#that or he really doesn't mind it- either way he never seems to anticipate it

[crnl-chicken-tots]

Welcome to my "late night thoughts that I fixate on for a month before doing something about" ideas.

Look at the boys- silly, aren't they?

[killerlookz]

Just Friends pt. II | Joost Klein

part two to Just Friends

description: Joost Klein x f! reader- following Joost's confession, him and reader decide to explore their newfound feelings in the comfort of his hotel bed.

content: 18+ NSFW, MDNI... thigh riding, dry humping (truly a lost art), unprotected P in V, creampie (we need a better word for this im sorry) much fluff throughout! this fic contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable, and please block the rpf tag

word count: 3.1k

"Not if you don't want us to be."

"What?" The simple, short, singular word leaves your lips much harsher than you had anticipated. Your body is suddenly rigid despite Joost's prior attempts to get you to relax.

"I wouldn't mind..." Joost trails off, his hand lightly gliding over your upper arm.

It doesn't take much to squirm out of Joost's gentle grasp, flipping over so you're now facing him. You notice the proximity between the two of you, if either of you were to move forward slightly your lips would surely collide.

Joost's lips flatten into a tight, sheepish smile. You're unsure of what to say, afraid that anything that comes out of your mouth will sound all too desperate.

"Being more than friends?" Your voice is just above a whisper, trembling as you search for confirmation that Joost had really been asking you what you thought he did.

He nods, his eyes afire with an emotion you hadn't recognized in him before. You bite your lip at his confirmation- it had all seemed so apparent now, and had you really ever been just friends?

"I don't think I'd mind either," Your smile is soft, the muscles of your mouth just barely stretching to curl themselves upwards. You hadn't been sure if at that moment you had just accepted anything, if he was truly asking you out, if your words right then and there made you his girlfriend. But with the way your stomach tightens, and your whole body vibrates with an energy you have yet to experience before you are certain something has changed between the two of you.

Joost's hand gently brushes against your face, cupping your cheek with his palm. Your blood runs hot, and your body feels like it is on fire as Joost's thumb brushes against your lips, forcing them into a pout.

Suddenly his lips replace his thumb, just about swallowing you in a hungry kiss. A slight whimper escapes your mouth at the contact just before you engage him back.

Any gap between the two of you is immediately closed, now chest to chest as your lips slot together perfectly. But it wasn't enough, with each kiss you're left wanting more and more, and despite your physical proximity you still feel so far from him.

You snake one of your legs around him, his knee slipping between your thighs, allowing you to at least become marginally closer, your hips now pressing against his.

The kiss is slow and dizzying, your brain feeling like it was turning to nothing but mush as Joost's lips continued to work against yours. But you need something more.

You hardly recognize your own movements as your hips sputter forward, it seems almost involuntary as you search for whatever that "more" you needed was. A delightful friction arises as your crotch brushes against Joost's thigh. You had found it, that feeling you had been missing. You rock your hips back and forth, slowly, as to wait for a confirmation that what you had been doing was okay.

Joost raised his leg a little higher, to a position that was perfectly slotted between your upper thighs, one where you wouldn't have to strain so much to rub against him. You took that as the confirmation you needed to quicken your pace, rolling your hips to feel the delicious friction of his thigh against your clit, the thin fabric of your pajama shorts and lacy panties did little to stifle the feeling. Still- you're eager to feel more of him.

Soft gasps leave your mouth between kisses, making it all the more apparent how you had been using Joost to get yourself off. Never had you felt more desperate for someone than you did at this moment, your actions only further solidified that feeling you'd had all this week, Joost had made you feel like you were a teenager falling in love again. And now, something about this had made you feel like you were a virgin again, inexperienced and fiending to be touched.

Joost pulls back from you, causing your eyes to flutter open. His pink, swollen lips curl into a smirk, clearly enjoying whatever sensation it was he was causing you.

His hand had not left your face, and he had now been gently caressing your cheek, rubbing soft circles with his palm.

"Do you want to um-," He stops, and for a moment you swear he's flustered himself, he blinks a few times before starting over, "Do you want to take your shorts off?"

You nod quick and wordlessly, you remove your leg from where it had been wrapped around Joost's, eager to pull at the tight fabric of your shorts.

As you're kicking off your shorts, Joost turns to lie on his back, and he urges you to get on top of him as soon as your bottoms are thrown about somewhere else in the room.

With some hesitance you climb on top of Joost, sitting on his thighs as you straddle him. He places both of his hands on your hips,

"You can come closer," He beckons, his voice soft and sweet.

You lean over into a position that isn't necessarily comfortable, your chest on top of his as you rest your head on his shoulder. Joost's arms tighten around your waist, keeping you close to him.

You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears as the room is still for a moment, neither of you daring to move or say a word.

"Can you move up a little?" Joost asks with hesitance in his voice, but you don't question it, instead, you quickly oblige with his request.

As you push your hips forward to shift upward you can suddenly feel him. A tightness forms in your stomach as you notice how he strains against the fabric of his boxers. What he had actually been asking you to do had made itself clear, and you lift your hips to position yourself on top of his hardened cock.

A small whimper escapes you as your hips lower, your cunt covered in nothing but flimsy panties, slick with your own arousal, brushing against his hardness. You wondered if he could possibly feel how wet you were, certain you'd leave a wet spot on his underwear.

"Feel how much I want you?" He asks, his voice low and sultry.

"Mhmfuck," You whisper, rutting your hips in an effort to feel more of him. The friction was intoxicating, your layers of clothes just minimal enough for you to feel what you wanted.

Your eyes are shut tight, your fingers digging into Joost's bare shoulders as soft moans leave your mouth. With his arms still wrapped around your waist, Joost gently guided your hips up and down at a pace that felt good for both of you.

"Just like that," He breathes out.

You don't know how to tell him you want even more, fearing you had already been treading some sort of line now. However, you're not sure how much longer you can hold on if you don't change what you're doing now.

Your fingers dig deeper into Joost's shoulders, your hips reaching a staccato as you grind against the length of his dick.

"Joost," his name falls from your lips in a strained whisper, like you're begging for him.

"You okay, liefje?" You had become accustomed to Joost's simple pet names, aware that his short musings towards you in Dutch were a show of affection, though you didn't always know exactly what he was saying.

You were more than okay.

"Need you," You whimper out, somewhat pathetically as the movement of your hips loses any sort of pace.

He's suddenly holding you a lot tighter, forcing your movements to slow until you can't move anymore. A pained whine leaves your mouth at the loss of sensation, your poor cunt throbbing just above his cock.

"Roll over," Joost prompts, his voice is not exactly commanding, but you're eager to do what he asks of you as soon as his words meet your ears, slipping off of him, letting your back hit the firm mattress below you.

And suddenly, he's the one on top now, gazing down at you as his arms prop himself on either side of your head. You stare back up at him, gazing on what you considered to be utter perfection. You're in awe of the way the dim, warm light of the hotel room is able to capture his features, the way his glossy lips part so perfectly, how his piercing blue eyes twinkle with adoration, how his white-blond hair forms a soft halo around his head. You could get used to this view.

"Are you sure-"

"Yes," You cut him off, not having to hear the rest of his sentence, just yes.

"You don't even know what I was asking." He chuckles.

You swallow down hard, preparing for what you're about to say next,

"I want you to fuck me." You stare deeply into his eyes, using all your courage to keep focused on him, to not curl up and cower in shame.

A smile ghosts over Joost's face before his tongue darts from his mouth, wetting his lips,

"Will you settle for me making love to you?"

Your body grows warm, butterflies pulsing in your lower stomach- god he was so corny, and he wore a face like he knew it too.

You nod, feeling your own words had been too crass for the situation anyway- you wouldn't mind taking things slow, making them more romantic.

Joost sits up, resting on his knees between your legs. The pads of his fingers swipe over the waistband of your panties, the slight touch tickling you, making you release a stifled breath of air from your nose.

He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your lower stomach, and another right above the elastic of your underwear. You feel your core start to ache as his kisses trail lower, a kiss to your pubic bone before finally placing a kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties. The contact has you wanting to squeeze your thighs together, but with Joost between them now that would prove to be a difficult challenge.

It isn't long before his fingers are hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. You suck in a sharp gasp as the cold air that surrounds you hits your soaked cunt, a sudden reminder of how exposed you were.

Your panties are tossed somewhere in the room much like your pajama shorts had been some time ago, and Joost returns to you, fingers pulling at the hem of the T-shirt you wore, begging to pull it over your head.

You don't cause much fuss, raising your arms above your head so Joost can continue to undress you. You can't help but feel a little stunned now, absolutely bearing it all to Joost as your shirt lands on the floor.

The world seems to stop for a minute as Joost stares down at you, drinking in every inch of your naked body. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief at you in front of him,

"So beautiful," He muses, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against your cheek, "And all for me." He continues.

The small claim of possession has you feeling dizzy as anticipation eats at you. You smile up at Joost, batting your eyelashes, inviting him to take the moment to where you both know you had wanted it to go.

He's able to take your small hint, leaning back so he can pull down his underwear, sliding the elastic waistband down to his thighs, allowing for his stiff cock to spring from the fabric.

As you bite at your lip it's hard not to be impressed with what you're working with. Instinctively, you bend your knees, spreading your legs as you do so, allowing Joost the access to you that he needs.

He props himself up with one arm next to your head, the both of you staring down intently at where he's lining himself up with your entrance. Joost's eyes flick to yours briefly,

"Are you sure?" He asks once more

"Yes, please." You breathe out, arching your back, just begging for some contact between the two of you. The way you ache for him seems indescribable with words like it's some sort of primal instinct that you just have.

Holding the base of his cock firmly in his hand, Joost guides the tip to your entrance, teasing at first, before finally lining himself up to thrust into you. He looks down at you intently as he drives his hips forward, your pussy immediately stretching to compensate for him now being inside of you.

Your eyes screw tight at the initial stretch, needing a moment to adjust to his size, but Joost moves slowly, waiting until you seem ready to push in any further.

However, you adjust quickly, and your arousal makes it easy for Joost to slide into you, bottoming out with a loud grunt. He stays still for a moment, the two of you locked in a passionate stare. Just as slowly as he entered you, he pulls out until only the head is inside, before pushing in once more, this time at a slightly faster pace.

In only a few strokes you can already swear this is the best sex you've ever had.

You're a mess as your pussy stretches around Joost's cock, the mix of your arousal and Joost's movements filling the room with a lewd, wet sound, tangled with the strangled moans that emerge from each of your throats. You engage him in a slow, passionate kiss as he leans forward, continuing to thrust into you as his lips engulf yours, fucking you so perfectly that you nearly want to tell him you love him.

You almost can't believe the way he's making you feel, if it wasn't for the fact that his lips were planted firmly against yours- you would surely be screaming out his name with each gentle thrust forward.

He pulls away briefly from the kiss to mumble to you,

"S'like you were made for me." His voice is strained, clear he was in a state of bliss similar to yours. And you couldn't help but echo his sentiment, the way he fucked into you seemed all too perfect.

Unable to keep his head up much longer Joost pulls back from the kiss, his head dipping down to hang next to yours, his hair gently tickling your shoulder.

His long, drawn-out moans are no longer stifled by your kisses, and his low noises are like music to your ears. Especially as they combine with your soft whimpers, making it clear just how good you had been making each other feel.

Sensing the tightness that had been building inside of you beginning to reach a breaking point, your pussy clenches, causing Joost to react with a sharp, pointed, "Fuck," Jumping from his lips.

The noises he makes only act as further fuel to propel you towards your eventual orgasm.

You wrap both your arms around Joost, pulling him towards you as much as you possibly can, eager for even more contact. Your fingernails dig into his back, scratching down his soft flesh as Joost's cock repeatedly hits that perfect spot inside of you.

With a cried-out moan, you're tipping your head, and your back arches, knowing you're not going to be able to take much more of this as you begin to tremble, your hips bucking wildly to attempt to meet Joost's movements.

"Joost," You whine, "I'm so close-fuck-so close." You barely stutter the words out as your pleasure begins to take complete control of your body.

"Come on," He urges, "That's okay, cum all over me."

And with that, you can feel yourself letting go, everything all of a sudden becoming overwhelming as you bite Joost's name into your tongue. Your legs fight to close around Joost's hips as your hips spasm, your pussy pulsing around the length of Joost's cock as your orgasm finally hits you.

You could nearly cry at what you're feeling, your entire body trembling as the most intense wave of pleasure rolls over you. You cannot help the moans that leap from your throat as your release coats Joost's cock.

Joost's movements become sloppy as he gets closer to finishing himself, the added wetness only allowing him to fuck into you at a wilder pace.

Your head flops to the side, legs still trembling as your pleasure turns to overstimulation. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out at the sensation, although it all feels like way too much.

"Please," Joost begs, "Just a few more seconds."

You can't do much but nod as his hips begin to slam into you.

You yelp as his hips meet yours for one final time, and with some mumbled curses Joost spills into you, followed by a long string of praises in a mix of Dutch and English making it hard to understand exactly what he had said.

With an exhale Joost collapses onto you, the two of you struggling to catch your breaths. You can't think of much to say, no word seemed appropriate for how you had been feeling, no praise high enough had been invented yet to share the full depth of what you were experiencing.

All you can do is revel in the sweet afterglow, overwhelmed by these newfound feelings.

Finally, after catching his breath to the best of his ability, Joost slowly pulls out of you, the lingering contact making you whine as your eyes screw shut.

You can feel his warm release spilling onto your things as Joost flops down on his back. With a sharp inhale he begins to speak,

"Let me get something to clean you up."

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Laying comfortably under the thick linnens of Joost's hotel bed, you sigh with contentment, resting your head against his chest. Your eyelids rest heavily over your eyes, tired from your prior activities, and even more exhausted from the week as a whole.

You're confident tonight you're going to have the greatest sleep of your life as Joost pulls you into a tight hug. The stress of the competition and the invasive press had all seemed to melt away as you listened to the soft thud of Joost's heart beating right under where your head lay against his chest.

A soft kiss ghosts over the crown of your head, as a half-asleep Joost mumbles something in Dutch, what you can maybe make out as goodnight, and not much past that.

You sigh once more, nuzzling your cheek to Joost's chest, yearning for as much contact with him as you could get before mumbling out yourself

"Goodnight, Joost."

[msgexymunson]

Life Hack

Description: Maybe Eddie will finally get the message that you do like him when you show him a little bra life hack. 

A/N: what can I say, this was rattling in my head when I showed my partner how to undo a bra one handed and I couldn't help but think of Eddie (because he lives in my brain now and refuses to leave.) If you enjoy it please comment and reblog my sweethearts!

Warnings: NSFW, minor DNI (here there be nipples) fem slightly dom reader, Eddie is an idiot, boob play, dry humping

Masterlist 

1.5k words

You walk into Eddie's room with freshly brushed teeth, wearing a stolen t-shirt of his, the Iron Maiden one with the bleach stains that has become your favourite, and some tiny sleep shorts. Eddie's already sprawled on the bed in a pair of pyjama pants, one arm slung under his head, the other holding half a joint over the full ashtray. 

Fuck, he isn't making this easy. 

His slim toned physique, his tattoos, his happy trail. It's all making your mouth water with anticipation for something that doesn't seem possible. Try as you might to entice him, Eddie's not getting the message. You've been dying for Eddie to take the leap, to move your relationship out of the friendship zone but either he doesn't like you that way or he really is an idiot. 

One minute he's flirting, the next he's punching you on the arm and play fighting with you like you're his kid sister or something. It really makes you wonder how he lost his virginity in the first place.

"You want some of this?" 

"Huh?" You ask just a little too loudly. 

"This," he says, waving the joint at you and smirking.  

"Oh, sure, gimme- oh goddamn!" As you reach out you feel a twang and a pain digging into your side. 

"What the hell just happened?" Eddie asks, looking confused. 

"It's nothing Eds, just my bra rebelling" you laugh, wriggling uncomfortably. 

"You can, erm, take it off… you know, if it makes you more comfortable." He's blushing, you swear you see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Maybe he does like you? The thought places your heart firmly in your throat.

Reaching behind you, you expertly flick your bra open and start manoeuvring the shirt sleeves so you can take it off. Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor, eyes bugging out like a cartoon. 

"It's undone? Just like that?" 

You laugh at the face he's pulling, until you have a light bulb moment. 

"Do you want me to teach you?" 

"What?" If Eddie's eyes could get wider, they somehow do, taking over his face like an anime character. 

"I could teach you how to do it, if you want. It's like a life hack, you know? I really don't mind." 

Eddie looks in turmoil for a minute. Maybe you crossed a line. Until you hear his response. 

"Oh, erm… OK?" 

Reaching around to clip your bra back in place, you wriggle everything in position. 

"Give me some of that first" you say, wiggling your fingers at him. He wordlessly passes the joint to you and you take a deep drag, blowing smoke upwards. It helps to calm your nerves a little. Taking another, blowing smoke, and passing it back to him, he takes it to finish it off, stubbing it out in the ashtray. He looks panicked, moving the ashtray off of the bed, clearing the bed of debris, like this was going to be some complicated mission. 

Right, it's now or never. Maybe he'll finally get the fucking hint. 

Taking a deep breath, you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. The bra is nothing special really, just a black cotton one, tiny bow situated between your breasts. 

Eddie's mouth opens and closes at the sight, gaping like a moron at your exposed cleavage. Moving over to the bed, you straddle him, backwards. 

"Right, so if you look, it's real easy." You move one hand behind your back, pushing your thumb into the hook part, and flick the bra undone with your index finger. You're not sure if you hear a gasp or if you're just imagining it.

"See? Easy." You clip it back into position and risk a glance over your shoulder. Eddie's face is glowing scarlet. It's the only sign he's giving you, so you're willing to take it as a good one. 

"Wanna try?" 

"Yeah-" his voice starts, impossibly high pitched, until he coughs and continues, much lower, "-Sure thing." 

You feel one hand at your hip, on your exposed skin. The touch you've been craving. It shoots to your core unexpectedly, making you so grateful Eddie can't see your face right now. The other hand starts shakily fumbling with the catch until he gets it. 

"See? Simple. OK," you do it back up, and swivel around, your heat pressed against him. The feel of him underneath you has your head reeling, imagining all sorts of depraved situations, but you reign it in. 

"You wanna try from this way?" 

"Uh huh." He's responding, but his eyes are glued to your chest. 

"Eddie…?" 

Snapping his head up, he almost looks guilty. 

"Yeah, sure." 

"So, sit up a bit, reach around." You beckon him with your fingers so he pulls himself upright, face suddenly so close to yours you feel his breath on your cheek. 

"So… thumb and forefinger, yeah?" 

Eddie's eyes dart to your lips and back up. 

"Yeah." He reaches, pulling you close for a minute, forcing air out of your lungs. Maybe this was a bad idea. It's getting difficult to breathe. Trying to calm yourself, you settle for staring at Eddie's ear. 

He's fumbling, but after a while he gets it. You feel the sudden free feeling. He looks up at you with his eyes all lit up like a dog that just learned a new trick. 

"I did it!" 

"Sure did. You wanna practise again?"

"Yeah sure." 

Once again, you put it back in position. This time, Eddie barely fumbles and flicks it off in one fluid motion. 

"See? Easy! Well done!" Genuinely pleased that you actually taught the boy something, you look him in the eyes for the first time since you decided to make this risky move. 

His usually beautiful amber brown eyes are dark, dipped in desire. He's breathing heavy, large palms coming to rest on your waist. But he's still not making a move. 

Fuck it. 

"You wanna see them?" You ask, praying you're reading him right. 

"...did you just say… what I think you just did?" 

You slowly slip the straps down your arms and peel the bra off, dropping it to the side. Your nipples, happy to be finally free, perk up at the air around them. Goosebumps run over your exposed flesh. 

"Holyfuckingshit!"

It comes out in one breath. Eddie's gawking gaze darts between your naked breasts; awe, shock and panic are fighting for dominance in his eyes. 

"Eddie." 

No response. 

"Eddie!" 

"Huh?" 

You cradle his jaw with one hand and his eyes finally look at you. Unable to wait for a second longer, you press your lips against his. 

It's like a switch is finally flipped in Eddie's brain. He pushes his tongue in your mouth immediately, swiping at yours with such urgency it shocks you. His hand is pushing into the small of your back, guiding you to grind over the hard bulge in his pants. 

The other hand finds your breast, squeezing at it. His thumb runs over your nibble, flicking at the hardened nub, sending tingles through your nerves and up your spine.  

When he breaks from your kiss and starts mouthing at your neck, you tell him finally, words spilling from slick, kiss bitten lips. 

"I was wondering when you'd get the fucking message Eddie." 

You run your fingernails through his hair making him groan into your neck.

"The hell," he breathes, mouth dragging down to your chest, "didn't think you, you liked me like that." 

"You're a fucking idiot Eds, been trying to flirt with you for weeks- oh God!" 

His tongue starts running around your nipple, shocking you out of your reprimand. Moans replace words as he sucks at your nipple, making you rub against him faster. Your clit is begging for more attention and Eddie's happy to oblige, forcing you against him, hard. 

The friction is building up; body buzzing with desire all the way to the tips of your toes. Eddie's desperately tonguing at your nipple, breath whistling through his nose hotly as he's whining in his throat. 

"Eddie, fuck, I'm gonna come!" You're gripping his biceps urgently, rocking against him with all the power you have. Your warning just pushes him further, sucking at your skin and moaning with you. 

Your release flows from you in an intense flash of white light as your fingernails dig into Eddie, holding on for all your worth, chest heaving with heavy pants. 

Eddie groans just as loudly as you as your hips finally stutter to a halt. He looks like he's had a religious experience, staring at you with hearts in his eyes. 

"Eds, did you just cum-" 

"Yup," he says, popping the P loudly, looking almost proud. His grin is reaching almost from ear to ear. This version of Eddie, the idiot, the one you fell for, is in front of you again. 

"So, you do like me then?" 

"Sweetheart, I think you're incredible, I just didn't think you saw me like that." He says, hands rubbing up and down your sides. 

"You're really stupid Eddie." 

"You're probably right" He smiles, eyes glancing back down to your chest. 

"So, do I get to see the rest?" 

No real tag list, just adding some likely people ;)

@lunatictardis @lightvixxen @roanniom @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiesprincess86 @munson-blurbs @wroteclassicaly @loveshotzz

[cyberm4n]

NSFW Alphabet for Alastor, Vox and Husk if you don’t mind pretty please!

as you wish :)

NSF/W ALPHABET

feat. alastor, vox, and husk

i wrote this over the span of a week and for a good portion of this i was pretty drunk so my apologies if it gets messy

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

alastor would recognize the need for aftercare but like as soon as you're fine and happy he's done with this whole ordeal. especially if you're someone who needs cuddles he will tolerate it until the exact moment you don't need him to.

vox tbh gives the vibes of like, he doesn't entirely think aftercare is necessary so only if he's in a good mood will he settle in and take care of you after.

husk is 100% all in on aftercare. you need water? done. need a towel? he's got them ready. anything you need he has it or will do it. he'd probably be SUPER big on cuddling though but he'd never admit it. he does get sleepy very easily tho.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

alastor doesn't seem the type to have a favorite body part but if he did it would be your neck. sorry.

vox is definitely an ass man 100% he always appreciates some ass

husk i feel would be particular about your hands, idk why he just gives that vibe.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

alastor is a big fan of cumming inside, leaving a mark on you

vox is 50/50 but he usually leans towards facials

husk is a creampier but in a more like intimate way.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

i don't imagine alastor having a dirty secret but i 100% think vox has fuck machines and husk is lowkey into bdsm (the more tamer parts)

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

i think in order of most experience to least it would be: vox, husk, alastor. i think alastor would have some experience but he doesn't do that stuff a lot yk, husk has definitely fucked before and knows his way around and i solidly think vox is an absolute sexual deviant and is the most experienced by far.

F= Favorite position

alastor is anything that establishes him a a dominant. thinking like a mating press cause he'd want to see your face but doggy style also works.

vox is a cowgirl enjoyer, or anything where you're on top of him. he likes watching you do the work.

husk probably trends to more vanilla like missionary but i don't think he'd have a favorite. he definitely likes anything where he can see your face though.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

alastor would be super serious i think, vox is like mostly serious/intense but sometimes he's just in a silly mood and i think husk is always a little bit relaxed about it, unless it's something really intimate then he's being all romantic and shit.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

alastor is well groomed when he anticipates having sex whereas husk is well groomed regardless, and vox i think is the kind to always keep it hairless down there

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

alastor is almost always rough but CAN be a little bit softer. same with vox, both of them are doing it with the intention fo dominating you.

husk is 50/50 can be either tbh. in a relationship he'd prly lean more towards something sappy and intimate.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

i don't see alastor masturbating at all tbh. sorry i know that's such a boring hc but like, i just don't see it happening.

vox 100% does, favorite way to blow off steam if you're not there. remember the fuck machines from earlier? yeah dude prly has a plethora of sex toys.

husk does but not often, like a normal amount. if he's feeling in the mood and you're not there or not in the mood as well he does mind it. he'd do the old man huff thing when undoing his pants tho.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

alastor would be pretty into choking and irgasm denial or like dubious consent. some form of cnc or just something that makes him feel like youre at his mercy. i think vox is in a similar boat but he'd be into the mirror kink or whatever it's called where you have sex infront of a mirror. husk would be into somno and overstim i think

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

alastor would be into privacy, given the fact he's like dominating you he wants the space to do so

vox doesn't care but in his office is where the majority of it would happen i think. he seems the type to rage the fuck out at his desk and need his little doll come make him feel better :(

husk is a bedroom guy but on the off chance the hotel is dead quiet you might be able to convince him into something in the parlor

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

alastor is domination and owning you, vox is a mixture of possessiveness and genuinely wanting to get off, husk is all in for pleasure and pleasing you

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

alastor would never bottom, like ever. it doesn't matter how much you ask that man is never submitting to you

vox i don't think there's much but he's not into being dommed i don't think. it's a very thin line though because like sometimes he'd like to just be a bit mindless and get fucked and pampered more

husk would never do really rough play. anything that involves straight up hurting you is a big no

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

alastor would be a giving guy i think. not that he wouldn't enjoy you giving him head but it's a power thing right, when he goes down on you and you're writhing beneath him? it's heaven. skill wise 7/10

vox is a receiving guy, he loves watching you suck him off. i think he'd go down on you if you asked but it's not his first thought yk. skill wise 4-5/10

husk is a 50/50 again but i think he's more partial to receiving. something about you on your knees and taking care of him like that is so mesmerizing. skill wise 8/10

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

alastor could last for a really long time tbh despite the powerplay it's also mostly about your pleasure to dominate you. he'd be fast pace wise though

vox is about average for how long he lasts, there's somedays he's a little fast and he'd lowkey get embarrassed if you teased him. he's fast pace wise but it depends on how close he is.

husk is average but it also depends on what you're doing. anytime you give him head he's very quick to cum, and he'd such a fan of it tbh. he'd be a wildcard pace wise, really depends what you want him to do.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

alastor doesn't like quickies at all, he likes time to do this shit properly

vox LOVES quickies idk if i need to elaborate more

husk isn't a fan of quickies but occasionally appreciates them.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

alastor is 50/50 if it has anything to do where he has less power then no but if it's just something more he could do then yes!

vox is a cautious yes, but it's very unclear to me whether he'd want to just be an in the moment thing or like discussed before hand. he seems like the kind to randomly pull out a move midsex and gage your reaction

husk i think he leans closer to no, in his opinion the way he's doing things seem great so why complicate it more? but if you really want to try something he will

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

alastor can go quite a lot of rounds I think, like each round is around the same, the only reason he's stopping is if he thinks you physically can't take it anymore

vox can go like 2-4 rounds i think but they definitely get shorter as he goes. you're only making it to round 4 if he's had a rough day

husk is like max 2 id say. second round gets a lot shorter and he REALLY relies on you helping him out for both of you to reach climax.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

alastor and vox yes but alastor could lowkey get possessive for no fucking reason. idk why he just seems the type to be a bit condescending especially if you have sex later.

husk is a no, i think. like if the activity required a toy then sure but he definitely doesn't have toys unless you were adamant about using them he wouldn't suggest it. i think he might get insecure he's not making you feel good enough though :(

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

alastor teases a lot but he's not a fan of when you tease him. if you do any sort of bratty shit he's 100% putting a swift end to it, but he does like the challenge. he seems like he might be into total denial so it's a dangerous game for you

vox teases and doesn't mind being teased but i think he's the kind to get frustrated if you're being a brat in public

husk is SUCH a tease. like you wouldn't really expect it but it's just little things in public with affection while no one is looking. during the actual act he's not one to tease much though

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

alastor grunts fr but like i think that'd be about it. other than little coy comments and some degrading praises he's pretty quiet

vox on the other hand MOANS. if you tease him abt it he will get so fucking mad. but like he's definitely loud asf too.

husk is a groaner but he also moans. he's like a medium level i guess? more on the quiet side, i don't see him getting loud

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

alastor really likes marking and will do so. like one minute you're just lying in bed, the next you're on his lap as he digs his teeth into your neck.

vox really likes handjobs idk why but he just does. something about watching you jerk him off gets him going

husk likes making out while fucking. like he's the kind to give you the sloppiest of kisses while he ruts into you.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

skipping cause i feel like it's been answered thoroughly, they all have cocks that vary in size and grooming.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

alastor has a low sex drive, mostly dependant on your needs. if you hc he's asexual then it's mostly on you to get him going or atleast express interest

vox has a higher sex drive but not crazy. dude mostly just likes to destress and fucking is a fun way to do that.

husk is average. but when he's feeling in the mood he makes it pretty clear.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

alastor doesn't sleep after very often, unless you very specifically ask and he feels like you need him.

vox depending on the circumstances goes to sleep pretty quickly, like he'll do some basic aftercare and if he feels like you're fine he's dozing off.

husk is a sleeper but he'd make sure he stays awake long enough to make sure you're fine. since he's big on cuddling he'd be drifting off, murmuring in your ear and asking if you're okay before he finally goes to sleep.

[baeshijima]

— one more time

jing yuan has always considered himself to be a patient man, never failing to have a plan in mind and out of sight for unforeseeable circumstances. when it comes to matters involving you, however, he finds that he never has the time to think; not when he acts quicker than he can process.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1k wc, fluff, kissing, very much pining jing yuan

A/N : holds this man gently as i stare at him doing his idles with big wide eyes and tears rolling down my cheeks (also yes this is me using the "idk how to kiss" "then i will teach u" trope as an excuse to write a kissing jing yuan fic bc i am delusional and proud🐥)

when jing yuan was reciting his usual pep-talk as he made his way to your decided meet-up spot (which included, but was not limited to: stay calm, cool, and composed— the triple-c, if you will — and don't make a fool of yourself, jing yuan), he figured the cosy picnic (date) arrangement would go smoothly and without a hitch. you would be there bathed in the artificial sunlight, fingers threading through blades of grass and then you would turn at the rhythm of his footsteps, that signature grin of yours on full display as he would attempt to calm his thunderous heart from spilling saccharine confessions accumulated over the last few centuries.

like always.

but very much unlike now, it seems.

in place of the predicted events he'd conjured up beforehand, the words “i don't know how to kiss” welcome him instead. (he just barely catches himself before the picnic basket in his grip goes tumbling across the grass.)

“...what?”

“right?” you huff, seated on the grass with your arms supporting your weight while bathed in the artificial sunlight of the luofu. “i've lived for this long, and yet i have never kissed anyone! wait, or maybe it's because no one wants to kiss me... am i that unkissable?”

“no!” is the immediate rebuttal which springs forth to the tip of his tongue, but he just barely catches himself. he's planned thousands, probably millions, of ways in which he could confess to you, but the timing has never been quite right. that, or the times where he was about to confess were interrupted; sometimes by some last minute calls, other times where he just misses the timing, but usually by yanqing unceremoniously barging in between you.

this time isn't any different either, because it is simply not quite right. there's something — something imperceptible yet obvious in the back of his mind, giving him the go-ahead on the perfect time to bleed nothing but the pure, unadulterated adoration you've inflicted upon him.

this time isn't any different either, but his mind goes blank, a clarity he has never felt before driving his senses.

“i'll teach you.”

it's a sudden offer, one he doesn't really know where he got the confidence to offer it from, and yet something about your stunned expression and his unusually calm heart seems... right.

“...you know how to kiss?”

“i know more than you do,” he counters. a triumphant grin tugs the corners of his lips when your mouth instantly clams shut at his words.

he waits for your response with baited breath. will you agree? will you refuse his, painfully obvious, advance? oh god what should he do if you say no? play it off as a joke? tease you for considering it? walk away in shame and cry about it—?

“alright then,” you say, and he blinks once, twice. “it's not like i have anything to lose.”

...is this a dream?

apparently not, as he now finds himself seated in front of you with the artificial sunlight doing little to help fend off the heat blooming along his skin. your eyes are closed with your body leaning towards him in baited anticipation, but his gaze hones in on the clench-unclench of your fists and your stiff posture.

unable to contain himself, he chuckles, “someone's a little tense.”

“ugh, cut me some slack! you're my first, so of course i'm nervous.”

your first. he's your first. yours. he's yours.

it's almost like a mantra the way he repeats your words (as well as varying renditions of them), one which does little to keep his waning self-restraint intact.

with a sharp inhale, he cradles your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your head slightly to align better with his. if this were him any other day, he would have merely brushed this moment off as another one of his fantasies; an untouchable perception of what he wishes could be his.

this is not any other day, however, as jing yuan is hyper-aware of your light breaths fanning against his lips, the faint brush of his nose against yours, and your familiar scent which curls into him.

you, you, you. you are all he feels, all he can think of, even more so when he finally pushes forward into your awaiting silence and slots his lips against yours. it's a perfect fit, he thinks in what little room he allows for thought when preoccupied with your overflowing warmth and the taste of you on his tongue and the sheer euphoria which bubbles up when you hold onto him in response to his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks and holding you close.

he wonders if you can feel his centuries' worth of repressed affection from this exchange — if you can feel the desperation coursing through his veins as he leans into your touch. he already knows it's impossible though, for his love runs far too deep to be conveyed in just one singular moment.

“did you get that?” there's an ache in his heart when you part for air, but it's quickly forgotten when you blindly chase after him.

“one more time,” you whisper against his lips, his heart surging up his throat at your half-dazed eyes and tightening grip on his clothes. “i think you need to show me one more time.”

his waning self-restraint snaps.

“look at me,” he whispers back, voice hoarse with pent-up desire. his hands tilt your head up, guiding your gaze to align with his once more. before you can let a word slip through it's smothered, his lips crashing onto yours in an instant as he finds himself more determined than ever to leave you breathless with his adoration and have you focus solely on him.

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny

Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Getting pulled over by one of Stark Counties finest turns into anything but a routine traffic stop.

Word count: 3.3K

18+ MDNI! Go on, get!

Warnings: Porn with a smidge of plot. Allusion to cheating (but not really!). Degradation. Oral (male receiving). Throat fucking. Spitting. Choking. Breeding kink. Size kink. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it!). Creampie.

Note: Thank you @starksbabie for keeping me motivated and constantly feeding the already rampant Gator thots! This one is for you you bb!

Badge Bunny Masterlist

Making your way down the familiar stretch of highway you weren't paying attention to any of your surroundings, only looking forward to getting home after a long night. 

Headlights cutting through the dark, deserted fields on either side of the small 2 lane road. Nothing went on this time of night. 

You hadn't noticed passing the familiar truck parked a little off the road in the gravel alcove. 

Humming along with the radio lost in your own little world the sudden bright blue lights behind you hit your eyes from the reflection in the rearview. 

“Shit,” you hissed, but wasted no time pulling over on the shoulder, rolling down the window as you came to a stop.

You watched through the side mirror. He slowly exits his truck as if he had all the time in the world. Adjusting his pants and belt before making his way toward you. 

You noted he was missing his vest and usual hat. Black shirt tight across his chest and abdomen. His thigh holster was exactly where it always was, an accessory he was almost never without. 

He sidled up to the window. Leaning down, so he could see your face. 

“Evening, license and registration.” You couldn't roll your eyes any harder. 

“Gator, I really need to get home. What's your problem this time?” 

“Hey now, that's no way to speak to a deputy.” He tapped the badge strapped to his hip. Black gloves still adorn his hands. Pity. He did have nice hands. 

“Sorry officer, where are my manners? What seems to be the problem tonight?” You put on your best innocent sounding voice, biting your lip as you looked up to him.

“Well, looks like you were going over the speed limit. Wanna step out of the vehicle for me?” his hard ass attitude on full display. 

“Gator, seriously?” You deadpanned and rolled your eyes, but he didn't budge staring down his nose at you, maintaining his authoritative demeanor. 

“Come on…out.” Patting the side of the door for emphasis. 

Quickly realizing it was no use, huffing as he stepped back to make room for you to exit the car.  

He whistles low. Appraising your bare legs in the skirt you wore for work. Waitressing at the local bar has its perks. Nice tips for a little skin.

It didn't help that your tits were pushed up practically spilling out of your top. The only sensible part of your outfit was the converse sneakers to battle any fatigue from running around all night. 

“And where are you off to dressed like that? Your boyfriend let ya’ out of the house like this?” His eyes drifting down and back up. 

Closing the door, and leaning against the side of the car he inches closer as he spoke. Looking up at him from under your lashes growing more unamused by the second. 

“My boyfriend doesn't mind at all, especially when I bring home nice tips. We both know if anyone in this town looks at me wrong he'd kill’m.”

“Is that so pretty girl? Well, he's not here is he?” Making a show to look around at the deserted surroundings, smirking back at you. “Go ahead and turn around for me.” 

You scoff. “Gator, is this absolutely necessary? I may have been going 5 over the limit.” 

“Afraid so. Have t’make sure you don't have any weapons. Hands on the side of the vehicle. Go ahead.” Nodding toward the car.

You huff again but finally relent. Turning around slowly, placing your hands palm down; you'd been through this before, you knew the routine. 

He stalked his way up to you. Anticipation already prickling your skin. Your panties growing damp. 

His chest close enough to your back that you could feel the heat radiating from him even through your shirt. 

His lips ghosted the shell of  your ear when he spoke. 

“If that boyfriend isn't going to put you in your place I guess I'll have to. And the way you've been sassing me, little girl, I've got my hands full t’night.” 

He pulled back, removing his gloves one by one, throwing them in front of you on the top of the hood. 

Placing his hands on your hips, he moved his thigh close behind you as he kicked your feet apart. 

“Gator, come on. I don't have time for this tonight.” 

He didn't say anything, instead lifting his hands higher on your body. Resting on your breasts, squeezing slightly, as your breath hitched. 

He smirked to himself. Slowly dropping his hands down your body. Across your stomach. Down your hips. Traveling the expanse of your thighs to the bottom of your skirt. He paused, pinky grazing the bare skin there that sent goosebumps across your flesh. 

He dropped past your skirt. Drawing a hand up your inner thigh as you shuddered. 

Up, up, up slowly. 

His finger grazed the now sopping fabric. You bit back a moan, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as he pressed slightly into your folds, pushing harder when he reached your clit. 

“Haven't even fuckin’ touched you and you're soaked. Fuck” he hissed as he moved back up to your hips, quickly turning you easily to face him. 

Your hands landing on his chest to keep you steady. He pinched your chin between his thumb and fingers to force you to look up at him. 

“Get on your knees.” he ordered. 

You easily complied. Hands sliding down his body for purchase as you slid. Your knees hit the asphalt. Wincing as its harsh terrain dug into your knees. 

“Good girl.” the words going straight to your core. 

As always a glutton for punishment and adoring any praise he would send your way. 

Your mouth was salivating at the thought of tasting him. Without being told you popped the button on his pants, slowly sliding the zipper down.

“Fuck, look at you. Can't wait to get my cock in your mouth, huh? Been thinking about it all day?” 

He could be a mouthy bastard but God was he right. 

You licked your lips at the already prominent tent in his boxers. Pants falling just below his bulge that you palmed. He hissed, throwing his head back at the sudden contact.

Your fingers grazed the band of his underwear pulling it just a bit, just to let it go as it snapped back into place. His head turned back down to you. Eyes blown full of lust, irises no longer on display. 

“Go on. It's not gonna suck itself.” He nodded, urging you to keep going. 

Your hands pull down his boxers, exposing him fully to you. Cock springing free, teasingly so. The size of him never ceased to amaze you. He easily was the biggest you'd ever had the pleasure of handling and the cocky bastard knows it. 

Long and thick. Tip flushed the prettiest shade of pink with a small bead of precum just beginning to spill from his slit. 

You timidly placed your hand around the base as if you hadn't done it dozens of times before. He was hot and heavy in your palm. 

“Mmmmmm…. Fuck.” He sounded as if he was ready to combust on the spot. 

Wasting no time, you licked a long stripe up the entire underside of his shaft from base to tip as you heard him let out a low moan. He braced himself, placing his hands where yours had been planted moments before on the side of your car. 

You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue just the way he liked, eliciting a whine from him. 

“Good fucking girl.” He groaned. “Been thinking about this mouth and throat all fucking day.”

You continued teasing the tip letting your hand pump his neglected shaft. You finally sank down, tip nudging the back of your throat. 

“Mmmmmm… Goddamn.” 

You pulled off of him with a loud pop. 

“Better not let your daddy hear that Gator.” You smirked to yourself. “Taking the Lord's name in vain. Especially while your dick is getting sucked.” You tsked. 

He weaved his fingers through your hair and gripped the back of your head, forcing you back to look at him. You winced at the sudden sting. 

“Still fucking sassing me? My cock not enough to shut you up?” He gave you no time to respond. 

“Open.” 

You obediently obliged, sticking your tongue out and flattening it to accommodate him, letting your eyes fall shut. 

Instead of his cock, spit hits the back of your throat. A look of shock passes your features as you look up at him under hooded eyes before a shy smile adorns your face. 

“Fucking whore. Swallow.” He practically growled. 

You close your lips and obey, a low hum of satisfaction escaping you as you swallow thickly. 

Watching your little display intently, he pumped his length a few times with his free hand, before gripping the base tapping your already swollen lips. 

Your lips part as his tip beaches the heat of your awaiting mouth. He quickly feeds you as much of his cock that you can manage. 

He doesn't give you time to adjust as he plunges deep, hitting the back of your throat. You try to breathe through your nose, letting him use you as he pleases. 

He steadies the hold on your head as he licks his lips. 

“That's it. Good fucking girl. Take it. I know you can.” 

You allow him to fuck your throat. You knew it would be sore in the morning from the relentless punches over and over. 

Your eyes were watering from the abuse, mascara running down your cheeks. You can feel saliva running down your chin.

You knew how you must look but he was looking down at you as if you were the most beautiful site he's ever seen. 

You timidly moved your hand up, reaching the edge of his boxers forcing them down even further. You wrapped your hand around his velvety sack weight heavy in your palm before tugging slightly. 

“Oh fuck.” His hips snapped, bucking into you even further as you gagged around his cock. 

He stopped suddenly, sliding his length from you. String of saliva momentarily connecting from your lips to his tip. 

“Get up and get in the back of the truck.” 

“But…” you were going to argue but the look in his eye told you he was done playing. 

“Now.” 

You quickly shuffled to your feet as he half covered himself to follow behind you. 

He knew this late at night, there wasn't any chance of someone coming by spotting the two of you in such compromising positions but just to be on the safe side he reached into your car to kill the ignition.

He did the same with his. Bright blues fading into darkness. Undoing and removing his holster placing it in the front seat, so it wouldn't get in the way for what he intended to do next. 

You opened the back door and slid yourself up into the cab. Legs dangling in the open doorway awaiting his next instruction. 

He came into view, slowly slotting himself in-between your thighs. Your skirt riding up to expose more of yourself. The way your damp panties were sticking to your folds, suddenly made you grateful for the dim light. 

His hands came to rest on the top of your thighs, squeezing. Thumbs rubbing soothingly in contrast to the way he looked like he wanted to devour you. 

“Lay back and take those panties off f’me.”

You rucked your skirt up higher above your hips putting your clothed core on full display for him. They were his favorite. Pink and lacy with a little white bow on the top, just like a little present all for him. 

He palmed himself, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he sucked in a sharp breath. 

There were no formalities when seeing him like this. It was hot and needy. Quick and dirty. 

You raised your hips, sliding your underwear down your thighs. When you made it past your knees, he slid them the rest of the way. Fingertips grazing your skin on the way down. You didn't miss the way he tucked them away for safekeeping in his pocket. 

You parted your legs as far as they would go with the limited space. 

“Look at you. Who's got you like this huh? Some trash at the bar make you this wet?” 

You shook your head. “No baby, it's you. Always you.” 

You place your fingers through his belt loops, dragging him a little closer.

“Greedy little whore tonight.” He laughs out, grinning at your eagerness. “Pull your shirt up and take those tits out.”

You do as you're told, pulling it up far enough to put your matching bra on display. 

“You wear this hoping someone would see? Huh? Such a fuckin' little whore.”

He can see your already pert nipples through the transparent fabric. He cups both breasts before pulling the fabric down fully exposing you. Not wanting to take the time to properly undress you, latching his mouth to one laving his hot tongue across your bud before taking it between his teeth biting down slightly as you moan and arch into him. 

His hand gave attention to the other, his large palm nearly covering the entirety of you before switching to do the same, so neither were neglected.  

“Fuck, these tits are so perfect. And all mine.” 

He nipped the skin, slowly moving down your sternum with hot opened mouth kisses as he finally sat back up. The cool air hitting the moisture left behind sending a small shiver through you. 

His fingers began to trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to the spot you yearn for him the most. A whine escapes you as he watches you squirm beneath him. 

He runs his finger up your slit, lips slightly parting as he grazes your bundle of nerves that has your hips bucking on their own accord. 

He slips a finger into your entrance with ease at how soaked you are. 

“Of fuck,” your head lolls to the side. 

“Jesus, this pussy always this needy?” 

You just nodded as he removed his finger, making you whine, bringing it to his parted lips, sucking with an obnoxious slurp. 

“Jesus, you always taste so fucking sweet.”

Growing impatient, you watch as he finally takes his aching cock back out from its confinements. Now an angry shade of red dons the tip, leaking another pearly bead from his slit. He was even harder than before if that was even possible. 

He runs his tip through your folds, catching your clit. That had your back arching, gasping into the sensation. 

“Yeah, that's it.”

He lined himself up with your entrance, breaching slightly. Nothing ever prepared you for the size, always a stretch no matter how many times he had fucked you. 

It was something he relished in each time you were together. Knowing that no one else could fill you up like he could.

He pushed in. Slowly, inch by inch. Your mouth falling open. Toes curling in your shoes. 

Once he reached the hilt, he quickly pulled out and snapped his hips back into yours. Punching the air from your lungs eliciting a moan so loud you were sure someone the next county over could hear. 

“God you're so tight. I missed this pussy.” His face tightened with pleasure, mouth falling slack at the feeling of your walls practically strangling his cock. 

There was no preamble as he sets a near brutal pace, fingers tight around your hips holding you in place sure to leave bruises in their wake. Punching little uh, uh, uhs from you with each upward thrust. 

“That's it. That's fucking it. Who's pussy is this huh?” He growled down at you. 

Too dazed to realize he had asked you a question, already cock drunk, he stopped mid thrust grabbing your jaw forcing you to look up at him, applying so much pressure your lips formed a small pout. 

“I asked you a fucking question. Who's pussy is this?” He loosened his grip so you could answer as he began to piston his hips once more. 

“Yours. It's…mmmm… fuck, all yours Gator.” you managed to squeak out as he placed his thumb on your clit, rubbing lazy circles into the bundle of nerves. 

He moved his other hand, tightening it around your throat, pinning you there as your own hands grasped his wrist and forearm. 

He pounded into your sopping cunt. Eyes trained to where the two of you connected, watching as his fat cock moves in and out. Enamored with the way you took him so well.

His hard length ramming into that spot within you that only he could ever seem to find, over and over, as his assault on your clit never ceased.

He knew that look, your eyes closing in anticipation of tipping over the edge. 

“Yeah? That it sweet thing? You gonna cum all over my dick?” 

“Ahhhh,” is all you could respond. He loosened the grip on your throat slightly. He wanted to hear the noises he could pull from you. 

“Come on, my little badge bunny, cum f’me. I want to feel her grip me.” 

He removed his hand entirely, bending down close to your ear, breath hot on your neck. He braced himself trying not to completely crush you beneath him. 

“Be a good girl and cum. I'll give her what she really wants. Fill her up nice so everyone knows who this pussy belongs to. Make your belly all full and round. Everyone in this fuckin' town’ll know who you belong to. You want that? I know you do.” 

His mouth was good for one thing and the filthy words falling from his lips was all it took. 

Your orgasm hit hard, the sparks behind your eyes were blinding. You didn't have time to warn him as your pussy clamped down pulsing around him, trying to milk him. 

You found purchase gripping his shoulders, screaming his name as you came. Just the way he likes. 

He stopped toying with your clit to chase his own release. He wasn't far behind you, his thrusts becoming erratic. 

He spilled into you with a loud groan and a string of words, coming out so fast you barely understood, “fuck iloveyou ilovethispussy gonnafuckin’knockyouup fuck fuck fuck.” 

He continued a few more thrusts into your already overstimulated pussy before finally stilling. 

He practically collapses on top of you. Face planted in between your neck and shoulder, he stays like for a few moments until he's breathing normally again. 

He raised up, looking for any signs of distress from you. 

“Sorry, you ok?” A sweeter tone to his voice, as he kissed your cheek. 

“M’fine. You okay baby? Roy being a dick today?” You cooed, hand to his cheek, thumb rubbing soothingly there. 

He saved these late night rendezvous for days he had a particularly hard day at work. 

His usually slick backed hair was falling into his face, as he nodded. “Yeah, but I'm better now. Ready to get home?” 

“Ready when you are, big boy.” You smiled deeply at him as his lips met yours.

It was a slow, needy kiss. His slightly chapped, wind bitten lips melted into yours as you pulled him closer. The tenderness a stark contrast to the way he fucked you moments before. 

He pulled back, landing one more peck before raising up and letting himself slip from you. You winced, already missing the way he filled you. 

He helped you into your panties muttering “don't want any of that going anywhere.” As you rolled your eyes. Thank God for birth control. 

He took your hand and helped you from the truck, kissing your temple.  

“See ya’ at home sweet thing.” Smacking your ass as you walked ahead of him to your car. 

Yeah, Gator may have been a lot of things. A jerk, asshole, sometimes misogynist (which he was working on, thanks to you) but he only had eyes for you. His sweet girl. 

And you were right about one thing. If anyone else dared to look at you the wrong way he'd kill’m. God help the poor soul who got on the wrong side of your man on a bad day.

[vioartemis]

Friends?

(Wednesday Addams x fem! reader)

Summary: One day, in the library, you catch Wednesday's attention... Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 Warnings: none a/n: expect a part 2, not proof read, it was in my drafts for like 3months now so I can't guaranty it's not awful (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Wednesday pushed the library’s door and directly walked to the aisle she knew had the books she needed. After 10 minutes spent in said aisle, she let out a frustrated sigh; she couldn’t find the books, which meant someone either borrowed them already -which was unlikely, or the librarian forgot to put them back on the shelves.

Either way, it annoyed her.

Now she had to talk to the librarian to ask if the books were here, and it would probably take longer than necessary.

When she arrived at the desk with a blank expression, the woman was writing something on her computer, not sparing Wednesday a glance.

“I would like to borrow some books.” She said through gritted teeth, causing the librarian to look up

“What books?”

Wednesday put a piece of paper with the references of the books on the desk as an answer.

“Botanical curses & poisons, and The supernatural” the woman read out loud “You’re lucky, they’ve just got returned”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. Even if she did think it could’ve happened, she was still surprised. She didn’t actually think anyone else would ever borrow these books. It wasn’t common seeing someone read that kind of books -or read at all. And usually Nevermore students only read the books in the school’s library.

She didn’t hear the door while she was in the aisle, which meant the person was still there. Maybe she had found a classmate with the same interests as her? Which didn’t mean she would try to befriend them, but it was always good to know.

“If you’re looking for the girl, she’s in the aisles over there” the librarian said, as she had already put the books on the desk

Wednesday looked at her, a frown on her face, but nodded once and grabbed the books.

She then walked to the aisles the woman talked about. And here you were, looking at the books on the shelves, reading the back of one while holding another in your arms; Royal art of poison. Wednesday had read that book before, she recognize it was a good one.

Her attention then shifted on your face, even if she could only see your profile. She was sure she never saw you at Nevermore. She usually had a good memory for that kind of things, so maybe you didn’t have classes in common.

After looking you up and down, she walked out of the building to go back to Nevermore.

On the way there, she couldn’t help but think if she had seen you in the hallways, she would’ve never thought you would read this type of books.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

The following week, Wednesday tried to find you in the school. Unconsciously at first, as she didn’t really care, but then it became more and more important to her as she couldn’t seem to see you. That frustrated her. You had to be somewhere.

And yet she couldn’t find you.

She always got what she wanted, it was unusual for her to ‘fail’. So naturally, she decided to go back to the library.

When she did, she wandered in the aisles, looking for you. Unsuccessfully. It was like you didn’t even exist.

She felt like she was losing her mind, and it wasn’t as fun as she anticipated.

Just as she was about to go back in the aisle she saw you in for the first time, she saw Thing out of the corner of her eye. He was pointing a nearby aisle, signaling you were in there.

You were indeed in the aisle, looking at the books on the shelf in front of you. Venomous was already in your hands. A book about earth’s deadliest creatures… Wednesday thought.

Then your hand rose up to pick up another book; The Black Dahlia.

Now Wednesday was really interested by you. She never met anyone who knew about her favorite unsolved murder case, let alone read about it.

She took some step closer to you and grabbed a book on the shelf.

“You might as well read this one, if you’re interested in the Black Dahlia case.” she said as she handed you the book

You gave her a surprised look, not expecting anyone to recommend you any books in that section, let alone about this case.

“Oh, thanks” you grabbed the book “Do you know much about this case?”

“Of course, for it is my favorite unsolved murder. How come you know about it?”

“I saw a documentary on tv yesterday. Just thought I’d read some more about it. It seems to be a very interesting case” you explained

“Indeed.” A little pause “So what are you? Werewolf? Siren? Psychic?”

You frowned, confused as to why she would ask that.

“Are you from Nevermore?” you asked

“Are you not?”

You shook your head.

“I’m at Jericho High, sadly”

“‘Sadly’?”

You nodded.

“There’s a bunch of idiots there. Like- a whole bunch. I don’t really fit in. They’re all about social medias, hating on outcasts for no reason”

Wednesday looked at you, waiting for you to continue and explain yourself.

“I prefer books, even if I have to admit that scrolling on Pinterest while listening to music can be addicting. As for outcasts… I’ve always been interested in them, especially vampires. But I mean- every ‘class’ of outcasts I read about was interesting”

The raven took a moment to think about what you just said.

“It’s unusual to see a normie who doesn’t hate outcasts. Are you sure you’re a normie?”

“Pretty sure, yeah”

She looked you up and down after that, analyzing you. You seemed to be honest, she didn’t sense any hostility coming from you.

The following days, Wednesday caught herself thinking about your conversation, and by extension, about you. As much as it pained her to admit, something in you attracted her. Or at least made her ant to know more about you, which led her to the library once again.

This time, you were sitting at a table, reading another book about poisonous plants, some other books stacked next to you.

“Are you planning to murder someone?” she asked as she sat on the chair facing you

“Holy shit…! Do you make a habit out of scaring people?” you asked, half joking, a hand on your chest after her voice made you jump

“It’s more of a hobby. Who is going to be your victim?”

“No one!” you chuckled, once your heartbeat calmed down a bit “I’m just trying to find information about Aconitum, like where it grows, etc”

“Why?”

“I want to experiment with it myself, simple curiosity” you shrug

So you did want to poison someone. Interesting. She thought.

“No, no, I can guess what you’re thinking. I’m not trying to kill anyone. But you never know when that kind of information can be useful”

“Indeed.” she nodded, even if she was a bit disappointed

“And if I did want to kill someone, I would probably use something else like Nightshade or the Nerium Oleander -but I’d have to find some first” you added “Anyways, I need to go, I have class… See you later, maybe?”

Wednesday looked at you as you packed your things and left the library, not without putting the books back on their shelves. You definitely had a little something that made her look forward to the next time she would be in your company. That thought surprised her; she usually wasn’t one to seek others’ company.

She stayed sat at the table for a few minutes, lost in thoughts, before standing up almost abruptly. She walked to the door and was about to leave, when the librarian called her.

“Hey, wait a sec!”

Wednesday turned to face the woman who got out from behind her desk. She handed something.

“What is that?”

“A micro-cassette recorder. It must have fallen from your friend’s bag when she left. I thought you could give it back to her”

“She’s not my friend.” Wednesday said blankly but took the object anyways

The librarian rolled her eyes at the smaller girl and went back to her desk while Wednesday left the library, putting your recorder in her backpack.

“What’s that?”

Wednesday looked up from her typewriter; Enid was holding the recorder.

“A micro-cassette recorder.” she simply said “Put it back where it was, Enid.”

“Oooh what are you doing with it? Recording podcasts? I thought your thing was novels” the blonde continued, not listening

“‘My thing’ is novels.”

“Then what’s on this recorder?”

Before the raven could say anything else, the werewolf pressed the play button.

“Okay… Is it recording? Ah, yes, the numbers are moving. Okay okay… um… Where do I even start? God I must look so dumb talking to that thing… Anyways. Uh… Day 1 of research on outcasts, I guess? Is that how they do in movies?”

The recorder stopped playing, for Wednesday had pressed the button again, taking it from Enid’s hands.

“Whose voice is that? It’s not yours”

“Of course not. It’s…” she paused, looking for the right words “… it belongs to someone I met at the library.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?? I want to know everything!”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Why do you have her recorder then?”

“She forgot it. I just keep it until I can give it back.”

“Hmhm, sure”

Enid said with a big smile, before going back to her activities: laying on her bed and scroll on Instagram, probably. The other girl watched her do so, then went back to her writing, putting the recorder on her desk.

After half an hour of peaceful writing, she heard Enid tell her she was going in Yoko’s dorm for whatever gossip session they had every week. From the corner of her eye, Wednesday saw the recorder move closer to her.

Thing was pushing it in her direction.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you want to hear more?” Thing signed

“I wouldn’t like it if anyone read my novel without asking me first.”

“But you’re curious”

“… Of course.”

“Listen to it then! Maybe you’ll be able to help her. She seems nice, she won’t get upset” Thing signed quickly, almost as curious as Wednesday to hear your research

“Fine. Give it to me.”

Thing pushed the recorder further so she could grab it. She did, and pressed play again, but not after a glance at Thing.

“A word to Enid and I’ll snap all your fingers.”

“Hmhm… so I borrowed this book in Jericho’s library about outcasts -I’m surprised they have books about that considering the way they see them. I think it was a pretty interesting book!”

Wednesday listened to what you had to say on that book, then fast-forwarded to a bit later on the record.

“… lost count of the days at this point. It’s crazy how I can’t find anything more than what I already read! It’s like normies’ knowledge about outcast is only the basics -not to say the clichés. God, I wish I was at Nevermore. I’m sure they have sooo much more books there. Not only about outcasts, but about poisonous plants as well!”

The raven was about to stop listening when you started speaking again.

“Oh, yesterday, I met a girl at the library! She advised me to read a certain book about The Black Dahlia case. She said she was from Nevermore. Well, she didn’t deny it. I wonder what’s her gift… But it’s a weird question to ask, isn’t it? I bet she knows lots of outcasts if she studies there…  of course she does, what I am even saying?”

The record stopped by itself after that.

Wednesday had the tiniest smile on her face. You were smart, that she had noticed when you first talked, yet hearing you speak freely like that made you sound so clumsy. You were passionate, that was for sure.

“Thing, do you think you can find her quickly?”

A knock on your bedroom window caught your attention. Your stopped what you were doing and opened it. To your surprise, a hand -without a body- ran (?) in your room.

You looked at it, mouth agape, certainly not expecting that.

“Hi…?” you said hesitantly

The hand stopped on your desk and starting signing.

“I uh… don’t speak sign language… sorry”

The hand paused, as if it was sighing.

“You can… hear me?” you asked, surprised

It gave you a thumbs up as an answer, before showing its palm to you. A message was written on it with a marker: ‘You forgot your recorder at the library. Call me.’ Followed by a phone number.

 “Thank you”

You said while typing the number on your phone, before calling it.

On the other side, Wednesday was waiting in front of Enid’s computer. She remembered how to use it from last time Enid told her. When she saw you were calling, she pressed the spacebar to pick up.

She certainly didn’t expect to see you with Thing on your shoulder.

“Hi!” you said with a smile “So you found my recorder? I was afraid someone random found it…” you paused “Your room is… more colorful that I would’ve imagined”

“It’s my roommate’s side.” Wednesday frowned, a bit offended you could think she would decorate her room this way

“Oh. What does your side looks like then?”

She turned Enid’s computer to show you -quite proudly.

“Ohh it’s nice! Wait- you have a typewriter?? That’s so cool! Like the overall decoration”

Thing typed lightly on your shoulder.

“Oh, yes, sorry. He’d like me to drive him back to Nevermore. Which I can understand, it’s a bit far away… So, we were wondering if you could open a window or something? I don’t think your principal would appreciate if someone from outside came without permission”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Let’s say it’s for keeping my recorder safe, that way we’re even” you smiled

Wednesday nodded, and said she would open their window, just before your parents called you from downstairs, asking who you were talking to. While you were answering them, Thing gave the raven a thumbs up.

Of course it was your plan all along, bringing her here… she thought, a slight smile forming on her lips again. Well played.

After going out by your bedroom window, took your bike, put Thing in the little basket attached to the handlebar, and started making your way to Nevermore. On the way there, you talked with Thing; he used your phone to type and made it read the text out loud so you could hear.

When you arrived at Nevermore’s gate, you left your bike against the low wall near the entrance. To your surprise, the gate wasn’t closed -which was a good thing. You got on the school’s territory, walking silently to the school itself.

You had only ever seen it in pictures, and you had to admit, it was way cooler to see it for real.

Thing tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality, and pointing at a big round window with a metallic spider web on it. It was probably the dorm you had to reach.

“You could’ve told me it was on the fourth floor…”

You examined the architecture of the school, before cracking your knuckles and starting to climb.

“If I fall… I hope I won’t break too many bones”

After what seemed like an eternity, and three times almost falling, you finally reached the balcony. You took a moment to lay there, catching your breath, Thing patting your arm reassuringly.

He then disappeared inside and came back with the raven right as you were standing back up.

“Thing said you were hurt.” Wednesday said, her eyes shifting from your face to your hands, bruised by the climbing

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve done rock-climbing with my parents before, I’m used to it”

“… If you say so.” she paused, and handed you your recorder

“I almost forgot about it” you chuckled, taking it from her hands and putting it in a pocket of your vest “Thank you”

Wednesday nodded. You did the same, as a goodbye, and were ready to go back home, when she spoke again.

“If you want more books about outcasts or something else…” she stepped forward and gave you a piece of paper “… let me know.”

You took the paper and opened it. Another phone number. You had guessed the previous one wasn’t hers, and according to what Thing told you, she never used the phone some guy gifted her.

You smiled and put the paper in your pocket.

“Thank you”

You were about to leave, but you remembered something.

“You never told me your name”

“Neither did you.”

“I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n”

“Wednesday. Wednesday Addams.”

“It was nice seeing you, Wednesday” you smiled “It’s probably going to sound weird… But I enjoy your presence, I feel understood. I hope we’ll be good friends. Anyways, good night!”

With that, you climbed down the wall, disappearing from her field of view.

Wednesday looked at the sky; it was dark, lots of clouds, but the moon was still visible behind them. It even illuminated the raven’s face.

Thing tapped in her direction.

“I only tolerate her presence. Don’t imagine things.”

More tapping, and what looked like he was rolling his eyes.

“One more word and you’re locked in the drawer until I decide otherwise.”

Thing saw it as the sign to go back inside, not wanting to risk it.

When she was alone on the balcony, Wednesday’s eyes shifted to your small form while you were getting on your way home.

Her little smile was back, that smile which was so unusual to see on her face, that only the people she really cared about ever saw.

Friends, hm? I suppose that’s what we are.

[Next part]

[strwberri-milk]

HELLO!!! ✨ Hope you’re having a wonderful day/night!

So, I LOVE the friends with benefits to lovers trope. Like to an unhealthy degree… 😅

Anyways! Could I request Cyno, Diluc, and Ayato reacting to developing feelings for their friends with benefits? It can be NSFW or SFW, either way I’d love it!

I can see all three of them falling into a FWB arrangement just to deal with the stress of their daily lives. He's got a lot going on and being able to just be with someone without any pretenses helps him blow off steam. He also never anticipated falling in love with you, thinking that he'd be able to keep himself from such feelings if he just kept your lives separate.

Cyno slowly fell in love with your mind. The two of you were still friendly enough during the day, spending time together and discussing research when your topics of interest align. It doesn't happen very often but happens often enough, Cyno not realising that you two had more in common than he initially thought.

He gets a little worried because he doesn't know if you want to pursue a more personal relationship with him but regardless he'll be willing to ask you about it if he feels like his feelings are getting in the way of your agreement. He wants to respect the boundaries that you two have so he'll tell you to make sure that he doesn't accidentally do anything but he is secretly holding out hope that you feel the same way about him.

Diluc is very good at avoiding his feelings. He doesn't really say much to you if you end up staying the night and is kind enough to offer breakfast or a ride into town if you need it. He doesn't go out of his way to act like you two are exclusive because he knows that you aren't and he doesn't want to force you into anything.

If you want to progress things in your relationship you'd have to confess to him that you have feelings for him. He would never commit to you if you don't and instead would take his feelings for you to his gave. He'd be absolutely rather die than confess he loves you and have you not return his feelings.

Ayato seems very cold as well. He isn't ever rude to you but he's very careful to conceal why it is that the two of you spend time together. He tries not to see you too much if he can help it but sometimes he gets so busy he takes it out on you (not that you mind).

Similar to Diluc he's very good at hiding his feelings. He would take time to admit that he has feelings for you and depending on your situations he would actually confess or not. If it's something that would jeopardise his work or yours he most likely wouldn't but if he can figure out how to make things work out for the both of you he'll make sure those pieces all fall into place before fully confessing to you. He wants to keep you safe after all but if you end up not feeling the same way about him he won't ever hold it against you. He'll be a little upset but you'll never know about it, able to keep a friendly relationship with him despite his feelings.

[aziraphales-library]

Any recommendations of fics where Crowley and Aziraphale are roommates/neighbours?

Here are some housemates and neighbours fics that I've read and loved...

Safe In Your Arms by AppleSeeds (T)

After moving out of his flat following a fire, Aziraphale moves in with Crowley, who turns out to be very lovely and seems determined to do anything he can to comfort Aziraphale when he finds out about the nightmares he's been having.

What Aziraphale Wants by mozbee (G)

“You could shower at my place, if you like,” Aziraphale says. He’s a step out of the lift before he realizes what he said. He quickly laughs, turning to face Crowley, to dismiss it as fast as it had come out, and sees he’s being stared at. “You mean that?” Crowley asks, an arm out to keep the lift doors from closing. Aziraphale fights off the threatening blush. It won’t do to have Crowley know he’s practically foaming at the mouth to have him spend more time with him. Because Crowley is his friend, his confidante. He can tell him anything. Except Crowley is also devastatingly handsome. --- Aziraphale is just being neighbourly, inviting Crowley over to use his shower while his bathroom is being remodelled. It has nothing to do with the pounding lust that fills him when he thinks of Crowley nude in his home. He's just being nice. Now if these pesky feelings would leave him alone...

Good Neighbours, Good Fences (and Other Misunderstandings) by out_there (E)

The first time Crowley meets his downstairs neighbour, Aziraphale is breaking into his flat. He's not what Crowley imagined in a burglar -- he's fussy, old-fashioned, and surprisingly adorable. Crowley is intrigued, Aziraphale is ready to share a good wine... and possibly more.

District of (un-)Certainty by jamgrl (M)

Aziraphale is a PhD student who needs a roommate so he can continue to afford his house in the U.S. capital of Washington D.C. Luckily, the family he tutors for on the side just happened to find him one! He doesn’t think he will like him much since he is in the states to work on Mr. Dowling’s senate campaign, so he’s probably a terrible person (even if he is good looking). Crowley is pretty independent and doesn’t really have a lot of what you would call “friends”. But he doesn’t mind his new roommate. He would much rather hang out with him than his coworkers, anyways. His roommate’s best friends Anathema and Newt aren’t too bad, either. It’s nice to have some friends. Maybe he likes it in D.C. --- They are millenials! But still British and still old fashioned- just a little twist on our favorite husbands.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

Won't You be My Neighbor? by ProblematicPitch, Spiro (T)

When Mr. A. Z. Fell moves to the quiet English village of Tadfield, he expects nosy neighbors and inquiries into his eccentric, solitary life. What he doesn't anticipate is Anthony J. Crowley, the surly nuisance / next-door-neighbor, who might very well need a friend as much as he does.

And I'll just drop a quick link to the popular and oft-recommended Or Be Nice, because I know someone will mention it if I don't.

- Mod D

[cozymoko]

You wanted requests, right? So what if it was the other way around? Yandere Siyun Baek having to take care of his girlfriend that got sick?

(I hope this requests isn't too boring, love your blog btw ❤❤)

SIYUN BAEK WITH A SICK S/O

Manhwa: “Dreaming Freedom” ~~~~!

Note: Its perfect! Thank you for requesting! Also thank you for reading, you made my day. ♡

Pairing: Siyun Baek x female! reader

Format: Headcanons; 2nd person

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, obsession, mild spoilers

Word Count: ???

It's ALLERGY and/or FLU SEASON, and unfortunately, you've fallen very ill. Best case scenario you'll have a cold and nothing more; a high fever at the worst. But either way, Siyun isn't complaining.

You can't go anywhere? Great! You feel like absolute shit and can barely move from your bed? Oh my, even better! Besides working out, Siyun doesn't have much to pass his time with. He's lonely without you, often finding himself watching the clock, counting the minutes — seconds before you return to him.

But seeing you tucked tightly beneath the pastel duvet, wrapped in a small cocoon. Your cheeks lightly flushed a rather feverish hue, as ragged breaths slipped past your dry lips. Call him crazy but you're absolutely adorable. He could hardly keep his hands to himself!

“Y'know, you look really cute like this {Name}.”

You huffed, “You almost look happy that I'm in this situation.” With a light shove, you pushed his face away from your own for what felt like the thousandth time. Finally ditching the thick sheets, you turn away from him, welcoming the chilled puffs of air to your warm skin.

“Would you be mad if I said I was?” Siyun asked, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing his cheek into the tender skin of your own. “God, you're adorable...”

“Yes. Now, let go; I'm burning up.”

Siyun is CLINGY as it is. Therefore, you being bedridden to some degree is right up his alley. Personal space has never been a thing in your relationship, and he's not going to let a little flu stop him. Embracing you, suffocating you with his body; it's all too easy! Pressing sweet, chaste kisses along the warm skin of your neck. Sneakily, dragging his slender fingers beneath the flimsy silk of your pajamas.

In all honesty, he'd rather have you stay at his house until you feel well again. It works pretty well, convenience-wise. It stops him from wrenching your door open, occupying your home with the crying of loud unwavering hinges. Or perhaps even sneaking through your window.

You being so vulnerable excites him in more ways than he'd care to admit. He truly is a pervert. Chewing on his pink lips, even digging his nails into his milky skin, no longer seems to be enough. Though his desires are anything but malicious, Siyun can't help the wandering of his young mind to many, many impure places.

Your parents already adore him, let's be honest! Thus, convincing them to let you stay the night or week should be a piece of cake. It's almost scary, the way he speaks to your parents; so polite and dare I say perfect. It's truly no surprise that he was a former idol, a famous one at that. How could your adoring mother and father not allow such a kind man to nurture and care for your well-being?

Siyun brings your head to his chest, relishing in the heat you radiate. His hands had fallen past your waist, toying with the thin band of your thin shorts. You give his chest a weak push, as a pitiful attempt to distance yourself. But it was no use, he merely pulled you closer, much to your dismay.

“Siyun...” You breathed out, weakly clawing at his slender hands. “Stop this, you're going to get sick.”

He hummed, “Is that so?” Though his hands showed no sign of leaving your waist. Instead, they tugged you flush against his chest with a low chuckle. Warm breath tickled the back of your neck, making you tense in anticipation.

“Then I guess we're just gonna have to be sick together~!” ♡

Let's say you're a STUDENT; high school or college, it's your choice. And due to your abrupt sickness, you're bound to miss at least a handful of classes. But fret not my dear, your classmates are itching to help you out. I mean, you're dating the Siyun Baek after all, just a glance at him could send anything girl into a frenzy!

Thankfully, your teacher settled for your seatmate. A kind, extroverted guy who you got along with quite well. He had managed to get your number due to a recent project and was quick to alert you of his unexpected arrival.

[CHOI BYUNG-CHUL]

➤ Heya [Last Name], the teacher asked me to bring sum missin assignments to ur place. Is that okey with u?

SENT; 17:23

You snort at the scrambled characters, finding some charm amongst the male's easy mistakes. It wasn't something unusual as he was an infamous clutz in your class. So he was likely texting while typing, again. Your fingers hover over the luminous keyboard, before eventually sending him a simple response.

[YOU] ➤ Yeah, it's fine lol. But I'm not home so come to this address “XX XXXX Avenue/Drive/Street” SENT; 17:25

➤ Have a safe trip. :)

SENT; 17:25

While immersed in your phone, you had yet to notice a certain someone looming over you in displeasure. From lack of attention, perhaps. But you had never been one to allow technology to soak up your time, nonetheless when you're ill. So who could possibly be taking up your time? He pondered, glaring hard at the device resting on your hand.

Pulling back the covers, Siyun moved to join you beneath the spotless sheets of the mattress. The dipping of the bed didn't bother you, let alone pull you from the flashing screen of your phone. The ex-idol sighed loudly, shifting to take the pesky item from your protective grip. Only to be brushed off by a bored, dismissive hand.

He. Was. Livid.

“Babe~!” Siyun cooed, though his tone lacked even an ounce of playfulness. “What on your phone could possibly be so damn interestin—” DING DONG!

Whew! Saved by the bell.

“I'll get it.” He murmured under his breath, tossing the thick duvet to the side. The man was quick to leave in long, haste strides, but not before his eyes flicked to your stunned form one last time.

Now, Siyun had expected a lot of things, but this surely wasn't one of them. A shorter male, about five feet seven inches, no older than nineteen was at his door. His mousy brown hair was a mess, and he had a lightly tinted folder tucked tightly beneath his arm.

“H-hi, I'm one of [Last Name]'s classmates and I brought some papers to her.” Byung-Chul commenced, frantically unzipping the top of his backpack. “She — uhm, texted me this address.”

Oh, now it all made sense. The persistent flashing of your phone, snatching your attention right from his grasp. The lighthearted giggles that'd leave your mouth ever so often. Friendly, that they were. Giggles that held no sense of love; merely admiration and glee. Even so, it wasn't good enough.

One could say the latter is quite bitter. And if If looks could kill, your friend would be six — no, ten feet under! And that's being generous. But Siyun knows better than to let his bad side show. Heh, who am I kidding?

A faux smile tugged at the corner of his lips, one he was all too familiar with using. “Ah, I see. Thanks for coming...?”

“Choi Byung-Chul!” He chirped, handing the papers to the former idols' outstretched hand.

“Heh, right,” Siyun scoffs, disinterested. He lazily takes the folder from the male, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. “Since you're already here, I have a little favor for you. If you're up for it.”

“I...um — yeah, sure,” Byung-Chul stammered, looking over the time blaring from the smartwatch adorning his wrist. “I can spare a few minutes. What's up—?”

A sharp pain shot through the poor man's abdomen in mere seconds, sending him crumbling to his knees. Siyun loosely shook his wrist in the air, allowing the gentle breeze to cool the slight stinting of his knuckles. A cold, lifeless expression grazed the face of the once-beloved idol as he watched the man wither beneath his gaze.

“Stay away from [Name]. I wouldn't want anyth ing bad to happen to you~!”

[youphoriaot7]

The chaos of newcomers is never something Fit exactly...anticipates. In fact, he doesn't really like it all that much—not because he's anti-social, but because it just means yet another innocent being trapped on this island of hell with no way out, and frankly, he isn't quite sure they should be celebrating that.

That being said, he's not just going to let some newbie die because they couldn't find their way out of a stone tower.

Which is how he finds himself leaning against the doorframe in the loud room, watching people buzzing back and forth with excitement. He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face at their chaos even as he steps back. Bad, Niki, and Cellbit are attempting to brute force the locked door—but that'll take at least ten minutes. He has time to burn.

His eyes scan across the room, unconsciously seeking out a familiar figure. He finds it right where he expected it: curled up on a couch, away from the crowds.

...there's an open seat nearby...so why not?

He sinks onto the seat next to Pac. The other man's drooping eyelids snap open as his weight is shifted, and Fit throws him a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you."

But Pac just smiles and shakes his head, sitting upright. "You didn't." It seems as though he wants to say something else, but whatever it is, he swallows the words. Instead, he simply stares down at his hands, fiddling with the cuffs of his hoodie, tugging his hands in and out of the sleeves.

Fit breaks the silence. "...how you doin'?" It's an innocent enough question, if they didn't both know what the scientist had been through. Sure enough, Pac sneaks a glance up at him, giving him a half-hearted shrug in reply.

"...I'm, um...well. I'm really tired," he murmurs, offering up a weak smile. Fit nods in understanding. The past week and a half had been exhausting enough for him, what with Ramon's disappearance and the impending stress of his mission—he can only imagine what Pac's been going through in the past day, much less the past week.

He'll admit it—he's worried about the younger man. Isn't everyone? It's no different than Bad or Phil's worry for Forever, or Cellbit's concern for his friends. Pac is just coming down off of a serious drug. Being tired is normal, right? Fit still isn't sure how he managed to find an antidote, either, or why it was necessary to take the drug in order to find one.

He tries not to worry about it—Pac would tell him if something was seriously wrong. Or not—it was his business, not Fit's. Just like his scientific process. Yeah. It was up to Pac to decide whether or not he wanted to share that information! Never mind the fact that Fit's thoughts were running a mile a minute with theories he did not want to even consider.

Besides, he knew a thing or two about keeping secrets himself. There were some things you simply couldn't tell people, for a variety of reasons: either it put them at risk, or put you at risk, or—

Oh.

He tries not to stiffen at the sudden weight on his shoulder, instead glancing to the side, where Pac's forehead now rests against his plate of armor. The scientist's eyes are closed, lashes sweeping the sunken bags under his eyes. The arms of his hoodie are curled carefully around Fit's prosthetic, gently holding him in place.

...oh.

He takes a careful breath, afraid to move too much for fear of waking the other man. After a few moments of hesitation, he decides to take the plunge: he adjusts his shoulder back a bit, moving the armor out of the way so that Pac's head falls to his true shoulder. Silently, his other hand finds purchase in the folds of Pac's hoodie, resting gently against his arm.

...the door is going to take a minute. They have time to rest.

It seems all too soon that there are cries of triumph from the other room. Pac's head jerks up off his shoulder at the excitement, blinking blearily in the dim light of the tower. Fit freezes, unsure of what to do. Should he play dumb? Act like nothing had happened? Let Pac take the lead?

The other man glances down, realization dawning on his face. Slowly, he untangles one of his arms, sitting up against the sofa back. (Fit misses his warmth already.) "...I guess I must've dozed off." Pac laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away.

Even while avoiding Pac's gaze, Fit can see the deep crimson blushing up the younger man's neck. He shrugs. "Well, that's good. You probably needed the rest."

He tries to play it off. Tries to ignore the way his heart is still hammering in his chest. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, why the hell is he acting like some schoolboy?

To his credit, Pac doesn't seem to be doing much better. "Y-yeah," he stammers out, grinning. "Probably." The dark rings under his eyes only compound that fact—has he been sleeping at all?

They sit for a moment, just staring at each other—until Foolish leans over the back of the couch opposite them, starting up some uproarious discussion about glue and vault mechanics and things beyond Fit's comprehension, and Pac is distracted once more.

But Fit can't help but notice that his arm still lays across the sleeve of Pac's hoodie, the other man's fingers still curled around his prosthetic.

He doesn't say a word.

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning

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chapter synopsis:

'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”

You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'

'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.

---

You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).

You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.

word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)

17-6-2018 

The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there. 

At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway. 

There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before. 

If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky. 

“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.” 

“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.” 

You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t. 

It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter. 

And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all. 

Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself. 

That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes. 

Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road. 

“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you. 

Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears. 

“You and that Itadori seem close.” 

“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so. 

You’ll make sure not to do that again, though. 

Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?” 

“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse. 

He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess. 

“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.” 

“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.” 

Who’s ‘them’? 

“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.” 

“What?” 

“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?” 

“...why would you need one?” he questions. 

You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.” 

He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything? 

“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.” 

The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was. 

“Hi, Mummy.” 

She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy. 

The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there. 

Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from. 

Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.” 

“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?” 

“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.” 

“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.” 

“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.” 

“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.” 

Silence. 

“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.” 

“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time. 

She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway. 

“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving. 

“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.” 

“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—” 

“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years. 

“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.” 

Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father. 

“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?” 

“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did. 

Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue. 

“You should go get that first,” she says. 

“...okay.” 

You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now. 

You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.” 

You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.” 

“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.” 

“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—” 

Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically. 

You’d sworn to put that past you. 

Your immaturity strikes once again. 

“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name. 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room. 

“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.” 

“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room. 

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.” 

“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?” 

“Something like that,” Megumi explains. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?” 

He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.” 

“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.” 

He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.” 

Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—” 

“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.” 

“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—” 

Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.” 

“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.” 

“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi. 

He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be— 

He opens the box. 

Holy shit. 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!” 

Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself. 

You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound. 

It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for. 

Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock. 

“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?” 

Sasaki and Iguchi? 

The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such. 

“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.” 

“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!” 

It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for. 

Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. 

You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that. 

The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen. 

“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?” 

“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil. 

“Yuuji!” 

“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him. 

“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!” 

“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.” 

He climbs over the gate. 

He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone. 

You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all. 

(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.) 

“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?” 

His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying? 

“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?” 

“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!” 

He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now. 

Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.

The emergency contact. 

You snatch your phone out, resolute. 

“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says. 

You’ve heard it plenty before by accident. 

When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from. 

The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead. 

“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—” 

“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…” 

“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!” 

“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender. 

“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!” 

“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.” 

“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.

“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind. 

“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.” 

They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.  

“I’m coming with you.” 

“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.” 

Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.” 

“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.” 

“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?” 

The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone. 

“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.” 

Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams. 

You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest. 

At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this. 

Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.” 

You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told. 

You should’ve done more to protect him. 

Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines. 

Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge. 

“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.” 

“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.” 

“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.” 

You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”

It’s time to get to work. 

Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work. 

Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.” 

“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold. 

“By the way, Mr Gojo…” 

“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.” 

“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?” 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.” 

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.” 

Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.” 

“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.” 

“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.” 

“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”

“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.” 

You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared. 

“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”

“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.” 

“...oh.” 

You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…

“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.” 

You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.” 

18-6-2018 

The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed. 

Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi. 

(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—) 

Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally. 

You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen. 

“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.” 

“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up. 

For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl. 

You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years. 

There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not? 

Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way. 

But you wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point. 

“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down. 

“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.” 

“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere. 

You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.” 

“I promise.” 

“And keep your promises.”

“I will.” 

“...want to come inside?” 

He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him. 

“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?” 

They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours. 

When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time. 

You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them. 

“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji. 

“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.” 

“Where, though?”

Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.” 

“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts. 

The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you. 

“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.” 

‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him. 

You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?” 

You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that. 

“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!” 

Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice. 

Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity. 

This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it. 

Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him. 

“Megumi.” 

He turns around. 

“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn’t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.” 

“Oh.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.” 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.” 

“Okay. That’s good to hear.” 

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.” 

Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward. 

“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.” 

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.” 

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says. 

“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.” 

“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.” 

“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.” 

“Let’s just… change the subject.” 

“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.” 

“Okay. How… how are you?” 

“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?” 

He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].” 

“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.” 

Sounds pretty familiar, huh. 

“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.” 

“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.” 

“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi… 

“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.” 

All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end. 

“I’ll explain it all one day.” 

“You don’t have to if it’s hard.” 

He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.” 

“That’s okay.” 

The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore. 

“I guess this is goodbye again, then.” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again. 

“Promise.” 

“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.” 

“I will.” 

“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.” 

“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his. 

“Wait—!” 

His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago. 

His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].” 

“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to. 

You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.” 

“Thank you.” 

Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open. 

2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie. 

You want to cry as you walk back home. 

You’re pretty sure you do. 

taglist:

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[cbsxreader]

scout and sniper (seperate) x reader where reader is like ms pauling’s bestie/and or reader works for The Administrator and one day reader takes a shift for Ms Pauling and that’s how they meet scout/sniper ? kinda like a slow burn thing snd readr is like painfully oblivious 😭 thanks! and if you can’t complete the request don’t feel pressured to <3

Sure!

(Be prepared, I got way too carried away cus I really liked this idea hehe)

Scout and Sniper falling for reader who's Ms. Pauling's bestie!

Scout

He isn't thrilled at hearing that someone is replacing Ms. Pauling for a day. Mainly because, y'know, he's in love with her and he won't get to see her.

After the announcement given by Ms. Pauling, Scout follows her like a sad puppy, asking why she's having her shift being taken by someone else. Is she getting fired? Is she getting a vacation with the help of some miracle? Does she not like working with them anymore? Pauling has to reassure him that it's just a shift change and nothing else before leaving Scout with his thoughts.

And suddenly, he finds himself in a dilemma. If he flirts with you, he's cheating on Pauling. But she doesn't love him back, so if he tried to flirt with you, maybe he would have a chance at finding love?

When you arrive at the base, Scout is the first person you see, since he's standing right by the door, anticipating your arrival.

"Hey, toots! You must be the one who's stepping in for Pauling, right?" He greets you with a smile.

"Yes, I am. You must be the Scout." You confirm.

"The one and only! Now, how about I show you the team and the base?" He asks, eager to show you around.

Despite you already knowing about the mercenaries and knowing the entire base's layout from cameras, you accept his request.

Scout slightly bashes his teammates as he's talking to you about them and seems to dwell more on himself than everyone else. The base tour wasn't the best either, he constantly missed stuff or didn't assign something correctly just because he couldn't read or didn't know what the room was for. Not to mention him randomly throwing pick-up lines and compliments at you.

When you tell Scout that you actually need to go and do some work, he follows you around, still pestering you and going to see what you're doing.

He's disappointed to see you go so soon at the end of the day. He asks you again and again if you will ever take another shift for Pauling or help her with something around the base.

"Well, you never know what kind of a job you could get working here. Maybe the Administrator will think on it because of your warm welcome!"

You assure him that there's a chance you two will meet again before leaving. Scout watches you as you leave, hoping to get an opurtunity to talk to you again.

When you meet Pauling again, she asks you how your day went, and the first thing that comes to your mind is Scout.

"Damn, you weren't kidding, he really has a motormouth. Does he ever stop talking?" You ask.

"Haven't lived to see it."

Scout spends way more time thinking about you than he should. You've only met one time, why was he so obsessed over you? Maybe because you were warmer, more open than Pauling was to him. Maybe this was a sign to move on.

Days and, eventually, weeks go by without him seeing you. He ends up asking Pauling where you've been, which she sees as a nice change of pace instead of him flirting with her and trying to ask her out on a date.

So, when you make another appearance in the base, he's by your side like a dog, happy to see you. Once again, he's on your tail, flirting and complimenting you.

After a few more visits, you open up to him, having more heart-to-heart conversations with him. The conversations are genuinely light and fun, making Scout realize how one-sided his love with Pauling was.

The more time Scout spends with you, the more he misses you when you're away. There are rare times where all he can think about is you and actually is kinda quiet. It's just that he's used to seeing Puling so often, but since you aren't technically working with the mercenaries, it's unusual for him to see you come over so rarely.

Scout can hardly contain his love for you, eventually, an idea comes to his mind, he could ask Ms. Pauling to help keep you two in touch. Sometimes Pauling acts as a simple messenger, repeating Scout's words to you or taking one of his gifts to you.

Pauling sees Scout coming towards her with a bouquet "No, Scout, I don't want flowers.'' She denies.

"They're not for you, they're for Y/n.." Scout says, slightly embarrassed.

Pauling's eyes widen in shock, but she's still glad the flowers weren't for her "Oh, okay. I'll get this to them."

When Ms. Pauling reaches you again, giving you Scout's gift.

"Wow, he must really want to welcome me with open arms, he's been giving me gifts every time I've seen him!" You say, adding the flowers to the pile of gifts he has given you.

Pauling knows Scout has a crush on you, but decides to not say anything about it to you, so you can figure it out by yourself.

He always tries to confess last minute, or ends up being interrupted before he can deliver those final, meaning words.

Until, one time, before you can even reach the base's door, he just confesses, blushing madly. It leaves you both surprised at the moment and how quickly it unfolds. But it also explains a lot to you.

For the rest of the day, you freely let him follow you, letting him talk his heart out to you.

Sniper

He kind of doesn't care that Ms. Pauling's shift gets taken by someone else. All that matters to him is that you don't screw anything up when the time comes for you to see what the team is like.

"Remember, if there's someone who shows up in purple uniform, in a black car, on Tuesday, 08.00 a.m. sharp, that's who's taking my shift."

The reassurance of Pauling suddenly felt needed to Sniper, maybe she's telling them this because someone else could replace you and would need to be caught. Sniper brushes off the anxiety though and goes to do whatever he needs to.

When the day comes, Sniper is the one who decides to keep look-out, waiting for you to arrive in his tower. He spots a black car, you step out. Sniper views you through his scope, going over Ms. Paulings announcement.

Purple uniform. Black car. It's a Tuesday... Sniper lifts his head and looks at his watch. Just a few seconds after 08.00 a.m.

His anxiety eases, watching you go to the base's front door and greeting the other mercenaries. Not wanting to get too involved, Sniper decides to not come down. You're going to be here for one shift and he doesn't like new people and socializing, there was no need for a connection between you two.

A few hours later, in his camper, Sniper hears some knocking. He groggily walks up to the door, expecting one of his teammates to bother him, only to find you standing outside.

"Good day, you're Sniper, right?" You ask.

"Yeah." He gives a short, simple answer, again, not wanting to create a bond with you.

"I'm Y/n. The other mercenaries asked if you could join them for lunch." You quickly introduce yourself and reveal what you came to him for.

"Oi'll make my own, thanks." He says.

"Engie made a brisket that took him hours, he would appreciate it if you joined everyone else to try it!" Your tone is more sincere, trying to convince Sniper.

"What buisness do you have in what my teammates would appreciate that Oi do?" Sniper asks, voice stern and filled with suspicion.

"I'm taking Pauling's shift and a part of her job is ensuring that you have a strong team bond! And that's my job today, so I actually do have to step in your relationships as teammates." You explain in a more serious voice, reminding Sniper he should respect you just like he respects Pauling.

The explanation and change of tone in your voice convinces him enough to leave his camper and join the rest of his team for lunch. For the rest of the day, he carefully observes you and the other team members, looking for anything that may be off about you.

After your shift is over, Sniper doesn't even notice when you go do other stuff. He had achieved his goal of not getting in your way too much and he doesn't mind it's the first and last time he sees you.

Sniper kind of forgets about you in like, a week or two, only occasionally getting reminded that you exist by his teammates mentioning you. That is, until he picks up the contractor one day and hears your voice.

"Hey, Sniper! You remember me, Y/n, right?" You quickly ask.

He confirms he still knows who you are. He listens to you as you tell him about his contract, but after the contractor disconnects, he becomes suspicious again, trying to reach out to Pauling and asking her if he can accept contracts from you. Pauling, once again, reassures him, telling him it's just like receiving a contract from her.

Now Sniper is used to getting contracts from both of you. But after some contracts, he starts to act differently without him noticing. He starts to eagerly pick up the contractor, as if he's bored and needs something to do.

With Pauling on the other end he greets her with "Oh, G'day Pauling." And you with "Hey, Y/n! Got another contract for me?" He seems to sub-conciously open up to you, using more friendly language.

It's only when he's visibly a bit disappointed when Pauling gives him a contract, but his spirit lifts when you give him one when he realizes there's something special about you. He can't put a finger on it, but the feeling is warm and makes him want to talk to you and hear your voice.

And then, a slip up from Sniper showed him what that feeling was. After you tell him about the contract, he thinks for a bit before accepting it.

"Don't worry, love. You've chosen the roight man for the job."

"Love?"

"..."

"Sniper?-"

After a moment of akward silence, Sniper hangs up, leaving you confused. He suddenly got embarrased, his face flushing and heartbeat becoming faster. "Fuck, why did I say THAT???"

The incident doesn't bother him too much. Until you show up at the base again. Seeing you in person suddenly makes him nervous and he slightly shakes as you talk to him. Sniper secretly wants you to stick around and when you go do something else all he's left with is a lingering feeling.

Of course, he denies these feelings, not wanting to mix his love life with work. Sniper pushes his affection for you aside, bottling it up. But his crush overwhelms him too much for it to be ignored. Maybe he just needs to think to himself for a bit.

You just chat with Pauling about the mercenaries, when out of the corner of your eye, something shines way up high. You turn your head to the little shine, seeing it's in Sniper's tower. Suddenly, it disappears and Sniper, too, is nowhere in sight. Despite him turning off his laser, the light reflecting from the scope's glass still made you look up at him. Sniper sits on the floor, embarrased that you caught him spying on you. The fact that he had decided to look at you and got flustered when you noticed his stalking was enough for Sniper to realize there really was something special abaout you.

Meanwhile, down on the ground. "Does he do that to everyone?" You ask Pauling, confused.

"Well, in my first few weeks he did that too, so he's probably just still suspicious of you." Pauling explains and you shrug.

It takes him a good month or even two to do something about his feelings towards you. And during that time, he loses a lot of sleep, thinking about how he should confess, if he should confess, how the relationship would be taken further, etc.

Sniper EVENTUALLY invites you over for coffee with the help of Ms. Pauling. You both talk for a bit before you have to leave again to take care of the Administrator's buisness. By then, Sniper is sick of himself being too nervous to tell you about his feelings and gives you a speedy confession while blushing.

You're both kind of surprised, looking at each other with wide eyes for a little moment. After the akward silence passes, you invite him for a date. He's surprised that you feel the same, but glad to have you by his side.

[klausysworld]

hey rue! Can you make an angsty imagine where the reader and klaus are a couple and they both fell madly in love with each other at first and they were both really happy but that is until klaus shows his extremely possesive and jealous side and the reader finds it cute at first but with time it really starts to vex her but klaus makes sure that she doesn't leave him and she dreads having to go to events or dances because klaus ruins it with a jealousy tantrum and the reader slowly falls out of love with him due to his incessant jealousy and reoccurring arguments but she is in a desparete situation and sees no way out of it? Thank you

* trigger warning-this does include physical and mental abuse, it took a darker turn than initially anticipated!! Only read if comfortable*

You need me!

Being with Klaus has always been…difficult. It’s always been a rollercoaster of emotions but before the good still seemed to overpower the bad.

To begin with his jealousy was almost sweet. It showed how much he loved me and wanted me to be his.

Plus he always apologised after, always gentle and kind when he would sway me to the music and whisper such beautiful words to me.

“Forgive me my love, I never meant to make you upset, I just want everyone to know you are mine and I am yours. I just love you so” he would convince and how could I doubt him? He was perfect.

And then he slowly became less perfect.

Almost terrifying.

He began to get mad at me when someone else found me attractive.

“You were leading them on! You think you can walk about like a slut and not have eyes on you!? Do you want to see me angry love? Do you!?”

He began to get even angrier when i got upset or frightened

“You think this is scary love? Can you imagine what would have happened if you went off with him? What he would have done to you!? You are helpless! You need me!”

It was only on the rare occasion that I would burst into tears that he would soften a little. Holding me close and petting my head

“Oh love, it’s okay, I forgive you. I know you wouldn’t do something bad on purpose, it’s okay”

Even Elijah would look at me and the accusations began

“You are sleeping with my brother, admit it!”

“I would never do that! Never!”

“You lie, and you lie! I will not be taken for a fool!”

I barely got to speak to Rebekah either

“You spend too much time with my sister, whatever do you two do?” He would ask but his tone was not gentle. It was threatening and dark.

And so for the sake of Rebekah not being in a coffin i stayed away.

He had isolated me entirely so that i had nobody.

And the times we did socialise it ended in a screaming match if i so much as looked at another being.

I began to fear he would hurt me.

He got so close to hitting me.

His hand would raise, eyes back and gold as he stormed towards me.

But when i cowered and screamed for him to stop, he would often realise his threatening stance and back down. But on the odd occasion that he was so furious he wouldn’t realise and the rare moment of abuse would occur.

But it was like a black out in his mind, he never remembered them.

He would notice a mark on me and immediately interrogate me. That softness back as he took my hand and looked at my upper arm covered in a the dark bruises in the shape of a hand

“My love…what happened?”

Or when one side of my face was bright read and in pain

“Did you fall sweetheart? Let me heal you”

It got to the point where i almost wanted him to get angry and hurt me so that he would heal me, pamper me, treat me like he loved me.

I found that if i just staying in bed with him al day then he was lovely. He was just so sweet, he held me so gently, kissed me so softly.

There was no possibility of leaving him, not unless I died and he would never allow that.

So i needed to fine ways to feel safer…better. I needed to try and fall back on love with him so that I didn’t notice it anymore. I just needed to go back to the start.

[autisticalastor]

it's so hard to look at the downside

Pairing: Alastor/Angel Dust

Rating: G

Tags: Fluff, Age Regression, Cooking, Regressor!Angel Dust, Caregiver!Alastor

A/N: Title comes from DOWNSIDE by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME! Also, the recipes used are the same ones I use at home, all quantities provided!

Alastor looks up from his book as he feels something — no, someone — flop down next to him on the lobby couch. Even without looking up, he already knows who it is. Only one person other than Niffty (who doesn't weigh nearly enough to be noticeable when she drops down onto something) has the audacity to get that into his personal space without looking for a fight.

“You're back late,” he observes. “Or is it early when it's past five in the morning?”

“Don't know, and don't care,” Angel Dust replies with an air of misdirected irritation. “Val had me working through the night again. Only good thing to come out of it is I'll finally have a day off now, but even that's just ‘cause he wants to get some sleep.”

“And you? Don't you think you should be heading off to bed yourself? Preferably before you cause some kind of sleep deprivation-induced catastrophe… again.”

“Blow up one wall and no one ever lets ya live it down,” Angel grumbles. “No way I'm gettin’ any sleep right now. I'm still feelin’ too much like a live wire. Way too on edge.”

Alastor considers this a moment. You'll never get him to admit it, but over their time in the hotel together, he's grown quite fond of Angel Dust. He's found they have common interests from when they were alive, and if you can keep him on topic, Angel can make for a wonderful conversation partner. He also isn't half bad of a dancing partner either, and certainly the only other person at the hotel who truly appreciates some good swing.

He's also found that Angel's behavior towards him has changed over the time they've known each other. Angel is much more open and vulnerable with him now — by his own choice, even. Alastor really isn’t used to that, but he's found he truly doesn't mind. He's even found himself becoming able to anticipate Angel's needs to an extent, and it seems now is going to be one of those times.

“Well, I was planning on making some breakfast for everyone today anyways, and it's about time I get started on that. Why don't you join me, since you won't be otherwise occupied?”

Alastor normally hates being bothered by others when he's working on something, especially when he's cooking. Angel knows that, and looks up at him a bit surprised. “Ya sure?”

“I wouldn't offer otherwise, bon ami. Do go and change first, though. We both know Valentino won't be any kinder to you if you get food all over the clothes he bought you.”

“Think I'm that uncivilized, huh? I can cook without makin’ a mess, Smiles.”

“You can meet me in the kitchen once you've changed,” Alastor says firmly. Angel makes a face at him, but heads off to his room nonetheless.

Keep Reading

[dawndelion-winery]

A Dozen Reasons To Love You

Cyno × GN! Reader

Reason 1: You never really seemed to fear him.

He'd understand if you did, like most people he met, and he wouldn't hold it against you. Yet you hadn't. You'd met his stern gaze with an unwavering warmth, seemingly unphased by the sharpness of his eyes.

Reason 2: There was an odd comfort in holding your hand.

The first time was when he was helping you up, lending a hand to pull you up a ledge that you couldn't seem to jump to. Like a crackle of electricity, his hand felt warmer with yours, though he was certain you hadn't done anything, and neither had he. Surely his vision wasn't faulty?

Reason 3: You look like an oasis.

As far as he's concerned, he never really feels all that tired with you. From the way he can easily rest his head in your lap and let your fingers comb through his snowy locks, to the way you'd listen to anything he has to say as he does off under your care. He feels at peace with you, like returning to a warm home. He's certain it wouldn't feel complete if you weren't there for him with your bright smile and gentle gaze.

Reason 4: He likes the way you lean on him when you're tired.

He's strong, undoubtedly so, and it's a reason many fear him. However, it's also a source of pride for him that you're able to find solace in his strength. He loves the way you seem so at ease as he shifts your head to lay on his chest so he can cuddle you. Most of all, he thoroughly enjoys your little murmurings as you slumber, all sorts of odd thoughts seeming to run through your dreamscape.

Reason 5: He likes the snacks you prepare for him.

He's never been a picky eater, not has he ever really fussed over fixed meal times. Yet you insist on him not skipping meals, constantly reminding him that it isn't something he can "leave till later". He found it quite pointless at first, but with time, find himself looking forward to tasting what you had for him with increasing anticipation each time.

Reason 6: You remind him of plants - of the pretty fruits and flowers that decorate Sumeru's natural landscape.

Or rather, it'd be more accurate to say that he sees you in everything. Cyno thinks of you as he happens to pick fruit, trying to recall if it was one of your favourites. He thinks of you as he catches a whiff of flowers he passes by. He imagines you beside him as he looks at his reflection in the water, because truly, the grand blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds was a peaceful sight he'd love to share with you every day for the rest of your lives.

Reason 7: You fit so nicely in his embrace.

It was like you were made to be held by him; it simply came so naturally for him to hug you and pull you close. It feels like the world around goes quiet and he can rest to the sound of your heartbeat like a steady rythmn, egging his own to try match up.

Reason 8: He loves the way you stifle a laugh when he tells a bad joke.

People don't find him funny, he's well aware of that. Yet when you laugh, he can't fully comprehend that it's him you're laughing at, and even if he did, he doesn't think he minds if he gets to see that mischievous glint in your eye. Sure, he may be the joke in your eyes, but it would mean he makes you happy, and the more he realises how happy he is about that fact, the more he starts to realise how important you are to him.

Reason 9: He likes looking into your eyes.

There's something simply mesmerising about looking into your eyes as you watch the stars together. The desert is cold at night, and with you in his arms he can easily see every constellation reflected in your eyes. Of course, he isn't exactly looking at those either; the stars are but an excuse to keep admiring you in the gentle luminance that has him softer than a bird's down feathers.

Reason 10: The way you move has him mesmerised.

It's like a dance and he's enchanted. It doesn't matter what level of grace and dexterity you have (or lack) because whatever it is, he can't seem to take his eyes off you. Regardless, you're lovely to him, and he's joyful to see you at your most naturally content.

Reason 11: The way you try your best for him tends to squeeze his heart a little each time.

It's sickeningly sweet. While he instinctively does what he can to care for you and provide anything you might ask for or want from him, you reciprocating that behaviour very much has him swooning. You got a limited edition card for that TCG game he loves? He can't believe you actually thought to do that for him. And it's not because he thinks lowly of you - he just doesn't expect it from you, because you're enough for him as you are.

Reason 12: As much as he feels the need to take care of you, it doesn't feel quite as unnatural when you're the one taking care of him.

And really, it makes sense. He enjoys when you dote on him, because you're his other half. Who else would nag him for not treating his injuries early and cracking a joke before he told you about said wounds? Who else would fuss over him as they tended to him, sighing as they kiss his cheek with a request that he be more careful? There is no one he can imagine who would ever look at him with the soft adoration you do, and he doesn't want to. He can't. You've consumed his heart in its entirety, and he's forgotten how to hold it, entrusting it to you as he guards yours with due diligence.

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