#they say he holds despair in his right hand but it's actually my hand he's holding

[poppy-metal]

tashi being a driving force behind failmarriage au. feeling frustrated with art & his gorgeous darling wife ((probably hasnt examined the want thats simmering below the surface for the wife)).she’s probably checking insta more than art is, so bothered by the bratty behavior and the obvious posturing going on. she wants art to fight for you but he’s kind of heavily wallowing. so struck by the despair of being without you that he’s useless rn. she knows he needs a catalyst to spring him into action. so she meticulously keeping tabs on you and probably smth inside her (and hopefully art) snaps when they realise youre not wearing your ring anymore.

tashi's a mean bitch when she's pushed too far and i imagine at some point your game gets boring for her with all your little spiteful moves that she takes matters into her own hands. something to make you react, in some way, whether its negative or positive.

you get sent the video from arts phone - confused because he usually calls you - leaves you voice-mails - very few times he's sent you a video, usually of something he saw during the day that reminded him of you. you hover on clicking it, wondering if you're strong enough today to deal with it.

you do end up hitting play and -

the video starts out shaky, its hard to tell what's being shown, until a familiar chest comes into view - broad and toned and most importantly, bare - arts body. gleaming with sweat and his pecs heaving, pink nipples peaked. there's a slight sway to his body, he's clearly laying out on a bed - his long pale neck extended in a moan.

he's being ridden.

and the warm brown feminine hand trailing up his stomach is undeniably tashi's. fingernails finely pressed, she braces her palm right at the center of his chest, bracing, and the wet slaps of their flesh meeting can be heard. the angle is focused on arts face for a moment, eyes pressed tight like hes in pain, face flushed, lips parted. he looks tortured by bliss.

and then the camera pans down and there's a flash of tashi's thighs, caging around arts hips. she brings the view right to her cunt - where her pussy - toned and tight and beautiful - stretches obscenely wide around arts pink cock. she rocks there and then her thighs tense, her moan high pitched and dirty as she cums around him.

the camera shakes again and you hear her giggle at arts whimper and then the view is clear and she's holding - a fleshlight, "i tried to find her skintone," tashi's voice crackles through the video, "you'll have to tell him if its close to her actual pussy."

you realize she specifically bought a toy with your complexion - she poises the tip of the plastic lips around arts wet cock - the tip gleaming with fluid. "oh fuck." art says, and he bucks his hips. tashis hand comes down, squeezes his pale thigh as she continues to tease his cockhead. "tashi thats - oh my god -"

"that's not who you're about to fuck." tashi croons. the lips of the toy flare apart lewdly the more she teases it down on arts thick crown. "pretend its her pussy. thats who you want with you right here, right now, hm? your sweet wife with her tight little pussy - is she tight art? do you miss it?"

arts cock is straining. it doesn't need to be held aloft - bobbing straight up and throbbing with blood - you can make out the delicate veins underneath - his balls hang heavy between his thighs which are twitching with restraint barely contained.

"tell me." tashi says. doesn't ask.

arts hips jump - he slides inside the toy a small inch and groans brokenly. "s-so tight. shes so tight. god, she takes my dick so fucking good - " tashi lets him buck up, feeding more and more of himself into the silicone cunt. her hand steadies against his thigh as he jerks, overwhelmed. "i wanna fuck her - i wanna fuck her -"

tashi chuckles again, rubs her thumb soothingly over his skin. "its sweet of you to ask, baby, but you dont need my permission right now - how would you fuck your wife, if she was here, hm? how do you want to fuck her?"

the gasp art lets out is airy and his legs splay open more, he knees coming up as he braces his feet against the bed.

its sudden and nearly violent the way he begins slamming up into the toy. tashi has to adjust her grip around the base of it so it doesn't go flying off his dick from the force of his sudden eager thrusts upward. his hips jackrabbit into the sticky plastic depths - the synthetic sloshing of the pussy around his cock wet and lewd as his balls slap against it.

"oh god." art groans. his stomach is concaved, he's thrusting so fast and brutal the bed starts to shake. "oh fuck - give me that pussy - that fucking cunt - fuck i need it - need to fuck her so bad, i need it, i need it -"

"treat it like she's here." tashi encourages, breathless. excited. "talk to her. shes bouncing on your dick art - she's taking you so good - just like shes meant to -"

"god, god, god, - never letting you leave me again. fuck! gonna keep you - gonna keep you on this dick forever, gonna fucking breed you - make you stay - fuck, im gonna cum inside you -"

"fill her up" tashi goads, "make her take that pounding dicks cum. deep inside that little wife pussy."

art sounds like hes sobbing - moaning wetly. slapping his hips up nearly bouncing the toy on and off his dick - his thighs clench, the muscles in them flexing as his movements stutter.

"shit - shit - " he calls your name. your name. your name. over and over again. "i fucking love you, oh my god, yes - take it take it take it take it all -"

tashi holds the toy over his cock as he fills it. his balls twitch and throb as they empty. she slowly glides the pocket pussy off of him and thick rivers of white drip back down him, running down his sack.

"woah" tashi breathes. "all that for her? you must really wanna knock her up - babytrap her."

arts cock twitches.

you close the video.

a text pings after.

when you touch yourself to this later remember the only one stopping you from having him is yourself - T.

[serafisolaris]

just doodlin'

[princessbrunette]

bunny!reader didn’t like being bad. infact, bunny!reader was bad at being bad.

“you slammin’ my doors now, huh? is that — is that what we’re doin’?” his voice booms through the hallway, and you regret it as soon as you’d happened to shut rafe’s bedroom door with just a tad too much attitude.

you wouldn’t call it a dispute, moreso you complaining. you’d gotten into trouble, purely over a misunderstanding on your part. barry had told you that he was your friend, and that you were welcome over to his place to hang out anytime. betrayed by your own naivety, you believed him — which lead to rafe all but dragging your ass back to tannyhill.

he doesn’t yell when he swings the door open, controlling himself. he knows deep down you didn’t mean any harm by it — so instead of spiralling out, he sucks in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he lifts a hand in thought.

“just… talk to me, alright? i need you to tell me you understand why you can not be friends with barry.” he stresses, opening his eyes wide to step towards you slowly, moving extra carefully because of the way your lip wobbled, body frozen up.

“i don’t want to talk.” you mewl, resisting the urge to thump your foot. you were never bratty, so he was allowing you some space — he had his limits though. rafe leans on his hip, holding his hand up again in despair.

“well, what — you want the belt, then? will that make you talk?” he shook his head, exasperated and you shake your head with a whimper. “okay then, so…?” he prompts.

“i just don’t understand. you’re the one who told me i should make some more friends!” you argue, voice high pitched and upset.

“yeah i meant girls at the country club, kid. not the god damn dealer i work with.” he drawls in response, blinking a couple of times like it’s obvious.

you hug your arms, feeling very silly about the whole thing as you shrink a little in stature. “i just thought that if we became friends with the same person… we could all hang out together. get to be around you more…” you bleat and he stressfully smooths his brow down with the pads of his fingers.

“thats not how it works.”

“well i’m sorry! barry is the one that said he wanted to be my friend!”

he tongues at his cheek for a moment before closing in on you, an irritated squint occupying his glare. “you really think he wants to be your friend? huh? nah, no really — really think about it baby.” he’s right infront of you, lightly tapping your temple to punctuate his word choice. rafe places a hand on your shoulder, bending to your level so he can look you properly in the eyes, forehead creasing in exertion. “i say this because i care about you, alright — he wants to fuck you. because — because that makes me look bad, right? and… and he’s always looking for ways to get back at me and plus you’re always sitting there with your fuckin’ titties hanging out your shirt so yeah, baby. he wants to fuck you.”

he lets go of you to pace, annoyed. you watch as he runs a hand over his jaw and you sniffle quietly. “oh.”

“yeah.” he speaks before glancing at you. he can see how upset the whole thing has made you, so he reluctantly starts back towards you with a sigh. “look. it’ll be easy for you to make some actual, female friends. okay? you’re a good girl. you’re — you’re kind and sweet and patient and they’d be lucky to have you.” he cups the back of your head before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“am i your friend rafe?” you peer up at him, so innocently and earnestly that it takes him back.

“y— what?”

“are we friends? together?” you blink.

“you’re my girlfriend.” he speaks like it’s obvious.

“mhm, but are we friends too?”

he itches his cheek, never having really thought about it before. honestly, he didn’t really see it that way — but maybe that was because rafe cameron didn’t really have female friends. not before you and certainly not after you. it just didn’t interest him. aside from wanting to rip your clothes off 24/7, the boy did surprisingly just enjoy being in your company. so, he licks his parted lips and nods.

“that what you want? yeah, kid. i’m your friend. okay?” he swipes his thumbs beneath your eyes, collecting the mascara that had pooled beneath. “now stop crying.”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 45

part 1 | part 44 | ao3

Nancy, Jonathan, and some guy with the longest hair Steve's ever seen are standing in a loose circle with Eddie and his bandmates, talking and sort of dance-nodding along to The Power of Love by Huey Lewis (a fact that Steve absolutely intends to mock his boyfriend for the second he gets the chance), and Steve, like, mentally girds his loins.

He and Jon are cool with each other, and he and Eddie are obviously, uh, plenty warmed up to one another by now, but the rest of them...

One's a stranger, one's an ex who seems drunk as shit and is currently so invested in spinning around to the music that she hasn't opened her eyes to notice him, and the other three are thawing to him at a truly glacial pace. Steve hasn't so much as been invited to watch a rehearsal yet because Eddie's 'still working on them' and needs 'a bit more time, but don't worry, they'll come around.'

They don't openly scowl when he and Robin approach, though, so Steve takes that as a win.

"Harrington!" Eddie calls, bowing deeply to add, "Lady Buckley."

Steve would feel stung by the surname if not for how downright giddy Eddie sounds. God, he loves tipsy Eddie; fucking Disney cartoon boy.

"Munson," he plays along, giving him a sly grin and a shoulder bump as he sidles up next to him. "Didn't know you were allowed to leave the basement at these things."

Jeff interrupts his air-guitaring to glare at Steve, bur Eddie holds out a hand and assures him that Steve's just fucking around. Before Steve can apologize or defend himself, Long Hair Guy leans in across the circle, his eyes wide and intense and bloodshot to hell.

"Dude," he greets. "You have. Such beautiful hair."

Steve barks a laugh. Robin rolls her eyes. Jonathan also rolls his eyes, but it seems more fond and less annoyed. "Can't take you anywhere," he mutters to the guy, then asks them, "You guys met Argyle yet?"

Steve holds out a hand. Confusion washes over him as he processes what Jonathan just said. "Uh." Argyle. "Like the sweater?"

"Yeah, man," Argyle smiles, dopey and slow. Sure. The guy in head-to-toe tie-dye and a neon green fanny pack is named Argyle. Why not? "My parents wanted a sheep, but they got me, instead."

Jonathan laughs like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. Steve's pretty sure he's too sober for this conversation.

They exchange handshakes, and Robin asks if she can touch the guy's hair, and they all slip into easy, friendly conversation, naturally splintering into smaller groups of twos and threes. Steve's just getting the rundown on all the 'sick new gear' the band got for Christmas when the song changes, and god, this night just could not get better.

"Oh, fuck off!" Eddie groans in the DJ's direction.

Steve has to practically swallow his lips to keep himself from cackling, and then he gives up and does it, anyway, because Eddie looks like he just sucked a lemon while watching a dog die as his bandmates all start sing-shouting along. "We're talking away..."

"No." Eddie wheels around and points a finger at Steve, because Steve's singing, too.

Steve just sings louder. "I don't know what, I'm to say!"

"Oh, my god." He scrubs a hand down his face, dragging the skin down until Steve can see the pale pink of his inner eyelid. "Nobody I know has any goddamn taste!"

"Maybe you don't have any taste!" Robin teases, bouncing around and swinging her arms haphazardly to the music.

Nancy backs her up with a mumbled "Yeah!" but she's still spinning around in such tight circles that Steve doubts she has a single clue what's happening in the argument right now. Which is kind of endearing, actually. He likes how willing she is to stick up for people.

The chorus kicks in; Gareth air-drums the switch to half time just before Frank does an honestly super impressive falsetto of 'in a day or twoooooo', and Eddie despairs while Steve laughs his fucking head off.

—

part 46

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[waayfo]

HOUSE OF CARDS aventurine x gn!reader

summary “a house of cards, and us inside,” a phrase that aventurine often says in between your endless arguments. you always thought that your relationship will be happy and full of affection, only to be met by illimitable arguments.

⌕ ... angst, hurt/comfort, light angst, spoilers (aventurine’s past), mentions of kakavasha, both reader & aven is tired n they broke up once in the past, arguments, gambling, pet name, anxiety ??, based on this song n my hc on this post. a/n : post for celebrating aven’s banner ! aventurine wanters will be aventurine havers :3

all day your head has been feeling dizzy after continuously hearing screams from your boss. he felt he could call and curse people whatever he wanted, not knowing that he was actually the main problem.

your body shaking violently made you feel vulnerable as you leaned on the wall next to prevent you from falling. exasperation is no longer there, easily replaced by your disgust that you can't do anything.

and that’s when you realized that there’s no smell of alcohol that always wafting through your nose. it’s strange, you think. you look around, only to be greeted by gloom and despair atmosphere.

there was only one thing that crossed your mind; “he's gambling again isn't he?” he always does it, even though his left hand always holds the chip tightly. even though he continues to doubt the blessing he received since birth.

knowing the blessings he received, you should be able to calm down; in the end replaced by restlessness doubt. what if he loses? what if he’s in trouble now? what if, what if…

and you should not doubt the blessings of gaiathra triclops, because the door next to you suddenly opened and revealed aventurine standing—while holding his injured arm.

the two of you stared at each other awkwardly for three seconds, before you opened your mouth and said, “seriously?”

You don't know whether it's because of exasperation or short of infuriation you feel right now, you immediately said that. the next thing you know, you regret it.

“what? i just came home and you greet me like that?” he scoffed.

“aven, you’re hurt.”

“of course, it’s my job afterall.” you held your forehead, feeling the dizziness appear again and this time it was more painful. “and now you act as if this is all my fault.”

you frowned at his statement. “i’m not blamming you.”

“i’m just worried because you always come home like this!”

aventurine sighed. after that he walked past you without saying anything. "at least let me treat you, just once."

your question was only answered by excruciating silence. at least answer the question.

‘no way, no way, it’s collapsing again.’

aventurine remained sitting on his king size bed which was mostly occupied by himself. he was just silent, thinking about what had just happened. i shouldn't have said it.. i shouldn't have refused.

i should have known it from beginning; we're both tired. and why do we keep trying?

aventurine is now standing, ignoring the fresh wound on his arm that he still hasn't treated. before it’s too late, he think. there is still time to apologize.

that soft knock on your bedroom door should be enough to tell you that he wants to apologize. he’s standing in front of the door with a feeling of unease that never went away, and then you opened the door.

with blurred vision and barely able to see the figure in front of you, you remained standing. "sorry," you both said it at the same time. the only words you both could say at that time.

“i’m so sorry, aven. i’m too tired that i can’t think clearly. i should always try to understand you because that's your job.” your words stopped because of your sobs. “i—“

“—a house made of cards, and stupidly, us.” aventurine stopped your words. he smiled disappointedly at himself. "we're both exhausted, and there's no one to blame.”

“i’m sorry that i’m always telling you that we can do it again. i… didn't think twice about how you feel about this,” he said.

“i always dreamed that we could live happily together like this. i’m sorry baby, it’s such a useless dream, isn’t it?”

you tried to hold back your sobs. “even if you say it’s a useless dream, just stay a little more like this. i’m okay with this.”

there will be tomorrow and we can try this again, you think. time will slow down just to let the two of you fix the mistakes in the past that once caused you to broke up.

“when i said that i don’t need you to treat my wounds, it’s because… i’m ashamed by myself; my body, my wounds, my past. i don't want your hands to touch any part of me that is despicable.” you were surprised because you never once thought he was despicable.

“aven, it's in the past, and it's not your fault.“ your hands found their way to wrap around his body. “you can rely on me now, please.”

“kakavasha.”

“please call me kakavasha from now.”

you smiled. “yes, kakavasha.”

in the end, there's nothing wrong with trying again.

[ponderingmoonlight]

waayy to classic but having to share a bed while they were 'just friends' ? Yk where they actually like each other but too shy ore prideful? MAYBE WITH MEGUMI cu he's my our pretty boy ANY ANY OTHER CHARACTER YOU WANT

THANK YOU THANK YOU I LOVE YOUR WRITING

Okay, that escalated quickly. This might be a classic, but I simply love the idea! I added a little twist to each character so it isn’t always the same. I’m thinking about writing this for every character, so let me know if you’d want to read that. Hope you enjoy <3

JJK men sharing a bed with (y/n)

Pairing: Megumi x reader; Nanami x reader; Yuta x reader

Word Count: 3k

Notes: Part ll (Gojo sharing a bed with (y/n) at a love hotel

Part lll (Toji, Geto, Haibara, Choso)

Megumi Fushiguro

You hated big parties. To be honest, you hated every kind of party, although it’s comforting that Megumi is here too. A glimpse into his grumpy but forbidden stunning face is enough to perceive the fact that he dislikes it here as much as you do.

“I don’t know why I’m even here. How did she manage to pull us with her?”, Megumi grumbles, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well, I guess Nobara can be quite persuasive”, you remark while watching Yuji play twister with a screwed up face.

You sign. The music blasts so loud that it threatens to rip your eardrum apart, your head began to ache the minute you stepped into this big house. Who lives here anyway? It doesn’t matter. If you don’t come out of here within the next few minutes, you’re going to throw up on the expensive looking carpet in front of you.

“Hey (y/n), are you alright? You look quite pale”, Megumi comments while eyeing you intensely.

Fuck. Your heart hammers against your ribcage. He is so close to you that you can take in the sight of his gorgeous face in great detail, only one look at his lips is enough to change the color of your face into deep red.  

“To be honest, I don’t feel so good. This is just too much for me I guess”, you whimper, eyes glued to the ground in a despairing attempt to stop yourself from staring at him so ruthlessly.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? Come with me.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you with him, through the endless crowd of people, the blasting music and stinging scent of alcohol. Is he…really holding your hand? He’s touching you. Megumi Fushiguro is really touching you. You feel like flying and drowning at the same time, tired while being wide awake. Of course he touched you from time to time, after all he is your training partner mostly. But tender contact like this is very rare. You know this is actually your fault, given the fact how shy you act around him. But something about Megumi Fushiguro just makes your heart skip a beat and turns your senses upside down. Maybe you will tell him some day. Maybe…

“Nobara, is there a place where (y/n) and I can rest? She doesn’t feel well”, Megumi literally barks at her.

“Um, I think there’s a guestroom down the hall on the right. It’s a little quieter there I guess.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns on his heels, your hand still intertwined with his own, and dashes down the hallway.

“Finally”, he mutters and opens the door to a small but cute guestroom.

You close the door behind you and take a deep breath. Finally no loud music, drunk people and scent of alcohol that stings in the air. Megumi flops onto the bed, gaze set upon you.

“What are you waiting for? I thought you don’t feel well, lay down.”

Your eyes widen. There is only one bed in this room and he’s lying on top of it. Could you possibly…lay beside him? It would be big enough to fit you both, but with very little space. This means you are forced to touch each other, even if only your skin brushes against his. Your head turns pink all over again, eyes pressed closed to get the image of him holding you in his arms until you slowly drift off to sleep out of your dirty mind.

“B-but there’s only o-one bed”, you stutter.

“So what? It’s big enough to fit us both. Come here.”

He pats the soft mattress beside him invitingly. Can you really do this? It seems like there’s no other possibility anyways, so…

You let your worn-out body fall next to him, arms slightly brushing against his. It feels so good to finally breathe and to rest your head a little. You curse yourself for coming her in the first place even though you know well enough that you absolutely hate big and loud parties.

The reason for you being here lays right beside you, though.

“Are you feeling better? Maybe I can get you a glass of water or-“

“No”, you interrupt him.

“I’m absolutely fine, thank you.”

“You look a little red, almost as if you have fever. Are you really feeling alright, (y/n)?”

He places his hand on your forehead and you swear you can see the sparks that evaporate from your skin the second he touches you. You wish you could tell him how you feel, that you want to stay with him like this forever, but you are too shy to even admit your feelings to yourself. Megumi is a friend, a colleague. Nothing else, right?

“Let’s just rest a little, okay? Maybe you’ll feel better after a good nap.”

“Do you really think we can just…sleep here?”, you question.

“Sure, why not? It’s a guestroom with a bed in it”, Megumi replies dryly and shrugs.

“Only one bed though”, you blurt out.

Megumi shifts his weight beside you and now faces you completely.

“Is this a problem for you? I can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No I’m not! You’re not the problem here! It’s just…”

You can’t find the words. In fact, you feel like your whole head is empty.

“Let’s just nap, shall we? We can talk about this tomorrow when you’re feeling better”, Megumi suggests.

You simply nod and turn to the order side, heart still racing inside of your chest. Maybe a little sleep wouldn’t hurt after all…

______________________________________________________________

“Quiet Itadori, (y/n) and Megumi are in there.”

“ALONE!?”, Yuji cries out.

Nobara rolls her eyes and hits him roughly.

“How dumb are you actually? Shut the fuck up, idiot. We need to be quiet.”

Slowly, she opens the door to the dark room. There you both lay, bodies intertwined with each, your steady breath being the only sound that fills the rooms.

“They’re cuddling!”, Yuji screams and turns on the lights before Nobara is able to stop him.

“What the hell?”, Megumi’s sleep drunken voice mutters.

You open your eyes and blink against the harsh light that invades the whole room. What time is it? Why do you feel so warm and cozy? Did you still get home somehow? Oh, that delicious smell that tingles your nose. It reminds you of…

MEGUMI.

Megumi’s hands are wrapped around your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back. Your eyes widen, suddenly your body feels on fire. And even worse, Nobara and Yuji stand in the doorframe and stare at you with their mouths wide open.

“Did I miss something?”, Yuji cries out.

“We just shared a bed. You’re embarrassing me in front of (y/n)”, Megumi mumbles, his hands still resting still against your body.

“Hey, you owe us an explanation! You never told us there’s something between you both!”, Nobara speaks up, her finger pointing directly into Megumi’s face.

“So sorry about that”, he whispers into your ear, his warm breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“N-no p-problem.”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, still completely in shock by the fact that you are held by Megumi Fushiguro. In presence of his friends. In. A. Bed.

Nanami Kento

You toss and turn in your sleep. How many nightmares did you have this week? You lost count. Over and over you repeat Haibara’s death in your head and the way you just stood there and didn’t do anything about it. That was over 10 years ago, but the death stare in his eyes still haunts you to this day late at night.

Your whole body is covered in ice cold sweat, whimpers escape your mouth as you desperately try to shake away the scorching pain that repeats the second time around.

“Why are you just standing there, do something (y/n)!”, Nanami’s voice screams at you.

It isn’t true. Nanami never raised his voice at you like that.

“You are absolutely useless. Do you really call yourself a jujutsu sorcerer? You should have died in his place.”

“N-no”, you mutter, shaking your head over and over again.

Nanami is a light sleeper anyway, but the sound of your whimpers and silent screams wake him up immediately. He sits up in bed, feet carrying him automatically to your doorstep. It isn’t a secret to him anymore that you are plagued by nightmares since the incident with Haibara. It always feels like a knife in his throat to see you this broken after so many years.

“(y/n)”, he softly whispers.

There you lay, completely covered in sweat, body shaking uncontrollably while you sob in your sleep. He kneels down next to your trembling frame, gently caressing your face with his thumb. God, why do you have to suffer like this? It isn’t fair that you have to feel so miserable because of some fucking curses. You don’t deserve the pain that dreadful day caused you.

“It’s just a dream, (y/n). Wake up, I’m here”, he speaks into the unforgiving darkness of night.

“Nanami, I-…so s-sorry…All my fault…”, you mumble, tears streaming down your disturbed face in a river.

His heart clenches. What are you dreaming about? Nanami’s grip tightens around your shoulders, softly shaking you in a frantic attempt to wake you up.

“Hey, none of this is real. I’m here, (y/n).”

Your eyes snap open and dart around with no aim. Your rushed and sharp breathes ring through your ears, heart hammering against your ribcage.

“There you are”, a familiar voice next to you comments.

“Nanami”, you breathe out.

It was just a dream. All of the things he said, the things you saw over and over again weren’t real.

“Fuck, I’m sorry”, you mutter and bury your face in your hands.

Was he here the whole time? Your cheeks feel puffy and soaked and tears, embarrassment consumes you entirely. How much you hate it when he sees you like this, vulnerable and weak. It’s not the first time that Nanami puzzles you back together after a nightmare.

“Don’t be, come here.”

His strong arms embrace you in an instant and slowly but surely push your nightmares away.

“What was it this time?”

“It’s like my brain wants me to think that you hate me I guess”, you mutter into his arms while holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

This situation is so common that you lost count on how many times he visited you already over the last few years. The second you open your eyes, you stare into his brown orbs that make your world whole again. Since the day Haibara lost his life. Since the day your nights turned into nightmares.

“But I’m right here and I’m telling you that I don’t hate you at all.”

You let out a silent laugh. Oh, how much you hoped this would come to an end. You aren’t even able to remember the last night with proper sleep.

“Would you mind staying here for a while?”, you shyly request, avoiding eye contact.

“Scoot over.”

Your back rests against the cold wall while he wraps one arm around your shoulder and places your head on his chest. The way his heart beats steady against your ear seems to calm you down immediately, almost therapeutic.

“I hope you don’t mind having so little room. I’m slightly taller than you I’m afraid”, he murmurs, gently stroking your back.

“I’m the one who should ask you that. After all, I woke you up and now force you to stay with me”, you reply with a nervous grin.

“Wouldn’t be a problem to put in some ear plugs or leave you alone. Come on, (y/n). I’m here because I want to be and not because you force me to. You are my friend, I hate to see you like this and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel at least a little better.

You bury your head in his soft t-shirt and hold onto him a little tighter. How do you deserve that this great man is lying next to you in your very own bed night after night? You really don’t know. All you hope is that it doesn’t stop though. Maybe, just maybe he will someday stay here with you forever…

Yuta Okkotsu

“Are you alright (y/n)?”, Yuta’s worried voice shouts over the blizzard that mercilessly haunts both of you this late at night.

You feel like dying. Hands and feet? No more feeling. Your nose? Running like a river while being numb at the same time. Your limbs feel like they’ll fall off any given minute while you want nothing more than a warm bed, a cup of tea and to watch some Netflix. How the hell did you end up in this living hell? Oh right, that stupid mission. Well, at least Yuta is with you. Otherwise you would have gave up already.

“Actually no. Everything just hurts”, you choke out.

Yuta takes you in his arm, hand covering your face from the unforgiving whipping of the wind.

“I know this is rough, but we have to hold on for a little longer. Gojo-sensei told me that the cabin is only a few minutes away”, Yuta assures you.

“He also told us to bring bathing suits with us…”, you grumble.

Do you have any other choice than to rely on Gojo’s word and Yuta’s sense of direction? Absolutely not. Your feet carry you on their own trough the snowy street, eyes glued to the ground underneath while you can’t shake the comfortable feeling of Yuta holding you in his arm away. God, let this hell end. Otherwise you’re really not sure if you’ll stay conscious within the next hour.

“There it is!”, Yuta announces.

Your eyes dart up. The last house of the street, rather a small cottage to be exact.

“That doesn’t look inhabited at all. Are you sure this is the right house?”

“We’ll have to find out! And to be honest, do we have another choice? I don’t want to spend another minute outside if I’m being honest”, Yuta replies while scratching the back of his head.

Fair enough. You follow him to the doorstep and watch him turn the key in the lock. At this point it wouldn’t be a surprise if the door doesn’t open, but it does. You enter the dark cabin.

“It’s still fucking cold”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Let’s see if there are some blankets or even better a heater.”

You can’t help but stare at the boy next to you. A few months ago he was so shy and unsure about himself. But now it seems like his confidence never wavers as well as his cool head. At the moment he’s definitely the more collected one.

You do as he told you, searched the tiny cabin for a heater only to find a small bed and one single blanket.

“It’s not much but it’s more than nothing. Go ahead, you can have the bed and blanket.”

“That’s completely out of question, Yuta. Your lips are totally blue and your whole body shivers. I’m not taking that blanket alone”, you reply, shaking your head violently.

But what is the solution, then?

“You can have it.”

After all, Yuta is the one who guided you here. You’ll get through this night somehow.

“I have an idea, but it might sound dumb…”, he begins, voice showing no sight of his new grown poise.

“Just say it”, you demand while eyeing him.

Why does his face suddenly turn even redder and why is he fumbling with his hands this nervously?

“You know, we…we could share the blanket and bed…But only if you want to and are comfortable with it!”, he blurts out.

Huh. Your heart skips a beat when the consequences of his suggestion hit you.

“So like, cuddle?”, you question with your eyes bored into him.

“Please forget I ever said that.”

“I mean, you’re kinda right. In this cold it’s better to warm each other up…”, you stutter.

Thick silence hangs in the air between you two and makes you want to go back into the blizzard. Fuck, the fact that you caught feelings for him doesn’t make this easier at all. Normally you are outspoken, self-assured and centered…What the hell happened to you? Why are you just standing there like an idiot, staring at him with your eyes wide open?

Yuta is the first who dares to move. With a swift motion, he takes off his shoes, positions himself in bed and puts the blanket on top of him.

“Then come here. Maybe we’re even able to get some sleep!”

You hesitate. This is the first time you get so close to him apart from training sessions. Yuta never touched you, let alone shared a blanket and a whole bed with you. But your body screams in icy agony and begs you to take his offer desperately. Jump over your shadow, just close your eyes and lay down beside him.

The warmth of his body seems to swallow you whole the second your body brushes against his. God, you never realized how good he actually smells. Has it always been like this? And that look in his eyes seems so…different.

“You know, I’m glad to be stuck with you, (y/n)”, he confesses, his hand sliding down your arm and leaving a trace of prickling fireworks under your skin.

Fuck it. You bury yourself against his warm and large frame, face resting on his neck while his arms immediately take your invitation. While it’s still cold, the adrenalin that rushes through your veins and the heat that radiates from his body are more than enough to keep you warm in this adventurous night.

“Me too, Yuta”, you confess shyly.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Banquet of Massacre.

Yan Geto x F Reader.

Synopsis: The days are blending into each other, and you just want some sort of change. But soon, you realize you have to be far more careful about what you wish for.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, not SFW implications, takes place five or so years before JJK 0, and violence.

Continuation of Presentiment of Massacre.

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

The green obi gently tightening with each passing second stops at your words, but after a chuckle resumes, the slight anger in Geto’s voice is smaller than the width of a hair.

He continues with the loose, wide red sodes. You focus so much on your anxiety, about what the rest of your life will be, that you don’t notice the small golden details of koi on the red sleeves. You don’t even pay attention to the silk that ties your wrists together, a consequence of you attempting to squirm your way out of dinner again. Not that dinner was anything special this evening.

“You know,” His voice rises and falls like the wind. “Perhaps there are some things you shouldn’t say to the only reason you are still alive.”

With that, he pulls, much harder than before, on the ends of the sash, causing you to gasp for air for a moment or two. 

“I could still feed you to one of my curses you know, or all of them at the same time, they would love to get a taste of you.”

At your desperate whines, as you attempt to claw at the ceiling with restrained hands, he lets go, and with his action, your vision blurs no longer.

He spins you around and he licks his lips.

“I-I’m sorry, Master Geto.” You might be uncertain if you mean your apology, but perhaps Geto has the answer.

Just as you are not sure if Geto forgives you, but he knows the answer for sure.

The woman sitting next to both of you on the floor holds a golden hairpin in her ragged, scarred hands. She holds the hairpin just like she held the underlayer, obi string, socks, obi, and sash. She held and currently holds them all so delicately because she did not want to lose her hands. She was your handmaiden, according to Geto, and although the two of you had never exchanged words, you knew her first name was Sookee, but her last name was of no relevance if it even existed. 

Even though she was around your age, Sookee looked much older than she was because of her premature wrinkles and little white hairs sticking out of her bangs, clear signs of all the stress Geto and the rest of the people here put her through. She was an indentured servant of sorts, from what you were told, and she, like you, is often tormented by the people who live here.

You feel bad for her, whenever you hear her screams and cries, whenever she trips and breaks a porcelain teapot and gets beaten for it, or when she is too late to dress you for supper, which always causes Geto to summon a curse that is so ugly and follows her for the rest of the day and makes crude comments toward her.

There was one time that it actually bit her, and after an hour’s worth of begging, Sookee earned the right to bandage herself up.

“Monkey,” The word is bitter on his tongue and lingers in the air for far longer than either Sookee or you would have liked. “Pin.”

Although you sympathize with Sookee, your instinct urges you to prioritize your well-being before her.

“Since you are so ungrateful for the life I have given you, maybe it would be better to make you like Sookee. Would you like that, princess? To be lesser than a pauper?”

You deeply repent for uttering a single word, which emerges from your lips with complete despair. Meanwhile, Geto wears a smile as he delicately places the luxurious golden hairpin, worth more than your two kidneys combined, into your hair. With a dismissive gesture and a piercing look, he sends Sookee away, and she quietly shuts the door behind her.

You don’t stop him from pushing you onto the bed, large enough for at least five people to rest on, because really is there anything you can do? “You’re so pretty. The loveliest one, the only one worthy of what I am about to do.”

You are trapped here, forever bound by him. The door is guarded by a terrifying curse that ensures your confinement, although Geto's power makes it unnecessary. You find yourself in this place, adorned in the kimono he compelled you to wear, lying in his bed, with the makeup Sookee was forced to apply on you. And here you are, hearing his whispered words of affection as he lies upon you.

“Since you are so ungrateful for what you already have, I will give you more and more, my love, until you regret ever wishing for a life outside of this one.”

[steviesummer]

Bet

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt: ‘pool’ | wc: #442 | rated: G | cw: none

“So,” Steve started as he plopped down on the floor next to Eddie, handing him a beer. “Who do you thinks is gonna win the pool?”

All the older teens stared at him, previous conversations stopping. “The pool?”

“The betting pool the Party has on when Eddie and I will get together.”

Jonathan frowned. “I thought you told them you were dating?”

“I did.”

“Alright, explain this to me.” Robin demanded, leaning forward from her sprawl on the couch.

Steve laughed. “So Eddie and I went on a date about a month ago, right? When we went stargazing.” He directed that last part towards Eddie. At everyone’s nod, he continued. “The Party asked if they could watch movies here that night. I told then no and well, you know how they get - they immediately started asking why they can’t have movie night here.”

“Oh boy.”

“So I told them, ‘I’ve got a hot date.’ But that’s not enough, they’re so nosy, they started demanding to know who I was going out with. Pretty sure Dustin was hoping I would say Robin.” He rolled his eyes.

“When is he going to give that up!” Robin grumbled.

Steve nodded his agreement. “Seriously, I have no idea why he is so convinced we are dating. Anyway, when they wouldn’t stop asking, I told them Eddie and I were going to the quarry.”

“Let me guess,” Nancy broke in, “they all groaned and made some comment about keeping your secrets.”

Steve grinned. “Got it in one. They stopped asking but then I overheard them yesterday talking about when we would actually get together. Apparently we are still pining over each other, maybe because they’ve never seen us make out?”

“Oh my god.” Nancy and Jonathan both looked particularly despairing given that their brothers were both part of this.

“Yeah, they were bringing up different things as ‘evidence.’ For not realizing we are actually dating, they were surprisingly insightful.”

“Like?”

Steve nodded, holding up his hand to count off examples. “Us watching each other, that time Eddie brought me lunch at work, letting him play his music in the Beemer, that one NPC couple he made. Also apparently we are always gazing longingly at each other when the other isn’t looking.”

Everyone laughed. “I mean, they aren’t wrong.” Eddie said. “But also, you’ve told them we went on a date. How are they not getting it?”

"Beats me.” Steve shrugged. “I swear, those kids are so smart but so little common sense.”

Robin nodded. “It’s true. But I think the real question is, are you going to tell them or let them figure it out themselves?”

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Don`t mind me just going on with obsessing over that Targtower brothers scene🙈

The way Aegon`s eyes are fixed on Aemond`s face - as if his whole being is attuned to his brother`s every move. Like in this moment Aemond is holding Aegon`s entire life in his hands - and actually he is.

The way Aegon continues staring at Aemond while giving zero fucks about Criston standing 0.5 inches apart and gripping him by the shoulder - until he begins to realize that Aemond is actually allowing this to happen. And then hope, pleading and some kind of lust (I`d like to explore this last one in a separate post - update: here it is) give way to -

- a heartbreaking mix of hopelessness and despair with a pinch of anger and a sprinkle of sadness. Phenomenal acting from TGC here👏 All of this is in the set of Aegon`s jaw, in the subtle movements of his mouth, in his posture and in the way he removes his hands from Aemond`s face and takes a step back. If only we could see his eyes (screw this angle, honestly).

And only then Aegon acknowledges Criston`s presence - by shoving him and storming away, as if saying 'Fuck you all! Yes, I`m forced to to this, but I refuse to be dragged. I`m going on my own'.

The thing is, IMO Aegon is that unbothered by Criston`s words and actions because he knows that there is a person who can literally, physically stop Cole from getting his way - probably the only one in King`s Landing if not in the entire Seven Kingdoms - and this person is standing in front of him. And he`s going to do this, right? He`s going to help because he`s his brother, and he asked him so nicely, and why the hell is he doing nothing? And then Aegon registers what Criston`s just said - "The Queen awaits". He`s here on the orders of his mother, the Queen, and so is Aemond. And Aemond is not going to go against their mother`s will, whatever Aegon says or does. He`s not going to pick him, he`s not enough - once again.

[mikanotes]

COMEBACK/APOCALYPSE

eunhyuk x gn!reader — 577 words.

genre: angst/comfort, (probably) established relationship

warnings: mentions of death, grief, and swearing. nothing else i think!

synopsis: Eunhyuk returns. You don’t know how to deal with it.

author’s note: i miss him so have this. also me when you’re coming back and it’s the end of the world and we’re starting over and i love you darling and i am done

“You’re dead.” you say, “I’ve finally made peace with that. You should not be here.”

Steady as your voice may be, you’re unsure how much of your carefully crafted detached exterior manages to hold up in the face of Lee Eunhyuk’s apparent return to life. He looks as calm as usual. The way he stares at you feels somewhat unnerving— A gaze that refuses to let go, one that pierces right through you.

You feel the walls around you crumbling before you can do anything about it. You never stood a chance. “Eunhyuk.” you sigh, tone almost pleading. Please tell me you’re real. Please tell me you’re alive. Even if it makes no sense, say it, please. You hold his gaze as he takes a few short steps towards you.

“I’m sorry.” he says. Your throat feels tight and your eyes sting. “That you grieved for something that wasn’t gone.”

This is so much worse. But there isn’t a good way this situation could’ve gone.

This is one year and some months of sinking into a void of growing despair, with nothing to grab onto to stop it. It’s one year and some months that really feel like a decade of your very heart withering away. It’s one year and some months of surviving a monster apocalypse, and somehow having the sight of the person you craved to see the most be the thing that truly breaks you. The floor feels like it’s disappearing under your feet. You’re falling again, and it feels ten times worse and more instant. Like death. You’re dying and he’s saying sorry for not ever truly leaving.

“No, I,” you pause, forcing yourself to actually breathe, “I grieved over someone that was gone. You were gone. This was over a whole year without a single sign from you. An entire year of forcing myself to believe everyone’s words. ‘He’s dead’, ‘He’s gone and under the crumbled building’, ‘You’ll never see him again’, that was real.”

Eunhyuk doesn’t say a word.

“I didn’t want to believe it. I was so sure of it— That you weren’t really gone. You wouldn’t leave so easily. I didn’t believe it at all.” you shake your head, gaze moving aimlessly, “I eventually had to stop believing, and I’m sorry that I did. But you can’t just come back this way.”

“Should I leave?”

He’s dead serious, the fool. Polite and conscious of the boundaries he might’ve pushed by simply making himself known to you again.

“No. Are you kidding me?” you take a step forward, but it’s awfully hesitant. Like if you get too close you’ll see his skin is translucent and he was never really there and you’d been yelling at the wall. “You can’t leave. Not again.”

What are you supposed to do with all these feelings? It’s terrifying. He really is here.

“What can I do?” he asks, tone as steady as you’d hoped yours would come out. Every moment you practiced that false image of calm, your reference had subconsciously been Eunhyuk. Calm and level-headed, mature, the perfect leading figure. You’d never see Lee Eunhyuk slip up over his own emotions. That’s what you strived for.

But as it turns out, it’s not easy to be like this.

So out of touch. You need to make sure.

“Take my hand.” you say, ask, “Please.”

He looks down at your hand, then back up at you when he shortens the distance between the two of you. His hand is careful when it takes yours, slowly bringing it up between both of your chests. His skin is just as cold as it was, as cold as you remembered. Rough, contrasting how gentle his movements are. You stare at him and he stares at your hand.

“Now?”

“Now you promise not to die without me.”

That’s not something he can promise, you know it already. His expression tenses for a moment, like he’s in pain, but it’s gone just as fast. “I can’t promise you that.” he says, looking up at you, “You know that.”

“You’re the worst person I know.” you say, lying through your teeth. Eunhyuk carefully reaches his free hand towards your face, pressing his palm to your jaw.

“I am, aren’t I?” he says quietly, expression unchanging. “I’d usually call bullshit, but I admit I sort of believe you, all things considered.”

You scoff but it’s hard for it not to turn into a laugh. It’s light and not the definition of happy but it feels somewhat comforting. Your heart feels painfully tight. There’s something inordinately scary about allowing yourself to hope again.

“You know, once it actually clicks in my head that you’re really here, I’m going to cry like I never have before?”

“Don’t waste your energy on that.” he hums, “Still, I’ll be here through all of it, if it happens. I’ll be there. I won’t leave again. Not like last time.”

You lean down until your forehead hits his shoulder. He moves his hand to the back of your head, and the other just tightens around your own. There’s no need for more than that to say I love you, silently, in your own way.

“You will?”

“I can promise you that much.”

[evansbby]

Maybe like a Drabble where he gets omega to send him nudes while he’s at practise and they have phone sex 😰😰😰

Okay so I kind of went full on slut mode and wrote the most depraved slutty thing ever. Be warned. 😩🥵

Pairing: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

Warnings: phone sex, daddy!kink, dubcon/noncon, dark Steve, Steve has an obsession with your titties, Steve is a fuckboy, 18+ only, minors dni

Summary: Steve wants phone sex and it’s not like you can say no to him.

"Baby, send me a picture."

It's the first thing Steve says to you when you pick up the phone. You've just finished drying your hair and applying your skincare when your phone vibrates, your alpha's name glowing on the screen and making your heart skip a beat.

"Wh-What?" Your eyes widen immediately and you gulp, "Steve, I... I thought you were at practice?"

He grunts, "I am. We’re taking a break but the coach wants to keep us all night. Guess you won't see me until tomorrow."

His words make your heart sink — no Steve for the night? The thought makes the omega inside you mourn in desolate despair. You've gotten used to his intense warmth at night, and how he holds you so tightly and buries his face in your neck, and presses kisses on your skin and rubs you soothingly up and down your body, and-

"Omega. I asked you a question."

You quickly snap out of your daydream, "Oh. I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't hear you."

Steve sighs in irritation, "I asked you what you're doing right now."

"Well, I did the laundry and then I studied. Then I took a shower and now I've just finished my skincare and I'll probably just read my book before I go to bed."

"Mm, how was it?"

"My book? It's pretty good, actually. I'm almost finished with it, it's about—"

"Not the fucking book, your shower." Steve snaps before inhaling sharply, "Your shower, baby, how was it?"

You’re already dreading where he's going with this, "It was fine."

"Did you touch yourself?" He sounds strained, and you hope to God he's alone right now. He most likely is, because you hear his fly unzipping, and his tone grows husky. "Answer me, baby. Did you touch yourself in the shower?"

"N-No!"

"Don't lie, baby omega." Steve laughs hoarsely before clearing his throat, "I know you touch yourself. I don't like it because I want to be the only one who touches your little pussy because I own it. But it's still hot when I hear you in the shower sometimes."

Your mouth drops open, "What...No! I don't do that!"

Another chuckle, "Are you calling me a liar?"

"No! I just... You probably just... uh... You probably just misheard!" You want to bury your head in the ground, and a part of you is happy that your alpha isn't here to see how mortified you look in person.

"Mm, I don’t think I misheard your squeaky little moans, or the sound of you fingering yourself. Tell me baby, how many fingers can you fit up there?”

“Steve!”

“Address me properly, omega. Or else you don’t even want to know what I’ll do with you tomorrow.”

The edge in his tone and the looming threat of a punishment has you bowing your head, the phone trembling in your hands. “Sorry, daddy.”

“Good girl. Now tell me what you did in the shower.”

You’d rather die, but you know you have to answer him. “I —uh— I did what you just said.”

“I want you to say it.”

The heat is rising in your cheeks, and you look helplessly at Steve Junior, as if he could help you get out of this debacle. You can hear a steady pumping on the other end of the phone, and it doesn’t take a vivid imagination to realise what Steve’s doing.

“I—uh—I was touching myself.” You whisper.

“I know, baby. Daddy always knows.” You hear him spit down on his dick (or you imagine that’s what he’s doing) and then the pumping resumes. “That’s so fucking hot, my baby omega touching herself and thinking about her daddy in the shower. How many fingers could you fit in, baby?”

You bite your lip, “Um… I don’t know.”

“Answer the fucking question.”

“Two! Only two! Hurts if I do more!” You blurt out.

“What a fucking baby.” Steve hisses, the pumping getting faster, and it sounds so lewd over the phone. “I’ve split your little cunt in half over my dick but you’re still so tight, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, daddy.” You press your thighs together, the desperation and lust in his tone mixed with the condescension makes you want to spontaneously combust.

“Mm, and I know you look so sexy in the shower, all that soapy water all over your body, the hottest omega on campus and you’re all mine. Fuck, if I was there right now I’d already be inside you. No prep.”

“Please.” It’s a whisper and a moan, and you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

“Send me a picture, baby. I need to see what you look like. Show me your tits, and make sure your face is showing too.”

“But Steve—”

“Do it. Or else.” He grunts, sounding almost crazed with lust as he co to he’s to jack off. You can imagine how hard his dick is, how angry and red and hard and leaking with precum. Steve swears before continuing, “And make sure to squeeze your tits and play with your nipples. Be a dirty fucking whore for daddy, okay? Now do it.”

Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re alone right now. You quickly turn Steve Junior so he’s facing the other way, before taking your top off. It’s embarrassing, and you’re self-conscious throughout, but you manage to do what Steve says, snapping a few selfies where you think you look entire ridiculous. But you send them anyways, hoping they’re good enough.

There’s a pause before Steve lets out a moan. And it’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard—hearing him moan like that. It makes you wonder where he is, and hope to God that he’s alone.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy, baby.” Steve hisses, “Looking so innocent while you play with your tits. Bet you could make millions off of these pictures.”

“Please, just delete them!”

“I’ll add them to my collection. But don’t worry, sweet girl, these are for my eyes only. None of those other horny fucks at college deserve to even look at you.”

His words are oddly comforting, but your breath hitches when —out of nowhere— Steve ends the call. But only two seconds pass by before your phone vibrates again and you gulp.

A video call.

“I want to watch you, baby.” It’s Steve, and he’s in a locker room, his voice echoing and it looks like he’s alone. He’s shirtless too, and you bite your lip at his muscular body, and the veins that protrude as he flexes his arm. His fingers wrap around his huge dick, his eyes boring into yours as he jacks himself off.

“Put the phone somewhere and then I want you to play with your tits some more.” He orders, a slight strain on his voice, “And don’t even think about arguing with me, omega.”

Submissively, you prop your phone up against some pillows before doing exactly what he tells you to. You try to pretend it’s him touching you, him squeezing your breasts and twisting your nipples with his expert touch. But your hands are no match for his calloused, expert fingers.

“Mm, just like that, baby omega. You’re so hot, such a fuckin’ tease—putting on a show for daddy, aren’t you? I said, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes!” You whimper.

“Good baby. Now squeeze your tits together. Mm, just like that. I wish you could see how sexy you look. You wish daddy was there, don’t you? I’d fuck your tits, baby. Bet you’ve never experienced that, have you? Fuck, I know your tits would feel so soft and sexy on my dick.”

Every word that’s coming out of his mouth is pure filth. Pure, utter filth but it’s like he’s switched a button inside you, and you can’t help but whimper at his words, wanting every single depraved thing he’s promising to do to you.

“Daddy,” you cry softly, suddenly feeling needy for him, and it only eggs him on further, his hand now a blur as he pumps his hard cock.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby. No one does it for me like you do, omega. Fuck, I need you to show me your ass now. Turn around. Slowly, I want to see everything.”

You don’t even hesitate, your pussy now throbbing with need as you turn around. You’re only wearing a pair of thin flowery panties and he hasn’t asked you to take them off, but they’re so small that both your ass cheeks are on display.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy, baby omega. Arch your back a bit more for daddy. Mm, just like that. That’s so good, fuck. You have the best ass on campus, baby. Best ass I’ve ever seen.” Steve’s blonde hair has fallen down over his forehead, his blue eyes bright and excited, cheeks red and so is his dick. “Point your ass at your camera baby. And shake it for daddy, let me see it bounce.”

A large part of you feels so silly and awkward, but you’re so horny at this point that all common sense goes out the window, and again you do exactly what he asks you to. God, you’re so happy you’re alone in the house right now—if anyone saw you, you’d never live it down.

Steve runs a hand impatiently throw his hair, brushing it back with his eyes glued on you the entire time. You can see his abs flexing, his chest riding up and down as he breathes rapidly. He’s so ridiculously attractive, it’s insane.

“Now spank yourself.”

Your eyes fly open, a protest on the tip of your tongue but you’re silenced by the warning look in his eyes.

“Do it right fucking now, omega.” Steve says through gritted teeth, “Don’t you want to make your alpha proud?”

“I-I do, but—”

“Then fucking smack your baby ass just like how I would if I was there. And keep your eyes on me the whole time, omega. Don’t you dare close them—I want you looking at me while you do it.”

It’s mortifying, but you do what he says, his blue eyes so dark and blown out with lust, locked with yours as you lightly spank yourself.

“Harder, baby. Like how I would do it.”

You immediately obey, smacking your ass harder, letting out a quiet ow as you do it.

“Mm, I love how your little ass jiggles, baby. Tell me, did that hurt?” Steve asks, still pumping his hard dick with his eyes locked on you.

You inhale shakily, “A little.”

“As much as it does when daddy hits you?”

“N-No.” you shake your head, lowering your gaze as you feel the submissive part of you take over completely, “I’m not big and strong like you, daddy.”

“Mm, you’re fucking teasing me, omega. Damn right you’re not. You’re just a baby, a weak little fucking baby who needs her daddy all the time, don’t you?” Steve is close, you can tell from how his pumps grow faster and faster, and you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Mm, just a baby. Need my daddy.” You hear yourself whining, and that’s when you notice that you’re humping against the mattress, still trussed up and with your ass pointed at your phone. Your thighs gleam with your own arousal, wetness dripping down your legs almost obscenely.

“Fuck, look at that little baby ass. Wish I could cum all over your ass, baby.” Steve grunts, “That’s what I’m gonna do when I get home tomorrow. Spank the fuck out of you till you can’t sit straight, and then cum all over you till you’re covered in my scent. Fuck, shake your fucking ass for me, omega. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

And he does. And it’s incredible. Spurt after spurt of white cum shooting out of his dick while you watch with an open mouth. There’s sweat dripping down his body and his jaw is tense, and he lets out a string of swears mixed with your name as he unloads.

And you’re rutting against the mattress the whole time you watch him, but it’s not enough. You need more. You need him. And it makes you sob in frustration, you’re so wet… So wet but you need your alpha to touch you how only he knows how to.

“Daddy, please,” you sob softly.

“Aw, baby omega,” Steve coos once he’s recovered from his orgasm, “Look at you, still so needy. I can see your drippy little baby pussy has made a mess of the sheets. You’re a horny little baby, aren’t you? But you’re too stupid to make yourself cum.

“Please help.” You beg him.

Steve laughs, “Why would I do that?”

Your jaw drops, “Wh-What?”

Steve’s already pulling his football jersey over his head, “I have practice, baby. And anyways, you’re not allowed to touch your pussy, only I am. Therefore, you’re gonna have to hold off until tomorrow.”

“That’s not fair, Steve!”

“That’s not fair, Steve!” He mocks you in a high-pitched voice before laughing, “Don’t pout. I’ll make you feel real good tomorrow, so long as you’re ready for me. Naked and on your hands and knees, like how every omega should wait for her alpha.”

“B-But—”

“Gotta go, omega, the coach is calling the team over. Thanks for the show, I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.”

THE END

[thetriumphantpanda]

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter One)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count / 3.4K

Warnings / soft!Joel, reader is a widow, in depth discussions and descriptions of grief and depression, will have eventual smut, SLOW BURN.

Authors Note / I AM SO PROUD OF THIS LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I've wanted to write soft!Joel for so long so I hope you love it as much as I do! If you do enjoy it, reblogs, asks and likes are my drug so I'd love to know what you think! Also considering following for more!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. There were days that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw back the sheets of your bed and get up. For the first month, you think you managed to shower three times. No point if no-one was going to see you. You hadn’t left your house since the day of the funeral, life had become a monotonous circle of waking up, soaking your pillow with tears until you made yourself sick, throwing on the same clothes as before and then doing the same thing but led on the couch. 

People had reassured you it would get easier. That each day it would subside, little by little, and you cursed them for being right. The longer you sat with your misery, the easier it became. One morning, a few months ago, you remember waking up, only this time you didn’t roll over and place your hand on the empty side of the bed and cry when you realized your husband wasn’t there anymore. You got up and showered, taking 15 minutes to brush the matted mess of your hair, and you dressed in new clothes. 

You managed to walk to the market hall and purchase food with your ration cards and Maria had almost fallen over when she saw you in the aisle. That was the worst thing though. You’d been absent from life in Jackson for almost six months, and whenever you left your house people looked at you. Some still had those sympathetic eyes, telling you they were sorry for your loss, but there were the others who judged you. How pathetic you were for falling into despair like you had. 

It wasn’t as if he’d met a violent end, he was quite lucky, actually. In this world death came at the hands of evil, whether it was being taken and tortured by raiders, or torn limb from limb by infected. Your husband had died peacefully, drifting off in his sleep in the hospital. The doctors had said it was cancer, which seemed painfully unkind to him. He’d never smoked in his life and was probably the healthiest person you’d ever known, but when was life ever fair? 

You could tell they whispered once you’d passed. How dare she be so upset when my husband was killed on patrol? How lucky you were to have been able to say goodbye and hold his hand as he passed, when someone else turned into one of those things all alone. So now it wasn’t grief that kept you behind closed doors, but shame. Shame at knowing you thought they were right, that not being able to pull yourself together was selfish. Selfish to all the people who had managed to carry on with their lives after losing someone, selfish to the community for not being able to pull your weight. You were stuck and you had no idea what to do about it. 

The only way you could face leaving your home these days was on Maria’s comforting arm. She’d been your friend for years, she and Tommy seemingly the only people who understood you. Didn’t force you to do anything, let you come to your own decisions when you felt ready. No-one would dare look at you or speak in hushed tones whilst she was around. 

The sun was soaking Jackson now, it was summer, and you were grateful for the warmth of the sun on your skin, everything felt better with the sun on your back. With summer came one of your favourites of life’s simple pleasures. Strawberries. In the market you picked up as many as you could purchase after buying your essentials. Maria walked you home, helped you put away everything and then left with a comforting hug. 

You carefully placed a large handful of the fruit in a bowl, rinsing it under running water. You were about to sit down on your couch to eat them, but the sun was filtering invitingly through your front windows. You stripped off your jacket, leaving you in your simple tank top and jeans before opening your front door to sit on the bench on your porch. You had sunglasses resting on your face, Tommy had found them on a patrol trip a few months ago and you were grateful for the safety you felt from them. People couldn’t walk past and meet your eye. 

You were finishing your third strawberry when Tommy walked past, a man you didn’t know on his left shoulder. He took a look to your house and smiled on seeing you sat in a patch of sunlight, he waved, which you return, then he turns to the mysterious man on his left to say something before they start walking over. 

“It’s good to see you out, honey,” He smiled, walking to lean over the railing of your porch, “What’cha got there?” He asked, motioning his head to your bowl of strawberries. 

“You want one?” You asked, picking the bowl up and walking over to meet him, he gladly takes the biggest fruit in the bowl, pinching the spidery leaves off before putting the whole thing in his mouth, “How about you?” You asked, extending the bowl to Tommy’s mysterious companion. 

He takes a strawberry as well, doing as Tommy did, but he takes smaller bites of the fruit, like he’s savoring it, “This here’s my brother Joel,” Tommy speaks, Joel extends his hand and you take it, shaking it softly in greeting, “He arrived a few weeks back, he’s been getting settled with his daught… with Ellie, but I thought it was high time he started pulling his weight.” 

He had a smirk on his face as he said it and you could see the beginnings of a smile on Joel’s face too, “This one’s a real taskmaster,” You say to Joel, a smirk across your lips, “You’ll be wishing we had a retirement age soon enough.” 

“Can’t think where he gets it from,” Joel chuckles, “You were takin’ notes all the time we worked together before weren’t you?” 

Tommy smiles and nods, “Learnt from the best,” There’s another round of chuckles from the men, “Listen, we should get a move on, but I mean it, it’s nice to see you out like this.” 

“Thanks Tommy,” You offer a small smiled, “Here, take a strawberry for the road.” 

Both men take another fruit gladly before the way and make their way back down the street, leaving you on your own once more. You slide the sunglasses back onto your eyes and take your place in the path of sunlight on the bench. You sit there for a while, eating your strawberries, thinking about all the times you and your husband had done the same, holding hands as the sunset, cuddling up into his side when the temperature dropped. You realized suddenly that you weren’t sad. That the tears that usually threatened to fall were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was just a feeling of happiness, grateful that you’d experienced love in a world where it had seemed impossible. Sure, you wished he would reach over and take your hand in his like he used to, squeeze it and place a soft kiss to your palm, but you were no longer ruled by the grief that had consumed you all those months ago. 

*

“She seemed nice.” Joel muses as he walks with Tommy. 

“She’s lovely,” He replies simply, “Just had a pretty rough time of it recently.” 

Joel hums in acknowledgement as his boots hit the ground in time with Tommy’s, “When you said it was good to see her out, what did you mean?” 

Tommy sighs at his question, but not out of frustration like he usually did when Joel asked him questions, more out of sympathy, “Her husband died about a year ago,” He begins to explain, “Nothin’ violent or anythin’ like that, the doctors reckoned it was cancer, but she took it real hard, I don’t think she got out of bed for the first week, and then after his funeral she just kinda withdrew, she’s been all alone in that house for months, refuses to leave unless it’s with Maria because people talk.” 

“People talk about her?” Joel is shocked, in a world where loss in inevitable, what makes someone else’s grief less worthy than others? 

“We’re safe here,” Tommy says, steering him into a building at the end of the street, “But that doesn’t mean people don’t die when they’re out there,” He references his patrol men, he’d lost a few which he would always hold heavy in his heart, “Maria told me once that when she took her to the market a few months ago, some busybody wives were talkin’ about how unfair it was she got to say goodbye, that he’d been sedated and it was easy for him.” 

Joel stops in his tracks, letting Tommy walk in front of him. They’re in the gun store, not for anything in particular, just so Joel knows where everything is so he can stop following his brother round like a lost puppy. His mind inevitably wanders to his own grief in this moment. The pain of losing his own daughter, the all-consuming feeling of ‘what is the point in life anymore?’ without her. The scar on the right side of his face and the hearing loss in the same ear when he’d tried to end it all. He hadn’t been strong, not really. If he hadn’t of flinched that would have been it, the easy way out, as some would have said. He’d struggled for a long time with his survival but that didn’t mean his was worth more than your grief, or yours more than his. It wasn’t that simple. 

“I spoke to them, told ‘em if I heard ‘em gossiping again then we’d have no issues moving them on their way, but I suppose people are always going to talk, they just do it where we can’t hear them.” 

“I’m guessin’ she knows?” 

“Of course she knows, Joel, that’s why she shuts herself away, easier that way I guess.” 

“Doesn’t make it fair though, feelin’ like you can’t leave your house because people are gonna judge the way your husband died.” 

“She’s been better recently,” Tommy speaks, leaning against the table behind him, “Still won’t really go anywhere without Maria, but seein’ her today, it was nice.”  Joel nods his way through Tommy explaining the signing out system for guns, follows him around to the stables where he shakes the hand of the young girl in charge of caring for them and then settles himself next to his brother at the bar for a drink. All the while, he can’t stop his mind drifting back to you and your loneliness, your despair at your loss, or the rotten porch step he’d noticed at the front of your house that might just give him the reason to get a little closer to you. 

*

A few mornings later, there is a soft knock at your door. Your face contorts in confusion, Maria wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Leaving the coffee pot to its filtering, you walk slowly to the door, opening it to find Joel stood on your porch, toolbox in hand and planks of wood resting against the railing. 

“Good mornin’,” He croons, “Not interrupin’ anythin’ am I?” 

You shake your head, “Can I help you?” You asked, wincing slightly at the defensive tone of your voice. 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but when I passed with Tommy the other day, I noticed your porch step was rotting,” He points to the old timbers behind him, “I’m surprised you’ve not fallen through it already, so do you mind if I fix them?” 

Your exterior softens and a small smile pulls at your lips, “Of course,” You say, “I’m just making some coffee, do you want some?” 

“If you don’t mind sharin’, then I’d love some.” 

You leave him on the porch to get started. Your mug is already set next to the coffee pot, you open the cupboard and instinctively reach for the only other mug you ever needed. It had meant nothing to you when you moved in. It was white and had a pattern of sausage dogs printed on it, but it had always been his. You hold it in your hands when you realise what you’ve done. His face flashes behind your eyes. He’s standing in front of you, his hair tousled from sleep, his voice still low and raspy. He thanks you as he takes hold of his mug, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You set it back in the cupboard like it had burned your palms, reaching instead of the plain black mug at the back of the cupboard. 

You rest your palms on the counter, closing your eyes to take deep breaths, feeling the weight of your body through to the ground. Once you don’t feel the wave of sadness flowing through you any longer, your quickly pour the coffee into the mugs, taking them out to the porch where Joel is currently working to take the rotten boards up, not that it’s taking much work, a little force from his hands and the wood in crumbling. 

“Here you go,” You say softly, setting the mug down next to his toolbox, “I hope you don’t mind it black, I spent all my rations on strawberries this week, so no milk.” 

“Just how I like it,” He says, looking up at you, “Thank you.” 

You take a seat on the bench out front, it’s been a long time since you had the company of someone that wasn’t Maria or Tommy and it was nice to watch him work whilst you sat in the sun. 

“Thank you, by the way, I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad,” You remark, and before you can think about what you’re saying, you add, “My husband always used to handle this stuff.” 

You press your fingers to your lips as Joel’s movement still slightly, he knows what you’ve said, but he continues working, “It’s alright, this is what I used to do before all of this, so I’ve got an eye for rotting wood.” 

“You were a builder?” You asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from your loss. 

“I was, Tommy and I were contractors, worked on a bunch of different sites together, kinda annoying the world ended, we’d just booked a really big job, was gonna pay the bills and then some for once, my daughter had already spent the money on a trip to Disney.” 

“Ellie?” You enquire, remembering the name Tommy had given. 

He shakes his head as he sits back on his knees, coffee mug in hand, “No, she’s not mine by blood, she came along a lot later, I lost my daughter on outbreak day.” 

“Oh,” You say simply, “I’m sorry Joel.” 

“It’s alright,” He shrugs, taking a mouthful of coffee, “I struggled, for a long time, didn’t see how it was fair, but it’s been easier recently, all because of Ellie, and this.” He motions around to the town. 

You’re silent for a while, your gaze flits between Joel working and the dregs of liquid in your cup. You understand in a way. The loss is different, but it’s loss all the same. 

“What was his name?” Joel asks quietly as he’s rooting through his toolbox for some nails, “Your husband.” 

“Mark,” You speak quietly, realizing quickly it was probably too quiet for him to hear, “His name was Mark.” 

“Were you together long?” 

“Eighteen years,” You answer, “He was my neighbour in the first QZ I was in, I’d lost my parents a few years before the outbreak so I was on my own, he moved in a year later and would always wake me up every morning when he stomped about to go to work,” You were smiling, recounting how you’d met, “One morning I’d had enough, I went right over there, pounded on the door and gave him what for. Said I was tired of waking up to the sound of his work boots every morning, and I guess the rest is history.” 

Joel smiles as he reaches for his hammer, nailing in the new boards, “Love at first sight?” He asked, worried at first that it’s too personal a question. 

“Something like that,” You offer in reply, “I guess it just kinda happened really, like most things do.” 

There’s silence between you again as Joel hammers in the last of the nails. He stands up, pressing his full weight on the step, “All done,” He declares, shutting away his toolbox, “Don’t have to worry about you fallin’ through it now.” 

You stand up to admire his handiwork, you must admit he was good at what he did. Efficient but thorough, the step had never looked so good, even when you’d first moved in, “Thank you Joel,” You place a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze, “I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” He bends to pick up his coffee mug and hands it over to you, “Nothin’ else need sorting?” 

“I mean, nothing that risks death or serious injury,” You jest, “But there is something you might be able to help with.” 

You gesture for him to follow you through the house, setting the dirty mugs in the sink as you pass through. You open the back door and motion for him to join you. The garden is a mess, there’s no beating around the bush here. The grass is out of control, but that’s because you haven’t been able to go and get your gas ration for the lawnmower. The decking out back is fine, Mark’s handiwork in the year before he died, but you point to the unfinished table and chairs in the corner, or rather the pile of wood that never got to become the table and chairs. 

“Mark was going to build some table and chairs, you know, so we could have guests over or sit out here in the evenings, but he got sick before he could really start,” There’s a lump in your throat now and you’re willing yourself not to cry, not now, in front of a man you barely know, but nothing you do can quell the feeling inside of you and a few tears fall down your cheek, “God, I’m so sorry,” You sniffed, “I’ve done so well not to do this today.” 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Joel soothes, he pressed a firm hand to your shoulder for comfort but keeps his distance, which you are grateful for. 

He gives you a moment to compose yourself, watching closely as you rub the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath, “It would just be nice to have somewhere to sit where people aren’t going to watch me.” 

Joel’s heart almost breaks at your words. He doesn’t know you, not in the slightest, but the thought that you felt like you had to hide away, in your own community, the place that was meant to make you feel some semblance of normal, was preposterous to him. 

“I’ll build you something, don’t worry,” He reassures, “Tommy has me on patrol for the next few days, but as soon as I can, I promise I’ll build you the best damn table and chairs you’ve ever seen.” 

You laugh now, through the remnants of your tears, “Thank you.” Is all you can manage to say. 

He’s turning around then, you go to follow him, but he stops in his tracks, eyes admiring the trellis against the back wall of your home, full in bloom of sweet peas, “These are beautiful.” He comments. 

“They’re sweet peas,” You inform him, “Maria found the seeds for me, said something about it being good for me to have something to put my energy into,” You shrug, “I guess she was right.”

You reach out and pluck one of the deep purple blooms, “These are my favourites,” You say, turning the bloom over in your fingers before you hand it to him, he looks confused, “Sweet peas are meant to symbolize kindness and friendship,” You explain, “Also fond goodbyes, but I think kindness is more appropriate here.” 

He takes the bloom and tucks the stem into the breast pocket, the petals of the flower peeking out where you can both see it, “Well then, thank you,” He nods, “I’ll see you soon, sweet pea.” 

PREV | NEXT

[anantaru]

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅♡ sfw kaveh boyfriend headcanons

he‘s just amazing, point blank ૮꒰ྀི ⸝⸝ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ‹⸝⸝ ꒱ྀིა ‧₊˚

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, sharing kisses, a little angsty, gn! reader

+ ˚ spontaneous dates on a budget

to be frank, your lovely boyfriend kaveh never considered being short of mora to hold any sort of significant problem above his head nor did he ever regard it as something to completely wreck a well-thought out day with his beloved.

sincerely, you knew the blonde oh too well— particularly his charming tendencies to plan out your sweet dates.

as it happens, kaveh would always kindly decline your own offer to help out with any kind of planning because little do you realize was he quite fond of surprising you with his creative ideas, leaving not one stone unturned to make it into a spectacle in broad daylight, on a budget of course.

as an alternative of taking you out for a grand and pricy dinner on a warm evening in sumeru city, the architect will instead search for a nice and cozy place outside of it.

when it comes to the topic of food, he will mostly raid the freshly bought refreshments his roommate had purchased the other day when it was his turn to buy and fill up on required necessities.

now, hold on— zooming to a significant question that might float above your head right now; will kaveh tell alhaitham that he's taking some of the foods he shopped for himself? well, probably after he had already finished them with you, heh.

+ ˚ his fears

when deep rooted lovers such as kaveh and yourself strive to keep emotional and supporting tendencies for a lifetime, your bond was destined to be set in stone, to be eternal and flourishing— giving off light which was parallel to flames that breathe all the more deeply for being closer together.

in you, his loving significant other, he saw a comfortable life inherited infinitely and kaveh was quite eager to keep a balance in your relationship.

because you had been aware of his fears— the actuality was dreadful, of you leaving him behind one day.

the clear thought of such grueling despair alone was formed heavily in his blood vessel, a strong phenomena that cannot be measured throughout his own psyche.

in times like this, it's reassurance he needs, of course, you wouldn't ever leave him and he knows, yet the fear was always there— the frightening perception spreading inwardly, secretly hiding in the fathomless profundity of his heart.

+ ˚ huge cuddle (+kissies) sessions for hours

but now, to the fun part— in spite of the fact that kaveh was a passionate and emotional lover, he too had an abundantly huge love to give to you physically. quite frankly, he couldn't possibly keep his hands to himself and just had to have them encircled around your body at all times.

ever so often you catch kaveh being needier than usual but you really do not mind, you say it's cute if anything, when his cheeks surge with a heated bubbling as he walks towards you with his infamous puppy eyes, awaiting a well deserved hug.

kaveh once told you that being touch starved was one of the things he would suffer from on a daily, even though you have seen each other all the time. was he perhaps dramatic? yes, doesn't need a genius to figure that out, but that was one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place.

most of the times you will spend enough closeness together, hugging in your home, not his, but your home. yours was better and not plagued by the evil scribe bothering you, as kaveh had stated himself.

yet my love, do not concern yourself with outside noises, he whispers;

between an occurring storm outside the impounds of your warm home, supplemental to the wind that howls loudly through fallen leaves, in the opinion of your boyfriend, you were the gentle centre that occupied his life, and so here he was safe with you just as you were safe with him, coming to rest at his side with his scarlet eyes gleaming splendidly through the shadowed room.

aside from the cute fact of this matter, it was ridiculously amusing to you that kaveh didn't realize that he was an exceptional kisser, always giving his one hundred and ten percent. foremost, he will take things slow, leaning into your parted lips before claiming you wholly, not adding too much but the right amount was greeting you abundantly well.

you can see himself become excited the moment his movements get more uneven and unpredictable, when he feels like he needs to taste you further in order to feel somehow satiated.

above all, you see yourself becoming whole again as you slant into him, vulnerable and caring, you find yourself addicted to him, as much as he did too— but for every reason that is pure and right, none other dared to share this sweet perception of delight.

you were his safety and love, an anchor he held onto, that he tethers himself to because he so wanted to drag this moment on as long as physically possible.

+ ˚ conclusion and how he sees your relationship

finally yet most importantly, kaveh shares his views with you, he is incredibly transparent and never keeps a secret locked away from his significant other— he found it to be unnecessary to hide any topics that might concern you as well.

essentially in his own terms of phraseology;

“something such as transparency in a relationship was the gold key to my heart.”

archons, he's so damn in love with you it almost pains him to admit it all over again. to describe this fondness was impossible; wether its irreverent topics you'd ramble about together, funny, real as a crystal fly hiding in the rain and walking perfectly with your own dreams and fantasies.

you were bound and free with him, floating and established, laughing and sober— most of the times because if truth be told, kaveh was a terrible lightweight and couldn't hold in his liquor, ever.

but perhaps, now that he has the time to indulge in the kindness of your relationship, it is you that performs the miracles in his life.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ayyy-pee]

Walking After You

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: This is just so unlike him. He doesn't do this, he doesn't go ghost, vanish without a trace. He never leaves you in the dark about what he's up to, where he's going or when he'll be back.

And yet, each and every call goes straight to his voice-mail, leaving you hanging on every word he says through his answering machine. 

Warnings: Major character death, grief/mourning, unanswered questions. Might cry I'm sorry, Shibuya aftermath

Art by: prawnm33

He should have come back to you. 

He promised. 

He told you he'd be right back. 

Minutes turn to hours. Hours turn to days. And days turn into weeks and you still haven't heard from your husband.

You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you can hardly breathe without him.

He should have come back to you. 

This is just so unlike him. He doesn't do this, he doesn't go ghost, vanish without a trace. He never leaves you in the dark about what he's up to, where he's going or when he'll be back. 

And yet, each and every call goes straight to his voice-mail, leaving you hanging on every word he says through his answering machine. 

You actually haven't been able to reach anyone at his job, Jujutsu Technical School, either. You've left countless messages, meek at first, soon becoming frantic and desperate pleas for someone - anyone to call you back. You've sent emails, all polite until you reach your boiling point and spam their inbox with bodies of messages riddled with caps lock and profanity. 

But you need them to understand. They need to understand that he was supposed to come back to you. You need him to come back to you. 

You've even driven up to the school to find it barren, empty, save for a few staff who are just as lost as you when you question where everyone is. They don't appear to know a thing.

You visit his office and find it just the way he always leaves it, the photo of you and him on your wedding day sitting neatly at the center of his desk. You remember his words.

“So I have a reminder of why I do this everyday. A reminder of what I need to make it home to.”

And you bite down on your lip until you can taste the bitter, metallic tang of blood as you gently swipe away the thin film of dust beginning to cover the frame.

He should have come back to you.

You sit in his chair and you swear you can feel his presence with you as your eyes rake over his belongings. Pens neatly lined along the corner of his desk. An empty coffee mug you'd gotten him for one of your anniversaries. Books that he's yet to touch. 

You know he hasn’t touched them because he has a habit of placing a slip of paper at the top of the page he's left off and these books have none. A small film of dust is beginning to form on them and you know he hasn’t been here recently. It doesn’t appear anyone has except for you.

This place never holds any answers for you and every visit pulls you further and further into your pit of despair. So you leave empty handed.

It's only when you're home, phone in hand as you scroll through photos that you take your time to think about events of the past few weeks. 

On October 31st, 2018, you kissed your husband goodbye, smiling when he promised you he'd return shortly.

“I love you, my heart,” He told you, hand coming to hold the back of your neck as he kissed you once more. Deeply, passionately, lovingly. The way he always did. He poured all of the love he had for you into that kiss. You know it. You felt it. 

He should have come back to you.

Now you clutch your phone in your hand, eyes filled to the brim with tears and laser focused on his contact picture. Smiling a smile only reserved for you. His sharp cheekbones accentuate his beautiful features as his blonde hair sways wildly in the wind. An impromptu date to a vineyard. His idea, of course. 

He was always the planner.

Always knew what was next. Always a step ahead. 

So why hadn't he planned for this?

Your hands tremble violently as you hit the call button. Fat tears fall freely from your eyes and onto your screen as you stare at his now distorting picture. You hope above all else, he picks up this time. You hope to hear a voice that isn’t pre-recorded. You just want him to answer with a “Hi, my love”.

But it takes you straight to voice-mail. 

“You've reached Nanami Kento. Leave a message and I'll return your call shortly.”

Your sobs come uncontrollably now, wracking through your body viciously. The phone beeps, his voice-mail recording every choked cry, every plea for him to pick up just once. You're gasping for air, sputtering as you clutch at your chest. This pain is unbearable. You want answers, you want to crawl out of this darkness that's been forced upon you, but you can't.

Not until you know what happened. 

Not until you know why he never came back to you. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him. 

‘Your aunt is very nice.’ 

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen. 

‘Why r u doing this?’ 

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case. 

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies. 

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I'll be right back.” 

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear. 

‘You followed me.’ 

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you? 

‘More than once.’ 

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading. 

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's… 

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad. 

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts. 

‘Looks like you are.’ 

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you? 

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on. 

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through. 

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.” 

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.” 

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.” 

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.” 

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous. 

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight. 

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up. 

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk. 

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house. 

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...” 

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape. 

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--” 

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--” 

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers. 

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--” 

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.” 

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.” 

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...” 

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you. 

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret. 

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.” 

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.” 

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.” 

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat. 

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck. 

[lon3rlife]

“I promise you that you’re not alone”

Rick Sanchez x Reader

Rick comforts you during a major depressive episode

I haven’t been doing very well for the past few weeks and writing these are one of my only sources of comfort rn tbh

It’s been getting bad again and you knew it. It’s been a struggle to even get out of bed to walk a few feet to your kitchen, your room was in shambles, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to shower. You just get like this and you know eventually you’ll get out of it, but even though you know it will eventually pass you feel so stuck in despair you feel like continuing this downward spiral until you reach rock bottom. As you lay in your bed staring at the bare wall hoping for this to all go away you get a text from Rick.

You don’t even have the energy to reach over to grab your phone, but after a few minutes you finally reach over to see what it has to say.

“Hey. Are you doing okay? I’m coming over. Do you need anything?“

Rick knows how you feel. He really does. He understands how you feel and doesn’t think of you any less. He knows when things get hard to handle and how he can make things just a little easier for you.

You don’t even have time to reply when a green light appears in your room and Rick walks in with a sympathetic smile and gets next to you in bed without saying anything.

You turn to your side and he gently tucks a strand of your messed up hair behind your ear and softly kisses your forehead.

You guys lay together for a while, nothing needed to be said. Rick waited till you felt like talking about it.

“I’ve been doing so shitty. I’m sorry.” You whisper out

“There’s nothing to be sorry about you’re doing the best you can, and I know how hard it is. Trust me. I know it’s not easy to come out of this but I’ll help you. Small steps. Little by little it will get better I promise.” He says pulling you a little closer to him as you hold on his hand softly playing with his fingers.

“I can help you clean up, and get you something to eat. Anything you want, you call the shots.” He says

“Can we please just lay like this for a while I just need to be with you right now.” You say, softly nuzzling yourself to be as close to him as possible.

“Of course baby, anything you need I’ll be here I promise .” He whispers as you close your eyes embracing him until you finally get to sleep.

You wake up the next morning, still feeling stuck in an endless loop. You lift your head off your pillow and look around your room noticing it’s cleaner than it was last night. Granted there’s still some dirty clothes on your chair, but it feels a lot less claustrophobic.

You can smell coffee being made from the kitchen, and you reluctantly make your way out of bed to try to get some food in you.

“Good morning sweetheart.” Rick smiles, a genuine smile filled with nothing but love.

“I-uh made pancakes and coffee, I think it will be good to eat an actual breakfast.”

He sits with you at the table eating with you, the food definitely making your brain feel less foggy.

“Thank you for cleaning my room. You didn’t have to do that you know.” You sleepily smile

He doesn’t even respond, just smiles and takes another bite of his breakfast

The food and small caffeine boost truly helped your head feel a bit clearer. You can’t remember the last time you ate a proper meal, but eating breakfast with the person you loved most definitely boosted your mood. It was something so small but meant so much to you, Rick as well.

After sitting at the dining table for a while just talking and enjoying each others company you guys make your way over to your couch just to lay together, in a new spot other than your bed for a small change of scenery.

“I love you so much you’re so strong.” Rick says running his fingers through your hair as you lay on his chest.

You feel genuine love for him, the love you never would have imagined you would ever feel for someone. You know that you have issues, but he does to, and that’s what makes him so perfect for you. You both understand each other in such complex ways you wouldn’t trade for the world.