them in too. “They’re clean,” he told you. 

In another lifetime where the world doesn’t go to shit and fungus is the least of your problems, the mundane appliances in front of you would be the very last thing on your mind. You’d be focused on Joel, watching rivulets of water slide down his jaw, past his Adam’s apple and pool in the hollow of his throat. You’d be tracing the outline of his body with your eyes, following that thin line of hair that spreads down his lower stomach, disappearing under his boxers. You’d be eyeing his thick bulge and the way that if you squint, you could see the outline of his cock. But in this life, in this moment – where the world went to shit a long time ago – you’re more amazed by the washer and dryer he stands next to. “This is why I never see you at the laundromat? The whole time, you’ve had a washer and dryer?” you asked, astonished. 

“M’not supposed to, but yeah,” Joel answered, shutting the dryer door before turning to you with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised. Don’t you go tellin’ anyone, now.”

“I’m gonna tell Patti.”

Joel looked betrayed and puzzled. “I’m doin’ you a favor,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“You want me to dry your clothes or not?” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as you shrugged. “Oh, Christ,” Joel grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell would you go and rat me out?”

“Because, Joel, ” you began explaining, “All of the washers and dryers are breaking and you’re hoarding your own? I don’t think so – if everyone else has to share the washers, then you do too,” you scolded. “It’s selfish.” 

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.” You stared at Joel for a moment before turning on your heel to go tattle on him, just like you swore you would. “Wait–” Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you. Despite being long gone from Boston QZ, Joel couldn’t quite shake those smuggling and bargaining habits of his. You were serious about this threat, and he knew it. You’d march your ass through the pouring rain to go snitch on him to Patti. And really, the worst that would’ve happened to Joel would be a scolding from Maria and the washer and dryer removed from his home and placed in the laundromat. It’s not like he’d be placed in a pillory and have rotten tomatoes thrown at him. But still. Joel liked his washer and dryer. He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, Joel. I just want to better our community.” 

Give me a break. “What do you want,” he repeated, his voice lower. 

You pressed your lips in a thin line, eyeing those pretty olive green appliances of his. It’s not a far walk to Joel’s house… And you wouldn’t have to wait in line to wash your clothes behind twenty other people. You did want to better your community, that much was true. But you weren’t opposed to bettering your own life. “Let me use your washer and dryer. Whenever I want.”

Joel was quick to counter in a stern voice, “Twice a week, tops.” 

“Three times,” you tried.

“Once,” Joel lowered his offer and then looked at you with his eyes squinted, his head cocked to the side. “Who does laundry three times a week?” 

It was a fair point. Even with your very own washer and dryer, you wouldn’t do that much laundry. “Fine. Twice,” you agreed, and Joel held out his hand for you to take and you shook on it. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm. In that moment you met his eyes, taking in the beauty of his face. Those sparkling, big brown eyes and the beautiful curve of his aquiline nose. Your eyes traveled lower still, and it hit you both at that moment - the realization that Joel was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that you were still shivering in your cold, wet clothes. Joel dropped your hand quickly and grabbed a clean t-shirt from one of his own laundry baskets on top of the dryer. “Here. You can change into this and toss your clothes in there too, f’ya want.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking the shirt from his hand. “Do you have something to wear?”

“I’m a little behind on laundry, actually…” Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. “Uhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to ‘high’ and press the start button. I’ll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when you’re done,” he said, and then shuffled past you. 

Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joel’s t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. It was a muted teal in color, littered with a couple of bleach stains here and there. You liked it. 

Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. “Honey?” 

“Yeah, Joel?”

“N- no, like…Was askin’ f’ya wanted honey in your tea.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Y– yes please. Thank you.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. “Thought you were a coffee drinker,” you mused awkwardly, attempting to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, “You like tea?”

Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. “No. Just tryin’ to be polite for ya.” 

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, you know,” you smiled into your mug. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aaand there it is. Curmudgeon Joel was back, Neighborly Joel never lasted long anyway. 

You sat on Joel’s couch, warming up with your cup of tea. Joel had noticed goosebumps on your thighs and pulled a blanket over your lap. He sat next to you with his mug steaming in his hands and just stared at you, not even realizing how deeply he was admiring the way his shirt hugged your curves just right, highlighting all the right parts of you. He jolted when he felt his cock thicken in his boxers, spilling his scalding hot tea all over his bare thighs. “God bless it,” he swore. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket from your legs and covered his own lap to hide his growing erection from you. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” 

“Nothin’. Just– m’cold,” he lied. “Jesus fuckin’- just - c’mere,” Joel huffed as he patted the spot next to him and urged you closer, then laid the blanket back over your legs. You sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as you sipped your tea and Joel’s went cold. Dork. 

Moments passed. You sat in silence, the only sound was the rain pounding against Joel’s windows as your heart fluttered in anxiety, or maybe excitement. You might’ve even called it butterflies in your tummy. But you knew better. It was just the close proximity to Joel. And the fact that you were wearing his shirt, and he was practically naked. All of it pretty insignificant, honestly. It was basically nothing.

Joel finally spoke first, “Was thinkin’ it’d be best if you’d come by at night, when I’m on patrol or somethin’. Nobody’ll see you with your laundry and it’ll stay our lil’ secret, yeah?” You nodded, still a little bashful with everything that had happened. You aren’t often like that. It’s cute, Joel thought. “An’ you can use my detergent and whatnot. Whatever you need, s’yours.” 

“Thank–” an especially bright flash of lightning followed by nearly deafening thunder interrupted you. You startled and sort of hurled yourself closer to Joel, grabbed his forearm and held it tight. It was just a reflex, probably. Basically nothing. 

“It’s just a storm, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna bite ya,” Joel teases with a grin. 

“Oh, shut up,” you let go of his arm and missed the warmth of his skin beneath your palm almost immediately, but your longing for his touch was quickly soothed. Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side as you listened to the sounds of the storm together. You stayed like that, inhaling the sweet scent of him, masculine and heady. He smelled like the rain, too, and the hair on his underarms tickled your skin but you didn’t mind. When your laundry dried, he carried your basket home for you. You thanked him and moved to shut the door, but Joel stopped it with his hand, “Washer can be sorta delicate sometimes, so just be careful with it.”

“Noted,” you replied. “See ya, Joel.”

“See ya, hon.”

A few nights later, you returned to his home with your basket of laundry. Joel was gone, on patrol as he often is at night. Doing the laundry was uneventful , even though you probably used too much detergent, but whatever. Joel didn’t have to know. The next time you did laundry, Joel was at home. He told you not to worry about whichever nights you come by, that he’d always leave the washer and dryer empty in the evenings for you to use. He was even generous enough to make you dinner that night. 

It all worked out. Joel’s washer and dryer stayed unknown to the rest of Jackson, and your laundry was cleaned in a much more efficient way. There really weren’t any flaws in your and Joel’s system, as long as you didn’t include the one laundry night where Joel was gone on patrol again, but had come home just as you were leaving. You bumped into him accidentally, causing a lacy pair of your panties to fall right out of your basket and onto his shoe. He bent down and picked them up for you, not even realizing what he was holding. “Oh. My bad,” he blushed, once he recognized the garment. “I’ll just…” and put them back in your basket. From that point forward, he was always careful to stay out of your way. Aside from that it really did all work out. 

-

After loading your clothes into Joel’s washer, you shut the washer door and turn it on. You make your way upstairs and there’s a note on Joel’s table – Leftovers in the fridge are yours if you wanna heat them up.

Opening the fridge, you see a neatly packed container of what looks to be chicken and vegetables. Yum. God, you’ll miss these vegetables when it gets cold again. You take advantage of the offer and heat up the food in a pan on the stovetop, humming to yourself as you stir the food to keep it from burning. A light flickers above you. Weird. It flickers again, and then finally goes out. But it’s no big deal, you’ve seen in Joel’s basement that above the washer and dryer is a shelf full of supplies and you know there’s a couple of bulbs there. You go back downstairs where the washer hums, working its way through the cycle.

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself. You’d never quite realized just how high up that supply shelf is. And the bulbs are in the middle of the shelf, so there’s no good way to get them without climbing on top of the washer, which Joel would probably kill you for doing. He did ask that you be careful with his fragile washer, after all. Whatever. It’ll take like six seconds, tops. You hoist yourself on the washer and first try kneeling on it to see if you can reach one of the bulbs. No luck. You stand on your feet then, raising yourself up carefully, slowly, feeling the washer shake slightly beneath your feet. Joel would be absolutely irate if he saw you like this now. When you finally grab one of those light bulbs, you carefully lower yourself to a seated position on the washer to catch your breath. You’re not usually prone to vertigo, but Joel’s wobbly washer brought the dizziness on. You know better than to try and move right now, so you just settle yourself down to avoid fainting.  

The washer vibrates under the flesh of your thighs. It’s a gentle sensation, lessened by the angle you’re sitting at. But if you focus really hard, you can feel it in your core. Curious, you spread your legs and turn to the corner of the washer, tilting your hips to the floor, and oh, this is it. You’re not even thinking about potential consequences when you shimmy your shorts and panties off, then find that sweet spot once more. The metal of the washer is cool against you as it vibrates, sending sweet little buzzes through your hot core. You’re not quite wet yet, just enjoying the sensation. Letting it build and build, seeing where it can get you. You let your mind wander, not really thinking about much in particular. The low hum of the washer fades away in your mind and you’re starting to become wet. Shifting your position, you extend your arm to find something to grab onto when you feel fabric. Joel’s clothes. He’s still a slacker with keeping up on his dirty laundry. Usually it would irritate you. It does irritate you, this exorbitant waste of an advantage he has. You look at the shirt in your hand, the same shirt Joel had lent you. You think back to that first time you did laundry here at Joel’s, how he sat next to you nearly naked. The feel of his skin and the smell of him - sweat and rain and musk. And Joel being the beautiful, incognizant man he is, probably had zero clue of how sexy he looked. Or smelled, for that matter. 

With Joel now on your mind and his shirt in your hand, you decide to experiment, create a better ambiance. You keep those images of him in your mind, those feelings too. You remember the low timbre of his voice, the rain splashing against the windows, the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders. And with his dirty t-shirt clutched in your fist and its armpit pressed against your nose you remember his scent. Smell is a powerful sense, closely linked to memory and emotion, his shirt and what it’s doing to you is a testament to that fact. Legs spread wide, your hips angled down with your clit pressed to the corner of Joel’s washer, the machine vibrating under you as you inhale his scent deeply - you’re back in that memory. And then some. 

In your mind, your back on Joel’s couch. You can smell him, feel him, and if you really concentrate, you can even taste him. You’re on your knees and he’s drawing lazy patterns on your back as you suck his cock and fondle his balls, and he’s moaning, grunting and whimpering your name. He tastes like he smells, heady and all masculine. He grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, guides you to straddle his hips. His forehead pressed against yours, he notches the tip of his cock inside you and pulls you down slowly, careful so as not to hurt you but it does, of course it does. Not that you mind, you love the stretch and the ache of his thickness splitting you in two. You rock yourself, grind your clit against that unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock. You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming. 

You’re coming. Loudly, whimpering Joel’s name as you rut against the vibrating machine. As you finish, so does the washer. It sings you a little chiming song indicating the load is done washing. You can’t help but giggle at that as you bask in the discovery of this fortuitous delight. You’ve got private access to a washer and dryer and a vibrator now too? Lucky, lucky, lucky. 

God, Joel’s shirt smells good. You inhale it deeply, wondering if he wears cologne. It smells almost woodsy…smokey, even. 

Fuck. You’re smelling smoke. 

You pull on your pants and sprint up the steps, racing to Joel’s kitchen only to find that the chicken and veggies you were heating up are no more. They’re black and shriveled, cemented to the stainless steel pan, and there’s no salvaging that. No amount of scrubbing can erase your masturbatory mistake. Fuck, Joel’s gonna kill you. Your only choice is to conceal the evidence. Surreptitiously, you take the pan and hide it under a bush outside Joel’s backdoor.

You’ll be more responsible next time - yes, there absolutely will be a next time. Gas off before you get off. 

The next time came and went. And the time after that, and the one after that. Laundry was always your least favorite chore, but with access to Joel’s washer and dryer and this new trick up your sleeve, it’s not so bad. Getting off on Joel’s washer has become a weekly thing and it’s been lovely, relieving, dirty, and exciting, but you’d be lying if you were to say it’s been perfectly fine the whole time. 

You’ve been abusing the poor machine. It’s no secret. You get every bang for your buck out of the washer, taking full advantage of Joel’s twice a week offer and then some. Some nights you’ll sneak over and do an extra load, wash a blanket or something just to make the washer run for your masturbatory purposes. And so, the vibrating sensation the machine produces has begun to weaken. In order to compensate, you’ve been rocking yourself harder on it, which probably isn’t helping. But it’s still washing your clothes, right? 

…Yes. Mostly. It still washes, but it’s become sort of finicky. And the door doesn’t quite shut the way it used to, and it makes an odd noise now that it never made before. 

Tonight you’re at Joel’s doing a double load of laundry. There were no ulterior motives on your part when you came over, honestly and truly. Your first load is drying, the second load is in the washer. Joel’s home tonight, he’s gonna cook you dinner like he always does when he’s around. For such a grouch, he wears his heart on his sleeve. 

It would be more accurate to say you’re cooking dinner together. Joel came home with a basket full of fresh vegetables from the market and actually put you to work, his reasoning being that he was starving and wanted dinner ready yesterday, and that having your help cutting up the vegetables for the meal he was making would have dinner ready that much sooner. He places a cutting board in front of you and hands you a knife, “Chop chop,” he says, then laughs at his own pun as he rifles through some cabinets. “Missin’ a saucepan…” he mumbles to himself. Oops.

You start by peeling the carrots. As you begin to chop them, you realize he didn’t give you any sort of instruction. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“How small do you need me to cut the carrots?”

“Uhhhh,” he thinks. “Lemme see.” Joel turns around and watches you with a look of disappointment and repulsion painting his features. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What?” you ask defensively. 

“Why are you tryin’ to cut off your fingers?”

You look down at your hand holding the carrot and your other hand holding the knife, then up at Joel. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m not trying to cut off my fingers.”

“Sure looks like it to me. Is that always how you handle a knife?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna cut off your damn fingers, dammit, that’s why. C’mere,” Joel stands behind you where you stand at the island, then lifts up your left hand and curls your fingers underneath themselves. “Keep your fingers like this,” he instructs. “Holdin’ your fingers out flat like that are a sure fire way to cut ‘em off. Now show me how you chop.” 

With your fingers in the proper position now, you begin to cut the carrots. They wobble beneath you, you hate the way Joel has you holding them. “This is uncomfortable,” you tell him. 

“You know what’s more uncomfortable? Missin’ fingers. Keep goin’.” You groan but keep chopping per his demand. He’s pressed against your back, one of his palms lays flat against the countertop, semi caging you in as he watches you work. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re makin’ me nervous. Gimme this.” Joel wraps his hand around yours on the handle of the knife. He moves the knife for you, cutting the carrot slowly, your hand securely in his. “You’re liftin’ the knife too much, sweetheart. Just rock it back and forth for me. Just like this,” he whispers, showing you how he rocks the knife in a fluid motion to cut the carrots. His hands are warm, his grip on your hands is firm. His breath is hot and tickles your ear, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of your neck. He chops the carrots quietly, and you feel him against you - the rise and fall of his chest and tummy with each inhale and exhale he takes, his wiry scruff kissing the side of your face. “That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl.”

Fuck. His words go right to your core. As if him holding your hands and caging you in to teach you how to cut vegetables wasn’t enough, he had to call you ‘good girl’ as well. That had to be deliberate on his part, you’re almost certain of it. And now you’ve got to pay his washer another visit. His fault, honestly. “Laundry,” you blurt out, pushing his hands off of yours and shrinking away from his hold. “Sorry. Gotta check the laundry.”

“Oh. Alright, then.” Joel watches you pace down the basement stairs and listens to you pretend to check on your clothes, opening and shutting the washer and dryer doors. He’s waiting for you to come upstairs, but you never do. “You comin’ upstairs?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” you call back.

“There’s spiders down there, you know. Big an’ fuzzy too.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you yell as you unbutton your shorts and pull them down your legs. “I don’t mind them.”

Your reply immediately has Joel feeling suspicious of you. Even a mention of a mere ant should have sent you running into his arms and pleading with him to get rid of it. On more than one occasion, Joel’s woken up to you pounding on his door in the middle of the night begging him to come kill a spider that’s in your bedroom. And he always does, of course, even when the spider is miniscule and simply minding its business in a corner somewhere. He’ll scoop it into the palm of his hand and set it outside in a bed of flowers, call you a wimp and be on his merry way, grumbling the entire walk home. He wonders why the hell you’re so brave all of a sudden. 

A loud, clunking noise interrupts the silence. “Oh, fuck,” you swear. And Joel’s deaf, but not deaf enough to not hear you. “What was that?” he calls from up the stairs. 

“Nothing!”

Joel knows it wasn’t nothing, it certainly didn’t sound like nothing. You quickly pull your shorts and panties back on when you hear him stomping down the stairs to investigate. Wracking your brain to think of a lie to tell Joel, you realize you’re fucked, utterly and completely. It would’ve been more appropriate to think of one before now, probably around the time the washer started to make weird noises. Now you’re faced with god knows what consequences. 

Joel greets you with a puzzled and angered expression. “What the hell happened?”

“I d– I don’t know. Just something… Happened, I guess,” you stutter. Subtly, you stuff the used pair of his boxers you were smelling down the back of your shorts to hide the evidence of your even dirtier secret. Joel sees that you’re avoiding eye contact, looking up and away, scratching your head. The silence hangs heavily in the air and Joel sees the guilt on your face and that your shorts are undone for some reason. “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before this becomes a much worse day for us both.”

“Nothing happened–”

 “Nine, eight…”

You fold instantly. “I sit on it,” you confess, Joel exhales in frustration. “Sit? As in… this is a regular occurrence, you’ve been sittin’ on my washer,” Joel asserts. You nod in confirmation. “Why.”

 “I don’t know,” you shrug, another lie. 

“Well, how much have you been sittin’ on it?” 

“Just like…a lot, I guess.” You look down at your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.  

“Why?” he asks again.

“It…uhh…sort of…” you mumble, picking at your fingernails. 

“Sort of what?”

“Vibrates.”

Joel’s face falls at the admission. “You’re not serious,” he says, but he knows you are. “Oh my god.”

“Stranger things have happened, right?” Your voice wavers as you try to soften the blow with a joke. 

“Unbelievable,” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No. Stranger things than you have not happened, sweetheart.” After taking a few deep breaths, he pushes you to the side and reaches for the shelf above the washer for a toolbox. He takes out a putty knife and wriggles the front of the washer off, then drops to his knees to inspect the washer. “Did I not ask you to be careful with it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Joel groans when he sees what’s broken inside of the washer. 

“What is it?”

“Belt’s broken,” he answers. “You’re lucky s’fixable.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, it’s good you can fix it, right?”

 “Oh, no. You are fixin’ it, my darlin’. You broke it.”

Joel’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re putting his washer back together. “I don’t know how,” you tell him. You’ll make it up to him in any other way than this, but there’s no way he’s serious. Besides, he’s now the first to know that your track record with washers isn’t to be trusted.

 “I’ll walk you through it,” Joel replies plainly. “Get down there. On your knees, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now,” he says, unimpressed with your defiance.

You drop to your knees in front of the washer, looking for the broken belt that Joel speaks of. You find one of the big and fuzzy spiders he was talking about instead. “Jesus!” you yelp, launching backwards and nearly knocking Joel over in the process “There’s a spider, Joel - kill it, kill it, kill it, Joel - kill it, please,” you beg. 

“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s harmless.”

“Joel!”

Joel nudges you out of the way to find the spider sitting right at the bottom of the washer. He scoops it into his hand, then holds it in front of you, “I thought you said you didn’t mind ‘em,” he taunts. 

“I lied. Get it away from me,” You shove him away from you, and he clutches the spider more carefully in his hands, laughing. 

“Yeah, I know you lied. You’re very bad at it,” Joel opens one of the basement’s egress windows and sends the spider on its way, then closes it and returns to you, first grabbing what looks to be a replacement belt for his washer from a nearby shelf. Leave it to Joel to have the most convenient yet obscure supplies right in his basement twenty years into an apocalypse. “Back to work.” You’re in front of the washer once more, and Joel takes his seat right behind you. “See that black belt at the bottom of the drum?”

“No.”

“This thing here,” he points at it with his finger. “Take it off,” You reach for the belt and tug on it a bit, “Gotta wiggle it a bit,” following his instruction, you wiggle the belt and it falls off the drum. “Attagirl. Now put this one on,” he hands you the new belt and takes the old one from you. “S’gonna be snug.”

You struggle to stretch the rubber over the drum and it snaps your hands when it slips. “Fuck.”

“Keep tryin’. Put some elbow grease into it, hon,” Joel hovers over your shoulder, just as he did earlier in the kitchen. “M’just checkin’ to make sure you got it lined up properly,” Joel tugs on the rubber belt, making sure it’s sitting where it needs to. “So tell me again how long you been doin it for,” he whispers. “Long time?”

You answer cautiously, “Uhhh…a while now, I guess.”

 “Yeah, I figured. S’it feel good?” 

The question throws you off, makes you nervous. But his voice is low and gravelly, and his tone isn’t pointed or accusatory. He seems curious, but for what reason, you’re not quite sure yet. “It does.”

“Better than your fingers?” Joel tightens the belt a bit and leans back. He’s watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. You gasp when you feel his warm palm sliding underneath your shorts. “What the–” Oh, fuck. Joel found his pair of boxers. He holds the fabric in his hands, a knowing grin on his lips. “These are mine. What’re you doin’ with my dirty boxers?” he asks. He doesn’t allow you time to stutter out an excuse. “You’re a dirty lil’ bird, aren’t you?”

“Joel.”

He tosses his pair of boxers onto the dryer and whispers in your ear again, “I asked you somethin’. My washer feel better than your fingers?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “Better.”

Joel hums in amusement. He slides his hand down the front of your pants, still unbuttoned from earlier. “Saved me the trouble, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” he breathes. Your breath hitches when his fingers find your mound, as he toys with the curls there. He traces over your lips, then dips a finger between them, circling your hole, then circles your clit. “Better than mine?” he asks, dipping a finger into your center and you moan.  He holds one hand on your hip as the other pumps in and out of your center, and you lean back into his chest, relaxing with his touch. You sigh deeply. “Don’t get all cozy on me, now. You ain’t done. Gotta put the front of the washer back on, should just click right into place.”

Joel pulls his hand away from you so you can lift the front piece of the washer. “It’s not–” you complain, struggling to click it into place the way Joel says it should. You push and push, but it doesn’t budge. “Joel, it’s not–”

“It will. Just try.” 

“I am,” you argue, shoving it once more but to no avail. You’ve grown frustrated by his washer, by the task Joel bestowed upon you in fixing it, and his teasing, too. In a fit of anger, you stand up and kick it.

 “Hey, easy,” Joel scolds. “Look, like this,” Magically, the front piece of the washer fits right into place, just like he said it would. He does nothing different than what you did, it just works out for him. Of course it does. “You’re impatient, huh?” he murmurs, moving behind you. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips, tugging the fabric of both your shorts and your panties down to your ankles, he helps you out of the garments and tosses them elsewhere. His hands are on your hips again, this time guiding you, whispering, “Back, back,” as he positions you where he needs you, spreading your legs apart. You’re leaning on his washer and he’s on his knees behind you, using his nose to tease and part your slick folds. He inhales you deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal before he tastes you. He traces your lips with a pointed tongue, up and down, before he dips his tongue into your heat, savoring you. 

“How ‘bout my tongue?” he purrs, whispering against your skin. You don’t answer, and it’s not like you could anyway, with the way he devours you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, his fingertips are digging harshly into your thighs like he means to bruise you, tear the flesh off your bones even. It’s possessive in nature, but not abusive or aggressive. You know his actions aren’t borne of anything except pure pleasure and you indulge in it, in him. He moves slow like honey as he tastes you languidly, kissing you. He laps your velvety heat, his tongue teasing all of your sensitive, slick flesh. Now and then the wiry hairs of his beard will tease and scratch your inner thighs, a sensation that tickles you and rubs you raw all the same. “Oh my god,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to take hold of his head, fingers tangling in his graying curls and waves. “Joel, oh my god.”

Joel takes your lack of a real answer to his question as a no, his washer pales in comparison to his tongue. Good. He bets you’ve fantasized about him, all those times you’ve used his washer for those needs of yours besides washing your clothes. And he bets that you probably grind yourself on it, picturing it’s his warm flesh beneath you and not the cold metal of the machine. He’d be right. He sucks your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. He nips at your folds, sucking one, then the other between his plump lips, then focuses his attention back at your clit. You’re moaning his name, the only word you know anymore. Joel keeps you still, held tight in his arms so that you can’t push your ass back and grind against his mouth like he knows you’re fighting to do. All you can do is take it, feel his perfect aquiline nose tease between your cheeks. He’s buried himself face first in your most private place as he consumes you voraciously, his tongue flicking and swirling and painting you. You’re biting into your own arm, seeing stars as you come on his tongue. It’s an elusive sort of orgasm, the kind where you don’t exactly know where it begins and it ends. All you know is that you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive and Joel is relentless. Your knees buckle as he toys with your clit, gives you a break for a moment before he’s right back there again, continuing to eat you. He keeps going and going, repeating the actions over and over again just to make you cry and beg, “Stop - please - I can’t, I can’t, Joel. T-too much.”

“Know it’s too much, sweetheart, s’why I’m doin it,” Joel coos. But he obliges, places one last kiss to your heat, soaked by his spit and your own arousal before he stands up behind you. He wraps one arm around your stomach, pulling himself close to you. You can feel his hard cock against your ass, separated only by his denim as he uses his other hand to turn your face to the side, meeting him beside you. He kisses you, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, then feel his hand leave your face to reach for his fly. You hear him unzip his jeans slowly, and then he’s pulling his cock out, still kissing you as he lines up with you, first parting your thighs with a gentle nudge of his knee before notching his tip at your entrance. He finally pulls his mouth away from yours and gently forces your chest down toward the washer. He pushes himself into you, careful so as not to hurt you but deliberately so that you still feel that ache, the stretch of his thick cock separating your insides. Joel continues holding your body close to his as he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlacing his fingers in between your own.  “How about my cock, sweetheart? You like it better, worse?” he whispers, kissing, nipping at your ear in between words. He pulls out of you nearly all the way, then pushes back into your dripping cunt. 

You try to answer, “Bet - oh, ahhh,” 

Joel chuckles at the way he’s reduced you to nothing but broken syllables and moans. “Ohhh, listen to you. I think it’s better, huh? S’that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” You nod frantically. “Yeah, I know, beautiful.”

His pace is slower to start, but it builds in quick time. You can feel he’s fighting with himself to be more gentle than he actually wants to be, his thrusts sloppier than he intends, like he’s losing himself in you. You’re lost in him, lost in the moment all the same. You take it all in, the lewd and obscene sounds of the pleasure he creates with you - his thighs slapping against yours and the gushing of your cunt on his cock. Your moans, your cries, all babbling nonsense. And Joel’s deep breaths in and out, shaky and stuttering as he does it. His grunts and his swearing, a whimper here and there if you listen closely. He fills you up perfectly, hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over and over…

“You coulda had me like this the whole time,” he pants, “Didn’t have to go an’ break my washer f’ya needed somethin’ more than those fingers of yours, sweetheart. Know you been needin’ some lovin’.”  He reaches for your breasts, squeezing and groping the flesh, twisting your nipples and smirking when you twitch and whine. “All you had to do was ask.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to anyway. What he did expect, however, were your moans of displeasure as he pulls out of you. He knows, oh, he knows how empty you must feel, you poor thing.  He’ll soothe that. He flips you around, seats you on his washer. “I’m gonna make you come again,” he promises, “I’m gonna watch.”

 “Too much, Joel, I can’t,” you cry. You want to come again, really. But you don’t think you have it in you, still so worked up, overstimulated by the endless teasing of his tongue on your pussy.

 “Oh, don’t cry. You can do it, hon. You can take it,” he says, “Open up those legs for me, darlin’.” Joel pushes your trembling legs wide so he can slot his hips between them, then wraps your legs around his waist before sliding his cock into you once more. He thrusts just once, rather harshly, before he’s met with another rather loud noise from the washer. Joel halts and scratches the back of his neck. God, he hopes he didn’t just do it in. “Probably shouldn’t…uh…”

“Yeah,” you agree. 

“Did you use my dryer too?”

“Duh,” you answer. “How else would I dry my clothes?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “No, smartass. Were you usin’ it for your dirty work, is what I’m askin’.”

“No.” 

Still inside you, Joel slides you over to his dryer. “Good girl. Poor washer’s been abused plenty by you already.”  

“But I will,” You whisper defiantly under your breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he adjusts. 

“Wrong ear, sweetheart. My right one’s deaf. I heard that loud and clear.”

Joel’s back to fucking you in an instant. He wastes no time in making good on his promise, thumbing your clit as he rolls his hips into you. “See, look at you. Takin’ me just fine,” he praises.The way you squirm and take your shallow little breaths fills him with satisfaction and delight. He knows this isn’t easy, that you’re tired and sore and overstimulated. He’ll be done with you soon. “Come with me, wanna feel you come with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Focus here, eyes on me. You’re gonna come with me.” 

It’s a few moments of Joel painting your clit with those tight, steadied circles as he fucks you hard and deep. There’s a push and pull to it, where you’re not sure who this is for - yourself or Joel. Just like before, you’re not sure where it starts and stops, but you’re there. God it’s intense, you’re gonna break and you know it. Joel’s got his palm on the back of your neck, squeezing you. His jaw clenches and he’s coming undone first, but he never loses focus on you. His thrusts stutter as he milks himself in you but doesn't yet stop - he’s making sure you’re gonna come. “C’mon baby, c’mon. Give it to me,” he says. “One more for me. Last one.” 

His words are all it takes. You whimper and moan, cry his name as you find your climax. Release washes over you the way waves crash onto sand - it’s repeated, the way the tides push and pull. Deafening. Powerful. 

But there’s a calmness yet. The rolling of his hips slows, slows, stops. He presses his damp forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay?”

You nod and smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles with you and helps you off of the dryer. Joel finds your clothes and dresses you in them, steadying your shaky legs. 

Joel tentatively restarts the washer. It chugs a bit, but makes all the right noises and he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re a bit startled when he takes you by the arm and marches you up the stairs. “New rule,” he says, “You stay with me when your clothes are washin’.”

You bite your lip to hide your guilty smirk. “Yes. Joel.” 

“And I still need you to cut them veggies for me, too.” 

I struggled heavily with this fic, comments and reblogs would be much appreciated if you were feeling so inclined🙏 they keep me motivated and I look back at your words when I’m writing to remember that I’m capable of pleasing you all

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ "𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐨, 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝…" | xiao, childe, alhaitham x gn!reader

「 "𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮!!"」

— in which you've gotten drunk... drunk enough to fail to recognize your own lover.

— silly fluff. soft xiao, had this one in the drafts for far too long and its about time i choke it out... happy white day !!

the moment your slurred words reached his ears, XIAO knew that he never should've let you get your hands on that cursed rice wine.

in a way, he supposed it could be his fault. the one time he had decided to indulge in trivial mortal matters like alcohol due to your constant insistence... well, just look at you.

red-faced, the tips of your ears and cheeks stuck in a helplessly drunken flush, you babbled incoherently with half of your face smushed against the table. xiao could only stare in contempt as you feebly reached towards the already-emptied bottle,

( xiao had taken one sip and refused any more indulgence, claiming it was bitter, when in fact, you had gone out of your way to find a sweeter drink ),

and sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose with a certain disillusionment.

"come on, you're getting to bed." the man was just about done with your hopeless actions. he grabbed your wrist and tugged, only to be met with resistance. you're pouting like a child, brows furrowed lazily as you stare upwards at him.

"nnno. m'not going with you."

"...excuse me?" what in the archons was the problem now? he tugged again, this time with a small margin of force, and was met with an even larger pull back, this time paired with a low whine. "hey, it's late, and all the wine is gone, so just comply with me won't you?"

"i already told you... i have a husband..."

your complaint met the cool night air and the adeptus' silence. his lips were slightly parted as his round eyes blinked once, then twice, in a sort of stunned stupor. "...love, i am that husband."

archons, how had he found himself such a foolish mortal to love?

"don't lie to me!" you shook your head profusely, wiggling around in his grasp relentlessly until the adeptus had no choice but to let go. "i know my husband when i see him... and he's way handsomer than you, stupid..." you stared him up and down with squinting eyes, eyeing the way his ears were beginning to turn pink, and sat heavily in thought as you pondered the man before you.

definitely not your husband.

idiot. with a huff, he easily hauled your body over his shoulder as if carrying something as trivial as a sack of potatoes. you hung loosely over, landing a couple weak punches on his back as you proceeded to prattle on, your defiance seemingly having little effect.

then, you were silent, and xiao had to look back to make sure you hadn't gotten hurt. sure, he had considered once or twice leaving you out there all passed out on the balcony, but not without reason, yet he'd decided against it. you seemed fine, mouth hung slightly ajar as you snoozed peacefully, your eyes shut and cheeks still warm from what you'd downed. the audacity to fall asleep... xiao couldn't deny that his sigh was one of fondness.

"night, this husband of yours loves you."

strange, wasn't the wine from liyue supposedly far less intense compared to the vodka CHILDE had tried back home?

that, or the people here simply were more susceptible when it came to the topic of intoxication. you were no exception — he'd taken you out drinking, his mistake, thinking it'd be an easy, splendid time.

and don't get him wrong, it was! not just, well... conversation was rather hard to make when the other person was practically unconscious. you're practically splayed across the mahogany table, eyes nearly drooped close and fire across your cheeks.

you giggled. it's a muddled sound, when you're mostly mumbling into the table. "hhhey, pour me another glass~"

childe scans your less-than-ideal state and procures an answer in a little under a second. "love, you've had too many."

you seem shocked at his words, leaning forwards a little with narrowed eyes. your figure sways as you shake your head lazily, from side to side. "wwhhhat? nnno, that can't be right..."

the man holds back an amused chuckle. it's entertaining. "and how many fingers am i holding up?" he holds up just one hand, displaying a reasonable amount of three.

there's a beat of silence. "...nineteen?" you blink a couple times, as if to shake you out of your stupor. "...nineteen," this time, with confidence.

childe claps his hands together, a sudden sound that makes you startled, and he moves to apologize immediately. "we're getting you to bed, love. clearly you've had more alcohol than you can handle."

"what, was i wrong??" there's tears forming in your eyes, and your lips tug downwards in a frown. "u-uhm, fifteen? nno, four...?"

"still incorrect, love. i'm afraid it's time for you to go to sleep. you'll wake up with a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning, but..." he sighed, thinking back to his time in shneznaya, then made a mental note to prepare you a hangover drink in the morning. his hand found its familiar place in your hand, unnaturally warm with your skin rosy from the alcohol. he smiled, turning to glance at you, but ceased when he saw you on the ground, tears now falling from your eyes, quietly sobbing as you shook your head back and forth.

panic immediately sets in. what has he done wrong?? "love, what-"

"nnnno, don't call me that..." you squinted upwards at him, looking quite displeased. "no 'love', 'kaaay? i'm not your love, mister."

he paused. wait, you didn't possibly think that... "love-" oh, old habits died hard, and the word had already left his lips before he could process what you'd said.

"i have a husband, you!!" in some sort of fit, or perhaps better worded as a tantrum, you stood, wrenching yourself from his grip and then hitting him repeatedly in the shoulders, chest, anywhere your fists could reach, really. the alcohol had surely affected your capabilities of combat — you missed half the time, and what punches did land caused no pain at all.

as your anger subsided, your step faltered, body swaying in the open air before childe reached over to catch you in his arms. he was concerned, naturally. "lov- are you alright?" his worry only grew when he heard no response, but it ebbed with a chuckle when he saw you were already fast asleep in his arms, snoozing without a care in the world.

"a husband, hm? whoever it is, he must quite be the gentleman..."

ALHAITHAM knew his night was fated to end in idiocy the moment you knocked on his door.

it didn't even strike him that you were holding wine, of all things, when you waltzed into his house like it was your own. sure, it wasn't as if these occasions weren't frequent, but really anyone would be surprised to glance up from a quiet reading session only to see their (annoying) lover pressed against the door, repeatedly calling out his name in a sing-song, satire-like voice.

like... calling a cat. it was a realization he made with not too much contentment. silently, he thanked the archons that kaveh was not home — they knew that he could not handle the both of you.

it was only when you sat down at his table, where he'd been reading up to the point when you barged in, that he noticed. green-tinted glass, a little wind motif on the front... dandelion wine from mondstadt. now, just how did you get your hands on that?

"connections," you had stated. with a note of pride, he might add. what, was he supposed to congratulate you on being able to talk to other people? even he, a person who generally hated people, could do that.

ah, but he didn't hate it. your voice, that is, when you rambled on for hours on end. he didn't have the heart to interrupt you, especially when you were so heated on a topic — be it work troubles, an especially annoying sailor, or you accidentally dropping your pita pocket into the water when walking along the port, he didn't mind.

"...mmbottle. haaithammm, the bottle..." your drunk complaints reach his ears, and he his irritation is more so disrupted with inward amusement as he watches you in the predicament you've landed yourself in.

"the bottle?" he questions, raising an eyebrow. his hands are crossed over his chest; he's clearly getting a ruse out of this. "just what would you need the bottle for, love?"

your eyebrows scrunch together. he can tell your brain is working at its max capacity. "...im. thirsty?"

"you've already drunk two thirds of this bottle." he holds said bottle high above your head, hopelessly far from your reach. "if you're so thirsty, drink water."

"i don wanna."

"..."

"just... one drop?"

"hah..." he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, and places a hand on your shoulder. you barely react, and don't even glance at the sudden weight. "love, you're staying over. you're going to bed."

"bed...?" horror crosses your face, paired with evident irritation. "y...you, who do you think you are, to suggest such things!?" your face is bright red, and you're hugging yourself with one arm and pointing an accusing finger towards the male with the other. "i have a husband!!"

ah. "...what's his name?"

"and why do youuuu want to know?" you narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, but seem to come up with an answer to your own question, for you answer him anyhow. "haitham."

"do you love this 'haitham'?" alhaitham's enjoying himself. when he teases the sober you, all you do is retort back, but now... he can see your flustered expression on full display as you stammer out an answer.

"o-of course! a-and, if you wanted to know, he's waaaaay handsomer.. than ... you..."

just like that, you topple over and sink into the couch, knocked unconscious. a trace of a smile crosses alhaitham's lips as he looks at your sleeping form.

"fortunately for you, this 'haitham' you speak of loves you too."

(a/n) bye i was gonna add kaveh to this one too but i realized oh fuck its white day i said id post a month ago what the fuck am i doing so i just like regurgitated this out and spat it onto your dashboard. ahodfjlds

tags (id paste the aesthetic thing but i cant find it so we're just gonna roll w this):

@manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @ @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[tender-rosiey]

butterfly — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: eee it’s been a while; I hope I didn’t get rusty 🧍‍♀️

your little girl has been independent ever since she came out of your womb. you’re pretty sure that if it was up to her, she would’ve walked out by herself.

anyway.

she was quickly able to hold her little bottle on her own—satoru couldn’t have been prouder. add to that her very smug look while she was doing it; it’s high school satoru all over again. she is also pretty intelligent for her age; she is able to get through the idea she wants, one way or another.

for example, you remember that one time when she wanted to go out, but wasn’t able to get it through as directly as she wanted. so, since she couldn’t reach the front door on her own yet, she made use of her surroundings.

during that time, satoru was too busy cuddling you and telling you about what his students—kids—did at school.

conveniently for your daughter, however, your husband’s blindfold was put somewhere beside her, and your daughter, relating that he only wears it when he goes out, held it aggressively and started swinging it around, blabbering a bunch of nonsense.

hearing the call of your darling daughter, satoru quickly got there—he says it’s his daddy six sense, you say that your dear d/n simply knows how to get anyone’s attention. that has been proven more than a 100 times in the school.

“what’s up, baby? what can daddy do for you?” he knelt down in front of her, hands hovering over her sides in case she fell back.

“embah!” your daughter huffed and showed him his blindfold.

he tilted his head in confusion, “do you want to wear it?”

she frowned, shaking her head. she also realized that her papa is a big idiot so she opted for him to pick her up which he gladly did. then the little missy started pointing to certain directions.

and satoru obeyed, until they finally reached the front door.

“ohhh,” he then grinned at the little girl, “you wanna go out?”

her frown instantly disappeared and she threw her tiny arms around him, squealing and giving him her version of kisses.

he came to you later that day, boasting about how smart his little baby is, and that’s it probably the work of his genes and yours since the both of you are a “perfect match”.

following that, she was also able to get the hang of walking—more like waddling—fairly quickly.

so yeah, she is independent.

and that’s why her little independent self was trying to walk in the park on her own, refusing to be held by anyone.

you and satoru had no choice but to follow close by but far enough that she wouldn’t get sad.

it was a nice opportunity, your husband said, since you two can hold act all lovey dovey while still keeping an eye on the little princess on the run.

you are holding hands, gently swinging them. meanwhile, satoru has a camera in his other hand, recording his daughter’s every step.

“d/n! baby! look at daddy!”

shaking her head, she squeals and speeds up her waddling. that ushers satoru to start walking faster, dragging you with him, “‘toru, wait!”

“that little devil is not waiting for no one, pretty girl!”

the devil in question looks back only to see her dad’s smirk, and she knows well that it means trouble. her waddling intensifies and she tries widening her steps, but she ends up stumbling and falling to the ground, face first.

“oh no, d/n!” you gasp, quickly rushing to her side and carrying her in your arms, “you okay, baby?”

your husband is swiftly by your side, cradling both you and your daughter. a snort escapes your husband, however. he has to let his opinion known, “that was such a lame fall.”

“satoru!”

“what? it was—“

he is cut off by your daughter’s laughter as she claps her hands. she swings her legs and tries to wiggle out of your grasp to once again return to the wild—also read the park.

she successfully does so, and before going running towards the flowers, she gives you and satoru a kiss on the cheek. satoru takes advantage of your attention being diverted to press a sweet kiss on your other cheek, “our cutie is growing, see?”

“but I don’t want her to grow yet,” you murmur while your hands wrap around his waist. your eyes never leave your daughter who is following a little butterfly.

satoru blinks thoughtfully, before pouting himself, “me neither.”

your thoughts are stopped short by the excited scream of your daughter, “bata!”

“ma, pa, bata!” she runs towards you two, pointing at the blue butterfly resting on the flower.

you grin at her, “yes, d/n, a very pretty butterfly!”

the girl excitedly runs after said butterfly while you feel your husband nudge your shoulder lightly, “you know…”

you side-eye him, knowing that what’s coming next is one of his ‘genius’ ideas. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, “we could always make another one.”

you pinch him gently, and he dramatically yelps as always. your daughter is quickly back from her little expedition with quite the surprise as well.

she raises a flower, that she plucked, to you, and she smiles, “mama! pretty!”

“aww, d/n,” you kneel down, and she takes the freedom to situate the flower in your hair. you lovingly pull her into your embrace and start peppering her cute little face with smooches.

she is busy squealing and laughing while satoru pouts at the two of you. he gives his best puppy eyes to your daughter, “doesn’t daddy get a flower?”

d/n quickly shakes her head, so satoru switches to you, “babe, can I at least some kisses?”

a giggle escapes your lips, “it’s d/n time, ‘toru.”

and satoru gojo is, yet again, left to wallow in his pain of being rejected by his two pretty girls.

but fear not as you can always count on mr. squirrel to keep satoru company—if attacking your husband counts as keeping him company anyway.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[dante-mightdie]

This made me sick to think about so maybe you would like it. Sorry this is so long 😭 but my brain worms were at it.

Three months later, Pup reader eventually going into a catatonic state. You stop eating so the handlers eventually put you on an IV and a feeding tube, but when you stop moving, they worry your muscles may start to atrophy. You have already developed sores but still don’t move.

One of the handlers goes rogue and calls John. His number was still on your paperwork when he surrendered you. The handler asks John to reconsider without mentioning what’s happening. He stands firm and says no, just assuming that someone must have returned you back to the shelter. He knows you’ll find a home eventually, but he had enough to deal with at home.

Meanwhile, Simon, Johnny and Kyle are pissed. The new pup John had got was a handful to say the least. Three months of correcting the pup’s behavior over and over again. She was too rambunctious. Not docile like you and didn’t respect boundaries. Where your playful nips at Johnny’s arm would barely register, hers were sharp and painful. She constantly got in whatever bed she pleased and took whatever resources she wanted.

Kyle just relented he became so annoyed, only showing his teeth in warning. Johnny would straight up shoulder check the pup.

Things eventually come to a head when Simon straight up attacks her. He was having as PTSD episode and pup thought it would be a good time to jump on him while he was asleep.

The attack luckily didn’t injure her too badly, but after that she wasn’t submissive, she was aggressive. To everyone. The other pups and even John. Snapping and baring her teeth. It wasn’t until her teeth made contact with John did he realize something needed to be done.

So he called Laswell. She knew the pup needed a female presence and her and her wife were happy to help.

A month passes since the phone call from the shelter. The boys were even more tense than before the other pup left. None of them wanting to be around each other more than necessary. John knew what he had to do.

So he called the shelter, asking had you been adopted yet. An awkward pause before the volunteer on the other line says they need to get their supervisor.

Supervisor informs John that you stopped eating and moving. Because the volunteers could only do so much, they had to put you into a facility that could better help with the long term care you would need.

John is able to pull some strings and get in contact with the facility.

Option 1:

When John goes to the facility, you don’t snap out of it. You don’t believe he’s really came for you. Not when he puts the collar back on your neck or has practically carry you to the car. Not even when the boys surround you, sniffing and pawing.

John has to hand feed you. Even then the boys take over with that, now hating John for what he did to you.

You eventually “come back”, but the fear is always there. You don’t go outside without the boys and you’re always afraid to be alone with John. Forget car rides. The last time you were due for a check up, even having everyone in it did nothing to help your panic attack. Pleading not to go back to the shelter. That you’ll be good. John can hear your soft cries at night before one of the boys eventually crawls in your bed, promising to not let you go again.

Option 2 (I’ll make this short I promise)

The facility didn’t intervene when it came to you wanting to die. That was your choice and the resources couldn’t be wasted. So when John receives a very sincere apology from the facility coordinator that you had chosen to be on the euthanasia list, he is in consolable.

However, a vet tech sees how adorable you are and just can’t let that happen, so they call their cousin.

Zeus was looking for a new pup for oversized hounds to play with.

König all too happy to have a new playmate. He and Nikto often fought over who you would be sharing a bed with before finally just laying down with your in yours. In the middle of the night, Horangi would pull you out of the pile and take you to his own bed.

You eventually started to come back to life. The boys weren’t the same as your other ones, but it was still nice.

John tells the boys you had already been adopted, too afraid of what the truth would do to their dynamic. He has to forever live with the guilt of thinking you had died.

let’s go with option one

c/w: mentions of abandonment trauma, hybrids

there was a period of time where john lost hope that you would get better even after he bought you home. it certainly wasn’t going to stop him and the boys trying, however. john knew how much he’d fucked up when he heard the boys sad whines and yowls when he walked through the door with you

johnny instantly got to work making a nest in the space under the stairs. a cozy dim light hanging above a big pile of duvets and blankets, soft pillows that smell like them. john would give you space as the boys trap you in their arms, scenting over you and nuzzling into your skin until you smell like them again :(

they hold you when you cry, placing kisses to your shoulders and cheeks and the top of your head whisky you let all your sadness out. sometimes, you push them away. wailing that you don’t want them near you right now but eventually you let them back in to cuddle you. you feel weak but you’ve been so lonely and you’ve missed them terribly despite what they did

thinking about how the grief you had been dealing with had thrown your body right off track. not having a natural heat cycle until a good few months after returning home. you didn’t allow any of them in the room with you during that cycle, despite how kyle and johnny whined at the door, begging you to let them come in and take care of you

their whining didn’t last long when simon comes over and snaps at them, telling them to leave you alone whilst the sulk off with flattened ears

it had taken a while for you to warm up to john again. he understood completely. he had completely shattered your heart and trust in them. he wouldn’t put your collar back on until you were completely okay with it. he wanted you to ask. wants it to be something that you want

he begins to think you’ll never forgive him until one night you shuffled into his room nervously, fiddling with your hands in front of you, “can I sleep in here?”

he’d hoped you would at least sleep in his bed with him. let him snuggle you under his big plush duvet and scratch your scalp until you fall asleep but he understands. it’s baby steps. at least now you’ll actually be in the same room as him one on one

[izvmimi]

cw: this is so goofy. selfship-coded. izuku has a subtle breeding kink (i wrote this what's new). pregnancy mention. condom use. suggestive, minors dni.

you sit warily on the toilet seat, your fiancé right outside the door, and your foot tap tap taps as you wait for the little piece of plastic in your hand to decide your future.

ironically, you don't have the energy for trepidation anymore because you feel like by now you're at this literally every couple of days.

but baby it doesn't feel good?

but don't you want me to feel all of me?

i promise i'll pull out better this time.

just the tip is fine, right?

izuku's outside the bathroom door, giving you privacy as though he wasn't nose deep between your legs just last night, slobbering all over you like a starving puppy presented with a wet meal. for a moment it occurs to you that if you really are pregnant, even if you can clearly handle it financially and emotionally, you'll shove that stick so far up his ass that-

your timer goes off and it's negative.

you sigh.

izuku bursts in at the sound of your voice, immediately uttering a supportive "is everything okay baby?" the shine to his emerald eyes makes you wonder if he actually, deep down, does want you pregnant.

"perfect. no baby."

he grins and kisses your forehead as you adjust your panties up and stand to wash your hands. squishing your cheeks as he has trouble getting his hands off of you, he promises that he'll actually invest in some condoms.

you don't believe him, but you consider making that appointment to your ob-gyn to get an intrauterine device you've been thinking about sooner rather than later.

---

another night comes and he's looked at you like that and he continues to be built like that and you have no choice but to let him do whatever he wants with you, even if it is to drag you not really kicking and not really screaming from your work, going from holding you around your midsection to lifting you up effortlessly so that your crotch is pressed against his face. he sniffs you like an entire dog and you're both terribly embarrassed and terribly aroused by his sheer want for you. izuku is already pressing kisses to your mound through your yoga pants as he carries you to the bed.

"izuku, i still have shit to do!" you argue, but you're holding on tight to his head to keep your balance, as if he would ever let you fall.

"you've worked hard enough," he says, muffled by your legs around his face. "i'm asking politely. may i please have some pussy?"

the fact that he's asking this, just as you land on the bed with a practical bounce is almost offensive. you sit up.

"are you even asking?"

he leans in, grinning as he gets on all fours to descend upon you.

"i mean yeah, of course," he replies, knowing full well that you won't say no as he pulls off his shirt. you shake your head, but your shirt goes over your head as well. he catches your lips in a kiss first, and you sink into the bed under his weight as he practically smothers you in kisses. wet, sloppy, silly, you laugh against each other, groping each other with your hands, and then it occurs to you both at the same time.

condoms.

you pull away, his teeth still grazing at your lower lip.

"izuku, do you have any?"

he blinks for a moment, sitting back on his heels. then his eyes widen.

"yes!"

izuku sounds a little too excited just for condoms, and your eyes narrow, but he practically leaps off the bed and is burrowing through his workbag for something, and you squint, expecting a box.

what he comes up with dries you up so fast you'll need iv fluids.

his grin is wide as he presents to you, proudly, a string of pristine looking condoms, all printed with all might's million watt smile right on the packaging.

"see, i didn't forget!"

a moment of silence passes as you beg the heavens above that your adonis of a partner is not fucking serious about fucking you sideways with his mentor's brand of contraceptive rubbers.

"izuku."

"what?"

"..."

you walk out of the room, immediately, so irate you can't speak.

"WHAT?!" he asks, following you out immediately. "come on!"

there's no way you are coming or cumming anywhere in the next hour. not like this.

you find your seat back at your desk and crack open your hardback textbook as hard as you can, doing your best to ignore the whine his voice has taken. he can actually die of blue balls for all you care.

"come on, it's not that bad!"

you snap your head at him and give him a look, and he immediately recants.

"okay, i'll go out right now and get normal condoms, i promise."

you lick the tip of your index finger and turn the page of your book.

"please, my dick is literally so hard right now, don't you care if i die?"

"perish. let me see," you reply, without turning your head.

"wow!" you can't' help but stifle a laugh at his disbelief. you hear him shift upwards and turn, not even realizing he had been kneeling.

as he stands, you do get a look at his... impressive member. maybe he could die like this, the way that thing is rock hard and waiting desperately for you.

you blink, look at your book, then look back at him. he's looking at you with the puppy dog eyes, and he still looks the way he does and he's still built the way he is, and...

...

moments later, you're folded into a jackknife because your pro hero fiancé somehow always gets his way, but at least, mercifully, his mentor's condom isn't wrapped all over what's pumping in and out of you.

right before your eyes roll back in your head, you can still see all might's smile, and maybe you should have just stuck with the damn pregnancy tests after all.

[poohbea]

After a long day, Sukuna finds you on the bed reading, in nothing but your panties on. Whether you intend to be or not, you’re a fucking temptation, the walking drug to his never ending addiction.

Your laughter sounds when he lays kisses upon your face, your lips — soft and sweet — your neck, lower, lower, till he finds solace between your thighs. His breath is steady, hot against your clothed cunt.

“My perfect girl.” He exhales, tongue laving a pressured strip over the cotton, spit soaking though it just as your arousal does the longer he teases you. With your hips unable to keep still, and those thighs of yours threatening to close, he takes it as his cue to tear the troublesome barrier right through the middle. You gasp at the sound of ripping fabric, book now long forgotten in the ruffled bedsheets at your side. “Mine.” His growl is low, but given the silence blanketing the room it’s audible enough for you to let out a whine-filled sigh, one that carries your pleas, your desire, your longing. All of it in one simple breath.

When his lips finally envelop your aching clit the scene that unfolds is much like the picture you'd sent him earlier in the day. Your back arched prettily as his tongue dips between your folds and past your entrance. Your taste flooding his senses almost entirely, and he'd have it no other way. Your head lolls back, mouth agape in a broken moan and he draws you closer — impossibly so — holding your thighs apart, pinning them to your chest while he devours you as if he'd been starving himself for weeks.

“That's right, princess. Fuck my tongue, let me hear how good you feel.” The glow of his eyes illuminates the softness of your skin — already moulded perfectly in his hands — a tell tale sign of exactly what it is you do to him. You drive him mad. Always leading him here, on his knees, ready to witness the syllables of his name falling from your lips.

“Kuna!” You moan, hands cupping your tits as you fail to squirm in his grasp. “Kuna!” There it is again, breathier, more high pitched. It precedes the gradual tightening of your walls, his fingers replacing his tongue, pads of the index and middle finding that perfect spot that has your own digits carding through his hair. “Sukuna!” There it is. That scream of ecstasy. The pulsing of your cunt around his fingers. A drug that overtakes him entirely.

He's rooted to that place between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit as you come down in an array of staggered breaths. “Good girl. Good. Fucking. Girl.” He groans, contently driving you into overstimulation, ensuring that you continue to look like that picture. Or perhaps, he'll make you cum over and over and over again till you've got no choice but to stay like that for the remainder of his time with your perfect cunt.

[sugurism]

FLAGS EVERYWHERE. ୨ৎ are jjk men green, beige or red flags?ㅤheadcanons

featuring ♰ㅤmultiple. (choso, higuruma, megumi, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toge, toji, yuji, yuta)

warning(s)! ♰ㅤNO PRONOUNS AND ANATOMY FOR READER. SFW (?) — toxic behavior ! cheating ! breaking-up mentions ! very much made based on personal opinions + i tried to write the characters off as canon as possible, but my favoritism will probably show ! sukuna is a warning of his own tbh ! violence + blood + death (mentions) ! cannibalism (mentions) ! angst (mostly) ! some are implied yandere ! not really dark content but i will tag as so just to be sure, some of them are dc vibes ! mentions about marriage + having kids (biologically and not) !

୨୧ CHOSO KAMO — beige flag.

not the reddest flag of the list. although, still has some fails. . .

this may come as a surprise to many, but choso is not a green flag. he’s perfectly in the middle, i think. not nearly as bad as others on the list, but his track record isn't perfect, either.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's family-centered.

choso is, as is well known, a man completely focused on his family. the joy of his brothers and relatives is his priority, and he will always be more focused on others than on himself (this could also be a red flag, he is quite selfless). he carries the burden and honor of being a big brother. of course because of his love for you, you are as much a part of the family as his siblings are.

however, if you don’t get along with his siblings for any reason, it’s very likely that the relationship won't be able to continue. it would be troublesome if you can’t take his true nature ── as a half-curse ── well, too. it would really upset him, because love is about acceptance and care.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

the answer is: no, but it is preferable that you are. being a sorcerer, you would have a much easier time understanding the abnormal aspects of his life (him and his family). if you’re not a sorcerer, it makes things a little chaotic. choso wouldn't want to lie to you about who he really is, his origins, and obviously, he would be prevented from introducing his (monstrous) brothers to you in that circumstance.

this would make him reflect for a long time, which ends either with a breakup, or with him showing you everything about jujutsu. living under a false identity and with a life built on lies is not how he wants the relationship to be.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

absolutely not. choso is aware of how heartbroken you would feel if he ever did that — besides, it's not like he feels desire or romantic love for anyone else. he has no reasons to cheat on you, and he never will have.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

choso has good intentions, but romantic love is a new and unknown field for him. this makes him inexperienced and often irrational towards romance. the information about relationships is too fresh and unprocessed for him, and it's all from the dead brain of the vessel he inhabits. he is not completely unaware about all of it, but his lack of experience shows.

he is very hasty and believes that the status of “boyfriend” is not bad, just that “husband” would be much better. if you don’t see a future, why would you be with him? he doesn’t understand when you correct him you are just dating and not married (you've been together for barely two months).

choso is not the type to let fights happen without reason, and he tries hard to make things work out, but he’s constantly overprotective and his affection can quickly become suffocating.

choso loves family. he wishes to expand it someday. and who would be better to help him besides you, his true love? besides taking care of his brothers, he would like to be a father himself one day (at least, a better one than his own father was), and there is this underexpectation — not exactly spoken out loud until he is confronted about it. choso wouldn't want to pressure you, and he would understand your choices and respect your decisions perfectly if you don’t want to have children, however, he gets a little sad over it nonetheless and always wonders if you would change your mind if he asked more nicely.

of course, we can’t forget the amount of people he killed (in and out of shibuya). this is a factor that is rarely talked about and choso doesn’t even think about it anymore, honestly. if you can ignore that, good! if not? well. . .

୨୧ HIROMI HIGURUMA — green / beige flag.

objection! he did nothing wrong (except for, at least, 22 murders, i guess).

BIGGEST RED FLAG? married to his work.

this is a completely personal view, but it’s hard to date someone so busy and married to their work. pre-culling game, the grueling overtime and mountains of paperwork would constantly keep him away from you ── from dates, from nights together, from romantic trips. furthermore, his ideal of justice is always dangerously close to failure in practically every situation hiromi faces, and this is a source of stress for him. he wouldn’t take it out on you, there’s no reason, but of course. it’s difficult to balance so many hours of work and such an important goal with personal relationships.

it’s not that he forgets commemorative dates, he merely doesn’t have time to celebrate them themselves. when he can’t be there for whatever the occasion is, he’ll send some expensive gift and an apology card, or call you and start a conversation for eight minutes to explain why he forgot your second anniversary. it’s common for him to come home, and you’re already asleep. you simply don’t have time.

in the culling game situation, it’s not so much work that keeps you apart, but training, focus and purpose. he focuses more on your protection and his than on romanticism, which can end up creating emotional barriers that are very difficult to break ── on both sides. hiromi is accidentally cold quite often. and that’s if you ignore the number of people he had to kill.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

honestly: yes and no. is a simple question with a difficult answer. hiromi prefers someone who can understand him completely: his feelings, his work, what he wants the justice system to become, and his vision of justice. so when he finally receives this new power that not only matches all of this but can make it possible, it’s very complicated to have a partner who doesn’t understand this new part of your life. he’s another person who wouldn’t lie to you about his nature. he swore to tell the truth, always the truth, and only the truth.

if you are a sorcerer, things get easier and harder. a relationship with hiromi has certain nuances, such as his constant concern for your safety, regardless of what you are (sorcerer or not). he believes in your own strength, but would like to stick around just to make sure you’re going to be okay. his change between coldness and sudden closeness can make feelings very raw and difficult to deal with.

if you’re not a sorcerer, his protection gets even worse. he’s not suffocating because he takes care not to be, but he would genuinely go crazy if something happened to you because he was careless. anyone who touches you won’t come out alive and brag about it. he just wants you to be okay.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no. hiromi is loyal to all his oaths, whether they are about protecting justice or being by your side even in sickness and in health.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

he is very open and honest. it might be bad in certain situations, but it’s great for the bigger picture. he doesn’t hide his opinions from you and is willing to talk about almost any topic peacefully. fights with him are actually quite rare, because hiromi thinks it’s fair to listen to his side, then speak his own, and think together to see if you can resolve this peacefully. depending on the angle, this is another problem, in a way he tends to rationalize feelings very often.

despite all the negatives, he has a surprisingly good memory. he doesn’t forget special occasions, he simply didn’t have time to be there in person (which is still a con). but he remembers everything else about you. hiromi is the type to look at you with a slight smile on his face, looking like his words are going in one ear and out the other. but when you stop talking, he gets confused. “why did you stop? i want to know what happens next.”

୨୧ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO — green / beige flag.

honestly, a good option. if you’re able to catch up.

megumi is a better boyfriend than people would think, honestly. the issue, with him, is more about himself and his view of himself than you ──, but it still affects the relationship and your experiences together as a couple.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? no respect for his own safety.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, it’s perfectly common for megumi to get into situations that risk his neck. it’s as much a part of the job as anything else. the problem is his willingness to put himself in danger for the sake of a greater good, or greater goal that he needs / wants to achieve. he is bold and reckless, and can be very harmful to both him and you.

other than that, he’ not necessarily a very bad boyfriend. megumi doesn’t have as many communication problems as expected, although he can put up fights — especially on this specific subject, trying to justify his lack of care with “doing what was necessary”.

dying to win is not an idea he is opposed to, until someone (like you or gojo) puts some sense into him.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

not really. megumi would love you regardless of your ability and strength ── and would find qualities to admire anyway. he doesn’t think you’re incapable of protecting yourself, and a part of him is tempted not to introduce you to jujutsu if you’re not a sorcerer. it would be a fully, normal thing in his life, but he wouldn’t want to lie to you in any way.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

definitely not. megumi has way too much respect, admiration, and above all, love for you to do something atrocious like that.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

megumi is reckless, but at the same time he listens to what you say and can slowly learn to take care of himself in a more efficient way through your words and worry. he doesn’t forget precedents or dates, and he takes good care of anything you’ve given him. his shikigami love you, sincerely, so he would be happy if you could see them and interact with them ── because they are a reflection of their owner and end up showing all the affection he feels for you and doesn’t have the courage to show it.

he’s not cold or distant, just more reserved, but he could be more vocal about his feelings instead of dropping hints and hoping you understand what he means. everything about megumi is soft, even when it shouldn't be.

his inclination is indoor dates and having alone time with you that doesn’t involve his friends in any way. he has nothing against any of them ── they are dear people to both him and you, megumi is just inclined towards privacy and doesn’t want your time together to be interrupted. especially if you are a busy person who doesn’t have much opportunity to spend time with him.

despite being quiet, he is a little jealous often. not on a controlling level or anything like that, but he could easily end up making greater gestures to reinforce his dominance over your heart ── a treasure more precious than any cursed jewel. grabbing your waist gently and pulling you closer when he notices someone staring is not an uncommon occurrence.

୨୧ KENTO NANAMI — green flag.

i have nothing to say besides: you’re lucky — really. this man is a blessing.

nanami is honestly the ideal kind of guy no matter what life you want to lead. He honestly tries to balance his personal life with the work he so fervently hates, and he understands and helps you doing the same.

BIGGEST RED FLAG — emotional walls (eventually lets them down).

one of the few things that are not respectable about this man is that he really takes a long time before showing himself vulnerable in any way, shape, or form. nanami's experience makes him a very cold and harsh guy on the outside, but with well-defined morals and a heart of gold. he's also inclined towards privacy, just like megumi, and would prefer if you didn't get too involved in his circle of friends (more because of gojo than anything else, really).

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

no. not really. nanami appreciates the normality and calmness that can come from a life with you. he genuinely doesn't care if you're a sorcerer or if you're the head of the marketing department.

impressively, he's not as protective as others on the list. of course, he worries about your safety, but he doesn't doubt his own ability to be there to protect you if needed.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, never. nanami is very adamant and loyal to you in all situations — he can't be tempted by someone else, because all he desires is you.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

as already mentioned, nanami prefers that you not get involved in his social circle, especially if you are a non-sorcerer. this is due to the fact that his senpai is clueless and could often create very uncomfortable situations. furthermore, he is afraid that you will be interested in more of his acquaintances and end up discovering/getting more involved with jujutsu.

he's very supportive of pretty much every decision you make ── as long as it doesn't hurt you and doesn't seem rushed without thought. he makes a point of looking for you for conversations that he considers necessary and punctuating whatever is needed.

nanami is very analytical too. if the two of you set a goal, agree on its repercussions and after a long time, decide on it ── like, for example, having a family ── he works hard to make it happen. it is not uncommon for him to agree to work overtime to receive a salary bonus to prepare a surprise for you, or support you better. he doesn't doubt your independence in the slightest, but he would like to constantly give you gifts as thanks for your divine presence in his life.

kento is very kind and basically the height of chivalry. for those who say that romanticism is dead, it's because they've never seen your boyfriend tying your shoelaces, carrying you on his lap, taking you to romantic dinners and making dinner for the two of you.

୨୧ SATORU GOJO — beige flag.

strongest sorcerer, a charming man, and good at flirting. although, an actual relationship? oh, boy. . .

satoru isn't necessarily a bad boyfriend per se. he's far from the worst option on the list, but he genuinely has a lot of problems that would make a relationship fall apart.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotionally unavailable.

satoru's personal experience has made him carry the burden of being the strongest sorcerer during his entire life. it's his identity to nearly everyone else — the satoru gojo, and not just satoru. it feels set in stone.

he doesn't have close friends or a support group that he feels he can genuinely trust fully since suguru's betrayal. this rubs off on you and makes him avoid really emotional conversations or directly saying what he's feeling — even when it's necessary. it's almost impossible to make his emotional walls come down, and if they do, he'll probably act a little sour for a while ── a kind of reflex, where he's wary of the idea of being betrayed once again.

being vulnerable is not his strong suit.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

no, but it's preferable that you are. not only because you would understand him and his capabilities much better, but because as a sorcerer you would have your own worryingly long workload, and wouldn't make such a big deal about him almost never being home. at least, he thinks so, but he wouldn't avoid a relationship with you if you weren't a sorcerer.

also, he gets worried about you constantly — he has lots of enemies that could try to hurt you to get to him. if you're a sorcerer, at least he can believe more easily that you can defend yourself.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

personally, i don't think he would. as already mentioned, gojo's inability to be with just one woman is, in my view, his inability to be vulnerable and honest.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

personally, i interpret “satoru is the type of man who cannot be faithful to a woman” precisely because of the emotional problem. he can't be vulnerable and that only gets the relationship to a certain point before it stops working completely. it's very, very difficult to get past the defenses he's created for himself, and there's always the chance he'll get scared and decide to leave.

the gojo clan isn't really a hindrance ── what are they actually going to do, argue with their only relevant member? ── but they can be quite uncomfortable. the person with the strongest sorcerer needs, in their view, to be “proper.” this includes: being a sorcerer and having many strong children for a new generation.

if you do not meet these requirements for any reason (not wanting or not being able to have children), the clan is unfriendly towards you. this doesn't stop the relationship in any way, or it doesn't stop you and satoru from getting married one day, however, it is quite awkward.

regardless of whether you are a sorcerer or not, there is a gulf of difference between satoru's lifestyle and yours. while he doesn't have difficulties with money or power ── and maybe you do ── this means he can't quite understand what it's like to be in your shoes. he's not unfriendly, but his arrogant and defensive nature can really lead to a silly fight or two that escalates depending on the situation.

୨୧ SUGURU GETO — red flag.

i love suguru, but he’s undeniably not an ideal partner.

i don't think there's much doubt about whether geto would be a red flag. he is. even if you consider his nature in the relationship more than his personality itself, it's still the case.

BIGGEST RED FLAG (besides the genocide nature)? — manipulative.

as a very skilled cult leader and orator, suguru has an indescribable charisma and a well-directed charm ── be it to convert those he calls monkeys or to enlist sorcerers to his cause. however, this charm can also be used on you and your relationship.

intentionally or not, he ends up trying to convince you of the same things he does. either his own distorted belief ── or his apologies become attempts at manipulation. he's not beyond gaslighting you, either. he learns what type of action provokes a specific reaction from you and ends up acting very artificially sometimes.

the benevolent cult leader persona he uses on non-sorcerers mixes with the real suguru geto, and that's definitely something scary to have in a relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

yes. there's just no other way. sorry, it's geto.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

not really. capturing geto's attention isn't really an easy thing, and maintaining your position as his partner is just as hard a task. i don't see him having eyes for anyone else, because i feel that if you were in a relationship, he would need to have some kind of attachment to you and wouldn't want to hurt you on purpose.

despite this, in those ridiculously impossible situations — if he could achieve the world he wants by sleeping with someone else, would he do it? then the answer is yes. but i don't know if that counts.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

he is more married to his cause than he would ever be to you. he will not change for you, nor he will abandon his dream. that's a thought you can't let go of your mind when you're with him. no matter your own actions and beliefs, the new world must be created using any and all means necessary. no price is too high, no one is too innocent to be sacrificed.

being around someone like that would not only be exhausting but terrifying. there is always the uncertainty of what he would do if you left him. on the one hand, suguru doesn't want to hurt you. on the other hand, as his partner, you would know too many valuable things to just leave. he would never let you go like that.

it's very important not to forget that suguru definitely suffers from delusions of grandeur and high expectations of himself and everything around him. whether it's about the new world, his role in it, or about you. he faces some frustration when this expectations are not met, but he does his best not to take it out on you.

he might even "forgive" the fact that you don't actively fight to kill non-sorcerers, like he does, but he wouldn't want you to interact with them other than when it's absolutely necessary. furthermore, suguru would require absolute hygiene. don't touch him if you've been too close to a non-sorcerer. in cases where you have shaken someone's hand or hugged someone, he will refuse to talk to you until you wash your hands or take a shower.

and if you see non-sorcerers as people, as lives who matter, it will be absolutely worse. it would certainly be a very frequent topic of discussion between the two of you, so opposing views would make the relationship unsustainable. but staying silently by his side makes you accomplice — the blood of all these people will be on your hands, because you knew.

you knew and you did nothing to stop him, nonetheless.

୨୧ SUKUNA RYOMEN — red flag.

do i have to say anything? nevermind. i’ll pray for your soul instead. lord have mercy on you — because sukuna won’t.

if you were so unfortunate as to capture the king of curses' attention in this way, i can only be so sorry.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's sukuna.

it's hard to know where to start when naming his worst red flag. would it be his violent nature? his overall behavior? the sadistic desire for death and the total lack of morals? sukuna knows nothing but power, and has no respect for anything other than himself or equivalent strength. it makes your relationship with him less of a romantic thing — and more like an owner-pet relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

i'm inclined to say yes, because it's difficult to see where sukuna would be interested in a non-sorcerer. regardless, i guess it doesn't really matter as long as you fit his twisted and bizarre criteria, somehow.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, but not for the reasons you think. love is an unknown and irrelevant concept to him, so what really stops him from cheating on you is not moral. it's desire, or rather, the lack of it. no one is as interesting as you in that sense.

he wouldn't cheat on you simply because there is no one else he wants like that. but not in a romantic sense, like nanami. it's like someone who is so engrossed in one thing in particular that in comparison, everything is gray and rotten.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

there's very little i can describe without being extremely dark compared to other reviews. sukuna would play with you until he got tired, and when he did, he would send you to the pot and enjoy a nice dinner.

i think the closest thing that can be called showing affection from him is when he asks uraume to be extra careful with the meat this time. he had, somehow, a strange feeling for you that he didn't understand. even tired, he wouldn't forget a human who fascinated him so deeply. furthermore, it would be agonizing for other sorcerers and humans. sukuna would not be actively looking for replacements, but sincerely. if he was, he would be disappointed. sometimes he turns to bark a mean comment, just to not see you there, and murmur oh, right, knowing very well he is the reason.

despite this, he may feel some kind of affection for you. sort of. the kind of pity you would feel for a beggar on the street, or the feeling you have for a pet, in some way. he would never see you as an equal. an interesting creature, but beneath him, as it is your place.

none of this would ever stop him from killing you if you became a nuisance, though.

୨୧ TOGE INUMAKI — green flag.

few words, but a lot of action and gentleness.

after a horror show committed by our favorite cannibal, a good look at our favorite ingredient talker should cool us down nicely. toge is actually the type to act instead of talk, because, well. . . salmon?

BIGGEST RED FLAG? bad communication.

even if you are a great sign language interpreter, there will be communication problems in your relationship. sometimes you may not understand what he is saying, or the other way around.

this is not a fatal defect, but it certainly exists, and needs to be addressed accordingly. furthermore, it is difficult to have serious conversations or argue. it's very annoying not being able to have a serious dialogue without hearing an onigiri ingredient in response. but it becomes a bit habitual for you and it doesn't make that much of a difference — it's the way he needs to communicate and you understand. toge understands how difficult it can be to communicate with him and does his best to help the process.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

i'm tempted to say absolutely not, but if you're not a sorcerer there's no chance of you having a relationship without you at least knowing about jujutsu. in any case, you will be inserted into this world and this context, but honestly it doesn't matter to him. as long as it is you.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, not at all. man can barely speak to his friends, how could he even chat with someone else and cheat behind your back? despite all the jokes, it's not really toge's thing.

sure, he can't directly tell someone else he's rejecting them — again, communication —, but he just needs to show his ring and they'll leave him alone. usually. he does not entertain flirtation from anyone who's not you, though.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

loving toge is as calming an experience as it is chaotic. he wants to do everything that “more normal people” would do too. for example, going on dates in big, crowded places — even if a part of him screams internally when not being able to talk to you like these people do. and honestly, even when he merely wishes for the simple, he just wants you to be happy and enjoy. your relationship is something very important to him, and there would certainly be a doubt if he can be a sorcerer and be your boyfriend at the same time. inumaki's lifestyle is not really something anyone wishes for their significant other, after all, but he was willing to try.

despite not being able to speak, he always has a cell phone and a notepad at hand. it's common for you to find small notes and loving notes, or his messages. love messages, messages asking how your day was, messages telling you that you forgot your lunch — giving him the perfect opportunity to just slip away and personally hand it over to you. he turns down the collar of his coat to return your smile when doing so.

toge also has a habit of sending you pictures like cute cats and a small love poem. he never wants you to feel appreciated — and everytime his friends tease him for smiling like a fool to the phone, he murmurs an affectionate “okaka”.

୨୧ TOJI FUSHIGURO — beige / red flag.

already experienced with love, a hurt heart can literally end everything.

the experience of being in a relationship with toji can be the happiest thing in your life or the most toxic addiction possible. it really depends on a single factor: is he able to love you truly, even after mamaguro? he'll be the only character in this list with two “separated” versions.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotionally distant / inconsiderate.

in a world where he can love you just like he loved megumi's mother, toji has a lot of emotional baggage that is difficult to deal with. his job is dangerous, he had an extensive past with another woman and an abandoned son, it's a lot for both him and you. it's very difficult to get close to him at first, but he slowly opens up and is willing to change and improve his life, getting a new start with you. one he won't lose.

in a world where he can't love you, he just doesn't care. you're just another partner he hooks up with occasionally, and he makes that clear. he's not interested in anything serious, not marriage, not anything. you are not the love of his life and you will not be. and if you feel bad about these words? well. you're out of luck.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

definitely not. he couldn't care less in any case.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

again, that depends. if he loves you truly, hell no. anyone who comes to flirt with him while he is in a relationship with you will be ignored and likely humiliated if he persists. if you managed to capture this man's heart, congratulations, he's all yours.

if he doesn't love you — yeah. pretty much. then it's more about if he wants someone else than your feelings.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

there's not much to say about toji's part and his role in a relationship, except that it won't be easy in any case. the past is the ghost that haunts every man, conscious or not. and his is full of blood, guts, tears and lost love. being willing to deal with this is not only necessary but something he won't forget. it's very difficult to win his loyalty permanently, but if you do, you simply have to worry about it anymore.

if he does not love you, it's very likely that he will eventually leave you for someone richer. money is mainly what would keep him in a relationship — sex is just a bonus. when some of those ends up being too difficult to get (or when these things are missing), his lack of emotional attachment makes him easily turn around and leave, to never returning again.

୨୧ YUJI ITADORI — green flag.

a very good option! the problem is that it is not long-lasting.

yuji is a sweetheart, really. definitely not a bad choice (one of the best ones in this list!). although, he has a very unfortunate destiny in front of him.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's way too selfless.

being selfless is a great quality, but in cases like yuji's, things go overboard very easily. he doesn't have as much respect or admiration for himself as he does for other people, and this can definitely be very damaging to his mental health and, consequently, your relationship.

he takes risks for his friends and strangers, he swallows cursed objects, he does his best to save lives — and he blames himself under fail, despite it not being his fault. he's the kind of man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and doesn't want you to exhaust yourself trying to share it with him.

DO YOU HAVE TO BE A SORCERER?

not really, but if you're not, the relationship ends very quickly and suddenly. yuji wouldn't allow himself to tell you about jujutsu, being the vessel of sukuna, and anything that puts you under risk. this includes staying close to him.

he wouldn't break up with you just because you're not a sorcerer, he just values your safety too much and is afraid of what could happen. if you are one, he feels slightly relieved you won't separate, but still tense. you can still die.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

he would never. never, ever. you're his love and he could never betray your trust like that. in one occasion, he said he wouldn't cheat on you even if it were with jennifer lawrence.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

the most important point to make is that yuji will undeniably die. he would be executed, and he thinks he should be, and that was the order given since he made a mistake that day. one day, and his life changed forever. having a relationship with you is one of the few lasting joys in his life, but when it ends for whatever reason, it will hurt more. maybe he'll try to break up with you sooner and move away so you don't feel so upset about losing him.

yuji is also the guy who was thrown into the context of the jujutsu world in a very unfortunate situation — he can be very slow to understand some things and, if you are a sorcerer, fearful. he understands that many sorcerers have important reputations to maintain. maybe you have too. in that case, wouldn't it be better not to have a relationship with sukuna's vessel in your past? what if the higher-ups antagonize you for that, and your career can't succeed? he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable about the topic, and he often doesn't say what he's feeling directly. yuji doesn't lie, but he omits.

he is very anxious despite his constant positive attitude. sukuna likes to mess with yuji's mental health, and he knows how much you mean to him. yuji would purposely turn away from you very often, terrified that somehow, the king of curses would kill you simply to laugh at his expense. he can't lose you — the ironic thing is that maybe he would lose, distancing himself so much.

୨୧ YUTA OKKOTSU — green / beige flag.

not bad, but. . . very questionable, nonetheless.

last, but not least! the implicitly yandere yuta okkotsu — not by far the worst option we have out of all of them here, but. he has almost unforgivable habits.

BIGGEST RED FLAG — rika (?)

everyone agrees that seeing your boyfriend's first love as a bloody, inhuman ghost is a pretty uncomfortable experience. in your case, it is an uncomfortable and constant experience, happening practically on a daily basis. although rika is much more controlled nowadays, and she is more a manifestation of technique than a soul in itself — it's not the kind of thing that anyone just finds normal. even sorcerers.

unfortunately, your boyfriend's late first love is kind of always there anyway. he still wears the ring he needs to connect with her, even if he gave you a different one. it's strange and sometimes it gives the impression that either you are a replacement, or that you will never reach that level of affection. you're the other woman in your own relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

again, no. but it's preferable that you are. all the difficult issues of being a sorcerer would be better understood if you were one yourself. it would also avoid him lying to you / hiding jujutsu from you. furthermore, yuta is a paranoid mess.

he always imagines that the second he's not around, you're going to get hurt. he cannot stand even the weakest curses near you, crushing them like repulsive insects.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, unless you consider rika and his “relationship” with her.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

honestly, the time you have with yuta always seems to be under the influence of an hourglass, limited. ready to end at any second, where his work will be a constant interruption. he tries and tries very hard not to let this undermine his relationship, but it can become an occasional problem. he had to spend long periods of time in other countries, and it hurts for him to be so far away.

yuta is strangely clingy. you can't expect anything less. he's the kind of boyfriend who can easily become overprotective in a way that's not cute. always guiding you to one side on the sidewalk, one hand around your waist, staring deathly at any man who gets too close. it doesn't matter if it's his friend or a mutual friend of yours, there is a certain distance that everyone must respect when it comes to you. except him.

besides being like a cat (very skittish with some people, invades your personal space very frequently), yuta is very demanding in some aspects. he really hates it if someone flirts with you, even though he wouldn't take that frustration out on you. after all, it's not your fault and it would be unfair. but he's very adamant about not having any secrets or personal things he doesn't know about. secrets kill people, and he can't bear to lose you.

despite all the lessons he learned with rika, sometimes you end up wondering if he will curse you too, if you end up dying. you ask him about it. if he would. yuta doesn't answer.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES. thank you for reading! <3

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”