#the way the front foot twists? so extra and so good

[enterprise-me-capn]

I got this wonderful commission from @mostly-natm of T'Sol, wearing the Mad Hatter's outfit from the Alice in Wonderland ballet. They'd play the part so well, I'd like to imagine their ship put together a production of it. (Actually yeah, fuck it, that's canon now.)

You can find @mostly-natm's commission info here!

[tonycries]

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) - G.S.

Synopsis. Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pànty-stealer! roommate! Gojo, annoyances-to-lovers, he’s REALLY down bad, vírgin! Gojo, oraI (fem receiving), màle màsturbation, pining, face-sítting, jealousy (his side), fírst times, unprotected, creampíe, teary Gojo, pànty-gagging, HEINOUS things, pet names, aIcohol mentions, swearing.

Word count. 8.6k (whoopsies)

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week hehe <3

“Damn…” you sigh at the glaringly empty drawer, rubbing your eyes as if that would make a difference - maybe even magically materialize a fresh pair of panties in front of you. “It’s the second time this month.”

Or was it the third?

But, alas, standing around in your bedroom on a Sunday night does not give you the answers. Or any extra underwear.

Which is why you find yourself making a beeline for the bathroom - teeth gritted, stomach flipping at how very, very exposed you felt underneath the thin fabric of your shorts. Cursing everything from the building’s rundown old washing machine to Gojo’s stupid smile when he took away your laundry basket.

You could’ve sworn you saw your last pair perched right on top of your pile of old clothes, all flimsy and an obscene red that stood out amongst everything else. 

Seriously, how hard would it have been to lose that thing? Maybe you could bother him into buying a new washing machine for-

“Woah there-” Before you know it, you’re crashing face-first into a wall? Pillows? Gojo - unfairly shirtless. “Now, what’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?”

The lack thereof. 

Maybe because you can’t say that, maybe because of what looks - feels - like miles upon miles of milky, sculpted skin, you’re instead settling for an extremely eloquent, “Nothing I uh-” But whatever excuse catches in your chest as you raise your face - still smushed between two large pecs - up, up, up and-

Oh. 

It’s not like you’re seeing something new - far from it, actually, unfortunately for your poor heart.

And at first, you’d thought it was some strange habit - hell, maybe the guy just didn’t like t-shirts. But it was around the fourth or fifth time he’d forgone one that you realized Gojo Satoru was just a tease. A no-good, insufferably smug tease that just loved to catch you ogling him. 

But, well, at least the rent was cheap.

Though, you weren’t exactly complaining about the view either…

Because lo and behold stood the infamous campus sweetheart - you knew about fourteen people who’d kill to see this exact sight. Gojo’s cloudy hair tousled, tiny droplets of water twinkling like diamonds against the bathroom light. Bouncing off his rippling abs, his strong arms circling your waist to stop you from falling backwards. Holding you too fucking close against the white towel slung low on his hips. His skin damp, smelling so delicious-

“Gojo, did you use my body lotion?” 

“Awww–” he whines, finally releasing his grip on you. “You were supposed to admire me some more.”

You scoff, eyes darting over broad shoulders - partially to search for your laundry basket, partially because you really couldn’t handle looking right at a shirtless Gojo Satoru any longer. “As if. Get out if you’re done.”

“Damn, woman. Feisty.” Gojo lets out a deep chuckle - smooth and cocky - when you’re hastily shoving him away from the doorframe. “If you wanted to put your hands on me that bad then you jus’ hafta ask, y’know~”

It was way too late for this. 

“Hilarious.” you deadpan, though you let go of where you were gripping Gojo’s arm like it burned. Immediately stepping behind the bathroom door before he could make you lose whatever’s left of your sanity, “Next time you hog the bathroom m’gonna smash those ugly new sunglasses of yours.”

He’s pressing his foot between that gap in the door to stop you from closing it, “Oi, don’t think I don’t see that glint in your eyes, sweetheart.” Yeah, the glint in your eyes that told you if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under already. Which only makes him grin wider, “You’re telling me you really weren’t checkin’ out the most sought-after man on campus jus’ now?”

Huffing in frustration, you cross your arms, “I don’t see Geto Suguru anywhere.”

“...you take that back right now. I’m the pretty best friend.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

“Am not. Isn’t that why you’re still single?”

“Th-that’s not- fuckin’ Suguru? Really? Most people would kill for a look of this-” Gojo gestures at his bare torso, and once more you’re reminded that those absolutely awful protein shakes he makes every morning aren’t just for show. “-and you’re getting it daily.”

You reach out a hand, Gojo chest hot underneath your touch. He seizes up instantly, ears tinging red as you muse, “Yeah.” Only to push him fully out the doorway, “I just wish you’d shut up daily, too.”

With that, you’re shutting the door with a resounding slam! Feeling only slightly guilty until you hear Gojo’s squawks of protest from outside, “I really don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist.”

Right. Panties.

Something just a tad more important than recounting exactly how many abs Gojo Satoru had.

You let out a shuddering breath, clamoring to find that spare laundry basket you’d forgotten in here earlier today. Shuffling through through the soft clothes, hoping, praying to find-

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Fuck. 

Somehow, you’re hiding away your body lotion that night.

---

“Now, listen here, sweetheart. I know you look fuckin’ gorgeous in everything but-”

“Satoru.”

“But that-” he whirls around, pointing a long finger accusingly at the boxers you’d improvised into sleep shorts. Spitting venomously, “-that I cannot allow.”

You’re rolling your eyes at your roommate’s theatrics, forking through your pancakes while he monologues to himself more than you. “Why does it even matter? It was just for yesterday.” you mutter. “I didn’t have any clean uh- panties for the night n’ this worked.”

Thankfully, since the fresh laundry this morning, you’d found two more of your panties - courtesy of a very smug Gojo handing off your clothes. Ah, it felt like the universe itself was smiling down on you.

But oh if you thought the great Gojo Satoru was having a breakdown before then you weren’t prepared for when you lifted your gaze off the kitchen table. Only to meet his - eyes wide, a pretty pink blush coloring his cheeks, lips gawking and stuttering around what looked like a silent, “P-panties-”

You raise a brow, “What’s got you this worked up, Gojo?”

“Nothing.” he clears his throat, “Absolutely nothing at all. Panties? I love- er, wait no-”

“B-besides-” you bristle at the way his heavy gaze was now turning to flit between your face and down below. Dangerously. “They’re not even yours so I don’t know why it matters.”

This seems to snap him out of his little reverie, and he’s immediately standing up straighter, brows furrowing. He continues, in a much more serious tone than before, “They’re his?” 

You stab your breakfast with a bit too much vitriol than necessary, looking at Gojo with narrowed eyes, “If you mean the one my ex left behind then yes. Who else?”

Your ex wasn’t good for much - and Gojo seemed especially hostile towards him because of his distaste for your little living situation. But, hey, at least the guy was helping you out at this time. Albeit unknowingly. 

He’s raising his hands in mock-surrender, shuffling back into the kitchen to work on the rest of those “world famous” Gojo pancakes. “Nothing nothing.” he hums, and maybe it was how sleep-deprived you were - running on a few too many assignments due today and a few too little panties - but you think Gojo’s voice has a bit more bite to it than usual. Jaw clenching as he plows on, “Of course that fucker- in my- our apartment, too. Fuck-”

A spatula is suddenly mere inches from your face, Gojo brandishing it in front of you like a weapon as he declares, “We’re going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture today.”

“Gojo, I-”

“We-” he cuts you off, delicately placing another pancake on your plate - a little truce. So close now that it reminds you of last night - you could feel his minty breath on your face, count every long, sultry eyelash of his. “-are going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture n’ I’m paying. That’s final.”

And of course, in true Gojo fashion, you can barely get a word out before he’d immediately ducking out of the kitchen. You almost let your lips curl into a smile, hit with a sudden wave of endearment as you hear Gojo’s long legs padding urgently down the hallway to God-knows-where. Maybe he did know when to be-

Smack!

You jolt as you’re hit with a pair of boxers - fresh ones, thankfully, that you recognized from all the clothes you’d rummaged through last night - plopped unceremoniously onto your lap. Jaw dropping in disbelief when you look up to meet Gojo’s devilish grin. 

“Next time-” he winks, motioning at the fabric you were poking in concern now. “-wear mine.”

The talk of Yaga’s lecture hall that morning was of a pair of burned boxers found right outside your building, everyone speculating what the poor guy had done to have his presumed girlfriend make an example of it like that. 

For you, however, the only thing running through your mind was whether or not you could count properly.

Because surely you remembered it correctly when you counted two new underwear this morning - that gauzy black one and the deep red? Two. Definitely not the singular, sad piece of red fabric laying on your bed after breakfast today? Two. The only one you could find even after scouring through your whole bedroom. 

So where the fuck had that other one gone?

---

(8+ new messages)

Do not answer (roomie)🧿🧿: Hurry up ive been lurking inside that lingerie shop ya told me you liked n’ now the old ladies here look like they wanna eat me alive ＼(º □ º l|l)/

im boooored, gonna stand still n’ start blending in with these mannequins if you dont hurry up istg

Hurry

HURRY

HURRY THEY THINK IM SUSPICIOUS

PLEASE THEYRE GONNA ESCORT ME OUT

┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)ﾉ i literally SEE YOU outside 

BITCH STOP LAUGHING-

No sooner are you letting out a cackle at Gojo’s rapid-fire texts, you’re looking up to see the man himself being walked outside by two security guards. Squabbling heatedly in a way that had them heaving out long sighs - which, honestly, you felt a stab of relatable empathy for.

“-I swear I’m not a creep I’m jus’-” Gojo’s bickering dies on his tongue as he catches the sight of you walking closer to the commotion. Closer. Taking your sweet sweet time, eyes just barely glazing over him before- you’re walking away. “Hey!” he calls out, stopping you in your tracks. “Now, don’t you dare-” Before turning back to his wary escorts, “I’m with her.”

They exchange a look between each other, and no matter how much you’d like to pretend the scene had absolutely nothing to do with you - you’d rather Gojo doesn’t get banned from the mall altogether. 

“He’s right.” you drone out, one hand grabbing Gojo’s, the other forcing his head into an apologetic bow. Hissing to the side so that only he would hear, “Unfortunately.”

The two security guards now seem more amused than anything at your strange dynamic. One of them raises a brow, muttering, “Well…this one’s certainly a handful.” Turning around to head back to their stations, “Ya better keep a tight leash on your boyfriend.”

You sputter, eyes wide, “Oh- he’s not-”

But it’s too late - they’re both swiftly out of earshot, most likely more than happy to hand over the public nuisance off to you. And Gojo’s looking to you with a smug smirk, voice dropping about an octave deeper as he breathes against your ear, “So, gonna take your boyfriend to help out with lingerie shopping, sweetheart?”

Oh. God. 

This was going to be one long day.

“I’m only here because another one of mine disappeared, y’know.” you hiss, rifling through all the options before you. “Which really has me wondering why-”

“H-hey! How about this one?” Gojo interrupts, shoving a lacy set right in front of your face, his voice just a bit louder than what was appropriate. 

You sigh, catching the eyes of a few disapproving older women around you. “No this is-” But running a thumb over the fabric makes you bite back an insult. And for all how brash Gojo was, maybe his panty selection wasn’t awful. It was a flimsy little thing, gauzy and light blue - the type you’d typically wear on a night out. You meet his boyish grin, admitting, “...not bad.”

“See?” he laughs - eyes glinting with delight as he piles on a few more in your basket. “N’ if you’re impressed with that then you’re gonna be proposing to me when you realize it’s exactly your size-”

You quirk a brow, “How do you know my size, Gojo?”

And this makes his body stiffen, large shoulders squaring up, throat bobbing as he answers,“Uh? Experience?”

Oh, right. You’re rolling your eyes, fighting off a weird little stab of irritation. This probably isn’t the first time he’s come here with a girl, anyway. 

And yet, despite however much of an alleged “catch” Gojo was, he’d - perhaps mercifully - never brought anyone over. You don’t know why, but you didn’t really want to question it.

“A-anyway.” Gojo’s airy voice cuts through your thoughts. And he’s plucking up a few more sets of lingerie for you to sort through, “Can’t let these one, two, three- six lovely lil’ things go to waste now, can we?” At your look of confusion, he chuckles, guiding the two of you to the counter now. “Suguru’s holding a party at his place tonight, how would you like to do the honors of being my cute plus one?”

“I’d rather go with Yaga.”

Though, you really can’t say no - not when Gojo’s flashing you that black card as he pays for everything in an instant. Not when all he can prattle about on the way home  is how gorgeous you’d look together at Geto’s party - how you’ll have to beat everyone off of him with a stick (to which you reply that you’d no sooner do that than beat him with a stick.)

Not when he sits outside your bedroom door as you get ready later that night. Insisting on keeping you company even as you slip out of your towel. Looking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t peeking in before eagerly turning to grab at one of your new set of silky white panties- only, they weren’t there.

Strange. 

“Hey, Gojo…” you call out, looking underneath your blankets for where you might’ve thrown them about after trying them on. Under your bed, in your drawers, anywhere. “-didn’t we buy six sets?”

“Huh? Dunno, I didn’t count. Just wear the blue one.” he whines, ushering you to hurry up from outside. Face burning because shit, this was you and you were inside - still wrapped up in only that sinful little towel. Oh, would the painful death really be worth it if he happened to accidentally look around? “S’pretty and y’know what else?”

Your voice was muffled as you hastily put on your clothes, “What?”

“It matches my eyes.”

Really strange.

---

Thankfully for Gojo, you didn’t go with Yaga to the party - nor did you find your lost pair of panties, sadly, but that wasn’t too much of a concern for him. 

And here he was - one hurried Uber ride and about several billion death threats from you later. Wishing that you’d actually just acted on one of them because fuck at least then he wouldn’t have to be watching from across the room as some bastard from the university basketball team tried to chat you up.

Gojo can’t even hear the way the girls surrounding him were giggling about something or the other, alcohol making his tongue a little heavier, eyes a bit glassier. 

Nothing like the way that other man was drinking in that polite smile on your face. Tilting your head to face forwards and- God, why won’t you just look at him instead?

Would that guy still look at you that way if he knew you were wearing lingerie matching his eyes right now?

“Not gonna entertain your fans?” Geto’s voice rings through his whirlwind thoughts, eyeing down the forgotten crowd in amusement.

“When have I ever?” Gojo runs a hand through his hair in frustration. 

He lets out a knowing laugh, “Yeah, you little vir-” Turning into a coughing fit when Gojo elbows his best friend straight in his stomach. “Anyways.” Geto gestures with his drink in your direction, as if Gojo hadn’t seen - as if it wasn’t the only thing on his mind right now. “Well, your lil’ roomie there seems to be popular, too, huh? Star player of the basketball team n’ all. 

He clicks his tongue, slumping further against the thumping wall. “So? I’m taller, and more handsome.”

“Are you sure ‘bout that?”

“Y-yeah?” he sputters. 

“Well then why aren’t you over there with her?” Geto hums, lips curling. “Looks t’me like even she doesn’t like him that much so why’re you being a pussy over here? Always sneaking around stealing her-” 

“Shut up-” And Gojo knows he’s riling him up, he knows that Geto wants to see a little drama - maybe finally shut up his pining over the one girl he’s wanted for the past year - and couldn’t have. It’s a trap. But Gojo can’t stop his head from snapping between you and his best friend’s sly smirk. Slurring indignantly, “Of course I’m fuckin’ handsome, n’ taller. I’d make a better boyfriend too and-” He trails off at the sight of that loser leaning in - but more importantly that tiny furrow in your brows, your hands on his chest softly keeping him at bay. “-and m’gonna go over there n’ prove it.”

“Ah, that loser’s gonna thank me later.”

And, hell, Gojo could barely even walk. Barely even think straight as he’s parting the stuffy living room, ignoring whatever whispers and titters were following him. 

“I said no-”

“Hey, sweetheart.” you jump when someone - Gojo - creeps up from behind you. Large build hanging off your own when he nuzzles his face into your neck. And you could feel his toothy grin on your skin, “Missed me?”

Your face burns, “I uh-” Angling your face as dignifiedly as possible to face your roommate, “Gojo, are you drunk?”

“Drunk on you, yes.”

“What the-”

The man in front of you pipes up - shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “Didn’t realize you were taken. My bad.” Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but under the scrutiny of Gojo Satoru. His big arms tightening around your middle - when did they even get there? “I’ll just uh- get out of your way, man.”

“Mhm, by the way,” Gojo puffs up his chest a bit, clearly towering over the other man - ha, take that Suguru. “Nice loss against Kyoto last week, real knee-jerker.” 

You smack Gojo’s chest at his rudeness, to which he only smiles wider. Watching the other man being swiftly handled away by another apologetic member of the basketball team.

“Gojo.”

And before you can react, Gojo’s dragging his pretty plump lips along where that light blue band of your bra was just peeking out, murmuring lowly, “Love it when you scold me like that.” Still refusing to let go of you despite the jealous looks thrown your way, “Let’s go home, my girl.”

Oh, the look on your face was priceless. 

He just wished he could fish out his phone and record, or maybe even tell Geto to take a picture - help him make it his wallpaper. And he did - over fifteen times, in fact, as the two of you helped drag him away from the thrumming party. Geto doesn’t listen, of course, and you neither do you - grumbling out a slew of profanities underneath your breath that makes the Uber driver look at the two of you weird.

And yet, Gojo’s biggest issue right now was trying to climb up these fucking stairs - not when they were trying to run away from him. 

“I swear to God, Gojo-” you huff, chest heaving under the weight of walking - well, more like dragging - your roommate up to your apartment. Knees wobbly - maybe at the intensity of his cologne, maybe at the way his biceps were flexing on your shoulders, probably at how fucking useless he was. Damn lightweight. “You better cover my rent for the next year for this.”

“Of course I will~” his hot breath tickles your ear, “Anything for m’girl. I’ll take care of us forever, don't you worry your pretty lil’ head.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the way your heart clenches - just a little bit. And if you’re slamming open Gojo’s bedroom door with a little more force than necessary, well, at least he’s a bit too impaired to nag at you about it.

He bounces lightly when you throw him on his plush mattress, giggling softly, “You should just join me, y’know. Have a little sleepover.”

“Drop dead.” you monotone, not even daring to look back at him while you shuffle through Gojo’s shirts. Throwing one over your shoulder at him, “N’ wear this, I just know you’ll complain about messing up your favorite button-up tomorrow morning.”

“Aww, you always take care of me so well, my girl~”

That familiar little nickname makes a shiver run down your spine, and it’s all you can do to concentrate on shuffling through Gojo’s drawers in search of his shorts. Absent-mindedly reaching for the lowest drawer and-

“Wait!” 

You jump, whirling around to catch Gojo sitting up ram-rod straight on the bed, eyes wide, hand reaching out as if to stop you. Swallowing thickly, you ask. “Gojo?”

And he jolts - like the very sound of your voice is sending electricity zapping through his veins. Abruptly scrambling off the bed before resting two hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you away from the drawer. “My shorts are uh- in my wardrobe, heh. Sorry about that.”

Furrowing your brows at the sudden twist, you squirm in his grasp to look at the drawer again. Failing - when Gojo keeps his grip steadfast, “Why’re you acting so-” 

“How about we order take out? My treat?”

And that night, tucking yourself into bed, you should be falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You should be caring less about that strange little outburst of Gojo’s inside his room. You should have realized sooner - those light blue panties you’d worn tonight were gone. No longer in your hamper of old clothes.

And there was only one thing to do. 

---

Gojo thinks he shouldn’t - fuck he knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t even want to- well, that last bit was a lie.

Gojo Satoru first met you about a year ago, when you’d come knocking at his door asking about his ad for a roommate. It was more because he was bored inside this big apartment by himself than anything, really, but here you were all gorgeous and sweet, flashing him a smile that was burned into his mind for the rest of the week, at the very minimum. How could he ever say no?

And when you’d taken to walking around the apartment in those slutty lil’ shorts as a way to get back at his perpetual shirtless-ness? Thin panties just peeping out of the low hem? 

God, it was everything he could do to not run to the bathroom with each little glimpse. He was fucked, so very embarrassingly fucked. 

He just never thought it would get to this point - the first time had been an accident, honestly. When your laundry had gotten mixed up with his. Surely he didn’t remember having such a cute pair of pink panties in his closet? And surely it didn’t mean anything if he just-so-happened to stash them away, right?

At least, that’s what Gojo told himself the first time. And the second. And the third. And shit, it was a bit of an addiction now, and within a year of rooming with you, he’d accumulated a drawer stuffed guiltily with exactly what he shouldn’t be having. 

Gojo Satoru - insufferable campus sweetheart, the dreamy first place on everyone’s To-Fuck list - had been hoarding away your pretty panties. Like the pathetic virgin he pretends he isn’t. 

And so here he was - that dirty little drawer flung open, pants pulled down just enough, one hand flat on the flat surface to steady himself, while the other fisted desperately around his swollen cock - and one of your panties. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” he’s hissing, body shuddering in lewd little tremors at that torturous drag of fabric down his length. Squeezing at his thick base, moving fast - filthy up, up, up to thumb along the end of his sopping slit. “Feels s’good- too fucking good hngh-”

Such a pretty, wet gasp escapes him when your soaked, absolutely ruined underwear catches on his veins, tangling around his sensitive shaft. And he’s biting his lip, trying not to make a noise when he threads through the mess down below. 

“Oh fuck, yer killin’ me even when you’re ngh- not here.” he breathes unsteadily, weaving the sticky fabric around his long fingers. Tight - just how he knew you would. “S’like you know what you do t’me with these.”

They were your blue ones, this time - the ones from just last night. The ones you were wearing not even a full day ago. And Gojo has them wrapped daintily around his rock-hard cock, stark against the blushing red at his fat head. Already so drenched in precum as he fucks his fist. 

“Y’looked so p-pretty with these, sweetheart.” he groans over the wet fwip! fwip! fwip! Eyes rolling to the back of his head with each long, feverish stroke. “So pretty being mine. Ngh- so pretty in my- fuck.” 

Slam!

He’s hitting his palm facedown on the wood, knees buckling, eyes scrunching shut with pleasure. 

And that ruined, utterly depraved part of Gojo wonders whether next time he should steal your bras too? Have the full set of you proudly wearing his color like some secret little slut for him. 

He’s letting out a ragged little laugh, oh how cute you’d look all confused. Nipples hard through your flimsy excuse of a t-shirt while you looked around for them. While you asked him for help. 

Oh, just the thought of that has Gojo’s red, furious cock beading glossy drops of precum at his tip. Leaking a sinful, slippery sheen down his wrist. “Ah.” he lets out a guttural groan when his angry dick twitches in his hand, falling onto his elbow on the drawer. Not having the strength - or the sanity - to keep himself up anymore. “Look what you’ve-” Gojo’s eyes catch sight of a flash of red inside, sounding so wrecked. “Look what you’ve done.”

And those obscene red panties are snatched up by his free hand in a second, not even a second wasted before Gojo’s bringing them up to his face. 

Fuck. 

“Look what you’ve done. Look how ngh- filthy you’ve made me.” he whines, muffled. Hips fucking up in quick, uncontrollable little thrusts into his closed fist. Voice a pitch higher as he spits out embarrassing little accusations, “How pathetic. Gettin’ fuck- gettin’ off to this? Me of all hah- people like this? Can’t imagine how f-fucking mad you’d be.”  

Would you figure out it was him? Would you look in his drawer again? Teach him a lesson or two about being such a pathetic little pervert for his roommate. 

Maybe - just maybe - if Gojo plays his cards right, gets on his knees and begs for mercy, then you’d let him keep his little treasure. 

He throws his head back in a humorless little laugh when his aching hand slows down to languid, unforgivable tugs. He had time, anyway, your classes ended late today. Torturous - exactly the way he imagines you’d drive him mad. “Heh- wish this was you.”

You’d be so much meaner, pressing down on that little divot at his tip, flicking teasingly like you were trying to fuck out something delicious. You’d be running your nails down his achy veins, running your soft palms around his painful balls. 

You’d whisper, “This all you got, Toru?”

“Oh fuck!” Gojo moans, raspy little sounds of what sounds like your name filtering through the crevices of his fingers, your panties. “Fuck fuck fuck- gonna cum.” he whines. Heavy balls smacking back into his thighs with each thrust into your imaginary hand. How he wished you were here. He’s managing to wrench his eyes open to spy down at his sloppy cock - needing to see how your cute lil’ panties would look painted all white for him. How he wished you- “Gonna-”

Oh. Fuck. 

You. 

“Aw, why stop now, Gojo?”

You’re leaning against Gojo’s open bedroom door, flashing him such a sultry little smirk. Your voice almost a purr when you echo, “I said…” Before taking two long steps to where he stood frozen, “Why stop now?”

Gojo lets the damp fabric held up to his face drop in guilt - yet the other stays firmly wrapped around that hand cock of his still in hand. 

“S-sweetheart what are you- why-” And perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has terrorized this planet, he’s speechless. Worry-bitten lips sagging open stupidly, “I- this is-”

You cut him off, “So you’re the panty thief.” So close now that Gojo’s dick was throbbing at each heave of your chest, the way you were squeezing your thighs together. Eyes sliding down his body to rest at the mangled mess of your all-new panties around his painfully hard cock. “I knew it.”

“I can explain-”

“All those times pretending to help me?” you bat your lashes in a way that makes him gulp. Words dripping with the same tease he’d imagined in daydreams just like this. “When you were the pervert stealing my panties? Are you even ashamed?”

Gojo flushes an innocent pink, excuses tumbling out of those pretty lips immediately. But they sound like lies even to him.

“This- ngh-” he’s rolling his hips forward when you slide a smaller finger down his arm, between his pecs, almost the way down to those tufts of white. “Fuuuck- y-you’re not mad? Are ya the devil herself cuz you’re gonna- ngh- kill me this way.”

Humming, “Class was canceled, but of course - don’t hah- stop on my account, Gojo.”

“Toru.” he’s gasping out, a low moan wrenching out of him when he’s bowing his body into his fist again. Squeezing - almost warningly - at his hilt. “C-call me Toru. Please.”

And fuck he could’ve cum right then and there at that devilish little smile you give him, biting down on your lower lip - inches from his that it felt like you were biting down on his. Maybe you were, shit Gojo didn’t even know right now. 

“Toru.”

That’s all it takes for Gojo’s lips to be crashing onto yours. Biting back a little whimper at the messy clash of teeth, of spit, because one taste of your candied lips and he was already so addicted. 

“Mmpf-” Gojo gasps, chasing hotly after your lips. Eyes half-lidded to watch the snapping of those delicate strings of saliva, “You’re- you’re so-” And he’s way too impatient to get out his words, licking heatedly at the slit of your mouth. Over and over and over-  “As bad as me- ngh-”

“Are ya sure about that?” you grin, cunt clenching at your roommate’s pained grunt when you pull away. “Because look-”

And the both of you are stuck on the way Gojo’s moving again, hips fucking up in jagged, mindless little grinds. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like he didn’t even feel the way his leaky tip was smearing along the front of your sinfully short skirt. 

“Can’t help it.” he whines, kissing down your neck. Hips urging forwards to slip up the thigh-length fabric, and when you don’t pull away, Gojo drags your skirt up, up, up with his pulsing length, “You don’t know what you do to me- fuck.”

His jaw falls slack, ogling at the sight of your pretty pussy on full display for him. Already so glossy with your sweet sweet juices, needy between your restless thighs. Bare. 

And this might be the first time he’s seen a cunt in real life but Gojo already knows - he already feels - that she’s gonna be the death of him. 

Sharp teeth nip at your bottom lip, tugging. “What the fuck-” Gojo breathes - more to himself than anything. “What the fuck what the-” Bringing down his free hand to run the pads of his long fingers along your puffy folds, as if to confirm whether this was real. “-fuck! Going out like this? You’re even dirtier than me, huh?.” 

“What can I do?” Sliding your arms around his broad shoulders, palms running along the heated skin. Back arching to grind down on his hand, “Someone stole all my panties.”

Your words fall on deaf ears, because Gojo doesn’t hesitate for even a second before he’s bringing his dripping wet fingers up to his lips. Smoldering eyes looking right into yours when he pops them in his mouth. Sucking them dry. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.”

In a split second, you’re being splayed out on Gojo’s king-sized bed like such a slut. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw. And it happens so fast that you almost think you’re seeing things - but, no, the way you’re bouncing against the silky sheets was real. Your skirt bunching up at your waist was real. 

Gojo’s hazy gaze getting stuck right at the spot between your legs was real. 

“Shiiiit.” he murmurs, low and gravelly, like he’s moving through molasses. Stalking towards your trembling figure as if hypnotized, “Oh, she looks even prettier this way.”

You shuffle in embarrassment, pressing your thighs together, “Toru-”

But he doesn’t hear you, instantly scrambling onto the bed. “No- no no no no no-” Just wrenching your legs apart with his hands. “No, you don’t get to hide th-this from me, you don’ know how long I’ve waited for this. How much I’ve imagined-”

You’re gasping when he runs the tip of his index between your sopping wet slit, coating his fingers in your juices once more. Teasing. “N’ so wet. This all f’me? God, can’t even- ngh-”

“So eager.” you mumble, fingers threading through Gojo’s soft locks to pull him in so close. To drag him towards where you needed him the most. “Why don’t you jus’ shut up- N’ put that big mouth of yours into use somewhere else?”

His eyes widen, words a whisper, “C-can I?” He doesn’t wait for your response before flipping the two of you so easily. Having you toppling precariously on his lap now, “Can I really? Never done this before.”

Never?

It’s not before he lets out a shy huff, that you realize that you said that out loud. “So what? S’that bad?” Two large hands groping and kneading your ass to keep you in place, “Ya didn’t actually ngh- believe all those stories on campus, did ya?”

Squirming at the feeling of his massive girth rubbing up against your swollen folds, “D-doesn’t matter.” You grit out, “You can…”

And no sooner are you seeing Gojo’s megawatt smile, you’re already feeling it between your thighs. Being wrestled up like some glorified ragdoll, dragging your sloppy cunt all the way up to straddle Gojo’s pretty face. 

“So, this is what she ngh- looks like.” he whines, hot breath lapping at your quivering pussy. “Shit, she’s so wet I could almost-” You’re gasping when the man below you simply sticks his awaiting tongue out, admiring your pussy while letting your syrupy sweet slick drip! drip! drip! down his throat. “This all f’me?” 

The only thing you can give him right now is a needy little whine - which makes Gojo kiss the fat of your ass with a sharp smack! Biting his lip at the way it jiggles against his hand, “Tell me, where did my feisty girl go?”

That lewd little nickname has you scoffing in pathetic frustration, your grip searing on his scalp when you force his obscene mouth closer. “Y-you seriously need to-” Pulling, “-shut up, Toru.”

And oh, you’d played right into Gojo’s devilish hands. This was exactly what he wanted - to have his face stuffed between your limp legs, ready mouth meshing messily with the folds of your dripping cunt. “There she is.” he moans, the tip of his tongue slurping up the sloppy dredges of your slick. Carding between your pussy lips, “Oh- fuck there she is. Yeah use me like that- use me.”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute and you wonder how. Because Gojo was lapping at your cunt so feverishly, everywhere - from your inner thighs, to your folds, to just around the circles of your sloppy entrance like he wanted to taste it all. And couldn’t decide where to go first. 

“T-Toru.” you let out a honey sweet mewl of his name when the tip of his nose is rubbing against your clit. “There. Right there-”

Eyes rolling to the back of his head when he easily locates your sensitive nub. Wrapping those ruby lips around your clit to give an experimental suck. 

Shit, he could almost pass out from how heavenly you look on top guiding him. Your entire body jolting with each roll of his hot tongue, giving him such a pretty view of your tits up your silky shirt. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all into his mouth when he toys with your pulsing clit. 

“Oh fuck!” your hips are darting away with each zap of electricity sent down your spine. 

Which, for Gojo - who’s only ever dared to dream up this moment on those lonely nights - isn’t enough. 

“Know m’new to this, sweetheart, but stop bein’ nice n’ fuckin-” He’s pulling on the crease of your waist, dragging you to rest your entire weight on his face - his mouth. “-sit.” You’re keening when Gojo forces you to collapse on his soft tongue, bullying past your puffy folds and into that sloppy ring of muscle. Jus’ barely dipping past the resistance, “I said use me so fuckin’ use me. Don’ care if I can’t breathe - if I fucking suffocate- ngh- m’gonna die if you don’t just sit.”

“Fine.” You cry out when the curve of his tongue is molding into your gummy walls, pushing recklessly past. Not even fucking easing you into it before he’s fucking you on his tongue. Calculated, mean little thrusts in search of all your sweet spots. “No half-assing then, m’kay?”

Though, you had the feeling that he would do anything but. 

“Good, now keep still.” he’s scolding, one hand starting up again in those slow, satisfied tugs on his length. “Please keep still.” And the other dancing between your legs to push a finger inside your snug cunt. “Mmm it’s a tight fit, can feel ya clenching around me. Ngh- always wondered how it’d feel- where that would be.”

Blinking away the haze in your eyes, you look down at where Gojo was already locked on you, “Th-that?”

“That.” he breathes into your cunt, voice reverent as he speeds up. “S’your pussy gonna tell me where your good spot is? Gonna help me ngh- learn?”

And to your embarrassment - and Gojo’s smug satisfaction, it only takes a few more hurried strokes of his tongue before he’s nudging against your g-spot. Both the texture of his tongue and his long, cold fingers curling to assault the poor bundle of nerves. 

Your body bows deeper as if on auto-pilot, “Oh- fuck! You fucking- hngh”

He’s snickering at the way you’re so responsive, cock hard - and only swelling girthier in his fist with each adorable moan falling from your lips. 

“Oh yeah? There? Ya like this?” he moans, “Ya like shutting up the ngh- p-pervert that steals your panties with your cunt?” 

Getting faster. More attuned to his feral need. 

Lips smacking in tempo with those obscene squelches, you can’t tear your eyes away from the way his cheeks hollow. Fingers still so rapid, moving to make out and toy so messily with you clit - untimed, sloppy but fuck did you love it. 

“Y-yes.” you’re shoving his mouth guiltlessly deeper. Letting his long tongue explore every crevice and inch of you. Sloppier. So, so filthy. “Love it- fuck- you’re such a fast fucking learner.”

“I know.”

There was that cocky Gojo Satoru you were used to, lips curling into a strawberry pink smile around your clit - all glossy and sweet with a sheen of your slick. Making such a mess of the lower half of his face, his chin, shit, all the way down to his jaw. 

“M’close-” you choke out at the sight, “M’so fuckin’ close- gonna- gonna cum on your tongue, Toru.”

“Look at you ruining me.” his words hit you hard on your sensitive cunt, sending shockwaves up your arched spine. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid mewls.“Absolutely defiling me. Are ya proud of nghhh fuck- yourself?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a strained, “Yes! Yes yes yes yes- God, m’so close, Toru/ Gonna cum m’gonna-”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming at first, just that you’re riding Gojo’s unfairly pretty face in harsh grinds - just the way he liked it. Jaw grinding against your cunt, chin hitting you with each slutty jerk of your hips, letting you use him all you want to ride through your high. 

And his fingers are digging into your hips, stopping you from pulling away even when you were snow. Even when you’re sobbing in oversensitivity. So painfully good. 

“Ngh- T-Toru–” you’re slurring out, his name thick on your tongue. “M’not gonna cum on your dick if you k-keep hah- acting this way.”

Only then does a pussydrunk Gojo Satoru raise his bleary eyes back up at you. Giving you a strained little grunt of acceptance, before parting ways with your pussy with a lingering, wet kiss on your clit. Barely-audible as he whispers, “Gonna see ya soon.”

You don’t have the time to think about his newfound addiction. Because in all of three seconds, he’s plopping you back down so prettily on his lap. Purposefully feeding your sopping wet slit his weeping red tip. 

“Please.” Gojo’s usually-arrogant grin has fallen into such a pretty pout with one graze of his length sandwiched between your folds. “I did good, right? Please ngh- so I th-think if I made you cum then I get to hah- fuck you how I want.”

And it’s not that you didn’t appreciate it before - but looking at his thick tip pushing up against your cunt right now has you recognizing that shit, Gojo is massive. 

Fat head blushing a pretty reddish, leaking so messily down, down, down those glistening veins at his side and to the creamy ring at his base - from when he’d cum, just from eating you out, you realize with a jolt. His girth so intimidatingly thick, long enough that you know you won’t be walking for a week straight, at least. All throbbing and angry with every second he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your cunt. 

Gojo Satoru is massive. 

“Like what ya see?” he echoes your thoughts, a soaked thumb coming down to pry apart your glossy folds. Grinning at the way your hole was already so needy and clenching around nothing. “Think m’the ngh- perfect size for this pretty pussy?”

Through it all, you find it in yourself to muse, “Only one way to find out. Gonna let me be your first, Toru?”

And then he’s pushing in, shallow, high little gasps bursting from his lips with each inch being bullied into your plush cunt. 

“O-oh fuck-” Gojo can’t stop himself from taking a good look at the way your pussy lips are bulging around him. Jaw dropping at the way your greedy entrance is only sucking him up more and more - trying to bite off more than you can chew with the way he was in so deep but barely even halfway in yet. “S’too good- oh my god- fuck I think m’gonna die. Is it s’pposed to feel th-this good?”

You’re running a hand gingerly through Gojo’s mussed-up hair, smoothing down the sides sticking up where you’d been pulling on it. “S’alright, Toru.” you soothe, letting him grind up into you. Trying to fit more - all of it. “You’ve got it- you’ve hah-”

You let out a pathetic little whine when his tip kisses your cervix, legs flexing around his toned waist. 

“Oh- ohhh fuck-” he’s barely able to string together coherent sentences now. Eyes falling till their half-lidded, body moving before his mind when he pulls yours stuck to his. “S-soo good n’ I haven’t even- oh!” His voice goes a few octaves higher when Gojo finally starts moving. “How can- it feel this good, hng-”

And shit for being inexperienced, he was fucking up into you so mean. Just in short little thrusts up like he was trying to fuck you even deeper - trying to squeeze inside more of himself impossibly. 

“Some- ah- some more, Toru-” 

He listens, and the stretch - fuck. Gojo wasn’t even trying yet, but his girth was already massaging your gummy walls so dizzyingly good. 

“Y-you’re so- ngh-” you graze your lips across his in what can barely be called a kiss. Too messy. Too depraved. “-so deep.” Sliding a hand about midway down your stomach to press down, “Can feel you all the way in here.”

Your words are sticking to Gojo like a second skin, driving him so fucking mad. Hips smacking up into you deep until his heavy balls were slapping your ass, sculpted pelvis crashing into yours.

“Stop talking.“ he spits, “Stop talking stop talking stop- talking.” Each word is punctuated by a desperate, messy stroke. Pushing you further and further up Gojo’s body from the obscene impact. “Stop hah- talking or m’gonna cum.”

He wasn’t lying - you could already feel the twitch of Gojo’ length rubbing up against your hidden sweet spots. The furious throbbing of his veins stretching out your elastic walls. 

And yet you’re still wailing stubbornly, “B-but Toru it feels so good.” Partially truth, partially because when the fuck do you get to see him so utterly wrecked like this. Sanity dancing away from him with each syrupy moan leaving your mouth, “Your cock is too good- ngh- feels-”

“Shut up.”

Gojo can only take that much of your nonsense before he’s stuffing your mean mouth full with a flimsy piece of fabric from somewhere on the bed- no. A strangely familiar pair of panties. 

“Heh, s’much ohhh fuck- better.” he beams with pride when you’re gagging and tearing up so adorably around the light blue fabric. Ramming his cock up harder - stronger, as if daring you to make a little comment about it. “Should’ve ah fuck- known you wouldn’t make it easy f’me.”

As if to prove his point, he gives your ravaged clit a little smack! before teasing and rolling his thumb exactly the way you’d taught him to with his tongue.

And he’s scrambling to sit up, carrying your boneless body with him. 

The new angle has Gojo seeing stars, penetrating your gummy walls deeper, hitting that familiar g-spot he’s mapped out by now. “Here?” he manages to cackle, a big arm wrapping around your waist. “Right here? S’my cock hitting th-that ngh- good spot? Yer pussy is fuuuck so much easier to u-understand than I ah- thought.”

Reeling back to bounce you on his thick cock. Crashing into it again. And again and again and-

Since you can’t snap back - or even beg for more - you only let out muffled little moans through the gag in your mouth. Thighs burning as you push back in pathetic little thrusts to somehow meet Gojo’s mindless cadence.

“Oh yeah?” he drags, leaning back to help you ride him properly. “Yeah yeah do i-it hah- like that. Do it juuuust like that.” A harsh thumb rolls into your clit, making you stutter and grind yourself down messily. “Fuck- Yeah ruin me- ngh- just like that.”

His words were jagged - uneven. Spitting out of his plump lips like he didn’t even know they were every time Gojo’s fat, leaky tip was gliding across your cervix, your g-spot. Leaving possessive little bruises to claim you from the inside out. 

“C-close.” you slur out, not even sure if he could hear over the dull slap of his balls on your ass, and the greedy squelches of your cunt. “More, Toru.”

Yet your sinful, sickly sweet noises have him freezing - if only for a split-second. Pussydrunk eyes going wide, jaw falling slack in such awe. 

But before you can fully appreciate this sight, he’s starting back his depraved thrusts again. Bouncing you harder - faster. Just dragging you along every ridge and bump of his swollen cock. Fingers just a needy blur toying with your poor clit. 

“M-more?” he whines into the crook of your neck, voice breaking at the end. “More. More?” He speaks up, like a mantra. Each word sending you spiraling down Gojo’s merciless cock, Panting, “Ever since you fuck- started rooming w’me, wanted this- wanted you to hah- be my first.” Holding you in such a vice-like grip as he splits you apart on his aching cock. Harder. “You’ve ruined me-” he spits against your lips, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’ know how many times I’ve cum to your pretty panties. Ruined me- ruined me- fuck m’so close- ruined me.” Violent, even. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. 

And it’s only taking a few more unsteady jabs into your g-spot before a wave of euphoria is crashing over you. “Hngh-” you spasm in Gojo’s arms, his eyes going wide in wonder when your cunt squeezes him so fucking tight- only to-

“F-fuck!” he whines, connecting your lips to his. Kissing you even with your panties still stuffed into your mouth. And Gojo’s cumming and cumming so hard he doesn’t even think he’s breathing. Intertwining his tongue with yours to muffle his overstimulated moans, wrapping around your sweet slick-soaked panties in the middle. The contrast of his soft tongue with the lazy fabric of your panties only making you milk his poor cock harder. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck- Take it. Take it, my girl.”

You moan incoherently, going insane at the way he was filling you up with long, thick ropes of cum. Fucking deeper and deeper up into you to paint your plushy walls from the inside. 

“S’all I’ve- ngh wanted.” he murmurs throatily, such a fucking mess now. Face flushed, eyes glassy with tears, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth with the way he was sucking lewdly on your tongue. “You’re all I-I’ve ever wanted.”

Shit, he hasn’t cum this hard in his life.

Finally having had enough of shutting up your smart mouth, Gojo slows down to deep little grinds - still moving. Still trying to hold back his moans at that creamy ring around his hilt, at the globs of seed trickling out of your poor overfilled pussy. 

“Hah- Toru-” you whine when he pries away the fabric in your mouth. Shuddering with the swipe of his finger along your clit, “C-could almost ngh- forgive you…”

“The blue one.”

“What?” you’re staring at him in confusion, and Gojo’s fucked-out grin only spreads wider. 

“That was for the b-blue one.” you gasp when his balls suddenly squeeze so painfully underneath you. Cock jerking in interest, “Y’gonna have me make up for that whole drawer full of panties, sweetheart?”

A/N. VIRGIN GOJO BRAIN ROT GOES BRRRRRRRR

Plagiarism not authorized.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1.8k / 22 / soap soulmate au, part 3

…

Oh, shit, Ghost thinks. What the hell did you just do?

Ghost stumbles out in the road, looking after you in shock. You just... jumped out. In handcuffs. There's no way you think you can make it anywhere like--

Oh, double shit. You're running right for the cliffs in the distance. Looks like you might make it, too. That ain't good. Morally justified or not, he's still the criminal here. If you get to rough terrain and he loses you by car and on foot, you’ll go for help, and his squad won’t stand a chance.

He swears, grabs his pistol, and points it at your back.

He has a clear shot. He's sniped easier targets.

… He sighs and lowers his gun. Johnny, you owe me one.

…

You've got a good head start on him, but when he eventually catches up, he's going to be pissed.

Your ankle and hand sting from your rough landing. Adrenaline pumping, heart racing--you've got to get to those cliffs, and fast.

Behind you, the engine roars closer. Wheels crunch over gravel. He’s catching up. But the cliffs are right there. A river snakes through the rocky terrain. If you can just throw yourself across the water, you can make it. You can lose him on foot.

You pump your legs as fast as you can. The wind burns in your lungs. Keep moving. Just a few more seconds before you reach the water.

You’re so focused on the water that your foot lands wrong between river rocks and your ankle twists. You keep going, gait lopsided. You can’t stop. Once he catches up, you’re either a hostage again or you’re dead. But first, he's gotta catch up, get out of the car, open the door, grab his gun, sprint after you--

Then his car swings around you, pulling what should be an impossible drift over the rocks, one tire scattering river water into the air. You skid to a stop, making a break for the cliffs instead. There's a waterfall. You might make it if you jump--

Then Ghost is on you, a blur from the open car door to the edge of the rocks. He grabs you almost out of the air. You land stomach-first on the ground. You grunt, windless, gasping for air. Pain surges through your body. Fuck, that hurt. The rocks are harder than the grass was. You see stars.

Then you start to realize the position you're in. Your hands are still cuffed in front of you--over your head, now--and he's got his knee on your back. He's holding you down with all his weight, the barrel of his pistol pressed between your shoulders as he grits his teeth.

"Stay. Down," he growls.

He's not gentle. It'd be inconvenient to kill you, but you're really testing his sense of pragmatism. You're making him expend a hell of a lot of effort to keep you alive--jumping off a cliff, fucking seriously?--so he doesn't owe you any extra effort toward keeping you comfortable. Quite the opposite.

You shift your pained body under his knee, groaning into the sharp river rocks cradling your face.

"I said stay down," he growls, grinding his knee down against your back. You feel every individual sharp rock pressing into your skin. "I will hurt you.”

Normally he doesn’t give warnings like this, but he figures he owes it to Johnny to keep your stupid pretty face intact. As much as he wants to put a dent in it right now. And if you keep acting all resourceful…

You keep still, trying to catch your breath. Your hands curl around the river rocks and feel around for something loose and sharp. No such luck.

He grabs your shoulder with one hand to keep you still. His knee moves off your back for a second. You realize he’s trying to get a better look at the soulmate mark on your neck.

"Got to be another John MacTavish somewhere in the world," he mutters. "Bloody common name."

He grips the back of your vest and hauls you to your feet, practically scruffing you as he drags you back to the car. He growls something under his breath along the lines of irritating little shits finding each other.

Back in the car, Ghost’s phone rings again. This time, he glances back at you and switches his phone to his non-dominant hand. He picks up his pistol with his other hand and steers with his knee.

“Ghost,” he answers. This time, the reply has him shifting in his seat. “Negative. Didn’t see her.” Another long pause. The voice on the other end is louder and more animated than the one before. “I told you I’d look, and I did. Wherever she is, she’s fine.” The reply is clipped. “The captain told you not to go looking. Chrissake, Johnny, you’re not hanging out at base looking for a date. You’re a wanted criminal. Have a crumb of self-preservation.” Another long reply, this one rising in volume. “I know. Yes. I hear you. I know— Johnny—”

He goes quiet for a long while, uttering single-syllable responses occasionally. You can’t hear Johnny’s words, but you do hear his tone of voice. He doesn't sound happy.

“If the captain tells you to stay put, you stay put. End of story.”

You glance at the rear-view mirror again. Ghost is looking back like this is somehow on you. The sour face of a man getting chewed out.

Ghost and Johnny go back and forth until Ghost finally seems to tire of it. "No, not right now," he says. "I told you what I know. I’ll call you back."

Johnny curses from the other line right as Ghost hangs up.

Your fingertips are still tingling from the sound of Johnny’s voice, even at a distance, even over the phone. Maybe from the cuffs, too.

You don’t miss the irritated look on Ghost's face. "You in trouble?" you ask.

Ghost doesn’t hold your gaze. "He's a little pissed off, yeah."

After that, you don't speak for a long time. Your whole body hurts, and the adrenaline and sheer length of this day are taking a toll. Your eyelids sag. But every time you drift into sleep, you see Johnny's face again and jerk awake. It's torture. You don't have the mental fortitude to block him out anymore. You’re terrified that wherever Ghost is taking you, Johnny will be there.

You lean your forehead on the window, squeezing your eyes shut. "So..."

"What." There's no venom behind the response this time. He doesn't bother looking at you. But he's listening.

It takes longer than you'd like to work the words you're trying to form out of your throat. "John is still in one piece?”

He keeps driving in silence for a moment. You can almost hear his brain ticking as he considers. There's a tenseness behind him, a tension that's wound up and ready to snap.

"Yeah. Got a few holes in him, but it takes more than that to keep him down. Stubborn bastard." Another long, heavy silence. His hands grip the wheel, and he glares ahead. "Got a problem with that?"

"I'm not sure."

"You got issues with Johnny, you tell me. Got enough problems without you being all coy."

“Do you, uh, have a soulmate?”

Christ, he hopes you're kidding. He can only take so much of this from Johnny, and now you? Obviously Johnny hasn’t stoppedtalking about you. Can’t stop talking about what a pretty thing you are. Face like a muse, he keeps saying. Bastard described you in so much detail that, when Ghost was surveying the Las Almas base, you popped out like a neon sign the moment his sniper scope swept over you. He could've grabbed any damn Shadow, but no, he decided to do Johnny a favor and grab you. Now he can't bloody shoot you no matter how much you deserve it. Lucky Johnny’s not here to see what a bloody mess you’ve made of yourself under his watch. Not that he tells you any of that. Best to keep Johnny in the dark until they get the information they need out of you.

"You're a hostage," he says. "Act like it. And Johnny's off the table."

That’s a relief. You dread the thought of looking Johnny in the eye and trying to figure out how to make excuses for almost killing him. You can only hope to delay it as long as possible.

…

It turns out the "base" Ghost spoke of is a shed in the middle of nowhere. A barn at best—from the outside, but from the inside, it’s huge. You recognize a few members of the Mexican Special Forces, also your former allies before your company betrayed them on Shepherd’s orders. Rodolfo in particular gives you a hard stare as Ghost drags you past him and into a much smaller room. It's a weapons closet converted into a makeshift interrogation room. He pushes you down into the chair hard by the shoulder. You lean on the table, flexing your sore wrists behind you and wishing you could just put your head down and sleep.

He keeps a close eye on you once you're down. You show no clear desire to run again and no more than a passing interest in the impressive spread of rifles and launchers on the walls. You’re in the heart of an enemy safehouse. Even if you managed to grab a gun and escape this room, every other person outside wants you dead. You’re almost glad Ghost locks the door. At least there’s a barrier between you and them.

In the dim light, Ghost notes the bruise on your cheek and the scabbed-over cuts and gashes littered over your exposed skin. Your forehead sports a nasty, wet-looking burgundy splotch where your head hit the ground after he tackled you. You look about as defenseless as a wounded rabbit. If he weren’t busy trying to keep you from escaping as a hostage, he’d probably feel bad about hurting a friend's soulmate.

He's not his most charming self here.

"Stay awake, now," he warns you.

The overhead light clicks on. Ghost stands across from you, but the person standing by the light switch is Captain fucking Price. He stares at you, his hard gaze boring into the soulmate mark on your neck.

Then he smiles. "Good find, Ghost," he says. "This is the one. Guess Soap wasn't lying."

…

part 1 / part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[moonstruckme]

would u maybe be willing to write remus with a reader who also has scars? not from anything in particular just more than the average joe (i personally have quite a few scars from years of sports and having acne and a skin condition, so really the cause can be anything u want) and they take care of eachother? they have a routine they do together and they put lotion and bio oil on for eachother <3

Thanks for requesting!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 831 words

“Remus?” He looks past himself in the mirror to find you standing in the doorway to the bathroom, hair wet from the shower you’d taken before his. You’re holding your hands the way you do when you’re feeling tentative. 

He turns around and makes his voice extra soothing to assuage it. “Yeah, dovey?” 

“What do you…what are you doing, when you rub that stuff on your face?” 

He blinks, looking down at the small container in his hand. “This? It’s oil. It’s for my scars.” 

You take a hesitant step forward. Your brow wrinkles. “Like, to make them go away?” 

He smiles wistfully. “No. I don’t think anything can make them go away, honey. This just makes them less…obvious.” 

You smile, walking up to him with a bit more confidence. “Oh, good. Can I try some?” 

Remus raises his brows. “What for?” 

“I have scars,” you say, almost defensively. “They’re not as cool as yours, but I have them.” 

A little laugh escapes him. Cool. “You mean like the ones on your knees?” 

You nod, taking the oil from him and reading the bottle. “Yeah, like those.” 

“Sure, hop up here.” He pats the counter, and you follow his instructions readily, twisting around to jump up and setting your back against the mirror. You’re wearing your pajama shorts, your bare knees brushing the material of the towel around his waist. 

“This better not be an excuse to get me alone half-naked,” he says quietly as he gets his lotion back out from inside the cabinet. You go bright red at the suggestion, and Remus huffs a laugh. “I knew it.” 

“Stop,” you plead, nudging him reprimandingly with your foot. “I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” 

“Only teasing,” he reaffirms what you already know. He crouches in front of you. “It’s lucky you just showered, because that’s usually when your scars need it most. Your skin is all dried out from the water.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say sardonically, but there’s a bit of real self-consciousness to your voice. Remus strokes his thumb over your knee placatingly. 

“It’s okay. That’s why we start with lotion, to moisturize it first.” He places a dollop of the lotion onto your knee, rubbing it in with his fingers. You hum in understanding, and he does the other knee too. “And then the oil, which should make the marks a bit less angry if you use it consistently.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly as he smooths the oil into the scars on your knees. Remus looks up to find you giving him a soft, open look, and he smiles, squeezing your calf lightly. 

“Of course, honey. Any other scars that need attending to?” 

“There’s some on my hands.” You’re looking at him the way you look at the moon, with a tender sort of reverence. He suspects that you don’t actually care so much about the appearance of scars on your hands so much as you want him to keep touching you, but that’s more than alright with him. 

“Yeah?” he prompts, and you hold them out in front of him. “Mm. I’ve never noticed these before.” 

“They’re not huge,” you say with a shrug. 

Remus sets to work, massaging lotion into the skin of your hands and wrists. He takes the oil again and begins applying it to the marks he can see. “Where’d this come from?” he asks, rubbing it into a cruel line down the bottom of your palm. 

“Oh, I cut myself cutting something in the kitchen one time,” you explain, somewhat embarrassedly. 

He hums sympathetically, moving to another scar just shy of your knuckle. “What about this one?” 

“I’d forgotten that a pan I’d set in the sink was still hot.” Your voice gets softer as his fingers soothe over your hands bit by bit. “I brushed the back of my hand against it without thinking.” 

A small sound escapes him, equal parts fondness and exasperation. “And these?” He thumbs over two nearly identical white lines, one just above the other on your wrist. 

 “Burned myself on the oven rack.” You look at them sheepishly. “Twice.” 

Remus huffs a laugh, finishing with the oil and bringing your arm to his chest. “So what I’m getting from this is, you’re never going into a kitchen again.”

“Hey,” you say with a smile, “a girl’s got to eat.” 

“I’ll cook for you,” he bargains. 

“Every meal?” 

“If it means keeping you from injuring yourself, yes.” 

“I might be amenable to that,” you say, looking at him consideringly, “if…you let me put this stuff on your scars for you sometimes.” 

Remus’ lips curve slightly as he leans forward, stamping them on your forehead. “It’s a deal, lovely girl. We can do it for each other, yeah?” 

“Sounds good.” You peck his cheek in return, hopping down from the counter. “So, what’s for dinner? I was going to make myself a grilled cheese, but if you’re cooking I’m thinking more along the lines of lobster bisque.”

[harmonictechnicality]

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now. 

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way. 

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him. 

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness. 

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body. 

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers. 

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head. 

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy. 

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests. 

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time. 

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking? 

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier. 

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too. 

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere. 

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible. 

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in. 

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies. 

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.” 

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words. 

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does). 

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve. 

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night. 

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself. 

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Four

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 2,588

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature themes

Notes; I swear these chapters feel longer on the word doc. Anyways, I was too excited to leave it at just three chapters so here's an extra fourth one for today 🎉

Prev || Next

Masterlist

It's been a few weeks since you went to Snowcrest with Zayne. In that time, you played a few rounds of kitty cards with Xavier- not having the heart to bring Rafayel to the café since you knew he was afraid of cats, played the claw machine with Rafayel and took him to see the aurora in Snowcrest. You also got the painting Rafayel sent you and hung it up on the wall behind your couch, the fox plushie Xavier got you sitting on a miniature bookshelf underneath it. You put the pins got from the Meow's café tokens up on the bookshelf as well, a set of antique books you got from your original time period, a few antique gaming consoles like the Gamerboy and Ninyendo ds- it hurts to call those antique and your wallet definitely hurt after buying them. 

You got the Waystation NX as a way to pass the time besides when you were working. Honestly being a hunter paid well and once you got used to it, the work wasn't even that bad. 

Now, a few days before you assume your mission with Rafayel is, you decide it's time to get a friend. You were torn between a dog or a cat but since every single character loves cats besides Rafayel…you decide on a cat. You put on your yellow dress since all your other clothes were darker in tone and you didn't want to get cat hair all over them and head out after putting your shoes on. 

Stopping by Meow's Café first would be a good idea. Since they were a cat café then maybe some of their cats would be up for adoption and if not, you could always ask if an employee could point you in the direction of a shelter. 

Today was just a nice day to be on your own. 

At least that's what you thought but the moment you step foot in Meow's Café, you spot a few different things. Your gaze lingers on a white haired man that was sitting in the corner, cats all around him as he slept during the day but that wasn't Xavier. He seemed a bit familiar but you brush that feeling off and walk over to the actual Xavier. “What're you doing here without inviting me?” You tease with a playful pout. 

Xavier, who was dozing off, tiredly looks at you before a small smile appears on his lips. He yawns, covering his mouth with one hand. “I would've invited you if I knew you were awake.” “Don't worry about it.” You ruffle his hair before looking over all the cats. “I'm looking for a friend today.” 

“Are you talking about an actual person this time or another plushie?” 

“Neither. I'm looking for a pet.” You admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “I'm going to see if any of these cats are up for adoption and if not, I'll go look at some shelters nearby.” “Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, unable to hold back another yawn and you shake your head, “While I appreciate the offer, you should go home and take a nap. You look like you're about to pass out at any moment.” You pat his shoulder before heading to the counter to ask about the cats and order a drink. 

You settle on just a basic sweet tea and also buy some cat treats and the employee tells you that the cats here are sponsored by the local shelter but urges you to go to the shelter in person since the older cats are kept there. 

It would probably be better to get an older animal than a younger one since most people prefer the babies so you take her up on her offer. You take a sip of your tea, turning to wave goodbye to Xavier as you put the location of the shelter in your gps and start your walk. 

As you stand in front of the homey looking building, an employee peeks behind the gate. “Welcome to Paws animal sanctuary!” 

“Are you open today?” You ask, checking the time on your phone worriedly. “We just opened so we're cleaning up a bit but feel free to come inside! We had to open a tad earlier today since our sponsor stopped by.” The lady smiles at you and waits for you to follow as she walks toward the front doors. “Sponsor?” You echo, looking around at the interior as you step inside. Hardwood floors, cream wallpaper with different coloured paw prints- probably the paws of the actual inhabitants of the shelter. 

“Yeah, Mr S sponsors all of the shelters in Linkon City! It's thanks to him that we can take better care of our animals and give them the lives they deserve even if they're unable to be adopted.” The employee smiles before pausing, “oh my, I just realized I didn't tell you my name! That's so rude of me. My name is Raven.” 

“You're fine. I'm Y/n.” You smile back, holding your hands together. “I don't mind listening to you speak, you really seem to care about the animals you have here.” “We all do, it used to be so sad working at shelters in the past but now, oh- Mephi!” She laughs as a black bird flies over to land on her head. 

“Aww, she's a pretty bird. Is she a raven or…?” “She's a crow.” Raven says, letting the little bird perch on her finger. “She's actually mostly robotic since she got hurt in an accident. She was Mr S's pet before that but once Mephi got too injured, he surrendered her here and she's been living her best life ever since!” Raven scratches the crow under the chin before she heads behind the counter. “Anyway, What're you looking for today?” 

“Ah…I was looking for a cat? Possibly an older one or one who's been here for pretty long. My apartment has felt really lonely as of late and I feel like a pet would really help liven up the atmosphere and make me a bit happier.” You say, lightly drumming on the counter as Raven types in everything on a computer. “Perfect, we have about…four cats that match that! Well, we have five but..” 

“But what?” You lean forward, suddenly curious. 

“She's a bit of a handful. She's slightly younger than the rest and she's been returned multiple times. She's been here for about four years and she has a disability.” Raven says, running a hand through her hair. “Do you want me to add her to the walk through?”

“It wouldn't hurt to meet her. What's her name?” 

“Well…each home she's been to never gave her one so we've been calling her Estelle, you'll know when you see her.” Raven grabs her clipboard and leads you to the back with Mephi on her shoulder. You follow behind, looking at the window through each door as you pass before Raven stops at a room in the very back.

“This is Caesar, Spork, and Freya.” Raven says as she opens the door, pointing at the older orange cat that laid splayed out and the calico munchkin cat that was bopping the diluted calico ragdoll on the head. “Though Spork and Freya are a bonded pair so it would be hard to get just one.” She marks those two off of her list. “Where's…oh, there's Dino.” She crouches down on the floor. “Dino is the old tabby hiding under there. He's a bit nervous when it comes to new people.” 

None of the cats were catching your eye. Sure, they were definitely cute but none seemed to care about you specifically. 

“I guess you want to go see Estelle?” Raven questions after fixing her hair that Mephi was busy ratting up. “I think so, sorry.” You whisper your apology to the cats before you both leave the room. “Estelle is in a room by herself. She prefers to be alone and she's a bit moody.” Raven comments as you head to the next room a few doors down. “And here she is.” 

Raven opens the door and you both step inside. She quickly closes the door behind her as heavy paw steps thundered toward the door. An audible thump being heard as the cat hits the door. 

“Keep in mind, she's a runner.” Raven seems a bit out of breath. “We've had to chase her around the whole building before.” The woman steps to the side to reveal a large silver tabby mainecoon. “She's a mainecoon so she's a big cat and her coat is a rare colour. It's really uncommon to see a silver or gold maincoon.” 

The cat in question turns her head to look up at Raven before she notices someone else is in the room. The cat's fur bristles but she fully stops her movements the moment she made eye contact with you. A soft meow comes from her before she walks up to you and rubs against your leg. 

"Oh uhm-” Raven quickly flips through her clipboard, “She's never reacted like that before. I guess she likes you.”

You crouch down to run your fingers across her back. She sort of reminded you of Pie with her stature and how soft her fur was. “I'll take her.” You said, scratching her under her chin as she purrs. “I can pick up a body harness and walk her home. I think that's what she wants.” 

“Do you want to try picking her up as we head back to the front desk? Be careful she's heav-” Before Raven can finish her sentence, you've already picked the big cat up. “Nevermind.” Raven laughs, letting you follow her back to the front office. 

“So for Estelle, she gets a bit of a discount just because of her temperament and since you'll have to cover the cost of any more prosthetics she needs.” “Prosthetics?” You're suddenly confused and look at the cat in your arms. She didn't seem like she had any on. 

“Ah, Estelle was brought here with a really bad infection in her right front paw so they had to amputate. She only recently got a state of the art prosthetic with the help of Mr S. You can't even tell the difference and I think she's a lot happier with it.” Raven says, smiling at the cat in your arms who lets out a raspy meow. “But right so I'll add a harness, leash, and cat food to your bill and some vitamins for joint health and that'll be…”

She tells you the price and you gladly pay. You crouch down to put the purple body harness on Estelle and hook up the leash. The food and other stuff would be at your apartment before the end of the day. “Thank you for everything!” You wave to Raven and even Mephi caws as you leave. 

“Hey there pretty girl.” You say with a smile as Estelle looks up at you as you walk. 

With you being distracted, you don't notice a person walking next to you until you bump into your shoulder. You stumble back at the contact and quickly turn around in order to tell them off but a faint black and red smoke is the only thing left where the person should be. You hear the caw of a crow and look up, noticing a black crow perched on top of the light pole. 

“Weird..” you murmur, rubbing your temples and Estelle meows at you as if to tell you to keep walking. “Alright, alright.” You laugh, “I'm moving.” 

Once back at your apartment, you set Estelle's cat food bag down next to your island in the kitchen, putting her other canned food in the cabinets alongside her vitamins and some cat treats. Then, you hear a knock on your door. You head over to the door, Estelle trotting alongside you and she meows as the door opens. 

“Oh Xavier, what're you doing here?” You question, raising a brow but he holds up a bag. “I brought some stuff for the cat.” He says, a smile in his voice before he peeks around the door to see Estelle. “Woah.”

“Her name's Estelle.” You say, letting him in and taking the bag from him. “Estelle, you've got a bed now!” You cheer, going to put her bed in your bedroom. “Ooh and a food and water dish. Thanks Xavier, I didn't have a chance to pick anything like this up just yet.” You turn to look at him and he points at the bag, “One more thing.” 

You reach back in and there's a rod, you pull it out and notice it's one of those fishing rod cat toys but this one has a star at the end of the wire. “Here,” you hand it to him with a smile, “You came over here to play with the cat, didn't you?” 

“That wasn't my only reason.” He chuckles, sitting down on the couch as he plays with Estelle. “I wanted to hear about your plans going forward.” 

“Oh right.” You completely forgot about that. You sit down next to him, ready to explain. “I'm planning on getting some information from the Nest about an aether core being sold at the protocore auction in the N109 Zone. So I need an invitation for Hunting day. I'm…already working on getting an invitation but my problem lies with getting into the N109 Zone itself.” 

“You,” Xavier sighs, shaking his head, “You really are searching for trouble. I don't think you should go but I don't think anything I say will stop you..but since you have Estelle now, you at least have a reason to come back alive.” 

“Well, if I do die, take care of Estelle for me.” You joke with a smile but Xavier turns toward you with a straight face, “Don't joke about that, Y/n.” “Ah, sorry.” You clear your throat, looking down, “I am a bit nervous, if I'm honest but I know I'll be able to do it so if I go missing for a few days, make sure to feed her. I'll give you my spare key.” 

“I'll hold you to it.” Xavier takes the key from you and puts it in his pocket. “I'll figure something out if you go missing.” 

The mood wasn't as happy as before, that was clear to see so instead you nudge him with your elbow. “So at the shelter, they have this really cool sponsor who helped every single shelter in Linkon City. He had this pet crow that he surrendered because she got injured and he paid for Estelle's prosthetic.” 

“She has a prosthetic?” Xavier raises a brow, allowing you to push past the last conversation with ease. “Yeah, it's on her right paw.” You lean forward to tap said paw, your cheek brushing against Xavier's knee and he clears his throat. He shifts to the side on the couch to move his knee away from you. “Ah, I can see it now.” It's Xavier's turn now to lean forward and look. “That's really cool. It almost makes me want to get a cat.” 

“There's some really sweet ones at the shelter. Like Spork and Freya are a bonded pair!” “...Spork?” “Don't laugh, I think it's a cute name!” 

It's late by the time Xavier finally leaves to go back to his apartment, you say your goodbyes and get ready for bed with Estelle curled up next to you.

---------------------------------------------------

I guess 2k is the standard for every chapter so far. By the time chapter 10 hits, they should get longer so I hope you guys don't mind the shorter chapters for a bit! It's so odd though because on Google docs I feel like I'm writing so much and I need to end the chapter or else it'll be too long, and turns out...I've only written 2k- Edit: I just checked and they do get a bit longer but 3k and 4k aren't exactly at lot. If yall stick around until twenty then I'll make sure it's longer than 4k!! I feel so bad posting such short chapters.

Also, hope you enjoy the Sylus crumbs ✨️

[wonsdoll]

𓂃 ! A STONER’S GUIDE TO GET THE GiRL ⌇ LHS

TIP 4: don’t go back to the old ways

the music was loud throughout the whole house, vibrating under heeseung’s foot as he walked inside. the air was thick of alcohol and a mix of weed, something heeseung was trying to stay away from. it was jake’s huge party, beomgyu and sunghoon knew they needed heeseung to forget you for one night and have fun. although jake was another close friend, he was also heeseung’s plug.

as heeseung tries to get through the crowd, he spots you in the corner. he took a few seconds to admire you, your short black dress, every inch of your legs visible, your curves and the way your dress hugged your body.

his heart skipped nearly a few beats when he takes note of your laughing. heeseung watches your nervous laughter, instantly making his guts twist. it wasn’t until he noticed the individuals hand meet your waist, attempting to pull you closer and get more handsy.

heeseung’s fists clench, this guy was clearly bothering you. his opportunity to forget about you was pushed away, now being faced with anger. heeseung makes his way through the crowd, his heart pounding in his chest.

“hey back off.” heeseung’s voice is firm, he steps between you and the guy. the individual is filled with confusion, he swung his beer bottle, taking a large gulp.

“i’ll be back for you just wait.” the guy mumbles, stumbling away.

you look at heeseung, full of relief and gratitude. “thank you..” your voice trembles slightly, trying to realize what happened.

heeseung nods, trying to mask his own anxiety. he was unaware of how close you were to him, the closest you’ve been since the breakup. heeseung’s nerves are on edge, and he knows he’s not in the best state of mind, emotionally. “no problem..just—just stay safe okay?”

you nod, watching him walk away and walk towards sunghoon and beomgyu. heeseung manages to catch his breath, inhaling a few times.

“woah are you okay?” beomgyu looks at you, cracking open a beer for jake.

“yeah i’m good.. y/n was getting harassed by some drunk guy..” heeseung manages to say in between inhales.

“did you save her?” sunghoon asks, offering him a beer. he takes the beer from his hand and begun chugging it.

“i did..” he mumbled, reaching out for another beer.

throughout the night, heeseung and a few of his friends consumed over 5 packages of beer, leaving them all intoxicated. this feeling of intoxicated made his memory replay from the night of his breakup.

he sat back on the couch, meanwhile everyone else was knocked out beside him. heeseung held his forehead, trying to soothe away his current headache, and a bit of his heartache.

heeseung was so lost in his thought, he didn’t realize you standing right in front of him. he jumped a bit, but calmed down quickly due to your familiar face.

“need a ride home?” you asked, a bit hopeful he’d say yes, giving you some extra time with him.

heeseung nods his head, attempting to get up on his feet. you support him with your arm as you both walked to your car.

his voice was filled with alcohol and desperation, this is what he’s wanted for a long time.

m.list • next • prev

taglist 🏷️ : @elysianiki @kairoot @sakiimeo @myungjaesgf @payformycoffeeandleave @leeheesang @mioons @jae-n0 @unhakki @rikibun @mimismenu @sophi-ee @sakanelli-afc @dollyhoons @yeahthisisjustme @nikiswifiee @isabellah29 @mxhlvr @i03jae @luvqirls @onlyhyunjin @clampclover @coqhee @ikeublr @moons-v @iheartjayke @istphanie @felixbrownies @icewons @heartheejake @femmefqtqle @stormy1408 @llvrhee @isa942572 @ministrawberrywithchocolate @lizb107 @jinostooth @wonsprincess @xxxnrigi @strawberr3-moon @simpjay @vmpivory @jk5t4r @vixialuvs @gweoriz @dissoc1ating @milkycloudtyg @xyzyx01 @miumura

sav’s notes 💭: sorry for the long update !! i start school this week so updates may be slower than before ^_^ thank u for the ongoing support & love !

[taylormarieee]

Day 2: BlowJob

Kinktober

Summary: You decided to give Shane a taste of his own medicine after leaving you all hot and bothered at Alexandria's Famous Cookout.

Word Count:920

Pairing: Shane Walsh x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dick sucking aka Blowjob, Sub!Shane, Dom!reader, reader getting revenge, shane being a slight dick, whimpering, pet names, Public sex a lil, almost getting caught, MDNI 18+ONLY.

Shane was always a tease and there's no denying that. So when this morning you woke up excited to get ready for a cookout and wore your pretty little sundress, what you didn't expect was for Shane to give you head right on the bathroom counter.

He is such a tease to the point where he didn't allow you to cum. You whined and begged him the whole walk tot he cookout but he just chuckled and ignored you.

When you guys arrive at the cookout and you have to remove the attitude from your face as Rick walks up to the both of you.

"Hey! Glad you could make it. Ahbraham and Daryl have already started on the grill, and Me and a couple others are playing cards, wanna join?" Rick asks.

You politely decline walking away to go look for Maggie and Shane agrees and walks to the table.

"Hey darlin! How are you hun!" Maggie greets with a warm smile.

You frown. "Not so good, Shane is being a dick again." You say glaring daggers at the man in front of you.

Maggie's eyes widen and she chuckles a bit. She puts a hand on your shoulder and whispers in your ear, "Go make him pay tiger." She says winking at you as she walks away.

You smirk, coming up with a mischievous idea. You were going to give Shane a taste of your own medicine.

You walk over to an extra empty table that Rick set up because Shane broke the table in anger from losing. That man really needed to control his temper.

You got on your knees under the table and hid behind the cloth waiting for everyone to sit down.

You looked for Shane's boots and once your target was aquired, you went straight to him.

You ran your hands up his leg causing him to jump. He soon looks down and realizes it's you with a devious smirk on your face. You go for his belt buckle and he whispers something to you.

"What are ya doin hun?!" He whispers and yells. You just smile and reach for his boxers to pull out his achingly hard cock.

Your mouth starts to water at the sight. You start stroking and twisting your hands in ways that you know will make him groan and moan.

He covers his moans by coughing and replacing them for 'hiccups' to fool anyone who noticed.

Maggie stands off in the corner noticing his weird behaviour and she chuckles to herself saying, "That's my girl." She smiles.

You kiss the tip, precum staining your pretty lips. You give him slow but sweet kitten licks and Shane fights the urge not to groan and shoot his head back.

He instead throws his hand on the table causing a loud boom sound. Everyone stops to look at Shane.

"Sorry, bad cards!" He says trying to laugh it off. "Oh come on man, you're ruining the game for yourself!" Glenn says laughing.

"Oh trust me, I've seen Shane play, sometimes this is his tactic. To make you think he's losing but he's not." Rick says chuckling.

"Tha's true, he dun beat me a couple times back in Atlanta." Daryl says with a smirk.

They boys continue. in their conversation, drinking their beers as you swallow all of him. He stifles out a moan at the feeling of your warm mouth around him.

He thrusts his hips up whining and begging for more in a whispered tone.

"Please baby, please lemme cum. I'm sorry for this mornin but please!" He whisper-yells.

You shake your head as an approval to let him cum down your throat. You bob your head up and down faster, using your hands for whatever you can't fit inside your mouth.

He grips your hair tighter than before. You gag on his cock and he groans at the feeling of your throat contracting around him.

Rik goes down to itch his foot and Shane's eyes widen. He tries to hurry up and tell you to get off of him but you only suck harder causing him to moan just a tad bit too loud. Luckily not grabbing anyone's attention.

You fondle and play with his balls. He grips your scalp harder, the feeling burning your scalp but you don't care. You want him to be close to cumming but leave him all sweaty, hot and bothered like you were.

You slide off of him with a 'pop' and squeeze his tip. His tip is hot and red and oozing with precum. While your enjoying the view down there, Shane is enjoying the pleasure right there.

You decide to have mercy and let him cum. You suck him again and hollow your cheeks. He lets out one last final groan before thrusting up into your mouth shoving your head all the way to his pelvis as he cums down your throat.

He shoots his load down your throat, the feeling of his hot sperm sliding down your throat makes your eyes roll back. You moan around him and he twitches inside you at the sensitivity.

You swallow all his cum and kiss his tip. He is breathing heavily and you stuff his length back in his pants and zip up his jeans. You try and sneak from under the table and go towards Maggie licking your lips.

You turn and give one last look to Shane knowing he's going to fuck you so hard later and that's exactly what you want.

Taglist: @sinsandsweetness @murdadixon @loveforcarl @carlgrimesenthusiast @catt-leya @carlsdarling @number1gal @daryldixmedown @darylscvmdumpster @dixongrimesgirl @rickswh0r3 @tied-in-a-knot @eternalrose81 @xowritella @iamacowboi

[btnclmrttn]

would u ever write that Chris McLean smut…,

(thanks for the ask! yeah bro I did write it but I was so late finishing that I let it gather dust. This is the exact prompt used with some clean up. If you want anything specific just let me know!)

(18+!Boss/employee, powersub! Chris, degrading, masterbation)

~~~~

When you signed up to work for one of the most trending reality shows in Canada, never would you have imagined how much of an ass the host was. Not stuck up or posh like the usual rich and self centered kind. Instead, that screen time act of childish games was applicable to everyone under the sun.

Chris seemed to go around and "test" people and their patience with shenanigans. He has his favorites of course. Some he's nicer to. You, however? He always has a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he goes out of his way to be the biggest minor inconvinience to you.

But how you went off on him without a worry of your employment made you his favorite. Made him strike an offer with you. Just a little extra "work" for you, in exchange for quite the raise...

~~~~

Chris’ eyes scan your relaxed demeanor in front of him, you sit in a chair with your legs cross and an unamused expression. Contrast to his own smug look.

'I don’t understand how you’re not ashamed of yourself,” you scoff.

"Nice to see you too," Chris snorts, with hands not shy of roaming to the crotch of his pants, slowly rubbing the already protruding area, "Don't you look nice..."

“You disgust me,” you continue, “I’ve never met a man as nasty as you are.”

“You’re so fuckin’ mean,” he cackles, “Keep it comin’!”

While you, on the other hand, don’t have much of a problem doing this as much as you probably should. You get paid extra money to fulfill your prick boss’ fetish, all while just speaking what’s on your mind about him. 

You can tolerate the display of him getting himself off to you, with his shirt unbuttoned almost all the way, dripping sweat down its flushed complexion. As long as you remember why you can't stand him.

“Do you ever think to yourself how perverted it is to get off to being called lousy? How many workers do you need to remind you of how much of a loser you are?”

“Oh, you’re just something special,” he says. He uses his foot to pull your chair closer to him, a bit crooked, as he unbuttons his pants.

“No touching,” you growl, straightening your chair again and backing up a little.

“I’m not touching you,” he mocks.

You give him a dirty look as a shit eating grin takes on his face. His dick springs up upon losing the restraint of is pants and is pulled over the hem of his boxers. The paled tip is smeared in his precum, spread across his length when his hand twists over it in a sloppy pump of his wrist.

“You really like looking at it, don’t you?”

Chris caught you staring too much. Much to his pleasure.

“Isn’t much to look at,” you say as you look back up.

Like he deserves the satisfaction of your attention.

“I think you do enjoy this as much as I do...”

“Pathetic is a great look on you!” You say with fake enthusiasm, “Fucking slut.”

“Yeah?” He sighs, his hips rolling into his hand.

“Really? You like that? Slut?” 

Chris’ face flushes a deeper red as he shudders at your taunting, his hand pumping his cock just a bit more.

“You’re a sick fucking man.”

“Mm-hmm...”

You watch as his eyes flutter shut while his head tips back as he starts to loose himself in his own pleasure. All just from your simple words.

“You’re pathetic, aren’t you?”

What if you play the part more?

“Oh, yes…”

“Say it, then”

He starts to twist his wrist a little faster. “I’m pathetic…I’mma whore…”

“Come on,” you instigate.

“I’m so pathetic,” he starts chuckling again, looking back down toward you. Strands of his hair stick to his face, “I’m so pathetic for you…come on, ___, I could make you feel so good if you let me…”

“With that little thing?” You’re quick speak without hesitation. The second thought following silently.

“Don’t give me that,” he laughs, “I’m average!”

The way his moans weave in so nicely with his laughter is undoubtedly getting you a little. You hold your breath enough to not crack a sound. This bastard and his charisma is no joke.

“I have my doubts, if your laziness goes as far as your usual hosting.”

“Aw, low blow,” Chris laughs even more, “What about if you touched yourself?”

You raise a brow, deciding to tease him by uncrossing your legs. “Touch myself?”

An excitement spreads on his face when his eyes jump to between your legs, "Please…?”

“You think you’re worth even seeing me like that?” you sneer.

He bites his bottom lip as he stares directly at your crotch, “Why not? You’d look so good touching…yourself..."

His hand starts pumping faster as his imagination florishes at the idea. The sound of smacking skin growing louder.

“Please, ___?” Chris asks again, whines creeping in.

“Why should I?”

“I can beg, I can beg...You know I can beg real nice.”

"I don't think you deserve that."

"P-Please, ____?"

He's panting like a dog.

"I don't even think you deserve to cum. Matter of fact, stop.”

Chris looks at you, surprised, as you’ve yet to ever give him an actual order like this, “H-huh?”

“Stop,” you repeat yourself, “Now.”

His whine from the denied access grows into laughter as a smile spreads across his face

"Oh, fuck, ____. You drive me insane…"

Standing from your seat, your hand undoes the button of your jeans as you close the little distance between each other. His expression flashes to a plesanly surprised while red spreads across his face and neck.

“Oh?”

“Start begging, Chris.”

“...oh…”

[biteofcherry]

I’m binge reading your masterlist and I have this idea of Alpha Ari and Omega Reader’s wedding day. They get in argument the day before about something and the whole event is just tense.

Hey there 😊 Thanks for sacrificing your time and binge reading my works 😅

The ceremony of their wedding/mating will be tense in general (for Omega), they don't need an extra argument happening for that. Though if anything of that kind was about to take place, it'd be because of Omega's spur of the moment idea to maybe try running away again:

Bad Moon Rising

alpha Ari Levinson x omega female reader

Your heart hammers in your chest as you nervously glance around, foot impatiently tapping as you curse the bus for taking so long to get to the stop you're waiting at.

A broad silhouette on the other side of the street flashes between speeding cars, terrifying you for a second. Another car passes and he's gone - the mirage of your alpha...

Not my fucking alpha! You remind yourself inwardly.

But you were his omega, weren't you?

Every shifter in the area knows of Ari's claim. Every wolf can smell his scent on you. Though they don't mean you harm, no one would dare help you out in your reckless, last-surge-of-desperate-hope decision to flee before the mating ceremony.

If anything, they'd point him where to aim his chase after you.

Because the hunt belongs to the alpha as well.

You're not sure where you got the courage to try escaping, again. In the past weeks you somehow settled into the prospect of becoming his, accepted it. And Ari isn't bad. Not really.

Beside the stubborn determination to bind you to him, he's a nice, caring man. Witty and funny. You parents certainly don't mind him as their son in law.

He would care for you, you know that. Provide anything you, or your future children might need. Encourage you to stick to your goals, as long as they didn't steal you away from him. Hell, he mentioned getting you a new laptop, since the classes you start in a month are supposed to be online.

So why do you want to run? Is it the desire to be chased, which Ari loves to fulfill as it feeds his own dark hunger for hunting?

Well, you'd give him a serious mind-twist choosing a bus as a part of your escape. Your scent trail would cut that way, making it all the more harder.

You chance a look across the street again. No looming danger awaits there, people pass by, no one interested in you with your small backpack.

Before a sigh of relief fully leaves your chest, a large hand encircles the front of your neck. A broad, sturdy body presses against your back; strong arm settling across your midriff to keep you locked in place.

"The only reason my teeth aren't in your gland and you're not squirming on my knot this very second, is that I'm so fucking respectful of our traditions."

Ari's deceivingly soft, low purr sinks into your ear.

"I don't mind giving a good chase, you know that little omega." His teeth graze your earlobe. "We can play like that after our wedding night."

"If you're able to move, that is." He chuckles, rocking his hips against your ass.

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | Chapter Fifteen - The End

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, wedding, Stockholm syndrome, murder, smut, messy bathroom sex, fingering, blowjob, teasing, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, body worship and kissing, this is not for minors

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys ❤️

This is the last chapter of Dark Moon, a story that I wrote in a period that was not easy for me, in fact the dark tones come from the negative emotions that pushed me to write this story to test myself with this genre, so I really hope you enjoyed Dark Moon, I would be happy to receive comments about it ❤️

As for possible extras, who knows, maybe they will come just like what happened with Happy Ending 😉

Also, it was really nice to be able to talk with you! Thanks for all the love and support, see you with the next story I am already writing 🤧

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon , @hecateslittlewitchling , @namjoonsbuspass , @darkuni63 , @xicanacorpse , @jiminismine4ever , @btssimpjaneth , @antisocial-mochi267 , @reallygenerouskoala , @velvet-stardust2002 , @angelicsmilesworld

Chapter List - Previous - The End

"Where is Y/N?" asked Taehyung, receiving a glare from Jimin.

"Stop it, Taehyung, she's afraid of him, and I'm certainly not going to force her to attend because you think it will help with her trauma," hissed Jimin, looking around.

He had let Y/N fall asleep in his arms before silently leaving the apartment to finish her uncle's execution.

Taehyung wished she was there, he argued that seeing her own nightmare die would help her heal faster, Jimin on the other hand was convinced of the exact opposite, she had run away from the bastard, dead or alive she never wanted to see him again, that was the gist.

"It was just an idea..." put the other's hands forward.

"Jimin, everything is ready" Hoseok warned him electrified, it had been a long time since they had proceeded with a real execution and this was the time to enjoy another one.

The boy nodded as he continued down the dark corridors of their base with the others, the room they were holding the man in was a cell like any other, it was only the way they were torturing him that differentiated the prisoner from the others.

Mikkel was bound hand and foot by a thick rope, which went to twist around his neck with a noose still wide enough not to suffocate him completely.

He stared at everyone with spirited eyes, and Jimin noted how disgusting and repulsive the man looked more like an ugly gray rat.

"You have the wrong man, I'm just a loan shark, the Kims would never say anything important to me," he licked his lips nervously, he had a horrible accent.

Jimin walked around him, his shiny black shoes made a sinister ticking sound.

Heel, toe.

Heel, toe.

He stopped in front of him again, bending at the knees.

"The Kims are our allies, we don't need to know shit about them," he said squaring him with disgust, "And we certainly wouldn't use shit like you for our own purposes."

Mikkel looked around agitatedly, Jungkook rocked back on his own feet, smiling cheekily at the man.

"Then why am I here?"

Jimin's eyes thinned, "Let's clean up, Mik," he said making the man fidget, "Does the name Y/N mean anything to you?"

Surprise and panic soon won out and he began to struggle, unaware of the damage he was doing to himself, the more he moved the tighter the noose around his neck tightened.

"You thought you were getting off scot-free by abusing a little girl who was part of your own family, threatening her parents and then making the poor mother look like a fool," Jimin began, approaching until he could read every distorted thought in the man's increasingly swollen eyes, "You took advantage of their miserable financial status and threatened to throw them out on the street if they talked, even naming certain acquaintances, who didn't like the publicity you gave, so... one way or another you're dead anyway," he growled, grabbing the knot and pulling to speed up the choking.

Mikkel coughed airlessly, tried to wriggle and escape Jimin's death grip, but to no avail, the more he moved, the more he urged Jimin not to let go.

"That's nothing compared to what you put Y/N through, you son of a bitch," he shouted, throwing a punch at the man now with no more air in his lungs, blood began to come out of his nose as his body was invaded by jerks and survival impulses, he cried out mute for mercy, but the boy's eyes remained stone.

Jimin backed away retrieving his gun, but when he pointed it at the monster he had second thoughts, with one bullet he would have died too quickly, so he just watched along with the others as he suffocated in the ropes and his own blood, in the last moments when Mikkel looked desperately at Jimin once again, the latter smiled.

"Y/N, my wife, sends her regards and wishes you to burn in hell," he greeted him amusedly, emphasizing how Y/N was now simply his.

When they saw the eyes turn glassy, with no more life behind them, Hoseok huffed.

"That was too fast," Jungkook commented, pulling out his own gun and unloading it on the body to make sure he was really dead.

"He's dead, that's all that matters," said Seokjin who had been merely observing in silence, "Get rid of the corpse cleanly, I don't want any surprises," he ordered, but everyone's attention was on Jimin.

"Wife?" asked Taehyung with a smile.

"He actually said wife, this jerk decided to settle his head," laughed Namjoon, interrupted by Yoongi who also laughed.

"No, that little head will always be crazy."

"So you're getting married with a celebration?" asked Jungkook, joining the confused chorus of questions and jokes.

"My guess is he's already signed papers, he seemed overconfident," reasoned Hoseok, both Jin and Jimin were getting nervous.

"Listen, you-!"

"When and how they get married is Jimin's and Y/N's business, as for us, we must realize that there is a new family member to protect," he clapped his hands vigorously, "Now, get rid of the body," he repeated.

Jimin nodded in Jin's direction in thanks, then turned to Jungkook, "Make sure that not even the bones can lie on this earth, you understand what I mean, right?"

Of course it was clear, the seriousness and awareness of having to do one's duty well had returned to the room.

The ceremony had been small and for a few friends, Jimin did not like to show off, and Y/N could not bear to see unfamiliar and dangerous faces staring back at her.

The wedding dress, on the contrary, was wonderful.

It wrapped the girl's figure gracefully, her shoulders were uncovered thanks to the bodice's boat neckline, which was white with light blue highlights and had many small flowers woven along the neckline and hips, it then continued with a long skirt made of silk and fluffy tulle, with her hair made slightly wavy and scattered loosely on her back and the thin, shiny tiara placed on her head, everyone had agreed that she was an adorable and pure fairy.

Jimin, for his part, in his sleek, total-black smoking with crystals sprinkled across his chest and shoulders, had never taken his eyes off her, like a hawk aiming at its seductive prey. There was a change in him too, his hair had been dyed blond, for Y/N had been like seeing a fallen angel waiting for her at the altar, she had smiled shyly at him arm in arm with Seokjin.

It had been frightening to meet him again initially, but in time she had realized that if taken gently, Jin was by no means evil and had always been very calm and gentle with her.

Now she was there, joining her hand with Jimin's, and emotion invaded her.

She paid no attention to the priest's words, the ritual they were performing was being handed down in the Bangtan band, it was the man who had to do everything, the bride simply had to say,

"Yes, I do."

It had been so easy to say it, no hesitation, no flash of fear, she looked at Jimin through the foolish eyes of love, he lowered himself onto her who discovered she was swept up in a fiery and electrifying cloud, when their lips touched Jimin held back no longer, he held her by the waist and pulled her into a deep and dead-end kiss, he was possessive and passionate and sought her out every time she tried to catch a breath.

The few guests applauded, giggling at the fierce hunger of the blond, who let her go only to gaze contentedly at those swollen, scarlet lips of kisses.

But it was not his intention to stop there.

They accepted the congratulations of the Bangtans and some of their relatives, Y/N met Taehyung's mother and father and found them a delightful couple, almost unable to believe it when the father said with some pride that he too had been a Bangtan before his son.

In contrast, there was no sign of Jimin's parents, probably not even knowing that their son was alive.... From what Jimin had confessed to her one night, his mother was a street prostitute and his father was a singer who toured the world, Jimin had been born by mistake.

Y/N had immediately rebuked him, he was not a mistake, he was her complex and sweet boyfriend, although he had not been a saint at first, now he was showing her that he was a caring partner and madly in love. Perhaps even too madly.

"Anyway, my husband and I wish you well and happy life together," trilled the woman, gently pinching the cheeks of the girl, who blushed under such motherly attention; now she understood why Taehyung was the most affectionate of his friends, he had not grown up with terrible parents.

"Treat her well, Jimin... it's not easy to find someone who understands and accepts our kind of life," he tapped the young man's shoulder with a hand that was anything but playful, despite the boxy smile his son had inherited.

"Oh, I'll treat her like a queen," he smiled sweetly, but Y/N saw the shadow of something more evil, something that manifested itself exactly forty minutes later, when everyone was now occupied with the banquet.

"W-We'll have to wait," stammered the girl, trembling under the velvety kisses the young man was leaving all along the portion of skin the cleavage had left, free to be cuddled and adored by him, "If you leave me marks they will show!"

Jimin laughed on her neck, "I won't leave you any marks, I just want to have a taste," he promised, licking down to the cleft between her breasts with his erection pressing into his pants.

He cast a glance at the girl and let out an approving cry, he had taken her in his arms making her sit on the sink, her back was resting against the large mirror behind her and her legs were held open, with the skirt pulled up over her hips and the white fishnet stockings on display, all for him and she was so sexy in his eyes...

"You've already had a taste this morning!" hissed Y/N, glancing occasionally at the bathroom door.

Jimin returned to leave moist trails of kisses on her chest, suddenly lowering her bodice and noticing to his pleasure that she was totally naked, Y/N gasped praying that nothing had been torn off, cast a reproachful glance at the man, melting away soon after, however.

Jimin's condition was no better, his once perfectly coiffed hair was now messy and scattered across his forehead, his tuxedo jacket had been tossed into some corner of the bathroom, and his dark, gleaming shirt had been opened by almost every button, which made her quietly admire the invitingly toned appearance of his abdomen, cased with deep attractive and manly lines, with her hand she followed one, entranced, to his waistband where a more than obvious bulge made her throat tighten.

Jimin licked his swollen lips stained with her lipstick, "I can't go back that way."

"No, you can't," murmured Y/N as she got off the shelf and knelt in front of him, who inhaled in eagerness to touch her.

She took off his leather belt and lowered the zipper of his smartly cut pants, watching raptly as his cock pushed against his boxers, there was already a wet spot staining the fabric, and she licked gently there, already finding the taste she now knew by heart and could no longer do without, Jimin clenched his fingers around the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white, with a small smile the girl also freed him of his men's underwear and finally took the swollen, heavy shaft into her mouth, standing still for a few moments, trying to get used to that girth once again.

"Fuck," breathed Jimin tremblingly, his balls clenched as he registered the image he was experiencing, "Oh, fuck, you're sucking me off in a wedding dress," he cursed, risking coming immediately, Y/N closed her eyes and holding her breath swallowed a few more inches until her nose brushed against the man's pubis and she felt her throat fill with his cock, she slid over the entire length again, licking insistently the sensitive frenulum area, her intimacy was on fire when she noticed the tremor in her husband's legs, giving him pleasure gave her pleasure, it was a sensation she had never experienced with anyone else. It made her feel powerful and weak at the same time.

Jimin moved his pelvis against her mouth, each discharge was a violent lash that he needed, the tone of his voice rose, and, they were both sure, if anyone passed by the bathroom door, they would hear a man enjoying thanks to a dreamy blowjob.

"Y/N, stop," he ordered in a guttural voice, but the woman sucked harder on his entire length, letting her saliva slowly slide all over his cock to make the job easier, in response Jimin grabbed her head, giving one last thrust that made her choke for a few seconds before releasing her completely, "Get up," he hissed, his taut and vibrating cock was already on the verge of releasing his cum.

The girl licked her lips with a sly smile, pleased that she had reduced Park Jimin to a quivering little thing, as if grappling with his first blowjob, but Jimin was not of the same opinion.

"You little bitch."

He made her turn, bending her over the sink and raising her glitzy skirt over her hips again, that position was the same as that night before everything went to hell, but she didn't feel the suffocating anxiety of the first few times, with time she had realized that Jimin would never hurt her again, and now she quivered every time she found herself bent over with Jimin behind her, watching her desire-laden body.

The blond man pulled her panties of the same color as her fishnet stockings, felt her intimacy with two fingers to see how wet it was and found it deliciously soaked and quivering, he hummed with satisfaction at that result and penetrated her lightly, Y/N opened her mouth sighing, her belly contracted recognizing that pleasurable stretch between her yielding flesh.

Jimin removed his fingers now soaked with her wetness and used them to gently caress her swollen, sensitive clitoris as he penetrated her all the way down, slowly sliding his cock into her who more than welcomed it, Y/N's head dangled forward as she responded to Jimin's rhythmic thrusts with hushed, choked moans, the fingers around her rosy bud amplified the sensations of the cock pinning her down in that bathroom, where everyone could have found out in a very few seconds what was going on.

"Oh God ... oh God ...!" she exclaimed unable to say anything else, Jimin went deeper with a sometimes desperate cry.

"My wife," he sighed in her ear, bending entirely over her with his hips clicking faster and rougher, "I'm fucking my wife," he gasped causing her walls to clench as they flickered in mad pleasure, with wide, glazed eyes she listened to Jimin repeat those words, she loved hearing him say them, her heart was swollen with love and pride, now no one would dare to hurt her, ever again.

The blond lifted her up against his chest, fixing his eyes straight into hers through the mirror that gave a sinful image of their bodies joining sensually, he held her tight like that as he intensified the rhythm of his thrusts, by now sinking into that slippery heat breathlessly, his hand worked under her skirt faster, Y/N moaned seeking his lips, Jimin also penetrated with his tongue into the young woman's mouth, pinching a florid nipple as a provocation.

It worked, with a shrill scream between their joined mouths Y/N came violently, clutching his cock that discharged moments later in her belly between thick boiling filaments, they continued to move in unison until the pleasure turned totally to discomfort due to overstimulation.

They sighed exhaustedly, but without moving.

"I told you not to leave marks on me, but you did worse," she laughed wordlessly, observing his devastated state, not that Jimin was any better off.

He kissed her neck gently, leaving her, who groaned annoyed at the loss.

"We have a valid excuse now."

"What excuse?"

"Well..." he helped her up her bodice by lacing it from behind, shooting her a mischievous look, "To get out of here without anyone noticing and finish in our room what we started."

Y/N widened her eyes, "We can't! They came here for us and then I'm too tired now to-" she could not finish the sentence, Jimin took her in his arms without any effort.

"It's our wedding, we can do what we like," he said with a smile that gave him a cheerful and absolutely adorable air, "And I want lots of children," he blew on her lips kissing her repeatedly, she laughed between their lips, unable to retort.

She did not know how exactly she had ended up trusting her fallen angel, but she was sure of the fact that she was now hopelessly in love with him, as he was with her.

[anama-cara]

Part 4. the journey

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Part 5

Summary: It's a long day- you go on a hike, learn how to shoot, and get felt up by Joel. Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, fingering (f receiving), age gap, guns, dubcon

a/n: I'm a sucker for the good old 'one sleeping bed' trope. Sorry not sorry. Reader's thoughts are in italics. Part 1. Raider! Joel Masterlist

You’ve been hiking for six miles now, tromping through the dry overgrown grass as you cross the valley. Joel thought you’d make it to the house by nightfall, that it’s easy to walk eight miles in one day. But it’s not when you’re carrying a sick child that has to make frequent stops to rest or vomit. Your travel is very slow going. As you reach a quiet wooded area you realize there’s no way you’ll make it before night fall. It’s just before dusk, but the trees block out some of the light from the sinking sun, making it even darker. You hear Joel curse in front of you. You’ve been following behind him for the whole hike, watching his back as you walk. You’re carrying your brother on your back with your pack slung across your chest. Joel stops in front of you and turns back.

“We ain’t makin’ it before nightfall. We’ll stop here and set up camp while we still have a little daylight.”

“Is that safe? To camp out here?”

“It’s better than goin’ through these woods in the dark. You’re likely to trip on a root and twist your ankle and I can’t carry both if ya’. We’ll start again at first light.” He drops his pack, discussion over.

You kneel and your brother slides from your back and sits on the forest floor. Taking off your pack you pull out his extra coat and dress him. You tug his arms through and zip it up. With your hands on his little shoulders you tell him, “stay put. I’m going to find some firewood and then we can warm you up, okay? Just stay right here and I’ll be right back.” You rummage an apple out of your pack and hand it to him, “try to eat a little, okay?” Then you stand and toss an apple at Joel. He catches it and looks at you in confusion.

“I’m going to look for some kindling while you set up camp.” You walk away into the trees without looking at him.

By the time you come back, bundle of sticks in your arms, Joel has cleared a little area and set camp, his rifle is propped against a nearby tree. You stop, startled by the sight in front of you. Joel is sitting cross legged on one sleeping bag with a piece of jerking hanging from his mouth. Your brother is sitting on the other sleeping bag, Joel’s jacket wrapped around his shoulders. He’s smiling up at Joel. It’s a sleepy, half smile, but still, he’s smiling, at Joel. You hear Joel say something again but you’re too far away to catch the words. As you walk closer the conversation stops and Joel watches you as you enter the clearing. He leans back on his hands. “That it?”

“Uh no I’ve got more wood, just couldn’t carry it all in one trip.”

“Good cause that won’t last through the night. Drop it here,” he nods to a spot between the sleeping bags. You silently drop the wood, looking at him quizzically. His face remains stoic as he begins arranging the sticks into a teepee. You aren’t sure what to say so you turn silently and go to collect the rest of your wood.

When you get back Joel has gotten the fire started and your brother has scooted to the foot of his sleeping bag to rest closer to the fire. “Good. That’ll be enough for a while.” Joel nods as you set the wood by your packs. The last of the golden rays filtering through the trees have disappeared and it’s dusk now. There’s just a faint grey glow emanating through the tall pine trees to the west.

“Welp. We got bout 15 minutes of light left.” He leans over the fire, feeding it another stick. Then he rubs his palms on his jeans and stands up, knees popping. He stretches, raising his arms and causing his flannel to rise up, revealing a slip of tanned skin. He yawns and motions to you. “Come ‘ere.”

You swallow as you approach him. He doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation. “We got some time to kill so I’m gonna teach you how to shoot.” He pulls a glock from the waistband at his back. You instinctively take a step backwards at the sight of the gun. An image of Joel standing over the body of the clicker with his gun drawn flashes through your mind. Joel is frowning at you.

“Ain’t got be scared sweetheart.” He mutters quietly and takes a step towards you, taking back the distance you put between the two of you. “You otta know how to shoot. Might save your life on day.” You nod. You know he’s right, of course. But you still don’t take your eyes off the gun in his hand.

“Ok. Here’s the basics.” He points out the safety, the magazine, the slide, and the sights. As he explains the anatomy of the gun he moves towards you till he’s right by your side, elbow almost brushing against you. “Got it?” You nod silently again.

Then he’s wrapping an arm around you with his chest pressed into your back. He leans over your right shoulder and you feel his warm breath on your neck. A shiver runs down your spine.

“So then you align your target through the sight here…” He keeps talking but you don’t notice what else he says. Your body is honed in to his touch. His hard chest is warm against your back and you lean into him slightly. Heat comes to your cheeks in embarrassment and you’re glad he doesn’t seem to notice. Suddenly he’s taking your hand and guiding it to wrap around the grip of the gun, he arranges your fingers over the trigger. He pulls your left hand up to wrap around your right, providing support and stabilizing the pistol. He leans further into you and brings his head down so his face is close to yours, your cheeks almost brushing. You feel a tingling of your skin as if there’s some invisible electric connection reaching out. “Aim for that tree over there, align your sights, steady hand, firm grip,” he wraps a hand around yours and gives a little squeeze in emphasis. “Then breathe out and pull the trigger.” He straightens out and lets go of your hands.

“Hang on.” He reaches up and unfolds your beanie, bringing the thick hat down over your ears. Then he brings his own hands up to cover his ears.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus. You ignore the lingering touch of his fingers on your hair as he arranged your hat. You ignore the tickle his facial hair left against your neck and the warmth emanating from him against your cold body. You find your target and pull the trigger. The kickback was more than you expected from such a small gun and you stumble back into Joel’s unyielding chest. You hear the bullet whizz past the tree flying deeper into the forest.

“Shoulda told ya to plant your feet.” He shakes his head. “Again.”

This time you widen your stance and brace yourself as you pull the trigger. There’s a crack of the gun and a small thud as your bullet hits the tree. You gasp and turn your head to look back at him, genuinely surprised to have hit your target. He’s looking down at you approvingly.

“Atta girl.”

--

Your brother is already asleep, tucked into a navy-blue sleeping bag with Joel’s jacket still wrapped around him. It’s completely dark as you go to get in bed. Only the warm orange light from the glow of the fire illuminates your camp. You make to climb in next to your brother, pulling the zipper down an inch before Joel stops you.

“Whatcha doin’?” He hisses from where he’s laying in his bag, propped up on his side facing you. The light from the fire dances across his face.

“Going to bed, what?” You whisper back.

“Na uh.” He pats his sleeping bag next to him.

“Are you insane why would I sleep next to you?”

He raises himself up on his elbow and gives you a glare. “Because, smart one, you shouldn’t be sharing a bed with someone who’s sick and contagious. Caring for him is one thing, but being snuggled up next to him in that bag, you’re asking for it. And if you get sick too, you’re of no use to him. Can’t care for him if you can’t care for yourself.” Shit he’s right. If it’s a respiratory illness or spread from droplets, then you can’t have your face so close to your brother’s, sharing a breath.

“Fine.” You snap.

He smirks at your anger and drops back down to his side, sliding the zipper down and opening the bag for you to climb in. Guess you won’t be sleeping back to back.

You slip into the bag and zip it back up, settling in on your side with your back to him. Joel presses against you and you stiffen. Your body is straight as a board against him, your muscles all tense.

“Relax sweetheart,” he murmurs into your ear. Goosebumps erupt across your skin. His hand snakes over your hip and his palm spreads over your stomach. He pulls you closer to him and your stiff body bends as he spoons you. His hand is warm and you can’t deny that it feels good against you. He releases a heavy breath into your hair. His hand slides down your stomach and creeps under the hem of shirt then glides back up, resting on your bare stomach.

“Jeez you’re cold sweetheart. Shoulda told me earlier, we coulda warmed you up.” His left hand skates over your neck and brushes the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. He folds his left arm under his head and scoots closer to you. You are cold, you’re fucking freezing actually, and his warm hands feel so good on your skin. He inhales deeply, face pressed into your hair. His hand on your stomach rubs in soothing circles.

Then he’s leaning forward and he nibbles at your earlobe. He pressed a kiss on your neck, then another, trailing down to your decolletage where his lips stop. He licks at you, then presses his mouth to your soft skin and sucks.

You don’t give him any response, not a sound or a movement. But you aren’t jumping from the sleeping bag or fighting him either. He continues to your shoulder, licking and marking you, leaving a trail of hickies. Joel glides his hand from your stomach up to your breast and cups it. He rolls his thumb over your nipple, already hard and sensitive from the cold.

A shiver runs through you and you shake against him. Your body’s response seems to encourage him and he continues. His thumb presses into your nipple hard then swirls around it. His hand traces across your chest and he grabs at your other tit, giving it attention too. You can’t help but let out a little groan, his warm hands thawing you out as they touch and grope your body. You feel his lips smile against your shoulder as he pauses his kisses.

“You like that?” He rubs your sensitive nipple between his thumb and finger and your breath hitches.

“Hmmm,” he moans into your hair, his warm breath soaking in to you. “Know ya do.”

 You can feel heat beginning to pool in your core. Joel continues to feel you up from behind and you continue to feel your heat growing. He’s touching you and moaning softly in your ear and you feel yourself getting wetter. Joel seems to sense it somehow and you feel his hand move from your breast and slowly start to slide down your stomach, lower and lower till his fingers brush your waistband. He licks up the edge of ear and starts to slide his fingers into your pants.

“Joel” You protest. He ignores you. His fingers slip under your underwear.

“Joel don’t-“ His left hand reaches out and he puts a finger to your lips, shushing you. You struggle against him. You don’t want him to see how wet you are for him. His hand moves from your lips and lightly wraps around your throat. He’s not pressing down, its there just to keep you still as his other hands sinks down to your core. He slides his hand across your hair there and grabs at you. With his palm on your mound, he reaches his four fingers down to swipe across your dripping pussy.

“Oh god.” He groans when he feels how wet and ready you are. Your clit twitches at the sound.

“Oh sweetheart, you shoulda told me you were waiting.” He places another kiss to your neck. You stop squirming. Your breathing is picking up. You know this is so wrong, but his hands feel so good on you.

“So fucking wet for me. Fuck.” He dips a finger inside you and pulls it out to slide up your seem and circle your clit, spreading your slick around. His finger rubs into your clit, playing with it, then sliding back down to draw a lazy circle around your hole before pushing back inside you. He curls his finger, gathering more slick and pulls back again. He repeats, then adds in another finger, going back and forth between your clit and your weeping hole. You are slowly becoming undone, you know you won’t last much longer.

“Joel” you whine.

He circles your clit lazily with his two fingers then sends three fingers prodding into you. He thrusts them in and out, your pussy sufficiently stretched and slick now. He begins fucking you faster with his fingers.

You moan loudly, too loudly, and his other hand moves from your neck to clamp down on your mouth, smothering your sounds. You grind against him. The only sounds are your muffled cries and the soft groaning behind you as he feels your walls start to clench around his fingers.

“ s’ okay sweetheart. Cum on daddy’s fingers.” Oh fuck.

Your hips thrust into his hand at his words and you come hard against his hand. Your walls flutter and cling to him. He groans at sensation of your orgasm around his fingers. You moan into the hand clamped on your mouth and your legs twitch and kick out.

“Fuck sweetheart. That’s it.” He continues to rub little circles over your clit as your come down from your high.

Your chest is heaving and he releases his hold so you can catch your breath. He gently caresses your cheek before moving his arm back to underneath his head. It’s a gentle touch that confuses you. You lay in silence, your breathing beginning to even out. His hand rests just under your waist band, warmth against warmth. He shifts and it’s clear he’s settling in for the night, content to stay like this as he falls asleep.  

“Joel?” you whisper.

“Hmmmm,” he hums sleepily in response.

“What did you say to my brother earlier? How did you get him to smile?”

“Told him a dad joke.”

“A dad joke?” Not what you were expecting. You pause, then quietly whisper, “Are you a dad?”

“I was.”

You say nothing. You know what that means. You fall asleep in silence with Joel wrapped around you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 2

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, more dark elements to come.

Wouldn't mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

On your way out, you stop and grab a few groceries to justify your trip to the mall. You still have a lot to do when you get home and your mind’s already three steps ahead; tidy up, put everything away, wrap the gift, and the most tedious task of getting yourself done up. The reservation you made a week ago fills you with dread.

You pop the trunk and drop in the bags, tucking the watch safely between them. As you close the trunk, a hand slaps down on the metal, startling you. It’s him, that man.

“Excuse me,” he steps closer and you back away, “try not to dirty my car.”

You frown as he gets nearer and side steps you. You look around at the Lexus parked just behind your beat up Neesan. Fuck, really?

You huff and shake your head as you skirt around to the driver’s side, “you take that watch back for grocery money or–” You ignore him as you unlock the car door, “I got some spare change in my glove compartment if you really need the gas money.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap as you swing your door open.

“I might even take my wallet out if you take the coat off. Heave up the tits and–”

You growl and drop into the seat. Before you can slam the door, it’s caught and you look up at the man as his hand holds it back. Panic thumps in your chest and you pull on the handle frantically.

“What the fuck– get–” You hit the horn with your other hand, “help–”

“Oh, shut up,” he snarls and lets the door go. It snaps closed and you jolt in the seat.

He bends down and taps on the window with his knuckles. You ignore him as you hit the lock switch and fumble with your keys. Why won’t he leave you alone? You twist the ignition and the engine chuffs to life.

He steps in front of your car as he reaches under his jacket. He slips out his leather wallet and plucks out a bill. He waves it in the air.

“How about a backseat handie, babe?” You hit your horn again and he winces, covering his ears, “fuck! It’s the best offer you’ll get.”

You hit the gas, lurching forward so he staggers away. He drops the bill and stomps his foot as he stops.

“Woah, woah, baby, I’m tryna apologise here.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” you holler through the windshield, “now!”

You let off the break again and he stumbles out of your path. You roll on and he kicks the side of your car. You squeeze the wheel as your adrenaline pumps through your veins. As you steer between the rows of vehicles, your tears spill out at last.

You idle at the end of the column and take out your phone. You check your rearview. There’s no one behind you. Still, it’s good to be prepared. Just in case.

You breathe out and leave your phone unlocked in the passenger’s seat. You put your hands back on the wheel and continue through the lot, finding the nearest exit as you keep checking your side and rear mirrors.

As you turn onto the street, you see a flash of dark blue, the same shade as the Lexus. You putter at the red light and look over your shoulder then check your mirror again. It’s not there. You’re paranoid.

You wipe your face and sniff up your fear. You just want to get home and get everything sorted out. It was just one very strange, upsetting encounter. You aren’t going to let it ruin Colin’s surprise.

💎

"Babe, did I tell you how hot you look?" Colin purrs as he pulls out your chair.

You blush, touching your warm cheeks as you sit. You thank him as he sits across from you, the hostess handing out menus and reciting the specials. She leaves you to peruse as you hold your purse anxiously in your lap.

"Getting ready to go so soon?" Colin kids as he watches you wring the strap.

"N-no, no," you say, still uneasy.

You just want to give him his gift. It's what today's all been about yet that shadow follows you, the man from the jewelry shop calling out your extra rolls like you don't already know. At least your husband's kind enough to act like they don't exist.

"This place is nice," he says, "new job hasn't started yet."

"I know, it's my treat," you teeter on the edge of your seat "I've been saving and I just want you to know that I love you."

"Of course I know that–"

"No, no, I wanna show you and I wanna be better. I'm gonna be more active and keep up with things better," you chew your lip and unzip your purse, the fabric chafing your hips as you're reminded of the too small dress pinching your skin, "and I picked up some extra shifts."

You dig your hand in your bag and take out the wrapped box. The shiny green paper catching the chandelier above your table. You put it in front of him and sit back.

"I'm proud of you. Your new job, how you take care of me…"

"What…"

"Just open it," you insist, "please."

He chuckles and looks around, "I hope you didn't spend too much. It's been tight."

"It's not from our account, I've been saving, just don't worry about that."

"Alright, alright," he traces along a fold and jams his thumb underneath. He tears through and your anticipation has you vibrating.

As he pulls away the paper he turns the box over. He sees the jeweler's logo and gives pause, sending a look in your direction. His cheek twitches and he pops open the lid on its hinges.

"Gotta be spiffy for the new job," you say, "do you like it?"

He stares and for a moment, you're scared.

"I love it, but it must've been so expensive."

"No, no, I got a good deal and even added on the insurance so you can get it cleaned–"

"You need a new car and you're buying me a watch," he sighs.

"Colin, I–"

"I know, I know, it's amazing, babe, you're amazing but…" he looks up and his throat bobs, "what did I do to deserve you?"

"Me? What about you? You're–"

Your name interrupts your sentence. You freeze, the timbre throwing you off. You furrow your brow as Colin gives an equally confused look. You slowly look over as a man steps up beside you. It's that man. How does he know who you are?

"Hi, can I help you?" Colin interjects.

"Can I help you, bozo?" The stranger replies, "who the fuck are you?"

"I– I'm her husband, who the fuck are you?" Colin shifts in his seat.

"Husband? Baby, you didn't mention a husband. Oh, look at that, you put your ring back on," the man continues.

"What? No, huh?" You sputter, "would you just go–"

"Babe, who is this?" Colin asks.

"I don't know, he–"

"Don't worry about paying me back, baby, the old man looks like he needs something snappy," he winks at Colin, "jeez, wish you'd said something, I'd have been more subtle–"

"You fucking this dude?" Colin exclaims as he stands, "is that where you got the money?" He throws the watch down and injects himself between the table and the stranger, "you're fucking my goddamn wife?"

"Someone's gotta," the man taunts.

"No, no– I don't know him. He--" you grab Colin's arm and he rips away from you, "please, listen to me, he's just some jerk from the store–"

"And how does he know your name?"

"I don't know. I don't even know who he is, please. I–"

"She calls me daddy," the guy snickers and Colin turns to shove him, nearly sending him into the next table. Half the restaurant stares in your direction.

"Give him the fucking watch!" Colin growls at you, "fucking slut."

He grabs his jacket and storms out. You blink dumbly and turn to snatch your purse. The man moves into your path before you can follow your husband.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" You rasp.

"Like I said, you can call me daddy," he flicks your chin, "Lloyd works too."

You sneer and elbow past him, flinching as his hand bounces off your ass. You don't look back as you hurry away, desperate to catch up to Colin before he's gone. You don't understand what just happened.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

The Moon's Lies (2)

Summary: Kylo Ren x named!Reader. It was never going to be black or white, Light or Dark, friend or foe. Who wouldn't let the galaxy burn to keep their loved ones safe?

Warnings: 18+, unspoken threat of bodily harm, twisted morals, Kylo Ren being himself, vehicle wreck

Masterlist

Canon Divergence Notes: There is no Rey. Finn is the destined Jedi, and he leaves the scar on Ren’s face during the climactic fight on Starkiller Base. The only original canon kept after TFA is the destined Jedi (Finn) leaving to find Luke and Snoke pushing Kylo Ren to the breaking point, continuing the student-kills-the-master cycle. Summary: No Rey. Finn is training to be a Jedi. Kylo Ren takes the throne from Snoke.

A/N: All hail the new alpha/beta reader! Three cheers for @aralezinspace! And thank you all for the support so far. <3 You make my galaxy spin.

2.

Years ticked by with battles fought, secrets found, and the rise of a new Supreme Leader to the throne of the First Order. Matters of life and death. To some.

Dyrrine judged the political upheaval like the weather. Rarely dangerous, but often an inconvenience. She couldn’t control it, and she worried more about sheltering her family from the rain than forming opinions about it.

At the moment, however, as mud sucked her boots down to the ankle and cold drops rode the wind to blast under her hood, she felt a lot of ways about the rain. Literally and figuratively.

Of course her responsibilities took her to Dantooine during the rainy season. And, of course, the First Order had no interest in accommodating the long line waiting for permits and passes.

Most of the year, Dantooine was lovely. Dry. Fairly temperate. Dyrrine would’ve enjoyed being off the ship and soaking in some sunshine while the rusty wheels of bureaucracy slowly groaned along. Instead, she dreamed of hot cups of tea and kept her hands stuffed deep in her wide sleeves as the queue inched forward, bowing under the storm’s onslaught. There were so many people still ahead of her, and she could barely see the service window through the downpour.

Good thing she’d reserved a seat on the next morning’s shuttle. She’d never make the evening flight. If things didn’t pick up, she might not reach the end of the line before the offices closed. Then she could do this all again at ass’o’clock in the morning, standing in a fresh downpour in day-old clothes without even the marginal warmth of the sun. What fun.

Off to the right, the depot’s primary doors slid open, spilling light into the miserable, sludgy afternoon. Stormtroopers in gleaming white armor stomped out, far too many for a patrol, and the eyes of every civilian turned their way. No one dared watch openly, but they peeped, and shrank, and waited. The ‘troopers formed two lines, facing each other to create a kind of path between the depot and the small collection of shuttles and TIEs left outside the hangar.

No wonder the administration was doing such a spectacular job that day. They had a VIP to entertain.

Dyrrine looked down at her feet, trying to work them free of the muck as the Adarian in front of her inched forward by half a pace. She had her priorities; keeping her place in line without losing a shoe was higher on her list than some First Order crony with extra polish on his boots.

One foot popped free with a noise like a belch, confirming Dyrrine’s belief the planet was trying to eat her. The second foot came loose by inches, and she was so consumed with keeping her balance she didn’t register the growing chill until the source stood in the open doorway.

Foot free, a step forward, and sinking into a new swatch of muck, she felt the menacing aura of a wildly powerful Force user. One didn’t need to be Force sensitive necessarily for animal instincts to register a threat, especially when said threat just loved to make a scene, to infect the very air with fear so every lesser creature would stay bowed low – where they belonged. She glanced back to the main entrance as the towering figure in black started down the ‘trooper-lined path, and her blood turned to ice.

She didn’t know his face – not this one, anyway. Last time they’d met, he’d hidden behind a chrome scowl, but his lightsaber was unmistakable, and kriffing hell if she didn’t remember that. It swung from his belt, bulky cross guard hilt on full display. The faint burn it once left along her neck took a week to heal, and this time there was no one to call him away before he introduced her to the blade properly. He was no one’s attack dog anymore. He’d slipped the chain and brutalized the fool holding the leash.

Kylo Ren. The new Supreme Leader.

The downpour suddenly didn’t feel like enough. Blinking away drops clinging to her lashes, she prayed for a flood, for the water to fall in sheets to curtain her from view, for the mud to gulp her down whole. Her gaze snapped back to the ground, hoping as she studied the trembling puddles that her spike of anxiety blended into the frightened crowd. What was one more terrified civilian in a sea of faces?

She resisted the urge to tug her hood lower. That would draw attention, tell anyone looking that she wanted to avoid being seen very, very badly. It took far too much attention to breathe, and she fought to release the mote of panic burning bright in her chest. No need to snuff it out. Just let it free. Like a firefly – still very real, but out and away from her thoughts. Drifting farther and farther, leaving a quiet void in its wake.

She was still. She was silent. She was invisible.

“I remember you.”

She was so kriffing screwed.

Drawn by the voice she would never have recognized without the helmet’s modulator, she looked between the shoulders of the nearest Stormtroopers to meet the Supreme Leader’s gaze. He towered over them, a wall of shadow behind their white armor. And there was no doubt he was speaking to her. He stepped forward, and the ‘troopers parted.

Too late to hide.

His presence crashed down like a wave, suffocating. Crushing.

She turned fully, facing him head-on as she reached deep to grasp the calm assurance that helped her through so many dangerous scrapes in the past.

“We never finished our conversation.” A playful edge sharpened his words, and she hunted through the flickers of expression that slipped past his guard. He wasn’t quite the same beast she met before. This time he was all confidence, secure in his position as the head of the First Order, free to stop, to take the time to pull her apart just for fun. His eyes traced her from dripping head to sodden feet, coming to stop on her pendant. “And you’re still wearing your protection charm. I thought you were going to leave it behind next time.”

With a dim smile that was entirely polite and not at all pleased, she repeated the short bow she’d offered on their first meeting, eyes dipping with her knees as she proved her respect. But she didn’t try to cower. When she rose, she resumed eye contact, letting her expression go placid in the face of her worst nightmare.

“Apologies.” Her voice came strong and steady. It didn’t even shake from the chill. “But as you said, we never finished our conversation, and I never heard whether it was offensive or just surprising.”

Humility, sometimes seasoned with feigned stupidity, could get a civilian far with the First Order. Sometimes officers appreciated the break from the usual hysterics of oppressed locals fighting for rights they no longer possessed. Sometimes a neutral attitude just made her forgettable, which was always the best outcome.

Unfortunately, she’d made a much deeper impression than she’d realized in this case, and she knew he wouldn’t let her fade into the mist like a ghost a second time. Even in the dreary weather, his eyes practically sparkled.

“We should fix that.”

She bowed again – quickly – and without looking away.

“It would be an honor, but I wouldn’t dare take any more of your valuable time, Supreme Leader.”

It was as close to begging as someone could get without yielding, and she knew she’d failed by the quirk of his lips.

“Then you can honor me aboard my shuttle.” He moved on, not in the least encumbered by the mud holding the rest of the planet hostage. “Bring her.”

Two ‘troopers who’d been following in his wake stepped up, but she moved. Springing forward as lithely as she could given her footing, she passed into the hall of white armored bodies of her own volition. It flummoxed the guards, and she offered a simple nod and smile as she continued after their leader. He hadn’t said to arrest her. Or bind her. Not even seize her. She still had some room to work, and so long as the ‘troopers didn’t know whether or not she was a prisoner, she could keep dancing.

So, she kept just ahead of the guards and well back from Kylo Ren, wading through Dantooine’s hateful sendoff to the waiting command shuttle.

The Supreme Leader’s thunderous steps echoed back down the ramp as she entered the hollow of the ship, following muddy tracks across the pristine floors. It felt like sacrilege. Like truth. The honest filth of the First Order’s dominion, and the inevitable tide beyond all illusions of control. Beneath her careful tranquility, a smug spark of emotion kindled. Not even the great First Order could stay polished in the face of a good storm.

But the spark faded as the Stormtroopers marched up after her, and the ramp groaned shut.

The ship was cold. A dead cold. Black with flashes of white and red lights that chilled her worse than the rain. She wondered if anyone in the Order – voluntarily or compelled – ever really saw their ships and bases as home. Something always seemed to draw them back, but she was willing to bet it was the blaster in the arms of the soldier beside them over duty or desire.

The passenger compartment opened directly into the cockpit, where four flight staff were prepping the shuttle for takeoff. There was only one other chair she could spy, and she knew better than to claim it. Guest or prisoner, she shouldn’t sit until her host offered, and she seriously doubted he would.

Leaning over the pilot and copilot, the Supreme Leader rattled off orders, checking his people’s work before it was even complete.

Was he a pilot, too? She knew that flavor of backseat driving. It was why they banned so many temporary residents from the Kuma Lisa’s cockpit. Once you’d had a ship’s controls in hand, most people struggled to accept them in someone else’s.

Ren’s low voice carried through the small space, disinterested in keeping secrets from the damned. “Set course for Ord Trasi. We’ll rendezvous as planned with the Steadfast.”

She closed her eyes and took a beat to breathe through the bubble of panic at the planet’s name. None of this was planned. He didn’t know she’d been on her way back for a rendezvous of her own. If she was careful, she’d remain the only one in danger. They’d know something was wrong when she didn’t return in the morning…

And right now, she needed to open her eyes and play the game. Or she’d never get to wade through a muddy queue ever again. She’d never touch solid ground, feel the rain on her face, or swear at a too-hot sun if she met her end on a damned star destroyer. Or on this shuttle, for that matter.

She got a reign on her fear and looked back to the cockpit just as Ren turned. His black ensemble maintained his regal air even with wet hair sticking to his forehead and ten inches of mud climbing his boots. His cape was no less ominous for the messy streaks on its hem as it flowed behind his long, determined stride. She doubted she’d weathered the rain so well. But that might work in her favor. Anything, given the right approach, could work in one’s favor. It was just a matter of strategy.

The ship lifted off from the mud, hard rain streaking down the viewport like it could drive them back to ground, and Kylo Ren left his flight staff to handle the voyage. While the craft was spacious for a shuttle, it was far from a cruiser, and he closed the distance like shadows rushing in after a light switched off. She held her ground. Waited like a good little subject until his boots came within inches of hers.

She knew this tactic.

Men like him loomed over their prey for one of two reasons. He wanted a fight, or he wanted a trembling victim to torture. He was waiting to see which she’d offer.

She’d deny him both. If it came back to bite her in the ass, at least she’d die satisfied with her decision.

He’d kill her in a heartbeat if she tried to fight – unarmed, trapped on his ship, surrounded by his lackeys. If she served up the fear he craved, he’d wring it out of her until she ran dry, and then she’d be just as dead and twice as grateful to expire.

With the board set against her, she must change the rules.

The ship’s low rumbling beneath her feet reminded her she was already in the belly of the beast, and she must be very clever to climb back out again.

“Who are you?” For all his casual intimidation, he didn’t hide the curiosity in his voice, and his anger didn’t singe the air like it did once upon a time on a planet far, far away.

He recognized a game when he saw one, and the moment he was humoring her. Or at least humoring himself.

She didn’t bow, though she dipped her eyes for the fraction of a second it took her to gather air for an answer. There was a fine line between a silly little stranger and an annoying fool. Too much bobbing would look anxious, anyway. But she held his eyes as she replied.

“Dyrrine Bairdne, sir.”

“And you’re from Lethe.” His eyes traced the strands of beads around her neck, the rings on her fingers, and bracelets on her wrists.

Slowly, mindful of the many guns and deadlier things on display, she raised her hands and lifted her hood. The Supreme Leader’s attention swung to the ornaments woven through her hair, and he scoffed.

“I see you’ve added more armor.” He stared her dead in the eye, daring her. “Expecting to meet a monster?”

She let her nebulous serenity grow warm. A blast from a cheap, old heater on a bitter winter night. Hardly the sun’s rays. But it wasn’t like he wanted that.

“Not at all, Supreme Leader.” She touched the longest strand of beads, keeping his focus on the Selenubis. “I’m training to be the next Naine of my family. Carrier of a thousand wishes, which is what these – ” She lifted a handful of necklaces, letting them rattle to draw both eye and ear. “ – represent.”

He plucked one from her grip, and his eyebrows furrowed. A frown bent his mouth as he rolled the smooth grey stones between gloved fingertips. He studied them like they had a secret script he might decipher in the fluid lines weaving over the face of each sphere.

“Take them off.”

She blinked, masking a busy mind with a face full of surprise. “Sir? They are offensive, then.”

“They’re a nuisance.” Though he didn’t let go of her jewelry, he did return his attention to her face. The amusement had waned. He wanted through her defenses.

Twisting his grip, he dragged her off-balance, and she jerked half a step forward.

Lips by her ear, he repeated, “Take them off.”

With his hulking shoulders out of the way, she could see through the viewport again. At some point, as she bantered for her life, they’d jumped to hyperspace. If he ran her through, right here, at least she’d have a familiar view.

The instant she pulled the faintest comfort from the thought, the ship was spat out of hyperspace, and a planet filled the view.

“Sir,” the flight officer called. “We’ve reached Ord Trasi. On route to rendezvous with the Steadfast now.”

The ship must be hiding on the far side of the planet, away from the hyperspace lanes.

Ren shoved her away, and the two ‘troopers stepped up to flank her. While his intentions were still far from clear, she wasn’t the honored kind of guest. She caught herself before her guards had an excuse to put hands on her, and as the Supreme Leader stomped back to oversee the last leg of their journey, she folded her shaking hands back inside her wet sleeves.

She seized the opportunity to breathe. Still alive. Still in one piece. And another distraction had bought her another precious few minutes. What she’d do with that time she had no idea, but she had it anyway.

Three TIE fighters wheeled into view, streaking past in perfect formation. The first sign of a larger First Order presence.

“I didn’t order an honor guard,” the Supreme Leader snapped. “Order them back to the ship.”

Oh, he was definitely a pilot. He was practically twitching. Too much protection must insult his ego, especially when he wasn’t behind the controls.

The flight officer leaned into the comms and relayed the command, but the TIEs did not disperse. They roared past again, moving behind the shuttle, and she swore she could feel Kylo Ren’s oppressive attention physically lift from her to this new problem.

Doubtless, Ren had something to say. More orders. A good threat or three. But before he could express his wrath beyond the creaking of his glove around his fist, a series of blasts rocked the transport.

Alarms wailed, and the flight crew began shouting updates and alerts as every standing passenger – apart from Ren – lurched into the wall. Beyond the racket from the cockpit, she could hear the wheeze of a dying engine somewhere below.

Kriff.

“Where are our shields?” Ren demanded.

Frantically switching toggles, the pilot shouted over the cacophony. “The readout shows they’re online, sir, but the damage suggests – ”

“Sabotage.” The Supreme Leader all but spat the word.

Shrieking by for another pass, the TIEs sent a hail of green laser fire over the shuttle, and she listened to the hull groan. The wall under her face was warm, and she carefully worked her way to a line of emergency grip points above. She clung on for dear life, looping her arm through and preparing for the worst.

She would not go down with the ship.

And the ship was definitely going down. Hazy clouds blurred the stars, the dark of space fading into atmospheric blue as they lost altitude.

“Sir, we’ve lost too much power. The planet’s gravity is – ”

“Supreme Leader, they’re coming about! Brace for - !”

The side of the shuttle exploded.

The angle of the blast sent debris spearing into the cockpit, and from the corner of her eye she saw an arc of wet crimson splash across the view screen. Now entirely out of control, the ship rolled, and the two stormtroopers tumbled boots-over-helmet through the hole that used to be the other half of the passenger compartment. Their voice modulators warped their screams as they fell.

She screamed, too, lifted off her feet, thrown into wall-ceiling-floor in a dizzying cycle. Her belly leapt into her throat as the engine heaved its last breath and the craft dropped into freefall.

Smoke and sparks filled the air. She couldn’t see what had happened to the flight crew or their dread leader, but no one was doing anything to slow their descent. If there was sabotage though, who was to say the shields were the only system affected? Even if they were conscious, Ren was the only one with the power to do anything at this point.

Well. Not only Ren.

Moving from grip to grip, she worked her way closer to the damaged half of the ship. She needed perspective. She had to see what she was doing.

A blur of green and brown appeared between flashes of blue, and she cursed. All her wonderful protective charms kept flying up to smack in her face, tangle in her hair, and obscure her view. She had a choice to make, and she needed to make it quickly.

Regardless of whether or not Kylo Ren survived, she wasn’t ready to die, certainly not like this. So she’d just have to take her chances.

Letting go of her precious handhold with one hand, she set to work, tugging and tearing the necklaces from her throat. She ripped the rings off with her teeth, and half the bracelets snapped as she jerked them free.

Her senses blossomed, expanding beyond her skin, beyond her sight. She felt the distance between the ship and the planet below, teaming with life, and another dim pulse somewhere onboard. Another survivor. She’d worry about that later. She’d save herself first.

Reaching into the flow of energy and motion that kept the galaxy turning, she pulled. Just as she’d found the grip inside the ship to keep stable, she grappled with air currents, gravity, and space to stabilize the shattered craft’s descent.  

It had been a long, long time since she’d tried anything on this scale, and it tore through her the way too much exercise ripped fragile muscles. Something wet dripped down her neck as the spinning slowed. They were still dropping too fast, and she pushed down at the planet until her ears rang with the effort.

Gradually, painfully, she took control of the fall.

This wouldn’t be a pretty landing.

But they just might survive it.

[burnthoneydrops]

Luckiest Man on the Planet (g.d. x fem!reader)

pairing: graham dunne x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k (whoops, had fun with this one haha)

warnings: talk of having children, use of "she/her" pronouns, Billy (if he counts as his own warning)

a/n: I miss when djats was popular on here so I decided to hopefully help the revival by adding the to the graham fic collection! hope everyone enjoys, this one's just cute. also REQUESTS ARE OPEN

You wanted-no needed- this moment to be perfect. You were not going to be happy if the money you had spent on plane tickets was going towards a ruined surprise, so you absolutely needed this to be perfect. It felt weird complaining about your long distance relationship when it wasn’t long distance all of the time and you knew other couples had it worse, but you’d be damned if your heart didn’t sink a little every time you thought about how far away Graham was, and would continue to be, for the next few months. That distance wouldn’t last forever though, thank the universe, as the people at the gate’s front desk were announcing that your flight to New York would start boarding shortly. 

“Ok, they’re about to start boarding, but I’ll call you when I land ok?” You hugged the phone to your ear, peering over your shoulder to make sure you weren’t missing anything and twisting the spiral cord with your finger. 

“Yeah, sounds good. I told Rod that we’d need an extra car to be sent to the airport so you won’t need a cab or anything,” Eddie replied through the phone. 

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that,” you laughed, flattered by the effort. 

“Oh yes I did. I-We’re not having you come all the way out here just to get stuck in New York traffic”. 

“Anything that gets me to Graham faster. And you guys of course,” you quickly added before saying your goodbyes, noticing the boarding line was getting smaller. 

The plane was incredibly boring, and the baby two rows behind you did not shut up the entire time, but you realised you managed to make that about Graham too, wondering how you two would handle it differently if it was your child screaming in a crowded plane. Luckily you had brought a book with you to zone in on, but nothing holds more power than the lungs of an upset child. You couldn’t stop your knee from bouncing, meaning you accidentally bumped too hard and kicked the seat of the person in front of you, earning some not so polite stares from the elderly man who sat there. Relief flooded over you when you heard the pilot announce that you would soon be landing, so much so that you kicked the seat once again, gaining another dirty look. 

As you stood up to exit your row, you looked across the plane, making eye contact with the previously screaming child. The little girl stopped wriggling around in her mother’s arms, staring at nothing but you as you gave her a little wave with the hand not holding your carry on. You smiled before the man behind you got impatient and cleared his throat as an indication that he wanted to move forward, so you only widened your smile with one last wave before hearing the baby laugh as you left the area. You and Graham hadn’t even had the talk about whether you wanted kids, not to mention how you would raise them or what kind of life they would lead. You had no doubt he would be a great father, but with the band already raising Julia, you figured you could push that thought out of your head for a little longer. 

When you were able to escape the gaggle of people who were standing in the boarding area you had just entered, you visually located the nearest phone, putting your backpack and suitcase aside to call Eddie. You glanced at the hotel’s phone number you had scribbled on the back of your boarding pass when you called from L.A., and started tapping your foot once again as the phone rang aggressively in your ear. 

“Hey, you made it,” you sighed in relief when Eddie answered the phone. 

“The most boring cross country flight of my life, but yes I made it,” you chuckled. 

“The only cross country flight of your life if I’m not mistaken. You rode in the van with us from Pittsburg, remember?” 

“How could I forget the bumpy roads and almost running out of gas in the middle of nowhere Missouri?” 

“But it was more enjoyable than what you just went through?” 

“Well yeah. Anytime with you is more enjoyable than by myself,” you glanced out the window at the line of planes waiting to take off as there’s an awkward pause on the line. “I mean, the band makes everything more fun,” you continued, hoping the conversation hadn’t died. 

“Right, yeah for sure,” Eddie came back to life, informing you soon after that there’d be a taxi driver waiting for you. He shouldn’t be hard to spot, you had been promised, and with how much you just wanted to run into Graham’s arms right now, you hoped for everyone’s sake that that was true. The taxi driver was easy enough to spot, holding a white sign with your name scribbled on it and an uncomfortable look on his face in the crowded area. He reached out his arm to you, which made you chuckle in response before shaking his hand, trying to keep your backpack atop your shoulder. 

“Your bag, miss,” he gestured to the suitcase you currently were wheeling behind you, and you realised that he really didn’t want to shake your hand and now his sweaty palm was awkwardly entangled in yours. You quickly let go before clearing your throat in embarrassment and handing him your bag, after which he quickly made his way to the exit doors so you two could finish this journey as quickly as possible. You used the time in the taxi to take in all the sites of New York. You had been as a kid, but it felt different now, like there was something new in the air. The hotel crept into view as the traffic was touch and go, but soon enough you were informing the lady working the front desk that you had a reservation and picked up a spare key to Graham’s room. You and Eddie agreed that you could use the time the band would be soundchecking at the venue to settle into Graham’s room for after the surprise, and you had thanked him again profusely when you heard Billy yelling down the hallway that they were all going to be late. Billy’s yelling was not something you missed while they were on tour, but if it came as a side effect of being in Graham’s arms again, you would listen to it again and again. 

The buzz in the venue was palpable when you walked in through the side entrance, trying to keep yourself hidden as much as possible given your mission. The bar at the back of the venue seemed like a great place to hide, and you kept yourself occupied by browsing the alcohol choices and chatting with the bartender until you heard three familiar voices making their way over. Warren, Eddie and Graham had decided to come up to the bar and you quickly ducked down under the bar, hoping the bartender wouldn’t expose you while they were there. You kept your back against the main island, facing the wall of bottles and mirrors, just being able to see the top of the familiar head of curls from your angle. The thin bottles distorted him a little bit, but your heart swelled at the sight of Graham just as it did every other time. 

“Tonight’s gonna be great man,” Warren commented, the bartender sliding a glass over to him. 

“Yeah, the fans aren’t even outside yet and the energy is killer,” Eddie replied, and you thought of the line of people you had passed out front on your way around the building. Thankfully no one had recognized you, and it only filled you with pride to see everyone who was there to support them. 

“Yeah,” Graham nodded, sounding more sullen than usual. 

“Come on man, lighten up. You’ve been acting weird since we got in the van this morning,” Warren nudged him, and you heard a leg kick the supporting wall of the island. 

“He’s just upset that his usual good luck call didn’t go through,” Eddie added. 

Graham got in the habit of calling you before every show as a nervous tendency, as the sound of your voice usually calmed him down better than whatever cheesy peptalk Billy wanted to give. 

Warren whistled when Graham didn’t reply, and you figured he made a face of some kind, exposing that Eddie was right. “Man, she has got you hooked, lined and sinkered”. 

“And what if she does? She always answers, so I feel out of sorts I guess. When you guys find people to love, you’ll understand,” Graham replied, trying to keep it light hearted at the end. 

“Hey, that was personal”. 

“Woah dude, what was that for?” He had set the boys in a defensive spiral. 

“We get it, you think she’s the one or whatever,” Warren teased. 

Your cheeks heated up, and it took all of you to stay in your crouched position, hoping nothing was going to squeak or hiss and give you away. The boys finally decided to walk away when Karen called them, saying they had to clear out before they opened the doors. You let out a loud sigh of relief when the bartender gave you a thumbs up to say they were gone, as being able to move your legs from their cramped position was a god send. 

“That kid seems to really love you,” the bartender commented as he gave you his hand to help you up. 

“Yeah well, I really love him too,” you said, not looking at him but at the stage where your boyfriend and his band would soon be standing. 

As the crowd shuffled in, you tried to stay relatively in the middle, hoping that whatever part of the stage Graham stood on he would be able to see you eventually. There was a hushed sensation in the crowd as people chatted and got drinks, but as the lights dimmed, the excitement grew, and a few people started whooping and cheering prematurely. Pretty soon the band was running on stage to an enormous eruption of applause, and the smile on each of their faces made you smile even bigger. From Chuck’s garage in Pittsburg to selling out venues across the country, you could not be more proud of the people in front of you, and you hoped all your efforts today proved that. 

“Well hello there everybody,” the familiar redhead greeted the audience, gaining even more shouts and cheers of joy from the people in front of her. “We’ve got a very special performance for you tonight, so we hope you’re ready to rock just as much as we are. How’s everybody feeling tonight?!” She yelled into the microphone as people clapped and hollered back. “Alright well, let’s see what you’ve got!” She smiled as Warren counted everybody off from his spot on the back of the stage and it was like the gates were opened at the Kentucky Derby. The energy radiating off of the band members and the audience was infectious, but you had your sights set on one person. Graham always did look his happiest on stage, getting to do what he loved with people he loved, and you were always excited when you got to witness that pure, unbridled joy on his face. 

A few songs in, you noticed Karen scanning the crowd, and as she landed on your section, you gave her a small wave. Your hopes that she noticed you were answered as a large smile broke out on her face, glancing back at the keyboard in shock before looking back to make sure it was really you. You laughed and gave her a big thumbs up in confirmation, and she was quick to call Billy’s name, nodding her head in your direction. The second band member to notice you, Billy’s eyebrows went up in shock when he spotted you, a smirk and an eye roll being his secondary reaction before he turned back to the microphone. After you had confirmation that at least half of the stage knew you were there, you kept your attention on the other half, staring at Graham as he shredded the guitar. A light sheen of sweat had gathered on his forehead, and as he wiped his curls back with his sleeve, Billy took a few steps back to get his attention. You saw him whisper something in Graham’s ear before his eyes went manic, scanning the audience with intense feverency.

Once his eyes landed on yours, everything stopped. The people around you seemed to be dancing in slow motion, and the music sounded like blurred-together lines of nothing as you saw the biggest smile form on your boyfriend’s face. Everything might have stopped a little too abruptly, as you saw Daisy look back at him in confusion when there was suddenly no guitar part being played. He shook his head and started playing again, quickly making eye contact with you again; a state he would remain in the entire show. 

When the show was over, security scurried over to you as people filed out, informing you that you were to be taken backstage. You got a few odd looks from a couple of girls who had been standing around you during this invitation, but all you cared about was that the moment you had been waiting for was finally here. You followed behind them until you could see the group of familiar people chatting and packing up their equipment. Graham had his back turned to the door, but Eddie had spotted you first, shoving Graham’s shoulder and pointing to the door. It was then that you couldn’t contain your excitement anymore and you brushed past the security guards, breaking into a full sprint as Graham waited with open arms. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you jumped to wrap your legs around his, his grip tightening with every second as if you’d disappear when he’d let go. He laughed as he leaned his forehead on yours, the shock from your appearance having not quite worn off yet. 

“Oh my god I can’t believe you’re here,” he mutters, leaning his neck further back to actually see your whole face. 

“You didn’t think I’d miss seeing my favourite guitarist did you?” 

“I thought that was me?” Eddie teased from his spot against the wall, which earned him a slap on the bicep from Karen and a strict instruction to shut up. 

“How did you even? What? How are you-?” 

“Eddie and I arranged it all. I missed you too much to be stuck in L.A. all by myself”. 

“Oh my god, I’m so in love with you it’s not even funny,” Graham let out a breathy laugh and your heart almost stopped. Even though you two had been dating for a while, you had said that you wanted to take things slow, given that your last relationship didn’t end so well. This meant that even though you and Graham were both in agreement that you loved each other, this agreement had been almost exclusively nonverbal. Neither of you had said anything yet, partially in fear that you’d take things too quickly and someone would feel pressure (at least that’s what you felt when your ex wanted to take things at what felt like a million miles an hour). So, in an effort to keep things calm and relaxed, neither of you had said anything close to the L word, and this moment took you by surprise. 

Silence fell between the two of you, as Graham was waiting for you to say something and you were frozen. As if just realising what he said, Graham’s face fell into one of panic as he gingerly placed you down on the ground. “Oh no, I didn’t mean-. Please don’t take that to mean you have to say anything back I just-” 

“Graham?” You stopped him rambling as you saw Karen and Daisy corralling the boys out of the room. 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you,” you said without looking at him, mostly because you were scared he would bolt the other direction and you would fly back to L.A. in tears. 

You felt two fingers gently grab your chin, and Graham tilted your head up to look at him. “You sure? Cause I don’t want you to say it just because I said something”. 

You nodded, “I’m sure”. 

He smiled and let out another airy chuckle as he leaned down, grabbing both sides of your face before capturing your lips with his. The electricity between you started buzzing as it always did in moments like these, and he was quick to tap his fingers on your lower back, signalling you to jump up and wrap around him like you had previously. The two of you laughed in between kisses until you heard a gagging sound from down the hall. 

“Get a room!” Eddie yelled. 

“Where do you think we’re going?” Graham yelled back, causing you to laugh in embarrassment and bury your head in his shoulder. 

“I love you Graham,” you commented, though muffled from his shirt fabric. 

“What was that?” He teased. You knew damn well he heard you the first time. 

“I love you,” you said a bit louder, still in his shirt. 

“I’m sorry, one more time. I couldn’t hear you”. 

“God damn it Graham, I love you,” you finally lifted your head and said it while looking directly in his eyes. 

“I love you too, I just wanted to hear you say it again,” he laughed. “I’m the luckiest man on the planet!” He yelled for everyone to hear, gaining groans and yells of embarrassment and annoyance from his bandmates. Not that he cared though, he was just telling the truth.

[neonponders]

Part 3 for the wonderful @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse!

~ Part 2 here ~

on ao3 here ~

🚬 🚬 🚬

Little Steve smoothed his blue shirt over himself as he stood on Mrs. Harrington’s compact mirror, tiny foot prints on the glass below him and one hand print on the glass in front of him.

“You okay, lil man?” big Steve asked as he set down a teacup saucer of meticulously chopped fruit on the coffee table. Then he furrowed a brow at Billy following the aerobics exercises on the television...in his full aviator outfit. “Is he okay?”

Billy answered himself, amongst enthusiastic grunts and howls, “Gotta stay fit t’stay sharp, Stevwie!”

“Can you take the jacket off, at least? I don’t want to have to figure out how to clean that.”

“No way! HEY.”

Steve pinched the back of his coat, but only enough to make him stop jazzercising. “Heat stroke is serious, B. Don’t cook the one marble you’ve got.”

Billy slid right out of his jacket, exposing a sweat line down the back of his new, red shirt. “Did you cook too much and get soft?”

“I don’t want to hear it from the guy living in my pocket. Be grateful for the extra cushion.”

Billy cackled and went back to exercising. Steve began to stand up to get him some water, but frowned at little Steve munching forlornly on a piece of pear. “Steve? What’s up?”

For such a little guy, those big brown eyes blinked up at him like a javelin to his heart. Steve wondered if this was what he was like when he got his way all too often in years past.

“I...I think I stink.”

His concerned face lifted up to meet Steve’s matching one, small hands twisting the fabric of his blue button-up.

How is he insecure? He’s been alive for like a minute - 

“You smell good to me!” Billy called.

Oh, Steve corrected and knelt down to set his head on the table. “Come here. Let me get a whiff of you.”

Little Steve stepped off the compact mirror to press his tummy against Steve’s lips, arms outstretched so his hands waited on Steve’s cheek. Giggles bubbled out of him as the larger Steve inhaled short bursts of air. “You know...you might be right. We can fix that - and speaking of funk.”

The squawk that came out of Billy was one for the books as Steve took the dishtowel off his shoulder and caught Billy on it by sweeping it behind his knees. “Foul pway!”

“It’s bath time,” Steve clipped, pausing long enough for little Steve to climb onto the towel as well. On his way to the kitchen, Steve opened the glass display case of his mother’s fine china, and took out the largest teacup. At the sink, he filled it up two-thirds of the way, and dripping in hot water from the electric kettle. “Reach in there, tell me if it’s too hot or too cold.”

“Why do we need baths?” Billy cried indignantly.

“Because it gives you something to do while I wash and blow-dry your clothes.”

“You’re makin’ us into swoup!”

“How about some bubbles?” Steve segued, swiping the tiniest smear of dish soap onto his finger and mixing it into the cup. He didn’t trust them on their own while he got proper soap from upstairs, so it would have to do. Either way, little Steve brightened at the rainbow suds and Billy gave one a derisive poke. “Come on, you two. You’ll feel better after your first bath.”

“Come on, Biwwy!” Steve heralded, accepting the hand to propel him up and over the edge. For a micro second, big Steve felt terrified that they couldn’t swim, but the cup was shallow enough for the little one to sit with his head above water. He kind of rolled like a floatation device as well.

Not to be outdone, Billy gripped the rim of the cup. When Steve offered to help him, he groaned, “I got this, pwetty boy.”

Steve pressed his lips into an annoyed line, but the little bastard managed it with a splash. One by one, sopping wet garments got flung out of the cup. Steve said dryly, “Thanks, guys. I’m carrying you upstairs, okay?”

Billy seemed to be gauging the correct level of enjoyment from little Steve, who sat blissfully against the curved wall of the cup, soaking.

Big Steve had his sights set on the special detergent he kept upstairs. Just because he could replace certain things didn’t mean they didn’t mean a lot to him. So he filled his bathroom sink with suds from the delicates detergent and agitated the water with the clothes for a few minutes until he rinsed them off.

By then, Billy and Steve needed to be moved to a towel, so he blowdried a washcloth to get it toasty, and helped them out to it. Steve kept the blast of air away from them while he dried the clothes, watching mutely as little Steve patted Billy down with a corner of the washcloth.

It was Billy who noticed and pointed, “What’s that!”

Steve turned off the hair dryer and answered, “Lotion. It makes your skin soft.”

Billy audibly scoffed, but then his brows furrowed contemplatively. “Do you use it?”

“Yep. Do you want some?”

“If Stevwie wants some,” he countered.

“Does it smwell nice?” said Steve asked.

Big Steve dodged, “It’ll make you smell like me,” because it was fragrance-free. His hair products and detergents had enough fragrance for his taste.

He already had a cotton swab ready, and pumped out a small drop on both ends. Setting it down, he advised, “Just get some on your hands and rub it into your skin. Don’t put it in your hair.”

Little Steve piped, “What about my haiwr?”

“I can take care of your hair,” Steve soothed. “One thing at a time.”

Billy was grimacing over his lotioned legs stretched out over the washcloth. “This is grwoss! Why do you do this?”

“Just give it a second. You’ll be fine. Do you want to work on your hair or me?”

“Me! You can’t be twusted with these perfwect waves.”

Steve exhaled a measured sigh and held an eyedropper of hair oil. Billy reached his hands up for the drop, and climbed onto the detergent cap to see himself in the mirror. Steve, meanwhile, used a fresh swab to dab water from little Steve’s hair.

“Steve?”

He paused. “Yeah?”

The little one hesitated, but it was a marvel how much expression he had for someone so small. He seemed afraid, but hopeful. “Is...is there a big Biwwy?”

“Big Billy?” Steve repeated dumbly. “Uh. Yeah, actually. There is.”

Brown eyes widened as small Billy rotated to ask, “Is he cool like me?”

Steve sassed, “Is he an adorable little punk? No. He’s usually a big pain in my ass.”

He felt small hands on his forefinger as little Steve held onto him. “Is big Biwwy like you?”

His voice softened as he petted a swab with hair oil over his head. “What do you mean?”

“You have a Biwwy. And Biwwy has a Steve. Does Biwwy have a Steve and Biwwy?”

“I...don’t think so,” he said warily, thinking of Max. “We would’ve gotten word by now if he knew about you.”

Those little features opened. “He doesn’t know!”

Steve’s own cramped a little. “You want him to know?”

That slightly disproportionate head went rosy with a blush. “My Biwwy needs a Steve. I can be Steve for big Biwwy too!”

However, small Billy piped in, “I’ll be the judge o’him! This big one just barwely made the cut!”

Steve’s eyes rolled. “Thanks, B. You’re a peach. I guess...I have a phone call to make.”