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dearestgojo · 2 years

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Lavender Sheets

Aki x Fem reader

Warnings: Somophilia. Fingering. Oral f receiving. Spit. Vaginal Penetration. Creampie. Mating Press. Cockwarming. mention of pubic hair. Grinding.

Wc: 2.3k | CSM Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The early morning sun is starting to peek in through the curtains, casting streaks of sunlight on the blue sheets, and making you stir. You're wrapped in the warmth of another body and blanket, one arm tightly secured around your waist and one under your head. The sound of the television playing the early morning cartoons seeps in through the thin door, Denji and Power's arguing also causing you to stir. Aki's hold on your body becomes tighter as he whispers in your ear, lulling you back to sleep.

He watches your shoulders relax once more while your face snuggles into the white satin sheets before dropping his head back onto your shared pillow - shared because despite there being a perfectly good one on his side you always ended up on the same one- burying his face in your hair. He can smell the coconut scent from the shampoo you use, the same scent that cleans the bedsheets. His eyes are starting to fall close again, his body craving the rest and the warmth of your body.

On any other day, he would be up running the washing and drying machines while prepping breakfast, but today was Sunday. The laundry had been washed late last night, the bathrooms had been washed, and you had insisted on vacuuming after Denji and Power had gone off to bed. You had even left the bread out for Denji next to the toaster and bought him a few new things that he could top his bread with. Going as far as to put a "Don't disturb us," with a detailed description of what you would do to the two troublemakers if they so much as knocked on your bedroom door.

A warning that seemed to have worked, as the door had remained untouched. Allowing Aki to get a few more hours of sleep and time alone with you. And the quietness of your bedroom has Aki almost falling asleep. Almost because the moment, his eyes are falling closed again, you shift your weight closer to him. Your ass grinding against his crotch.

His eyes snap open, boxers immediately growing tighter, boner pressed against the curve of his ass. Taking a deep breath through he tries to ignore the feeling of your ass moving against him as you find a new position to sleep in. Closer to him, with your hand falling over the edge of the bed, and ass pressed against him. Even after you stop moving he can't help the thoughts that pass through his mind, his arm still snuggly tossed over your waist with his hand resting under your breast. He knows you aren't against the idea of being woken up like this, but he can't help but feel dirty for having the thoughts that he is while you sleep in his arms.

Aki swallows, burying his face further into your hair, and inhaling deeply, letting his hands travel down your torso. His fingers sneak underneath the waistband of your shorts, groaning when he finds nothing beneath them, long fingers brushing against the soft coarse hair of your mound. He presses a kiss on the back of your shoulders, listening carefully to your shallow breathing, not wanting his movements to wake you. His fingers dip further down, the tips of his fingers circling your clit, swallowing a groan when he finds you already slightly wet. He teases your slit with three fingers while pinching your bud, eyes always watchful of your facial expressions.

Holding in his breath he pushes a single finger in stopping when his knuckle is snug between your walls. He allows you a few moments to adjust before slowly removing his finger and sliding back in, curling it upwards so it grazes your sensitive walls. Your eyebrows bunch together, lips pursing as you try to make sense of what's going on in your sleep, but you don't wake. Something which Aki is thankful for as he pushes a second finger in. Using his thumb he massages your clit slowly while thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt, slowly scissoring them. Testing his limits while pushing the entire length of them in, teasing the sweet spot in the back of your pussy. You whimper in your sleep and wiggle around, your inner thighs becoming slicker as he fingers you in your sleep.

Your eyes flicker behind your closed lids, your hand subconsciously coming down to grab onto his forearm. He whispers lowly in your ear, hoping the sound of the voice keeps you asleep like it always does on lazy Sunday mornings like today. Hoping to keep you asleep until he empties his balls in your warm cunt. "Sh sh, everything's okay it's just me. You're being such a good girl, just keep your eyes closed for a while longer."

Your walls clench and unclench around his moving fingers, thighs squeezing shut around his hand when he brushes your g-spot, he readjusts his fingers so the heel of his palm applies pressure on your clit. Your juices coat his fingers and wrist, your whimpers growing in volume, you squirm against him,

He can tell you are close as your eyebrows draw together, and your walls suck his fingers deeper into your cunt. "That's a good girl, cum all over my fingers." Aki's hips start moving into your ass softly, his boner buried in between your ass cheeks as he builds your first orgasm of the morning.

Rubbing tight circles over your clit you cum on his fingers, crying into your pillow. Drool dripping down the corners of your lips. Aki slows down, whispering sweet nothings into your ears, his blue eyes scanning your face and making sure you are still asleep. He waits until your face relaxes again before slowly removing his fingers from your heat, bringing his cum soaked fingers up to his lips and licking your juices off. He hums as your sweet taste fills his taste buds, running his tongue along them until they're clean.

"Fuck," Aki grunts, sliding his arm out from under your head, and sliding down the bed, carefully turning you onto your back, and spreading your legs apart, placing them over his shoulders. Your shorts are soaked from your release, sticking your cunt and thighs. He can see the outline of your pussy lips, and feel the warmth radiating from it as he shuffles closer.

Aki doesn't hesitate, dropping a small glob of spit before running his tongue on the slick once before raising your hips and removing your sleep shorts, tossing them randomly on the bedroom floor. He watches your whole pulse, begging to be touched. Spreading your lips apart he circles your entrance, his nose bumping against your clit. The sweet taste of your cunt fills his mouth, and he pushes the tip into your heat, swirling it around.

He feels you shuffle above him, your head tossing on the pillow, hands gripping the sheets as your body grows hotter. Aki wonders what you're dreaming of as gasps start to escape from his lips, sweat dribbling down your temples, your hair sticking to the sheets.

His tongue laps at your folds, making a line from your opening your clit, and back down, his teeth pulling on your swollen bud. His eyes peered up to watch the twist of your face. He knows you'll wake up at any moment, with the way your legs are clenching around his head, and hips raising off chasing after his tongue. And the idea of you waking up while he eats you out makes him forget that he's meant to make sure you remain asleep.

Pushing your legs up towards your stomach he shoves his face into your cunt, loud slurping noises echoing off the walls of the bedroom, drowning out the sound of laughter and the television in the living room. He watches your stir in your sleep, his name stumbling out of your lips as they flutter open, your brain still working on processing the pleasure that is coursing through your body.

Everything feels hot, the lavender satin sheets beneath you. The breath you let out as you look at your surroundings. The hair that clings to your forehead. But most of all the warm tongue that moves along your folds, drinking all you have to offer.

"A-aki, what are you doing?" your voice shakes while you ask, peering down at him through dazed eyes.

Instead of answering, Aki shoves his tongue further into your clenching whole, slurping your juices, before pressing it flat against your and licking up to your clit. He spells out your name and his with the tip, his eyes never leaving yours.

You cum unexpectedly, thighs wrapping around his head, and your hand cumming down to tug on his hair. You quietly chant his name, aware of the tv playing just down the hall.

"Aki, oh my god," you sigh, staring up at the spinning ceiling fan, your brain catching up to your body.

Aki drops your legs from his shoulders and slowly traverses up your body while pressing quick kisses to the soft skin. He hands kneading all that they can grab. "Good morning," he murmurs when he reaches your lips, kissing the corner, "Feel good?"

You nod your head, wrapping your legs around his waist and rubbing up into him, feeling his erection through the thin material of his boxers, "Feel good." You pull him down, cupping his face and kissing him fully on the lips, licking his bottom lip, begging to let your tongue into his mouth. A request he obliges to. Your tongues become a tangled mess, teeth bumping into each other, the faint smell of morning breath, and your cunt reaching your nostrils. You pull back first, lazily smiling up at him, your right hand traveling down his lean torso, outlining the ridges of his abs, "That was a nice way to wake up."

"Yeah?" He asks, bumping his nose against yours, longer hair cascading over you, hissing when your hand wraps around his length, pushing his underwear down his thighs.

"Yeah," you whisper back, running your thumb over the slit, "How about now I help you with this."

His eyes squeeze shut, your hand stroking his length and rubbing it against your wet folds. "Fuck, stop teasing," he groans, pushing your hand out of the way, and holding on to his shaft at the base, positioning it at your entrance.

Your eyes widen as he pushes the first inch in, your slick making it easier for the two of you as his girth stretches you. His hands come back to rest on the back of your thighs and he pushes them back toward you as he pushes more of himself into your warm walls. Low grunts slip from his lips as you clench around him.

Neither of you will last much longer, your body still sentive from your two previous orgasms, and Aki barely holding on anymore after fighting the urge to just have his way fully with you while you slept. His thoughts are scattered all over the place when he draws his hips back and plunges into you, moaning loud enough for it to travel out the door.

He starts out slow and hard, snapping his hips into yours before pulling them back until just the head of his length rests inside you. He mostly does it to be quiet, which is feeling as you yelp every time his hips met you and he groans and grunts as your cunt sucks him in further. The pace he had originally set soon becomes quick and sloppy, the sound of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the walls of the bedroom, over the sound of the fan.

"Gonna cum," you whimper, pulling his head down so his forehead rests against yours, your breaths mixing with one another.

"Me too - God you feel so fucking good," his hand snakes between your bodies, two fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. That's all it takes to push you over the edge. Your legs shake on his shoulders, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel him release in you. The sensation of you gushing and walls gripping around him pushing Aki over the end just seconds after you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Aki recites, pushing his lips against yours as he fucks his cum deeper into your cunt. He doesn't stop until your legs stop shaking, dropping them so they rest against his waist. He stays seated in you after you both finish cumming, dropping his weight on you. His warm breath fans over your neck as he kisses you there.

A few moments pass before he starts to feel heavy, your hand pushing on his ribs, "Aki your crushing me."

You expect him to pull out, but instead, he rolls the two of you over and wraps one arm around your waist. He uses his free arm to push himself up, making his cock push deeper into your cunt, making you whimper. You feel and hear him suck in a deep breath as your walls clench around him, feeling him become hard again.

"Don't do that," he whispers, shuffling up the bed to rest his back against the bedframe.

You murmur out an apology resting your head on his chest, watching as he reaches to his night table for the pack of cigarettes, lighting one before tossing the box over to

the soaked side of the bed. He pushes his hair out of his face and leans his head back, inhaling the smoke before breathing it out through his nose. You watch as the smoke swirls up into the air, listening to his heartbeat against your ears and the sound of the fan turning, the air making the smoke fade quicker.

"The tv isn't playing anymore."

#aki smut #aki hayakawa smut #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #csm smut #chainsaw man smut

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heavenlyraindrops · 2 months

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♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Seven ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Seven Warnings: profanity, Masterlist is here.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Seven]

“Fuckkk,” Lute groaned for the millionth time that night as you hauled her in through the front door of your house. She flopped onto the couch, muttering incoherently as you went into the kitchen, flipping the light switch.

“What’re you doing?” You heard her voice in the living room as you rummaged through the cupboards.

“Making you something to eat. You go to bed with just alcohol in your stomach and your head’s screwed the next morning.” You stalked over to her, handing her a glass of water which she downed reluctantly under your strict eye.

“If I eat anything I’ll throw up,” she complained.

You rolled your eyes, clicking your fingers. A bucket lined with a plastic bag appeared at your feet. “Be my guest.” Before turning on your heel back towards the kitchen.

For a few seconds she just lay on the couch silently while you continued to work away in the kitchen, until you heard noises drifting up from the couch. Your head snapped towards her.

“Lute?”

She was singing.

Badly.

You snickered to yourself, leaving a sandwich in the sandwich toaster and wondering if you should pull out a phone and start recording. You decided not to. Out of the goodness of your heart.

The light on the toaster turned red, indicating the food was ready. You set the plate in front of Lute. She stopped singing abruptly, eyeing you, and then the sandwich distastefully.

“The fuck?”

“Eat.” You sat down next to her. “Or do I have to feed you?”

“No you don’t have to fucking feel me, the fuck? Gay ass.” She scrambled back as far away from you as she could, her back pressing against the cushions on the other end of the couch.

“I said feed, you blithering idiot. Eat.” You pushed the plate towards her.

After a few suspicious looks, she began to eat. You checked your watch. It was almost one in the morning. You sighed as Lute began to ramble, words so slurred you could barely make out what she was saying.

“…did you hear her talking about me in the bar? Pretty cool right? So what I did was, I took my spear and I sliced it right across-“

You had no idea what she was talking about but decided to stay silent anyways, letting her babble on.

“…And there was blood like fucking everywhere- hey, the fuck is that?”

Your eyes snapped up, and you noticed that hers were trained on your collar. Your hand flew to your neck, feeling the marks in your skin. Your collar had ridden down to expose the top part of the bite mark, and a couple of faded bruises.

“It’s nothing,” you said hastily, pulling your collar up. But it was too late. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open.

“Whoa, who knew the great [name] fucks?” She whispered through a bite of grilled cheese. You winced. Judging by how uncoordinated her movements were, she was too drunk to remember anything clearly the next morning anyways. You were lucky.

“I didn’t fuck anyone. Eat your goddamn food.”

“Hey guys, name fucks!” Lute almost shouted. You grabbed her sandwich and shoved it in her mouth, muffling her next words.

“Ohmygodshutthefuckup,” you seethed. Lute stared at you, slowly chewing on the remnants of her sandwich. Swallowed them.

“Ok,” she said.

And then passed out there on your couch.

You stared at her in outraged shock, then your shoulders sagged. Tiptoeing around the kitchen table, you went to your room, retrieving a blanket which you threw across her sleeping form, her head propped up on the arm rest of the couch which you cautiously attempted to replace with a pillow- and succeeded.

You took the plate, dumped it in the sink and switched off the kitchen lights. The room flooded with darkness.

You heard Lute’s soft snores, and the clock ticking. You ran a hand through your hair, stressed, and then down your neck, fingers hitching around the top of your collar and pulling it down slightly. They brushed over your reddened skin. You flinched, then pulled your hand away.

“Time to go to sleep, I guess,” you mumbled to yourself.

♱♱♱

“Holy shi-“ You almost jumped a foot into the air when you walked into the living room and saw a disheveled Lute sitting on your couch. Her eyeliner had smudged, leaving huge dark rings under her eyes, her eyes which shifted towards you. The towel draped around your shoulders to catch the water dripping from your wet hair slid off and onto the floor.

“Hi,” Lute said bleakly. You carefully tiptoed around her towards the kitchen island. “What am I doing here, exactly?”

You pulled the toaster towards you. “I took you here last night after you got… extremely drunk, and you passed out on my couch. How’s your head?”

“It’s none of your fuckin’ business how my head is,” Lute seethed, and you could hear her get up, walk towards you, feel her glare burn holes into your back. Your eyes widened as you remembered the marks on your neck and you quickly readjusted your towel.

“I’m leaving,” she declared, cracking her neck to the side, then the other. She eyed you.

“Yeah, your stuff’s on the shelf by the door.” You slid her a plate. She stared at the toast, then you, then back at the toast again. “What? It’s toast. Do you want, jam, butter or marma-“

“No,” she snapped, and snatched up the toast, chewing on it savagely all while staring at you angrily in the eye. You stared at her.

“Oh, lovely, raw dog your toast then.” You flicked your head at the door, indicating for her to leave.

The door slammed in her wake.

You stared after it, chewing on the toast contemplatively. Then sighed.

♱♱♱

“Six whole months?”

Adam grinned at you smugly, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the chair. You slammed your drink down on the table, a few drops flying up in the air then plopping back in. “Adam, you can’t just decide when the extermination is.”

“Sure I can. Can’t wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts-“

“Well, Sera won’t listen. And isn’t the next extermination in two months?”

“Yeah I mean the one after that.”

“She won’t listen.”

“The one after that, then.”

“Nope.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve noticed, babe, that I’m quite persistent.”

“Yeah, I have.” You rolled your eyes. “And you’re also pretty bad at using persistence to get what you want.”

Adam leaned forward. “Speaking of that-“

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “It was worth a try.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You downed the rest of your drink, peering at home over the rim of your cup. You cleared your throat and set down the empty cup. Adam rolled his eyes.

“Believe me, it’ll happen. I don’t care if it’s this year, the next, or the one after that- I get what I want cause I’m the fucking man and it’s not like that bitch Lucifer will put up a fight either.” You flinched.

“Right,” you said slowly, getting up, knocking your chair back. “You dragged me here, you’re gonna pay, got it?”

“My pleasure, sugartits. Enjoyed our date.”

“Wasn’t a date,” you said flatly, head throbbing with an ache as you stalked off.

He laughed.

Your headache worsened. ♱♱♱

A/N: stay tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts, @rebecca-hvnstn, @l0v3lyx, @ravenswritingroom, @rattyrattyratty, @lovayle

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macfrog · 1 year

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bloodstream cowboy like me chapter seven

part seven of cowboy like me 🤠 feel free to grab parts i-vi (and more!) over on my masterlist for all ur joel miller needs. can you tell i had my period when i wrote this...? it's just a big ol' hormonal, needy MESS please don't take it seriously you'll ruin my street cred as a cynic

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: you’re on your period and want attention, kisses, and pain medicine from joel. that’s all

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) a whole lotta fluff. like, sickly sweet fluff. mention of periods/cramps/blood, one tiny mention of pregnancy, put mdni since there are mentions of sex & sexual themes but no actual sex, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), bit of cursing, and a pop-tart is destroyed :( rip lil guy

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

In an instant, you want to grind into him, drag your hips along the fabric of his boxers, push him. Rile him up. Make him pine. Make him beg. What the fuck would you even do, anyway? Sex? It’s not like that’s your easiest option right now – definitely not a tidy one. But it doesn’t stop you from picturing it, now that you brought it up. Is Joel picturing it, too? He’s tracing every inch of your face with his stare, soft, but knowing. He knows exactly what’s going through your fucking mind. The way his boxers start to swell against the inside of your thigh gives it away that it’s running through his, too.

It’s been a week since you slept with Joel for the first time. Realistically, waking up in a foul mood to cramps should’ve been some sort of tiny celebration. Yay, I’m not pregnant. But the ache in your tummy, the weight of your limbs as you heave yourself around the house, the sobbing at any minor inconvenience, doesn’t feel so much like a celebration as it does a punishment.

You’d dragged yourself from bed, clutching your belly, and hobbled downstairs. Your dad left for work a couple hours ago; the slam of the front door woke you. Does he always have to be so fucking loud? You’d struggled to get back to sleep, knees tucked under your chin.

You take a blanket from the couch and wrap it around your shoulders, bunching it up at your belly to soothe the pain, and begin raking the cupboards for food. For crappy, sugary, junk food.

When you turn toward the toaster and bump your hip into the corner of the kitchen island, sending the Pop-Tart in your hand tumbling to the ground, you burst into tears and dial his number.

He answers on the second ring.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he coos in response to your wailing.

“Joel, I– my fuckin’ Pop-Tart just flew out of my hand!”

He’s quiet for a beat. “Your– Say that again, baby?”

What you respond with isn’t even intelligible. You know it. It only makes you sob more. Well, that, and looking down at the crumbled pastry on your kitchen floor.

Joel spends the next five minutes calming you down, shushing down the line and trying to get you to speak in plain English. Eventually, you take a deep breath and speak clearly between gasps.

“I – am on – my period. I – got – my – period.”

“Ah,” he muses. “That makes a lot more sense, kid.”

You burst into tears again.

“Hey, hey,” he’s laughing now, “no, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. Look, I got a free house today – Sarah’s out all day. I ain’t workin’, either. How about you jump in the car and come over? We can lay in bed all day and I can make you feel better. How’s that sound?”

You sniff and mumble a quiet, “Good”.

Joel tells you to head on over once you’re ready. You throw a sweatshirt over your shoulders, slip into comfortable shoes, and get straight into the car. When you pull up outside, he’s already standing at the front door.

Just the sight of him makes you weep. Leaning against the porch post, one hand hooked around his belt. You get out, hunched over with the pain below your belly button, and waddle over to him.

“C’mere, sweet girl,” he whispers as he wraps an arm around you, basically pulling you up the steps to him. “Gonna get you nice and comfortable, okay?”

You lean into his chest and he kisses your head, closing the door softly behind you.

“Upstairs,” he instructs.

You silently obey and make for his bedroom, shuffling your feet along the carpet. When Joel enters the room a few minutes after you, you’re buried in the middle of his bed amongst a sea of pillows and blankets.

“Feelin’ alright?”

“Ish.”

He has a mug of tea in one hand, a box of pain meds in the other, and a hot pack draped over his arm. He sets the tea down on your nightstand, hands you the hot pack (which you immediately lay across your stomach), and offers you the pain meds.

“Water?” you ask, looking up at him with a petted lip.

“I brought tea.” He nods at the mug.

“I can’t take pills with hot tea,” you whisper.

He gives you an affectionate smile and shakes his head. “You’re lucky I care about you s’much.” He leaves the room, calling back, “Put those puppy-dog eyes away!”

You smile smugly to yourself and shimmy deeper into Joel’s pillows. He returns moments later with a glass of water.

“Your highness,” he grumbles as he sets it down for you. Then he pulls a small blue packet from under his elbow.

“Don’t have much round here, bein’ on my own mosta the time,” he admits, sliding it onto the nightstand, “found these in Sarah’s bathroom. They do?”

You smile, eyes scanning over the Always logo. “They’re great.”

The edges of Joel’s mouth lift, proud, like he reckons he’s outdone himself.

You gulp a couple of painkillers down and settle back into bed, heat pad already working its magic.

Joel lifts his side of the comforter up to climb in beside you, but you stretch an arm out.

“Uh-uh.”

“Huh?”

“Not in your jeans. Are we animals?”

He peers down at himself. “The hell am I s’posed to wear?”

“You don’t have sweatpants?”

“I’m supposed to change into my sweatpants just to cuddle?”

“Who the hell lounges around the house on their day off in jeans, anyway, weirdo?”

He clicks his teeth. “You’re talkin’ awful big for someone meant to be in pain, y’know,” he huffs as he unbuttons his jeans and hauls them down his legs. “T-shirt okay?”

“T-shirt’s fine.”

In just his tee, boxers and socks, he climbs in alongside you, snakes his arms around you, and slots his thigh between yours the way he always does. It calms you instantly: his warmth, the sound of his heart beating into your ear, his chest rising and falling with his breathing.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Joel mumbles into your hair.

“Mhm,” you reply, feeling yourself dropping off. “Sleepy.”

He runs a hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and up your bare back, rubbing circles gently where the pain is. You’re asleep within minutes.

----------

You stir to the distant sound of voices. Still enveloped in Joel’s arms, you flutter your eyes open slowly, and look up to his face, lit blue by the TV. He’s watching ESPN.

His eyes dance along the screen, following the players running. His beard, thick, dark, gray and white spotted along his chin, disturbed as he runs his fingers through it. His skin, marked by the sun, by time, by fine lines and dimples at the corners of his mouth.

The Joel you’ve known your whole life – grumbling, head dipped, brows close together; his rough hands and his worn jeans, his awkward squeezes in place of hugs…he doesn’t exist anymore. He’s replaced by this new Joel: kind, warm, approachable. Like you can finally see him, finally get to know him.

The Joel who doesn’t think twice about taking you in his arms, isn’t concerned with how you’ll react. Just knows you’ll fall into him any which way his hands touch you. The Joel who can have you bent double under him, panting his name, and the same Joel who can lull you to sleep with nothing but his scent and his thumb drawing lazy circles on your skin.

The Joel who makes you want to call him your Joel, like he’s made only for you. He does these things only for you. He’s different for you.

Suddenly you feel shy. Realizing that this is the first time he’s seen you like this – vulnerable, in pain. Hurting. And then realizing that he didn’t miss a beat; just swept you up in his arms and bundled you into his bed. Made you comfortable. Made you safe.

You swallow your heart back into your chest. For a second, you almost felt…something. A shift. Something new. A problem arising.

Joel glances down, notices you watching him, and mutes the anchors’ voices.

“Welcome back,” he whispers, giving you a little squeeze. “Better?”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

“I was gonna order a pizza, if you wanted.”

He reads your mind again. Just the thought of a fatty, greasy slab of dough with fatty, greasy cheese all over it is enough to make you salivate.

“Pizza sounds good.”

Joel, wanting to stay near you, and also not wanting to have to get up, picks up his phone and orders it from bed. You sigh as he pulls you back in and sinks lower into the pillows, turning the volume up.

You snuggle your head into the crook of his neck, where it fits perfectly. Made for you. Joel’s arm cradles around your back, sneaking under the bottom of your sweatshirt to hold your hip, keeping your body pressed against his. Your fingers trace shapes on his shirt, lids closing over with each blink.

Out of every sport in America, baseball is the one you’re interested in the least. Growing up with a diehard Rangers fan for a father will do that to you. Every week: Rangers game. Every conversation he had with Joel: Rangers. Every time the TV was switched on: Rangers talk.

You learned to tune it out when he’d rant over dinner, either to you, or into his phone, or to Joel. You’d sit back in your chair and count the crows resting on Marcia’s rooftop. Couple times Joel would kick your leg under the table and ask how school was goin’, when you’re flying back, but as soon as your answer was done your dad would steer the conversation back to baseball.

It bored you at best. Mostly it just made you huff and turn on your heel, back the way you came. Dodging Rangers talk like it was a bad smell.

This time, you doze in and out of sleep, relaxing with the rise and fall of Joel’s chest, his fingers playing with yours. The anchors push you off, then wake you back up with their raised voices as they disagree on some play, some team, some result.

You could lie here forever and never complain. Well, maybe not forever. You care about Joel a lot, but even you have your limits.

You nudge him with your head.

“Yep?”

“Who’s the dude in the blue polo?”

“That’s a coach.”

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Not my type.”

“Are we gonna watch ESPN all day?”

Joel hands you the remote. “Take your pick, darlin’.”

You begin surfing through the channels, eyes scanning for something to take your mind off the pain slowly returning between your legs. You’re barely two pages through when the doorbell rings.

Joel softly slides out from underneath you and throws his jeans on, heading downstairs where you hear him thank the delivery guy, hand him the money, and shut the door again.

“You still good with your water, or you want soda?” he calls upstairs.

“Soda, please!”

He brings up a bottle for you to share. You pull yourself up to rest against the headboard, and Joel sits the pizza between you two.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” he whispers, looking up at the TV.

“Nope!” you reply, mouth full of delicious pepperoni pizza.

“Grey’s Anatomy?”

“You ain’t seen it?”

He hands you a look. Do I look like the type of guy who’s seen Grey’s Anatomy?

You giggle. “Alright, so: Meredith was datin’ this dude Derek – surgeon at the hospital, he’s so hot–” Joel raises his eyebrows, “…but he wouldn’t tell her a thing about his past. Then, she’s waitin’ for him in the lobby,” you take another bite of pizza, “and thish woman walksh over to ‘em,” gulp, “and says she’s Derek’s wife!”

He’s hanging on to every word you say, not ‘cause he actually gives a crap about Meredith and Derek, but because you do. He’s lying propped up on his elbow, watching you with doting eyes as you catch him up on the storyline of the show, smirk slowly growing on his lips.

“You gonna eat the pizza?”

You snap him out of his daydream. “Huh?”

“You ain’t touched it.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, taking a slice. “Was just listenin’ to you.”

You tuck your chin into your shoulder and he gives your cheek a gentle squeeze, then you both turn your attention to the TV.

You spend the next couple of hours pausing the show to catch Joel up – “So Meredith ain’t into this George?” “No, he’s just a friend.” “But he loves her?” “Yep.” “And they slept together?” “Uhuh.” “That’s…complicated.” – and chatting over the more boring parts.

You’re only a couple episodes in when you finish the pizza. Joel lets you have the last slice, “Seein’ as you’re my little invalid for the day,” he says. He’d have given you the last slice whether you were ill or not, though, and you know it.

When Joel gets up to take the empty box downstairs, you slip out from under the covers to the bathroom. You sit down, underwear between your legs, and freeze.

Fuck.

Your sanitary pad is soaked through, scarlet with blood, the lining of your underwear the color of rust. You run your thumb along the fabric; it’s still damp. Lifting your top, you notice similar stains on the insides of your thighs, at the very top.

Fuuuck.

“You okay, baby?” Joel’s voice calls from the other side of the door.

“I’m…Yeah, I’m good. Uh, Joel?”

“Uhuh?”

“Could you hand me that pack of sanitary pads?”

He mumbles Sure, his shadow retreats, then the door inches open and his wrist sneaks through the gap, holding the pads out. You take it sheepishly and begin to peel the pad from your underwear, stopping when it reveals more blood stained into the fabric, this time a brighter red. Fresher. You groan, shutting your eyes and tapping the packet against your forehead.

“You sure you’re alright?” Joel asks again, this time from further away.

You’re almost doubled over on the toilet, pain back in full-throttle, voice muffled by the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “I’m fine,” you croak.

The door slowly falls open and Joel’s figure stands in the slit of light. “Kid,” he beckons, and you look up. His expression is normal, if a little concerned; but he doesn’t seem embarrassed to ask, “You need a change of underwear?”

Your face flushes and you wince, your head dropping into your hands, elbows resting on your knees. “It’s on the bed, isn’t it?”

“Might be, yeah. Sarah’ll have somethin’, sure she wouldn’t mind if you…you know…”

“Ugh,” you sigh, still keeping your face from him.

Your period was never something you cared about, even growing up with just your dad. When you got your first one at twelve, he went out and stocked the bathroom with what you needed. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, hell, half the population deal with it. That’s what he’d said.

And you agreed. It’s just your body doing what it does, right?

Still, you can’t ignore the heat on your cheeks from the embarrassment of the guy you’re sleeping with seeing you hunched over on his toilet, underwear stained with blood, the same stain on his bedsheets. It’s just not your finest hour.

But Joel doesn’t seem to agree.

Not when he sets foot in the bathroom and crouches by your side, placing a kiss to your temple.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

He looks offended; his head jerks back to survey you. “The hell you sorry for? You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, baby. Look,” his hand settles on your thigh, rubbing gently, “go find somethin’ to change into in Sarah’s room, get yourself cleaned up, I’ll change the bed. You’re fine.”

“’s not really romantic, is it?”

“I didn’t ask you to come here to be romantic,” he holds your head, “I asked you here to take care of you. Now go.”

He helps you to your feet and you wander off down the hall toward Sarah’s room. You guys grew up together, you’re close enough that she’d probably slap your arm for even asking to borrow her clothes, especially when you need it most right now.

Still, you whisper an apology as you rake through her closet, and make a mental note to be extra nice to her next time you see her.

Once you’ve changed, feeling a lot better, you slip back into Joel’s room where he’s fixing up the clean bedsheets.

“Done?”

You nod, and he takes your underwear from your hands and tosses it onto the pile of sheets by his laundry basket. See? No big deal. He takes your bicep and wraps his arms around you, nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in.

You lift your chin and look up at him, a gleam in your eye. Thank you. He furrows his brows and gives his head a quick shake. No need to thank me.

Joel motions for you to get back into bed, where he lays back and holds his arms out for you to relax on his chest again, but you’re staring at his lips. You lean in and kiss him softly, the only thing you can think to offer him after taking care of you and being so sweet all day.

He returns it, one hand coming up to the back of your head, the other finding home on your hip. You roll back and pull his weight over your body, linking your arms behind his neck. Your thighs close around his waist and his hand runs down your bare leg.

The kiss deepens, both of you coming up for air, just to immediately fall back into one another, tongues slipping in and out of each other’s mouths.

As Joel’s hands explore the skin under your top, massaging and rubbing across your stomach, you begin to worry.

In your experience, kissing always leads to more. You’ve never been with a guy who doesn’t expect sex whenever you lay a hand on him. This feels so good, though, and you don’t want it to stop.

Still, you pull back and quickly whisper, “We can’t…you know.”

“I know. We won’t.” Joel is matter-of-fact. This ain’t a thing to him.

“I mean, we can. People do that – it’s supposed to feel better, or something? I think it helps with the cramps. I’ve never done it before, though.” You’re talking too quick, saying too much. Joel’s just watching you, letting you go on, smiling at you.

“Baby. We won’t.”

Your tongue knots. “We won’t?”

He breathes a laugh. “No, we’re just kissing. We’re not gonna do anything you don’t want. Just tryna make you feel better.”

“I’m not sayin’ I don’t wanna, I always wanna– Well, you know. I like it when we do it. I’m just saying it can get messy, you know?”

He’s grinning at you again. That fucking grin. That You’re being adorable right now grin that makes your heart skip.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Joel reassures you when he lowers his head again and his lips find yours.

Your head tilts as you allow him access to your neck; his favorite place to leave marks. To show everyone, whether they know it or not, that you’re his. You fold, head rolling back onto the pillow as he bites a bruise into your sensitive skin.

Joel pulls away, releasing your neck from between his teeth, and you stare at each other a moment.

Something flickers across his eyes; his jaw jerks as if he’s about to open his mouth and speak. As quickly as you notice it, it disappears. He stops himself.

You run a finger along his bottom lip, and he kisses it lightly.

Between your legs, your center pressed to his, he twitches. Sparks to life. Same thing that sparks in you, though you don’t know where to put it. You don’t know how to undo it.

In an instant, you want to grind into him, drag your hips along the fabric of his boxers, push him. Rile him up. Make him pine. Make him beg.

What the fuck would you even do, anyway? Sex? It’s not like that’s your easiest option right now – definitely not a tidy one. But it doesn’t stop you from picturing it, now that you brought it up. Is Joel picturing it, too?

He’s tracing every inch of your face with his stare, soft, but knowing. He knows exactly what’s going through your fucking mind. The way his boxers start to swell against the inside of your thigh gives it away that it’s running through his, too.

And then his ringtone breaks apart the moment.

“Sorry, kid,” he groans, leaning over to retrieve it. “Hello?”

You recognize your dad’s voice instantly. He has no volume control where phone calls are concerned.

“Joel, you seen my daughter? I got home and she wasn’t here, and I can’t get a hold of ‘er.”

You scramble to find your phone amongst the bedsheets. When your hands find it, you hold it up to show Joel eight missed calls over the course of the five hours you’ve spent here. He scrunches up his nose in response.

“I ain’t seen her. I’ll try callin’ her, she’s probably just out and about.”

“Thanks, bud. She won’t have gone far, just she usually has her cell on her.”

Joel promises to call you before hanging up, and you sit back, slowly closing your eyes with a sigh.

“Now.” Joel leans into you, resting his head against yours. “I’m gonna call you, and you’re either not gonna answer – ‘cause you ain’t been answerin’ your dad – and he’s gonna worry more; or, you will answer me, I’ll call ‘im back, and he’ll wonder why you been ignorin’ him. Or…” He trails off.

“…Or, I go home and act like I ain’t seen his calls, tell him I’m sorry, and he’s none the wiser.”

“Hm.” He nods once, lips folded inward.

“I don’t wanna go,” you whimper, sliding down the headboard and resting your head against Joel’s shoulder.

“I know, darlin’. But we had our fun.” He takes your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. “I hope I made you feel better.”

“You did,” you whisper back. In more ways than one; sure, he fed you painkillers and rubbed where you were hurting, but that isn’t all there is to it, right?

The last time you saw each other, he had you propped on the kitchen counter, legs spread, begging for him to let you cum. Today feels as much about making you feel better because of that, as it does making you feel better because of your period. Today feels like Joel telling you he cares about you past the orgasms y’all give each other.

Message received. Even though it makes you dizzy when you think too much about it.

Joel takes your hand and places a kiss to it.

“Hey,” he mumbles against your knuckles, “me ‘n your dad are going to Costco on Saturday to get stuff for this…garden party Sarah’s wantin’. You wanna come?”

“Will you hold my hand and kiss me when I want again?”

He breathes a laugh. “I will when your dad ain’t lookin’.”

“I’m in.”

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel tlou #cowboy like me

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wzrd-wheezes · 8 months

Text

Tea and Toast - James Potter x Reader.

AN - once again back with a short James fic that is once again entirely based off of my actual boyfriend lol

James wandered into the kitchen of their flat, his dark curls still damp from the shower he had just taken. He was dressed in plain shorts and a tshirt, his usual attire for a lazy sunday morning.

Y/N had her back to him as he walked in, reaching up to put the mugs that she had just washed back in the cupboard. James’s hands immediately found her waist, his lips pressing a soft kiss against her shoulder.

“G’morning, love.” his voice was still thick with sleep. Y/N spun around to face him, her back pressed against the kitchen counter as James wrapped his arms around her.

“Morning,” she smiled as she kissed him.

James crouched down slightly, hooking his hands around the back of her thighs, easily lifting her onto the countertop. Automatically, she draped her legs around his middle, pulling him closer to her.

“Hungry?” James asked, “Toast?”

“I would say yes, but you’ve sat me infront of the toaster.” Y/N chuckled, glancing at the toaster that was behind her. He laughed, scooping her up with ease and carrying her into the living room. He plonked her down on the sofa, grabbing the blanket that was folded neatly at the side, and lay it over her.

“Hey! I was going to help!” she protested.

“I’m quite capable of making toast, babe.” he rolled his eyes playfully at her, “Tea aswell?”

He disappeared into the kitchen again, returning a few minutes later with a plate of toast and two steaming mugs of tea.

“How about we put that film on that you keep telling me about?” he suggested, sitting next to her. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer so that she was tucked in at his side. He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her hair, completely content with their lazy sunday morning.

#james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fanfic #james potter fluff #marauders fan fic

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straykidshoe · 6 months

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You're so pretty

PAIRINGS: Seo Changbin x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Mature (Smut)

MUSIC: Collide (Feat. Tyga) by Justine Skye

CONTAINS: Established relationship, shy!reader

SMUT WARNINGS: Thigh fucking, shower sex, groping, soft!changbin. Please message me if i misseed anything.

WORD COUNT: 1,530

A/N: For all of my shy girlies out there <3 hope you all like it!

You woke up later than usual- the mid morning sunlight streamed in through your sheer curtains, casting your window patterns onto your white sheets. Your spine tightened as you rolled over, searching for the familiar comfort that would normally be next to you, haphazardly tangled between the duvet- his chest rising and falling gently, letting you snuggle into his shoulder. Sitting up, you rested your chest on your bent knees- as you rubbed the sleep away from your eyes you scanned the room; missing the usual warm body that would’ve pulled you back to bed, lulling you back into a deep sleep.

You noticed how you were completely bare underneath the blanket, fresh memories of the night before flashing in your mind. You could feel your skin tingling as you remembered more and more- his skin against yours, him on his knees in front of you, dirty things whispered against your neck and ear. What a way to start the morning.

You glanced over to the nightstand opposite you, noticing a neon yellow in your peripheral. Stretching over, you read the note whilst sipping on the water that was left next to it,

‘Tried to wake you up, didn’t work. I have a bruise to prove it.

I’ll be back soon. Breakfast is outside. Try not to miss me too much.

P.S: I can still taste you on my lips.’

Goosebumps erupted on your skin, your nipples getting harder from the heightened sensitivity, shivering slightly as you looked around your room before pushing up and slipping on one of Changbins shirts along with a fresh pair of underwear. Stumbling out of your bedroom, you plodded your way to the kitchen- cringing at the loud slapping noise that echoed in the empty apartment. You felt yourself light up as you saw your favourite, toaster waffles with chocolate spread- you reminded yourself to thank your boyfriend later. Once you had finished your breakfast, you cleaned the house, brushed your teeth and hopped into the shower.

The hot water cascaded down from the large waterfall shower head above as you scrubbed at your soft skin with a washcloth- the bubbles frothing with the friction. The small speaker you had set up in the bathroom played a random song from your playlist, humming as you swayed your naked hips to the beat.

The velvety vocals bounced off the marble walls, echoing around you- aiding the large man who was currently sneaking into the room. Suddenly, you felt two large hands encircling your waist- gasping out you twisted around in their grip, relaxing your face when you saw your boyfriends smiling face gazing down at you, ‘Babe! What are you doing?’ feeling your face go red, you hold your sudsy hands up against your exposed breasts.

Changbin gently removed your hands- holding them in his large palms, ‘I felt lonely at work.. So i’m here’ he kissed the tip of your nose, laughing when you tried to look anywhere but his exposed torso. Your tongue went dry, five months of dating him and still- he manages to turn you into putty. Granted it was pretty easy, but that’s besides the point, ‘You left a few hours ago..’ you mumbled, fiddling with his fingers.

He was aware of your shy personality, finding your stuttering and avoidant nature adorable, ‘Should I go then?’ he questioned, a teasing lilt to his voice. Finally looking up, you met his large brown eyes, ‘N-no, it’s fine..’ chuckling to himself, he bent down and kissed your lips, making you even more flustered- your blood turned to lava, heating up all the pathways within you.

The soft caress of his tongue made you weak it the knees, feeling your pulse dangerously escalate spurred him on- you felt his cock getting hard against your thigh. Panicking slightly, you pulled away- returning your gaze down to the shower floor you stepped out of the water, giving him space to soak himself in the warm downpour. He smiled softly, keeping his hands firmly planted on your hips, running his thumb up and down on the soft patch of skin.

‘Help me?’ he asked, placing your coconut body wash bottle in your palm, with shaky fingers you squeezed out a generous amount of the thick liquid into your cupped hand. Taking a steadying breath in, you started at his neck, gently massaging the fragrant cleanser into his skin. You tried to meet his eyes that were staring down at you.

‘Stop looking at me like that..’ you grumbled, moving your hands down to his wide shoulders,

‘Like what, baby?’ Finally finishing his left arm, you moved onto the right.

‘Like you want to eat me.’ He laughed down at you, kissing the crown of your head.

‘Can you blame me.. you’re delicious’ he purred into your ear, kissing the skin behind. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, smiling to yourself as you tilted your head up the need to kiss him again overpowering your nervousness.

Instantaneously you felt relief wash over your entire body, as Changbin moaned into your mouth before hugging your midriff with his arms. Your core began to leak juices down your thighs, but the dull ache radiating from your walls made you whimper in pain; goosebumps raised on your skin, the duvet of steam creating beads of moisture to form on changbins toned stomach. Anxiety quickly rose within you, like water boiling in a pot, as you felt his calloused fingers drag up your pillowy thighs brushing against your pussy. You quickly pulled away, keeping your hands planted on his tapered waist; your boyfriend's face was painted in confusion, ‘What’s wrong?’

You chewed your lips, contemplating whether you should tell him the truth and risk upsetting him or gritting through the pain as he once again roughly fucked you into oblivion. As much as you wanted to please him and his insatiable habits, your poor vagina couldn’t handle his aggressive assault this time round.

‘It hurts..’ you whimpered, nuzzling in between his pecs, trying to hide your red cheeks. He cooed down at you, ‘Aww poor baby, it’s okay- let me take care of you..’ He reached for the shampoo bottle but stopped midway when you rested your small hand on his bicep, ‘Wanna make you feel good, binnie..’ you gazed up at him, eyes starting to water from desperation.

He took in your appearance shimmering, wet skin with large sparkling eyes and red cheeks. You look adorable, and so ready to be ruined..

‘You sure?’ He caressed your flaming cheeks with his large palm, smiling softly when you relaxed in his hold whilst nodding your head, ‘Okay, I have an idea..do you trust me?’ he asked, caution evident in his voice, ‘Yea, just want to please you.’

Suddenly, he twisted your body in his hold, so that your back was plastered against his front- snaking his hand up your stomach towards your breasts, he played with your puckered nubs whilst sucking on your pulse point. Moaning loudly you arched forward, pushing your tits further into his cupped palms, he chuckled against your wet skin whilst nudging your thighs open slightly with his thigh. Your breath hitched, ‘Relax precious, it won’t hurt at all..’ Changbin murmured against your neck- feeling him slide into the small gap he created you whined at the feeling of your thighs encasing his hard dick, the precum staining your skin leaving a path down as the water washed it away.

His heavy pants tickled the shell of your ear, he ensnared your neck with one large hand as the other held your pelvis against his, ‘You ready princess?’ meekly nodding your head, you gasped when he slid out of your thighs; before slowly re-entering the thigh gap. You let your head lay limp on his shoulder, the overwhelming feeling of his cock slowly getting slicker and slicker with your juices and therefore moving with more ease between your flesh made your entire body shiver with excitement.

Both of your moans echoed around the shower cubicle, mingling with the sound of both of your pelvis bumping together rhythmically. Slowly, Changbin’s moans turned into desperate whimpers and groans, you could tell he was teetering on the edge of his orgasm- his cock twitching helplessly against your cunt.

His thrusts became sloppy as his stamina was running out, wanting him to reach his high- you squeezed your thighs together, causing him to gasp against your shoulder, ‘Fucking-’ he bit down on your skin, secretly hoping that there would be visible marks of his teeth descorating your pure, clean canvas.

You started moving back and forth in tandem with his movements, fervently and messily clenching your thighs. Soon enough his breaths started to quicken as his moans became high pitched and the reflection of his face in the faucet showed his eyebrows being drawn together harshly, ‘Please cum around my thighs binnie, wanna feel you…’ your words threw him straight into his orgasm as he drew back completely- jerking his cum onto your ass and back thighs.

Breathing heavily, he twisted you back around- bumping his nose against yours, ‘you look so pretty covered in my cum baby..'

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thesandsofelsweyr · 1 year

Text

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 2/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,748 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 @tild3ath @iiirhiane-g

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Please consider reblogging if you enjoy the read ❤️ (Thanks for all the support you've given my lil story so far!)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You push yourself to your feet and hurry over to his kitchen, flipping on the recessed lighting overhead. The kitchen is as bare and spotless as the other rooms you’ve seen, its countertops clear of the usual clutter you’d expect. No rags nor paper towel roll. No knife block nor coffee maker nor toaster—the appliances are the ones that come standard with the unit. No stacks of unopened mail nor candles nor cookbooks nor a sink full of empty dishes. No signs of life except for the adorable houseplant and some liquid hand soap beside the sink (which is good—you need soap).

You pull open drawers and cabinets, feeling a twinge of guilt for invading his privacy like this but it can’t be helped. Even those are mostly empty, only containing the barest amount of necessities like cups, dishes, and flatware—run-of-the-mill kitchen items that were probably provided with the furnished unit. You do manage to find some clean rags and paper towels (and a coffee maker), but nothing like sandwich bags for the ice. On a whim, you check his freezer and bingo! No food or decapitated heads but plenty of ice packs along with an unopened bottle of vodka. You arch an eyebrow at the curious yet amusing stash. Perhaps coming home injured is a typical Friday night for him.

You turn on the sink faucet then tear off a few sheets of paper towels from the roll, wadding them up and wetting them before adding a few pumps of soap then working up a lather. You can’t get the sight of his bleeding face and swollen neck out of your head. It’s hard to imagine anyone doing that to him against his will. He’s an intimidating guy, to say the least. Over a head taller than you, powerfully built with broad shoulders and thick thighs (and a nice ass). Perhaps he got jumped on his walk home—an all too common occurrence on these crime-ridden streets—and his stubborn pride was too wounded to go to the ER. Or maybe it was a gang thing… some sort of hazing ritual? That could explain the bloody letter on his cheek, too, you suppose. But then you remember his shaking hands and fumbling fingers as he tried and failed to unlock his door, and how he jumped at the sound of your voice. He was scared, you realize, your heart swelling with sudden pity. He was more afraid of you than you were of him. Afraid, and probably hurting, too. That thought makes your heart swell even more. It also leaves you a bit shaken. What in God’s name could frighten him? You can only hope that whatever it is doesn’t plan to make a house call anytime soon.

With the items in hand—ice packs, wet and dry rags, soapy paper towel wads, paper towel roll—you return to his side. He still doesn’t appear to have stirred, which is troubling, you have to admit, but you put it out of your mind for now. You set the items down on the floor beside the corpse-like body before grabbing a throw pillow from his couch. (Yes, a throw pillow. There’s a throw blanket on the couch, too. It’s the strongest evidence yet supporting your furnished unit presumption, since he definitely doesn’t strike you as a throw pillow kind of guy.) You kneel down at his side, then, ever so gently, you slip an arm behind his neck and lift his head enough to pull back his hood and slide the pillow beneath him. Next you take off his cap, revealing a mop of sweat-damp black hair. You sweep the soft locks back from his forehead so that you can place a cold rag against that warm, sweat-slick skin.

That’s when you notice the scars. You’d never been close enough to him to see that his face is absolutely covered in them. Faint white lines that cut through his features: his dark brows, his full lips, his freckle-dusted cheeks, the bent bridge of his nose. The worst one (aside from the J on his cheek, that is) is a deep gash that slashes across his right cheek and his nose, all the way up to his forehead. Another knife wound? Is this guy a masochist with a knife fetish or is there some freak out there who gets off on slicing up this poor guy’s face? Those marks on his neck imply the latter—the more sinister of the two—and that sends a cold chill shuddering up your spine.

Almost magnetically your eyes are drawn back past the (cute) cleft in his chin to those sunken bands of red ringing his throat. A thin line of blood has surfaced along the outer edge of one of the bands, where whatever was used to strangle him had cut into his skin. As you wipe away the blood with one of the soapy paper towel wads you spot several scratches on his neck, and for a moment you wonder if the assailant also used his hands to choke him. But then you feel your own throat constrict as the horrible realization sets in: those are claw marks. Gouges from his own fingernails where he desperately struggled to pry the ligature away and free his windpipe so he could breathe. Defensive wounds where he fought for his life.

You set aside the wet wad, then, driven by some morbid curiosity, you find your fingers returning to his throat. Ever so delicately, as if trying not to wake a sleeping lion, you touch one of the raw indentations in his swollen flesh, tracing it with your fingertip, feeling how the abraded skin had folded inward around whatever had coiled around his neck and tried to choke the life out of him. His throat vibrates gently against your probing fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You lay one of the dry rags across his throat, hiding the hideous damage, then place the ice pack on top, as instructed by the health article you Googled. You do the same for the back of his neck as well.

Now you turn your attention back to his scarred, haggard face. After swiping away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth you press the soapy paper towel to his cheek, which gradually turns from white to pink as it soaks up the blood seeping from the J carved into his flesh. Once you staunch the bleeding, you lift the towel to replace it with a fresh one, and you get an unimpeded view of what was hiding beneath the cut and the blood, beneath his hat and hood all of those times you passed him in the hallway, all of those times he ducked his head between hunched shoulders to avoid eye contact with you. You pull in a sharp breath. It’s not a J-shaped scar; it’s the letter J branded into his cheek. You can tell by how the skin is puckered around the too-precise curve of the raised letter, by its faint red outline, by how it seems to tug uncomfortably at his cheek.

Your mind rewinds to a few weeks back when you accidentally burned your neck with your curling iron. You’d shrieked like a banshee then thrown the damn thing across your bathroom. The blistered patch of seared skin had throbbed for the rest of the night, and was still sensitive to the touch for the following week. That was the result of hot ceramic glancing against your skin for maybe half a second, if that long. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it would’ve hurt to have held the infernal thing against your neck for long enough to melt a fucking letter into the flesh. And not just any flesh. His cheek; that tender skin right below the orbital bone, less than an inch from his eye. It probably felt like his eyeball was boiling in his eye socket from the immense heat. And the smell! His own flesh barbecuing like meat to be served at a cannibal cook-out…

You don’t want to think about it anymore. You can’t think about it anymore or else you’re gonna be sick. And luckily you don’t have to because a low moan slips from his lips and his lashes begin to flutter. A rush of relief floods through you at the small signs of life, and you absently begin to stroke his soft hair with your hand. Heavy eyelids strain to lift then glassy blue eyes are peeking out from between the slits. You smile down at him, your fingers caringly combing through his tousled hair, easing his way back into consciousness. You expect him to groggily ask where he is or what happened to him.

Instead his eyes snap open, and the romantic portrait you’ve painted inside your mind of this moment is ripped to shreds.

He bolts upright, sending rags and ice packs flying away from him, then that massive wall of muscular torso turns on you. Time seems to somehow speed up and slow down simultaneously as those large, dangerous hands of his are reaching for you, and in that terrible instant you know without a doubt that he means to strangle you. A tiny, panic-stricken sound—the choked cry of ensnared prey—comes from your mouth as you throw up your arms across your face and neck in an comically feeble attempt to defend yourself from certain death, and the thought that flashes through your mind—maybe the last thought you’ll ever have in this lifetime—is that you’ll never have the chance to open that bottle of merlot.

But his hands don’t wrap around your throat; they land on your shoulders, and then you’re sliding, falling backwards from the force of a violent shove, your vision flashing to black as your head bounces off the hardwood floor.

“Ow!” you squeal as a bright burst of pain rings through your skull, leaving you stunned for a split second until your fear takes over, clearing away the haze and stars. You push yourself up on your forearm, blood pounding through your ears as your eyes frantically search for your attacker, heart lurching as you find him.

The guy is scrambling backwards away from you on all fours like some frightened beast, slamming into a floor lamp in his haste to escape. The lamp reels drunkenly, throwing light madly around the room as it whirls, like a waving searchlight at a festival. Then he’s pressed into a corner, able to go no further, yet his hands and heels are gripping the floor for purchase, as if he’s trying to push himself into the walls. As the lamp settles, somehow still upright, its light illuminates the hulking figure backed into the corner behind it, and you notice for the first time that the front of his red hoodie is splattered with an even darker red.

You’re sitting up now, frozen like a deer in headlights, your fight or flight reflexes canceling each other out because you’ve realized that you’re the toothless predator, not the prey, and the guy you’re gaping at with his bloodless face and wild eyes is a cornered animal who’ll do anything to survive. Then, to your horror, that cornered animal seems to remember his claws and reaches for the gun that’s not there, and you thank the universe and every holy entity within it that you disarmed him.

His wide eyes narrow as they lock onto you, and the fear that had filled them only a heartbeat ago has vanished, replaced with a look so cold, so devoid of anything but shadows and darkness, that it turns the blood in your veins to ice.

“Who are you? What’re you doing in my apartment? What the fuck did you do with my gun?” Some of the wildness returns to his eyes as he shouts at you with a scarred voice, wheezing between each sentence. You shrink back, shocked that the guy can speak louder than a mumble, then your attention is caught by something more unnerving than his shouting, something that clutches at your insides. His eyes… The little hairs on the back of your neck stir again as you study those pale blue irises flecked with green, barely visible beneath his blown-out pupils yet still trained on you like a sniper’s laser sights. There’s something wrong with his eyes… But before you can figure it out he roars: “Answer me!” and you can’t help but jump at the hateful ferocity, his deadly strength palpable in his tone.

Your heart’s in your throat again, and your mind is racing out his door, terrified all 200-something pounds of him are about to pounce on you, so you’re surprised when you not only find your words, but shout them back at him, just as vicious.

“Take it easy! I'm your neighbor, remember? You passed out. I was trying to help you. I thought you were fucking dying!”

You see a flicker of recognition flash over his face before a coughing fit takes him. Then it hits you, like a punch to the gut as you watch him clutching at his blood-splattered chest again as he gasps for a breath. His eyes… they’re red where they should be white. All of the binged episodes of Forensic Files come flooding back to you and you even remember the term for it: petechial hemorrhaging. Burst blood vessels from strangulation. His strangulation.

The rush of pity that wells up in your chest at the awful realization calms your fear enough that you crawl a tiny bit closer to him. “You’re hurt,” you say gently, trying to keep your nerves from shaking your voice. “Your neck…”

You trail off as his eyes snap back to you, pupils still blown wide. You try to hold onto his skittish gaze, praying he won’t notice his gun behind you and lunge, but his eyes fall away to the floor. He raises his free hand to his neck, as slowly as if his wrists were chained to the floor, and touches one of the red furrows there. Then his trembling fingers move to his brand, where fresh beads of blood have surfaced. You hear him mutter something so low and tremulous it’s barely audible, but you think it sounded like… “Plan J”?

“I cleaned it with soap and water,” you reply as he stares blankly at his bloody fingertips. “But it’s deep. You may need stitches. I can bring you some Band-Aids,” you pause, feeling really fucking stupid for suggesting Band-Aids for the guy who’s been strangled and cut and branded. You blurt out the rest: “If you need them… for the time being.”

His eyes have glazed over, as if he’s gone somewhere far away. Somewhere terrible, because his rasping breath quickens and his whole body starts to shake, as though he’s reliving something. His attack? His branding? All of the times that monster of a person cut his face? You desperately want to reach for his hand, to pull him back from whatever hell he’s been sucked into, but you’re too scared to wake that cornered wild animal again.

Finally he snaps out of it, and his eyes close as his hand drops limply to the floor. You watch helplessly as the tension drains from his body and he sags forward, like he’s been crushed by whatever was waiting for him in that flashback.

“You should go,” he mumbles to the floor, barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself agree. As you stand you remind yourself that you can finally have that glass of wine, but the notion isn’t as appealing as it was earlier in the night.

You gather up your phone and bag. You start to ask if you can get him anything before you go but you know his answer so you turn to leave.

“Thank you.” His small voice cracks like a little boy’s when he speaks, and you know he’s started to cry.

“Yeah, sure,” you say softly as you turn the knob and push open his door. You glance over your shoulder at him one last time. The sight of the broken boy—the boy whose name you still don’t know—huddled in a corner with his knees pulled to his chest, weeping into his hands, wrings your heart out like a wet rag, and you feel your own throat tighten up with tears. You hang your head as you shut the door softly behind you.

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rustedhearts · 10 months

Text

melancholy (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: autumns with steve were distinctly blue and melancholy.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ main masterlist

tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, very short, very sad. more of a ficlet.

✶ recommended listening: (dream) by salvia palth & both sides now by joni mitchell

small town connecticut. october 1991.

A wave of thunder roared through the bedroom. A lick of lightning, a slash of white light, shuttered over the bedspread. From the window, left open a crack, a gust of cool air howled through. Beneath the blankets, your body gave a shiver—reaching to pull the cotton shields over your head.

"Honey," he called from somewhere under the blankets. "You left the window open again."

Nose buried in the down feathers of your pillow, you hummed absently. Dug in a little further. Felt the weight of his hand over your waist, slipping through the groove. Expected, comforting, welcome. Against the splashing patters of rain, the whooshing shuffle of his body against the sheets. The damp grass and soiled leaves, the earthen concoction of soil and rain—interrupted by his vetiver musk and a hint of something like bonfire smoke, all toasted to warmth by sleep.

His hair, always softer than yours, hazelnut-brown and growing past his ears, glided against your cheek. As did his mouth, grazing like seeking sustenance in the dark—until the familiar cushion of your mouth, roughened by the briskness of autumn, touched his own. He pressed firmly, bottom lip jutting between your own, tongue lazily sweeping in hello. He kissed until you rolled away from the pillow, and into him.

When he was satisfied with the taste of you on his mouth, he pulled away and shuffled against the mattress. "I'll close it."

His figure, tall and lean, scarcely clothed in dark colors, moved through the blueness of the room. A deep, indigo blue—Joni Mitchell blue, melancholic blue, a blue only October allowed. When he turned in the blue light, streaked over his face paled by the colder months, he was grinning.

"Morning," he soothed.

Partially concealed by the pile of fabrics and colors that made up your bed, he caught only the raise of your brows and crinkle of your eyes—but he knew you were smiling, too.

"Morning, honey."

Four feet—two bare, two flannel-plaid-clad—padded over the hardwood. Wandered over the cold bathroom tile, stained with a rouge mistake near the sink. Shuffled into the kitchen, stopping before the coffee maker to fumble through caffeine assembly. Pattered to the toaster, where two pieces of wheat toast came away crisp and black. Tapped a mindless beat before the stove, where four eggs fried up still runny.

They came together, half socked and half bare, at the small, round wooden table. Toes knocking, ankles sliding, one pair warming the other's foolish forgetfulness as the apartment collected a sharp chill. He burnt the toast and you undercooked the eggs, but neither said a word as forks shoveled and scraped until the dishware was clean.

"You ready to go?" he asked you over the rim of his coffee mug, oatmeal-colored and speckled—purchased at Goodwill for 99 cents five Octobers ago.

You swallowed down your last charcoal bite of crunchy bread. "Almost. Have to do some cleaning up."

You cleared the table, wiped it clean with a damp rag. The sink freed of dishes, the counter clear of crumbs. The windows greyed with the light of storm clouds. It wouldn't let up today. Over the patter of rain, his soft clattering in the bedroom sounded like music. Flipping through records, fluttering through books, ghosting through hangers, spritzing cologne from a pressurized can. He came through the kitchen in a navy blue knitted sweater, dark and padded around his arms; a pair of Levis hugged his backside just perfectly.

As you pulled the rubber dish gloves from your hands, snapping and squeaking with sudsy water, he watched, leaning against the fridge. The watch on his wrist caught a streak of silvery light.

"Ready now?"

You padded over, perching on tip-toes to kiss his chin. Arms winding around his torso, breath taking him and all his cleanness in. "Almost. Shower first."

The hiss of the shower stream convoluted with the rain, melding together until one was difficult to discern from the other. But over the stomp of water, on the other side of the tiled wall and through the whiteness of the shower curtain, his maneuvering persisted. Rummaging and rumbling, drawers rolling closed, hands patting pillows, perfume bottles being straightened after being knocked down by hands moving too quick to slow down.

Wrapped in just a pale, fluffy pink towel, dripping beads of warm water across the floor, emitting steam from a stream set too high on hot—he watched you from the sofa, a book perched between his hands, as you strode into the closet. Flicked through hangers, lips pursing and nose scrunching at every distasteful option.

He placed his book face-down against the tattered cushion of the couch before returning to the bedroom. The top drawer of the dresser hummed open, clunked back closed.

"Here, honey," he cooed, holding out a bundle of deep green wool.

It smelled like him as it went over your head. It felt like being held beneath the blinding white and neon red of a movie theater sign on a cold November night while you waited for your friends. It felt like curling up on the couch when the days were too long, and the warmest, coziest place in the world was his lap, pressed against his thigh. It felt like the first time he met your parents at Thanksgiving dinner, full of bloated bellies and the stench of meat clinging to your hair and his hands for hours. The candied sweetness of a day through town when you were supposed to be at college, but the weather was too brisk and the trees were too vibrant to waste, and his propositions were not easily ignored.

The jeans were yours, the boots you pulled on, too—but the socks stuffed beneath the stiff leather were his. Plucked from his drawer when he wandered back to the living room to his book. Unfurled from their rumpled ball, plucked free of hair and lint, squished down at the calves to fit snugly around your ankles.

Your perfume and his cologne came to a symphony of scents that you only associated with home. The blueness of the living room deepened in all your stalling, and when you came to stand in the doorway, dressed in half his clothes, an ache like hunger festered in your chest.

He smiled again, overwhelmed with adoration, and snapped his book shut. "Ready now?"

You nodded. He stood, the old springs of the cushion weeping with relief of removed weight. His boots clunked over the carpet, flat and thin and found on the side of the road in a pile of garbage. A road trip to New York in the dead of summer.

He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you close. In the center of the living room, as the rain trickled down the windowsill and filled the room with earthen sour, he kissed you. Sweet, tender, full of aching mouths like all his kisses were. His slender, pulsing fingers buried their way into the hair gathered at the nape of your neck; his thumbs pressed at the underside of your jaw, right where your heart sang just for him. The melody in your bones swept into a crescendo until he pulled away.

Even then, under his hazel-speckled eyes and long, straight-bridged nose, it couldn't stop crying for him.

"Come on," he murmured, a softness gracing his face. "It's time."

You kept the radio off in the car, let the ping of rain on the windshield soothe the drive. His hand cupped over your denim thigh, tapping aimlessly at the occasional stoplight. And the blueness gathered in the car, too. A deep, bruised blue that curdled your blood like spoiled milk. A blue that felt like drowning. A blue that burned if you peered for too long, like the hottest flame on a gas stove burner.

The tires crunched over gravel and flattened down slick grass. Slipped through the sludge and soup of mud. You carefully put the gear in park when you reached the edge of the road. The engine dinged as your seatbelt slipped back against the door, and ceased only when you yanked the keys from the ignition to slip them in your pocket. In the backseat, he left a sturdy raincoat for days like today. You pulled it over your head and zipped it to your chin before stepping out.

The walk was just down the hill and up another to the right. Winding through grey stone monuments, careful of crushing windblown and rain-wilted flowers and tokens of affection as you went. Hands tucked into the warmth and dryness of your pockets, you watched your feet collect wet soil and mark their way through a familiar path. The rain began to slant sideways, beating against the canvas of your raincoat and covered ears with gentle fury.

And despite the wetness and the messiness of the earth, you sank down to the ground when you reached the end of your journey. Flat on your butt, legs tucked into each other with every intention to stay. From your pocket, a tightly-closed silver thermos of steaming coffee, swiped on the way out of the house.

You placed it on the gleaming silver stone and swiped away the blades of grass and yellow leaves that came to say hello.

"I made it, Stevie," you told him, sighing into the cold.

Thunder grumbled through the clouds, married with another lick of white lightning. You smiled, easing into the wisps of wind seeping through the raincoat hood. Coldness kissed your cheeks and numbed your nose. The scent of him under your coat felt as precious and rare and holy as he did when he was still around.

Though Steve said his goodbye, you'd never stop coming to say your hellos.

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klausysworld · 1 year

Note

can u pls write a grumpy x sunshine trope with klaus, but reader is the grumpy one

@klaustopia thank uuu for the moodboard to use 💜💜^^

Fuck. Off.

Klaus is known to be a little moody and grumpy sometimes, his siblings in particular grew used to seeing him in such a way.

It was certainly a shock when he began being smilier, curtains open to let in the sun as his face lit up to read the text he’d just received.

“Something funny Nik?” Rebekah asked irritated with the childish giggles leaving his lips every few minutes. He didn’t respond only left the room with a grin.

Soon after the Mikaelsons learnt of a girl. Y/n. They were somewhat excited as a family to meet her, they expected someone energetic and bouncy seeing how cheerful their brother had been. They were not expecting a sarcastic grumpy bitch to show up lounging around their house like she owned it.

Rebekah’s enthusiasm to go shopping with her was short lived after going through her wardrobe

“Your clothes are all far too big for you? And the colour scheme… where’s the colour?” She asked with a frown and y/n rolled her eyes before ushering the blonde out.

Elijah stood in the kitchen mildly concerned seeing Niklaus adding vanilla syrup to the latte he was making as the toaster went off and he picked out two marshmallow flavoured pop-tarts. He hurried over to his lover and presented it with a pleased smile

“Thank you Nik” she praised as he leaned down to kiss her lips.

He continued to watch as she fed him some of the pop tart and lightly patted his hair

“You look pretty today” she told him watching his eyes light up.

Elijah walked away in confusion.

Kol was thoroughly amused by the back to front dynamic as he watched his older brother receive head scratches while being lead against a girl who looked as though she might stab someone.

“Awe is Klausy laying with his mommy?” Kol asked in an overly sarcastic tone, crouching down to prod Klaus’ cheek.

Y/n felt the hybrids mood dampen as he sat up and cleared his throat. She felt her anger grow seeing his embarrassment and without thinking had punched Kol straight on the nose. He stumbled several paces back, shock written all over his face as he grabbed his nose.

Silently she pulled Klaus back to his led down position and stroked his hair with purpose, a glare fixed on Kol while Klaus snuggled her with a smug grin. The second Kol went to yell at her she gave him a deathly stare

“Fuck. Off.” She seethed and he did so quickly.

Klaus often found himself watching his lover sleep, seeing the soft innocence on her face was calming. The pissed off look she gave him when she woke up to his staring at her was not.

“What the fuck do you want?” She mumbled and he breathed a laugh

“I was just admiring you, my love.” He told her with a smile. Her hand pushed him away by his forehead and he grumbled

“Go ‘way” she muttered kicking his leg when he trued to spoon her

“Just let me hold you” he whined attempting to pull her close but was elbowed on the abdomen effectively winding him.

The noise of distress had her blindly reaching behind her to pat his cheek

“Remember when i told you to go away and you didn’t? Yeah. Next time go ‘way” she told him before pulling the blanket completely off of him. Once she was asleep he managed to squeeze back into the duvet and curl himself around her without her waking.

She chose not to comment in it when she woke again.

One think Rebekah was glad for was that y/n didn’t mind having her nails done. It was something the girls could ‘bond’ over.

Sometimes Elijah would just silently sit in the same room as her and read his book. Though each time he peeked over he found her sat holding her phone in a way that had her middle finger on display. He was not amused.

Kol was still learning to ‘fuck off’

Each time he made a comment on her and Klaus’ relationship y/n managed to do something that ruined his day or physically harmed him.

Klaus would practically purr seeing his lover stand up for him, to have someone- although not always showing it- love him.

Sometimes he would try to get her to smile, seeing how far he had to push it. Apparently taking her a fairground was not his best idea. A child spilt a slush puppy on her and the way she looked at the kid had Klaus immediately rushing them home

“Let’s not kill the child” he muttered while dragging her away

“Little shit deserves it”

One thing that rewarded him with a smile was dates. A simple blood red rose handed to her as he stood before her all tuxed up and fancy. How could she not smile at him?

Sometimes she realised how hard it must be for him to put up with her lack of acknowledgment and would spend the occasional day zeroing her focus on him

“You know that i love you, yes?” She asked almost softly and his eyes flicked to hers with a nod

“I love you too” he expressed as she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his…

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4channerguy · 5 months

Text

tug of war / ranpo edogawa

hello...guys.... oh my god i acutally didn't expect my last fic to gain traction? thank you? anyways this is a repost from my ao3 fic that i am very proud of. its very cute i like it a lot tumblr is fun :^) xoxo (。・∀・)ノ

warnings ✎ : none. just ranpo stealing your blankets i guess. gn reader, pronouns aren't mentioned. ➜ ┊ pairings: ranpo x reader

wc: 592 (short, i know)

it was cold again.

you groggily woke up to nothing on your body, shivering with prickled skin. you look at the alarm clock. it was only 4:06 am. you turn to your side, and much to your avail, ranpo, again, had hogged all of the blankets. wrapped around him, with only the exception of a tuft of hair peeking out. he reminded you of a hamster that had burrowed inside of it’s own bedding. though cute, you were rightfully pissed off. sighing loudly, you nudge ranpo.

“hey…hey!” you shout-whispered. he grunted in response.

“you took all the blankets again,” you whisper. “it’s cold, you need to share.” he grunted again and proceeded to unroll himself half-assedly before going back to sleep.

only a quarter of the blanket was given to you. you accepted the gesture anyway, trying to make do with it, before falling back asleep.

you woke up an hour later.

your body was now dangerously closer to the edge of the bed with nothing on you. again. you seriously had enough of this. determined to get your blanket back, you firmly but gently tugged the blanket that was still cocooned around ranpo. he grumbled in his half-asleep state and resisted. you only kept trying, and finally, out of pure hard work, you were able to gain a better halve of the blanket. feeling weirdly triumphant about your achievement (while ranpo was blissfully unaware) you put it over you carefully and buried yourself in it in delight. you look over at ranpo who had his cheek squished against the pillow, creating a pool of drool on it. you brush his bangs up and kiss him on his forehead. he smiled in his sleep and you suppressed the urge to start aggressively kissing him all over his face. you sighed as your head hit the pillow.

morning hit and you and ranpo collectively trudged towards the kitchen where you made coffee and he made toaster waffles.

“we should get two blankets.” you randomly mention. he raises an eyebrow while rubbing an eye. “what for?” he replies while flicking an eye booger out of his eye. you stare at him.

“you seriously don’t remember last night.”

“uh….nope.”

you turn around as your coffee’s done. “we played a game of tug of war last night.”

“oh really?” he says absentmindedly while trying to pull two of the waffles from the toaster with his bare hands. “shit, ouch.”

you reach towards his hurt hand and kiss it while he pouts. “yeah we did. and it wasn’t fun.” you retort back, sulking. he kisses your hand back and smirks showing his canines. “apologies that i’m such a blanket thief. it’s a…what’s the word…involuntary. yeah, involuntary reflex i can’t control.”

you roll your eyes. “well, your reflex makes me not sleep well. i’d rather not walk into work brain-dead because i fought so many battles with you when i’m trying to sleep. thanks.”

he munches on his now rescued waffle while handing your share to you. you accept.

he nudges you. “i can be your blanket you know? we can, like, share body heat and-”

“please, in your dreams. you know that’ll just cocoon yourself anyways. we tried that before.”

he shrugs. “just giving suggestions. don’t worry about your cute butt anyway, we’ll go to a convenience store and get a blanket. if you promise to get me shrimp chips on the way.”

you sip your coffee and smile. “i promise.”

⋆｡𖦹 °✩ 11.24.23, do not repost or translate my content :^)

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cmoundiamante · 3 months

Text

WELCOME HOME ✦ S.JY

pairing non idol!jake x fem!reader

summary It was going to be your first birthday with Jake and Layla, and they managed to turn a regular day into a much better one.

genre fluff, established relationship, drabble.

warnings any ig

a/n hello everyone!! its rom again ^^ i didnt really like this drabble but i wanted to post something fluff anyway, lmk what do u think of it in the comments. i remind u, english is not my first language so pls be kind (: any correction will be considered, not only to improve reading but also for my learning ^^ enjoy it <3

wc +2k

You woke up with a bit of difficulty trying to fight with the warm blankets that didn't want to let you out of bed. The first thing you found when you opened your eyes was your boyfriend, still asleep and snoring. Your hand made contact with Jake's cheeks, you felt a temperature shock when the hand you pulled out from under the blankets made contact with your boyfriend's cheek. You felt a strange movement on the bed, when you raised your head a little you could see Layla, Jake's dog, she sensed at the moment you were awake. You saw Jake again and laughed when you saw how even though he is asleep he is pouting, so before you got out of bed you decided to give him a kiss.

You got up, and with your pajamas on, you left the room, careful not to make any noise so as not to wake your boyfriend. Instead of staying in bed with Jake, Layla decided to go out and accompany you.

When you first met Jake, it didn't take long for him to invite you to his home and introduce you to his faithful partner, so when they both made the decision to live together, Layla was included in the plan. At first you could tell how the dog had a certain distrust, but since you liked animals you were constantly trying to give her affection, which made her love you a little more every day.

You two went to the kitchen, the first thing you did was fill Layla's dog food bowl, then you started with your breakfast, being unsure of what you were going to do, so you decided to look at the fridge to give you some idea.

As you made breakfast, you remembered that tomorrow was your birthday. You weren't that excited, and it was customary since you always spent your birthdays the same way. The exception for this birthday was that it was the first time Jake was going to celebrate with you.

Because you were deep in thought, you didn't feel Layla's barking, nor the hands that held your waist. "Morning, love." You turned to look him in the eye and your lips met, creating a soft kiss. "Good morning, Jakey." "How did you wake up?" he pulled away from your waist and began to help prepare breakfast. He opened the refrigerator and took out four oranges.

"Alright, baby. It's pretty cold outside, I think you need to bundle up," you said, seeing that he was ready to go to work. He was wearing a shirt with the first two buttons unbuttoned and jeans close to the body, the whole outfit was black. Sometimes you wondered to yourself how such a handsome man could have come into your life. "I know, don't worry." He grabbed a knife to halve the oranges and then put them in the juicer. "You look very handsome today, love."

"Just today?" he raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes. “Everyday.” The toast was ready to automatically come out of the toaster, you put it down on a plate and then you walked up to Jake, grabbed his half-open shirt and pulled him closer to you for a kiss, he laughed generating a vibration on your lips. A bark came into the scene, you looked back and saw Layla, wagging her tail as she looked at the two of you. "She's getting jealous"

"Come here, Girl." It wasn't necessary for Jake to bend down to pet his dog, she stuck out her tongue showing that she enjoyed her owner's caresses. You bend down and start petting her too. "Who wanna go for a walk?" Layla, hearing that keyword come out of your mouth, began to spin, you laughed at the sight of its enthusiasm. "Okay, girl, we'll go after breakfast."

"Babe," Jake said. "Hmm?" you hummed. "I'm afraid I'll leave work a little later, I don't know if I'll make it to dinner." You looked at him trying to hide the sadness you had when you heard that, you kept caressing Layla while thinking about what to answer. "What time will you come, love?" he looked at his watch, it was almost time to leave. "At 11 P.M." he turned to look at the table again, grabbed two glasses from one of the cupboards and poured the orange juice he had prepared, he makes bottoms up to drink it, as he had little time left. You saw him with some sadness, knowing that he was being held to a great deal in his work. "Do you have to go now?"

"Yes love." when you stood up he took the opportunity to take your chin and again, give you another of those sweet kisses typical of him, which even if he is not very present always make you start the day well. "I. Love you. So. Much. Do you know that?" he said between kisses. Seriously, you could never get tired of this guy. "I love you too." As you pulled away from the kiss, with the same hand that held your chin he began to caress your cheek, you felt how little by little you melted under his gaze. "I bet you will miss me," he said jokingly. "Oh, believe me I'll do." Although he get away from you, you followed him to the exit door. You looked at him from the time he started getting ready to go out, until he said "I love you beautiful, see you later."

You went back to the kitchen and saw the glass with the juice that Jake had prepared, then you saw the other end of the counter and there were the two pieces of toast, so starting to feel the loneliness, you decided to set the table for breakfast alone. You sat down and started spreading the strawberry jam on top of the toast, at the same time as you bit into it you felt a ball of hair brush against your bare leg, it was clearly Layla, making you understand that she wanted some food. "You can't eat this, Lay." his face begged you to give him some of what you were, yet you knew what it could cause. "When we go to the pet shop I'll buy you some snacks, right?" you took another bite of the toast and looked at Layla again to see if she had any reaction to what you said, but no, she only understands key words. "Wanna go for a walk?"

11:30 P.M. And Jake still hadn't arrived. You were in bed reading a book, accompanied by Layla, who was resting next to you because she was so tired after being outside all day walking with you. However, you were not aware of what time it was, you completely forgot about the issues around you that you only paid attention to the plot of the story.

Instead, Jake, he lied to you, he wasn't at work. Even though he had spent weeks hiding your gift, he still needed to buy a couple of things to complete what he had in mind. Chocolates, flowers, some products that he knew had caught your attention, and of course, the box that brought a gift that you would never have imagined. He had everything ready in his car, but he was calm knowing that he was going to get home at 0 A.M. o’clock.

When he got home, and saw that you weren't downstairs, he took advantage and tried to be as quiet as possible to prepare your presents on the sofa.

When he finished, Jake looked at his watch, it was 11:59 P.M. He slowly went upstairs to go look for you, opened the door to his room and quietly spied on you to see what you were doing, you were still reading the book he had given you a few months ago. He opened the door a little more, enough for you to see him out of the side of your eyes. You were a little startled, as you hadn't even heard him coming. "How are the two girls of my life?" he said, referring to you and Layla. You jumped out of bed to meet your boyfriend, throwing the book to God knows where. You hugged him and started kissing him all over his face. "I missed you so much." Since Layla always senses movement, she didn't hesitate to throw herself on top of Jake as well. "We missed you so much."

Jake's watch vibrated, clearly indicating that the day had come. Without warning, he lifted your legs, taking advantage of the fact that you had your arms around his neck to carry you downstairs. "Hey, what are you doing?" He didn't answer you, he just giggled as he went downstairs. When you guys reached the floor downstairs he let go of you and with his hands covered your eyes, helping you walk to the living room. You stood still for a few seconds, until you heard your boyfriend's voice hit your ear. "Are you ready?" you nodded, already knowing what Jake was planning. Your eyes were freed, and you couldn't refrain from opening your mouth.

There were multiple bags from different shops, such as Prada, Dior, some MAC makeup, Kylie Cosmetics, he had also bought books that you had told him you wanted to read, and your favorite candys, what caught the most attention was the biggest box in the middle. The floor was decorated with fake petals, there were also some above the gifts to give it a more romantic touch. "You're gonna catch flies."

"Jake, this is too much." He was still behind you, holding your waist while his chin rested on your shoulder. "It's what you deserve, now, open your presents," he blurted out, excited to see how you would react. "Leave the bigger box for last."

You listened to him, starting to open the gift bags that were on the sides of the box that captures your attention the most. When you opened each gift you couldn't help but thank Jake, you couldn't imagine all the money he spent on you, nor did you understand how he had paid so much attention to particularly buy you things you needed or wanted. You finished opening all the presents, at this point you were so grateful that all you did was cry with emotion, but there was something pending, the biggest box. You paid more attention to it and noticed that it had some holes, with uncertainty you opened the box and found something that you were very excited to have, however you had never talked about it with Jake.

You picked her up slowly with your hands trying not to wake her up, she was asleep. "A dog?" It was a newborn Jack Russell. "It's a girl." You rested the still sleeping puppy on your chest. "But Jake, why?" "I thought it would be a good idea to expand the family." Jake came up to you and started petting the dog, on the other side of your shoulder you felt Layla, who when she saw that you had the dog in your arms sniffed it. "Also, I've seen how you treat Layla, noticed that you like animals, so I wanted to give you one."

The puppy started rubbing on your chest, you brought your face closer to hers and you saw how little by little she opened her eyes. "Hi, baby." you brushed your nose against the dog's, in a form of affection she stuck out her tongue to give you some kisses, you giggled at this while you felt Jake's intense gaze enjoy that tender moment.

Jake caressed your thigh as you began to think about the question you usually have long in advance, what will be her name? You didn't plan on having children at the moment, but you were always looking for inspiration or jotting down names that seemed meaningful or beautiful to you. One came to your head, which for some reason you felt matched the dog a lot.

"Welcome home, Cora."

#enhypen #enhypen fic #jake enhypen #jake #jake x reader #jake sim #jake fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake

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teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

Text

Closing Shift - 2

>Yan! Demon! Childe x Fem! Reader

Warnings: a little blood, stalking, non consensual touching, dubious consent towards the end, suggestive

Word count: 3.5k

Part 1

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The sound of your alarm blaring at full volume wakes you up. As usual, you snooze it at least thrice before you get out of bed. The cold air of your dorm room greets you along with the realisation that you forgot to turn on the heater last night. You must’ve been very tired.

One look at the date had your brain start listing off things you needed to get done. Even when brushing your teeth, you made a grocery list in mind and reminded yourself to do some laundry. Classes start on Tuesday instead of Monday so you have tomorrow and the day after to prepare.

You just hope you don’t let this perfectly good Saturday go to waste. After all, you do have a tendency to lounge around on weekends. Setting the frying pan on the stove, you grab an egg without forgetting to put some bread in the toaster. It’s when you’re cracking the egg that you feel a pair of arms slither around you.

With a frantic glance, you look around the kitchen but no one’s there. It’s only you. Well, it must've been your imagination. No biggie.

When breakfast is made, you sit down at your study table with your phone in one hand, browsing for something to watch while you eat. That’s when you get a notification from Ajax, the poor guy thanking you for the time yesterday and asking when you’re next free. You don’t open the message though, preferring to read it from the notifications bar.

It seems a little weird to read someone’s messages right after they send them.

“Grocery, done. Laundry, not done. Pre-class course prep, done. Internship application, done. What am I missing?”

You wrack your brain as you pace around in your room. Something’s missing. Something you forgot to do…

“Aha! Cleaning! Gosh, I can’t believe I forgot about cleaning.”

Well, seeing that it’s already nighttime, you think you’d rather do it tomorrow. You’re already tired as is, and it’s also midnight. Maybe hitting the hay is the better call.

As soon as you’re changed, you’re under the warm blanket, heater turned off because the colder the room, the more enticing the warm bed. This time, you don’t turn off the lights. Despite being well aware that what happened was your brain playing tricks on you, you’re still scared. So, the light stays on tonight.

When you wake up, you see nothing. Maybe it's because the light is now turned off and the curtains are drawn or maybe it's because a hand covers both your eyes. You can't be sure which it is, for every muscle in your body refuses to listen to you.

You're not panicking. You swear you aren't. Despite the loss of sight, you know you're in your room. The bedsheet feels the same under your palm and the warmth inside the blanket is yours. So whose warmth is covering your eyes?

It's okay.

Breathe.

It's just a nightmare.

You're safe.

Something presses up behind you, warm and inviting, and the only thing stopping you from screaming is the loss of control in your body. Just to confirm your fears, you try to open your eyes. Your eyelids do respond, but your heart sinks when you feel your lashes flutter against something.

"Go back to sleep, [Name]," a voice whispers.

Your mind doesn't listen to it, instead trying its best to scream and thrash just to lay hopelessly as your body remains frozen.

Lips brush your ear as the voice whispers again, a warm hand now resting on your bare stomach. "Sleep. We have lots to do."

You feel the owner of the voice smile against your cheek as your eyelids slowly close, mind falling into a peaceful slumber.

The only thing your alarm gets in return for waking you up is a colourful string of words. Just a few minutes after getting up, you turn off the light you left open last night and rub your eyes as you make your way to the bathroom to start your day.

In a few hours, you’re done cleaning your dorm and successfully check everything off the list. Now all you have to do is mentally prepare yourself for another night out with Ajax. He’s been bugging you to go to some family owned coffeehouse downtown, saying that their ‘marshmallow game’ is ‘like no other’. It takes some lounging around and a few long phone calls to friends to bring in the evening.

A little pep talk later, you’re out the door with the cherished oversized coat and a scarf. You don’t know why, you honestly don’t know, but you’re also wearing lip gloss. No, you refuse to admit that you've snooped to the level of wanting to impress a man. It’s just that the weather is dry and lip gloss ensures less use of chapstick. Yes, that’s what it is.

After you get off the train, you make your way to the meeting spot you both decided. Your breath leaves your mouth in puffs, the temperature of the winter night making you thank yourself for indoor heating. When Ajax’s ginger hair comes into sight, you remind yourself of only staying in public with him lest something… indecent occur. You’re aware of your ‘inclination’ to him, and you’d rather not put yourself to the test.

Being somewhere alone with him would be excruciating considering how attractive you find him, so strictly staying in public it is no matter how nerve wracking sitting across him on a table might be.

With a smile that’s all teeth, he greets you, and you find yourself a little taken by surprise with how his canines seemed a little prominent for a moment. You brush off the feeling as simple nervousness and smile back as you allow him to lead the way.

The smell of caffeine and chocolate fills the shop, even helping you relax a little when the two of you sit down across each other. Soon, the relaxed atmosphere turns into a perplexed one when Ajax snatches the menu from your hands with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll order for you! Don’t worry about the price. I’ll take care of it.”

You gasp, “We agreed on me paying for myself!”

“Well,” he drawls, “I don’t believe that’s very gentlemanly for me to do. End of argument. Now, do you like hot fudge or roasted marshmallows?”

“That’s not fair!”

“Or maybe you’d be fine with both?”

The complete ignorance of your exclamations makes you grumble. Ajax, meanwhile, has the most smug look known to mankind on his face right now.

“...I’ll take the hot fudge,” you concede.

The ginger bastard completely ignores you, ordering the cup that has both hot fudge and roasted marshmallows. When he turns back to you after giving the order, he’s met with a scowl.

“Uh-”

“You’re insufferable, you know.”

Ajax visibly gulps at your displeased tone. “And why’s that?”

“First off, are you really going to ignore the blessing that is hot chocolate and get simple coffee again?”

“It does help me sleep… and not make me gain weight.”

You massage your temples upon hearing the same reason for the umpteenth time. “And secondly, how dare you, Ajax, spend your money like this?”

He turns pale at the question. “Oh no. How do you know about the vacuum?”

“What?”

“You’re scolding me about the vacuum right? The one I bought yesterday?”

You blink owlishly at him, the confusion explicitly written on your face. “No? I’m talking about the drink. That’s going to be expensive!”

He merely laughs at that, carefree and boyish as he looks at you with a smile. “Not at all. Spending some extra dollars isn’t going to hurt. It never will, not if it’s for you.”

The sentiment makes you flush. Ajax really does know how to use his words. He can be so sweet sometimes, and those lips… no! Begone thought! No thirsting over his lips! Perfectly moisturised lips shouldn't be this darn attractive!

"So… how's preparation for the new semester going, [Name]?"

You can't believe you did that.

You absolutely cannot believe yourself.

Ajax, as an act of whatever it was, had grabbed your hand before parting ways at the station and kissed your knuckles to which all you said was, "Thanks."

Thanks.

Oh God, you're hopeless. Bless the man for laughing it off, but you're sure he found it awkward too. You scream into your pillow in frustration, the unwanted memory repeating in your head. That was so unbearably ungrateful of you.

After punching the air and pillow a few times, you fall back onto your bed with a thump, closing your eyes despite the light as you will yourself to sleep.

While changing clothes, you paused when you saw your reflection in the mirror. There's a bruise right where your chest starts but more on the left side. It looks like you hurt yourself? The bruise is a bit red but it doesn't sting. Maybe you scratched yourself in your sleep. No biggie.

A ring from your phone alerts you, a call from Ajax that you don't pick up because you're tangled up in your shirt, face half through. You make a mental note to call him back later. However, the mental note rests in the back of your mind when you head out to meet your friends with your phone left on vibrate.

The first thing you do when you get back is regret not taking the oversized coat. It was cold and you stayed out for a bit longer than you anticipated, getting back two hours after sundown. The hoodie you wore only did so much to block out the cold temperature outside on campus.

Kicking off your shoes, you turn on the light as you slump into your chair, bag laying forgotten on the floor. At least you had an early dinner today. You don't have to worry about eating now, but maybe some kind of warm drink would help. Yes, you have tea at home.

Getting up in one smooth motion, you make your way to the kitchen. Since you don't own a kettle, you boil some water in a little pot and carefully pour it out. When you drop a tea bag into the cup, you feel a warm breath of air brush your ear and immediately turn back, eyes quickly scanning the room behind you.

Nothing. Just a window that's a little open.

Breathe, [Name]. There's nothing there.

With shaking hands, you sit down on your desk with the cup, watching as the colour slowly darkens in the water. The peach tea smells amazing, and you try your best to think over your upcoming courses and classes while you drink. Soon, the cup is empty and you get up to wash it but two arms wrap around your torso from behind the backrest.

You try to scream, but your mouth doesn't even open.

"I don't appreciate you ignoring me, you know."

A voice very familiar to you whispers in your ear.

"Not answering my calls or texts and going out without your special coat… are you trying to get me jealous? If you are, it's working."

You try to thrash around to fight his grip but you can't move. This time when he talks, his lips brush your earlobe and you shiver at the contact.

"I can smell them on you. It's disgusting."

He turns the chair around, and you're met with Ajax wearing his usual maroon dress shirt and black pants, jacket lying forgotten on the floor behind him as he kneels down. His eyes refuse to even acknowledge the light falling onto them, the two endless oceans staring into you.

"Do you not have an ounce of shame for ignoring me for so long? Come on, speak."

You feel in control of your voice again and take the opportunity. "H-how did you get in?"

"Answer the question, my dear. Why were you ignoring me?"

"I wasn't ignoring you-"

"Then how do you explain going out with those simpleton mortals and coming here smelling like them as well? And you didn't even wear the damn coat!"

You don't answer, the overwhelming feeling of fear flowing in your blood as your body shivers involuntarily under his lifeless gaze.

"My sweet, sweet [Name]." His warm hands grab your face, the feeling burning your skin. "My mate, my love. You didn't answer my call or texts. What am I supposed to do if you're going to ignore me? I can't have you get sick."

"H-how did you come in?"

He tilts his head slightly, a smile quickly stretching on his lips. "Why, because of your presence of course."

The smile unnerves you more than the paralysis does. You can't move. You can't even shiver without shuddering.

"Are you scared?"

The low tone of his voice makes you shudder again, eyes watering at the loss of control.

"Y-yes."

Ajax buries his face into your neck, his nose brushing the skin. "Good. Mm, I should get rid of this smell. It's revolting."

You brace yourself for the worst, but the most that comes is a lick on your neck.

"Why… are you here?"

His lips brush your skin when he speaks. "I could ask you the same. I asked you to meet me today, but you didn't even see my message."

"I'm sorry-"

"Ah ah ah. No crying." He pulls away and brushes away the few tears that managed to escape your eyes. "You only cry when I pleasure you. You're my mate. Maybe I should keep you in our realm to make you start acting like it."

A sharp nail accidentally cuts the flesh of your cheek and any blood that manages to ooze out is promptly licked up by him.

"Do you remember Friday," he mumbled against your cheek. "Anything at all?"

"We… we went to a coffee shop."

"And?"

"A-and that's it. We went there and you ordered coffee while I ordered hot chocolate. And then… I went home."

He smiles. "Did you?"

The question makes you nervously gulp.

"Seems like your memory really did get tampered," he states.

“What do you mean…?”

“Are you sure you went home?”

The sharp canines that peak out when he speaks, bring a sense of deja vu. From the way your eyes widen, Ajax senses that you’re realising something.

“And,” he continues, “do you remember the name Tartaglia?”

Despite the situation, you wrack your brain for any memory of the name. The feeling of familiarity does make you suspicious, but how would your memory get tampered with? How do you even know that Ajax didn’t break in?

Upon getting no answer from you, he chuckles. “I know, I know. I made you forget. Don’t worry though. I’ll give you a reminder.”

A sharp, claw-like nail presses down on your tongue when he pries open your mouth. You almost gag at the action, but he quickly stops the reaction midway when he kisses you, his tongue sucking any blood that bleeds from yours.

You must’ve regained control in your body because you’re pushing him away as hard as you can, but he doesn’t budge. It takes a few minutes for your arms to go limp due to the lack of oxygen and only a moment for you to start gasping in air when he finally frees you.

“Oh and your gag reflex is very good, I must say. You sadly don’t remember anything, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Unless… you’re willing to see it for yourself again?”

“Please, don’t hurt me.”

He sighs, bored and spent, and simply picks you up. Not a single word is uttered as he gently places you on the bed, climbing up beside you soon after. You merely watch with curious yet fearful eyes as he brings a lock of your hair to his lips. When his eyes flicker over to you briefly, you move your gaze to the ceiling above, the red irises making you more apprehensive.

“I’m not going to hurt you, you know. Not if you behave.”

Your reply comes in the form of a question. “Why? What’s going on…?”

With a slight movement of your head, you’re now facing him as your hair sprawls out on the pillow. You remind yourself to de-escalate the situation and keep it that way. If you can stay safe, answers will come.

“Why?” He smirks. “Are you curious about me? Ah, maybe doing everything a second time will make things more fun.” He sits up straight, eyeing your form. Blood red eyes remain fixed on the swell of your chest, but quickly re-establish eye contact when he starts speaking.

“My name is Tartaglia, and as you may have guessed like you did last time, I am not human. Though it makes me a little sad that you never questioned the odd stuff despite being so wary of me at first, I can’t deny that your innocence is more than just a little attractive to me.”

He brushes away a few strands of hair from your face and continues. “I’m pretty grateful that you’re behaving right now. It gives the death of all those other men a little worth.”

Like last time, your eyes widen, but he shushes you before you could speak.

“Yes yes. I know you’re horrified over me being the one behind that, but competition has to be eliminated. Anyway, before cussing me out in your mind at least say sorry because I can hear your thoughts!”

You freeze.

“A blood bond is more than just life binding.”

You raise yourself on one elbow, numerous questions going through your head but Ajax - or Tartaglia - pushes you to lay back down.

“A blood bond has been made between us. I completed it when I cut your tongue and drank the blood. Isn’t that convenient?”

“It’s not-”

“No,” he shushes you again. “Let me talk.” Clearing his throat, he speaks again. “With this, I can hear everything you say to yourself in your mind. Other than that, if one of us dies, the other dies too, and if you stay away from me for long, you start to get sick. Very sick.”

“Bullshit. You’re lying.”

“Am I? Then how do I know you wanted to kiss me yesterday at the coffee shop? Or how did I get in? How did we suddenly get to my room?”

What? No, he’s right. You’re not in your room anymore. You sit up to look around in confusion, but he pushes you back to lie down where the moonlight falls on the bed.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat. “I don’t see why this is a problem. You like me, don’t you? So much that you told yourself not to be alone with me.”

His hand grabs your thigh and gives it a little squeeze. “I want to mark more than just your chest.”

Your eyes go as wide as saucers.

“Spending the night with you while you sleep isn’t enough,” he confesses. Now lying next to you, he nuzzles his face into your neck, completely ignoring how you’re pushing him away. “You love me, right? You’ve even had dirty thoughts about me.”

You shiver when the hand on your thigh travels upwards.

“Show your devotion to me, my mate. The night is young. Let me taste you till the sun comes up.”

This time, you don’t fight back when his hand goes under your shirt as he kisses you.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is cold. You’re so unbearably cold that you immediately melt inside the blanket once it covers you. In your sleepy haze, you end up cuddling the warm body next to you, not questioning why you’re not alone.

The first thing you see when you wake up again later is the severe lack of clothes on you. Only one shirt covers you - no undergarments, no nothing - and your thighs have several marks on them. You have to try your best to ignore the ones that clearly look like bite marks. Only a few buttons in the middle of the maroon shirt are done, exposing everything else on the top and bottom.

Despite the heating in the unfamiliar room, your hands are cold. Soon, when you’ve gathered the strength to leave the bed, a voice in your head, one from last night, echoes.

‘Oh you sound so heavenly when you scream.’

The door suddenly swings open and in the blink of an eye, you’re being gently pushed back onto the bed by a familiar ginger. Sunlight filters through the curtains and falls onto you when your back hits the mattress, outlining every curve through the fabric of his shirt.

“Come on, you can’t get up before I have my taste.”

#genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin x you

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black-aurora-nora · 2 years

Text

Irreplaceable Pt. 2 | Yandere!Avengers x Reader

It'd been about three weeks since you'd had your life taken away from you.

You'd been living in the Avengers Tower seeing as you had no where else to go.

When you tried to call your parents the first week, Natasha was the one that decided to tell you that they'd been arrested by SHEILD for having relations with HYDRA.

You didn't believe her, but she was quick to bring you to their holding cells.

You and your parents both knew that it was the Avengers doing, but had no power or evidence to show it.

You'd wept for days after that.

Your ex-friends had really taken everything that had meaning to you.

And now, you were laying across one of the many luxury couches in one of the many common rooms of the tower.

You would much rather be in your room, but Tony made sure that Jarvis locked you out after 9 o'clock. He believed that forcing you out to hang with everyone would get you back to how you used to be. Or at least somewhere close to it.

Sooner or later, you would realize that all of this was for you.

Natasha was sat beside you, legs crossed with wireless earphones in, watching whatever on her phone.

There was always someone with you once you were forced out of your room. You barely got any time alone when you were awake.

Hell, you couldn't even get any time alone at night anymore. The anxiety from having your life taken from you made it impossible to sleep and Tony was quick to get you medicated to help out with that.

You still felt like shit either way.

Steve came strolling into the living area, bidding you both a good morning.

You gave no kind of response, staring forward at nothing in particular, wrapped up in a light blue, fleece blanket that you'd received as a gift from a friend when you'd first gotten ownership of the library.

"Hey, (Y/N), did you eat this morning?" Steve asked, at your lack of answer, he sighed exasperatingly, "Come on, (Y/N), you know that you have to eat. You'll never feel better if you just lay around all day."

Natasha began to stroke your head, trying to get you to pay attention but you quickly slapped her hand away and pushed yourself up into a sitting position.

"I'll never feel better. You guys can sit here and pretend that we're one big happy family, but I'm not playing." You started, voice shaky with anger and sadness, "You never supported me and abused your power to take away my life and made me dependent on you guys. And now you guys want me to be happy?"

Steve and Natasha only stared. Were they taking in your words? Who knows. You didn't care.

"No. I will not give you my happiness or my willing compliance. None of you deserve that part of me anymore."

"I have brought poptarts for Young (Y/N)!" Thor's boisterous voice boomed, a warm plate of freshly toastered poptarts in his hands for you both to share.

At the sullen atmosphere, Thor looked between his friends, "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, Thor. (Y/N)'s just a little hangry. Thanks for bringing the poptarts." Natasha answered for you, gesturing for the god to come over, "You guys eat while Steve and I go find the guys."

You watched the two leave and pushed the plates of poptarts away from your person, leaving Thor in the dust and hiding away in the bathroom, ignoring his calls for you.

You lowered yourself to the cool tile, gripping fistfuls of your hair.

Why?

Why did this have to happen to you?

Why did they do this to you?

You wished there was some way to get out of this, but... where would you even go?

You couldn't survive homelessness in New York. And it'd be increasingly hard to find a job now that you had a criminal record due to your 'friends' planting confidential information in your library.

And even if you did land a job, it wouldn't provide you with a livable wage. You'd be barely surviving.

And could you ever really escape the Avengers?

Though the better question was, could you survive playing family with them? You doubted they would ever grow tired of you.

They really made sure that you had no other choice.

A knock on the door jolted you from your spiraling mental, "(Y/N), what did I tell you about hiding in the bathroom?!" It was Tony, the one you hated the most.

You could feel something in your mind cracking again, somehow worse than when your library was taken. Everything was really starting to close in on you.

These bastards... these bastards really wanted you to be happy for them... like some kind of fucking dog they found abandoned in the freezing cold.

Tony knocked more and you could hear Bruce telling him to ease up, "You're gonna scare them. They'll open it when they're ready."

Oh, but you'd never be ready.

The knocking stopped and you continued to stay seated on the ground, staring at the tile and hands tightly gripping your hair.

Why couldn't they have just left you alone like you'd asked?

You were left alone to your spiraling thoughts, your breathing growing more and more intense. Your heart beat through your chest, screaming and riving to be let out.

Your vision was starting to go spotty. Nothing else mattered but how angry you were. All you could see was bright red.

A scream ripped from your throat, splattering the confined walls of the bathroom and spilling out through the crevices of the closed door.

Pain began to blossom on your head, but you didn't care. You were too angry to care about physical pain.

Why and what were you being punished for?

Why had these demons, calling themselves angels, from hell do everything they could in their power to knock you down to try and piece you back together?

What gave them the right?

Now you were on the bathroom floor losing your mind when you could've been helping a young woman find a good book to check out or having a bagel from across the street while you read at the counter.

"(Y/N)! Goddamnit! (Y/N), STOP!" Bruce was on your back, desperately trying to grab your hands.

You fought against him, screaming to be left alone but he didn't. He just kept your hands away from your head and instructed you to breathe.

Once your breathing was under control, you noticed that something was in your hands and slowly glanced over, whimpering when you'd noticed what you'd done.

Thick clumps of hair were gripped tightly in both your bloodied fists. And there were plenty more strands and clumps decorating the tiled floor around you accompanied by droplets of blood.

You tried to stand up but Bruce kept you on the ground and you growled, "Get off! Let me see!" You snapped, tears welling in your eyes.

"No!" He snapped back, "It's not bad... there's no need to look."

"You're a fucking liar." You sobbed, "All of you are liars!"

Once you'd wept yourself to sleep and had been put to bed early, the team decided to have a late night meeting.

Tony took a swig of his scotch. He rubbed a hand down his face. Everyone was silent, waiting for someone to speak up.

"Ok, they're not adjusting. I admit it." Tony spoke.

"Yeah, just like I'd warned." Natasha reminded coolly.

"We should've went about this more slowly. (Y/N) could've easily been coaxed to live here." Clint added, arms crossed.

Steve shook his head, "No, they loved that library way too much... worked too hard to get it. They never would've left that library for us."

Bruce tapped a finger against the table impatiently, "We have to do something. We can't carry on like everything's normal," He had a hard frown stuck on his face, "(Y/N) is not ok. We brought them here for their own good and they seem to be doing worse than ever."

They all went silent again. What were they going to do?

Natasha's eyes sparked and she looked over at Clint with a knowing gaze, "Clint, isn't there an agent with memory-altering abilities?"

Clint visibly brightened at that, "Agent Keller."

_______________________________________________

"(Y/N), it's time to wake up. Steve is almost finished making breakfast downstairs." JARVIS spoke calmly.

With a big stretch, you yawned and rolled out of bed. A dull throb throughout your head made it's presence known and you winced slightly, making your way to the common area.

"Hey, everybody!" You called out.

"(Y/N)!" Steve greeted, "You made it just in time. I just finished the banana pancakes, you want any eggs and bacon before they get taken?" He asked.

You shrugged, nodding tiredly, "Yeah, I'll have some."

Everyone began to make their way to the table, plates stacked with food.

Tony was the last to arrive, smiling at you carefully, "How's your head feeling?"

You smiled back, a fond smile, "A little sore... but the medicine you gave me is making it manageable."

Clint nodded at that, "Yeah, having your hair ripped off by a beggar will do that." He teased.

You chuckled back, "Yeah... also... I had a crazy ass dream last night. I was a bookkeeper with a whole book store. A bookkeeper, can you guys believe that?" You ate a bite of eggs with a thoughtful gaze, "But... it was so nice."

Natasha hummed at that, her chin resting in her hand as she stared at you quizzingly, "But not as nice as being here with us, right?"

You shook your head, "No, I suppose not."

#platonic yandere #yandere #yandere avengers #marvel #marvel yandere #yandere tony stark #yandere steve rogers #yandere thor #yandere natasha romanoff #yandere clint barton #yandere bruce banner #cw #cw mindbreak #mind break #memory loss #tw manipulation #tw cursing #tw infantilization #tw bl0od

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nyxmisfortune · 11 months

Text

Happy Birthday!!

Paring-Mumbo Jumbo, Grian, Scar x reader [seprate]

Warnings-None

Summary-How the Hermits would help you celebrate your birthday

Warnings-None

Notes-As a happy birthday to this blog, the reader gets to celebrate their birthday! This does take place in summer so sorry to everyone with winter birthdays! [It’s me, I’m the one with the winter birthday] I might write one for Impulse Pearl and Xisuma later

Mumbo Jumbo

I think he would plan a cute picnic!

He has everything, flowers, the red checkered blanket, and food Scar totally didn’t help him make

It’s really cute and he treats you so nicely

It is your birthday after all

And of course, what is a picnic without a surprise?

Mumbo had Insisted the two of you stay out late, though, you didn’t quite know why. You watched the sun go down and thought that was what he wanted to stay out for, but no. He insisted that if you’d just wait, you’d love what was to come.

So you wait.

And wait.

You wait till The moon is high in the sky. “Mumbo, I think it’s time to-” You’re cut off by Mumbo pointing at something “Look!” You look to where he’s pointing only to find a little firefly. You watch the little bug flutter around. Soon, there’s more until the whole valley is lit up with tiny lights. It looks magical like the stars came down to make a show just for you.

Mumbo smiles “Suprise”

Grian

He takes the day off from his little prank war with Doc to spend time with you.

You have to make him promise he won’t wake you up at 6 AM this year

He takes you out for lunch

This man is taking you flying, whether you have wings or not.

You’re woken up by a loud thump. You sit up in bed, confused until you realize the pesky bird just slammed himself into your window, thinking it was an open gap. You have to hold in laughter as you run downstairs to go make sure he’s ok.

You quickly change out of your night clothes and run downstairs and outside. Grian is dusting himself off when he sees you and his eyes light up. “There you are! Right on time!” Before you can ask questions you’re being swept up into his arms.

He shoots off into the sky and you have to cling to him so you don’t fall. “GRIAN!” You yell, have to scream to be heard over the rushing wind. Finally, he slows down “Yes Y/n?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” You ask, a mock scolding tone to your voice. “Taking you to lunch!” He says cheerily

Scar

The whole day is spent doing whatever you’d like to do.

You want to go to the shopping district? Scars got Diamonds. You want to walk around Scarland? He’ll give you the best tour. Just want to cuddle in bed? He’s more than happy to do that!

The one thing that is for sure is that he’s waking you up with breakfast

No guarantee on how it turns out tho

You’re woken up to the smell of something burning. You quickly get out of bed and head downstairs. You head into the kitchen to find Scar making breakfast.

“Scar is something burning?”

“Just my love for you~”

“Scar the toaster is on fire”

“THE TOASTER IS WHAT!?”

He quickly whips around and does his best to put out the fire. You sigh and smile. “Scar, the fire extinguisher.” Scar pauses for a moment before grabbing the fire extinguisher and putting out the fire.

You can’t help but laugh, and give Scar a hug “Thanks for making breakfast” Scar smiles and kisses your forehead “Of course. Happy birthday Y/n”

#hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft #fanfiction #mumbo jumbo x reader #grian x reader #goodtimeswithscar x reader #Nyx writes

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sleepyangelkami · 1 year

Note

loved loved loved calefaction!!!! I'm not sure what you consider a request or not, but when does the picture that Jason took at the end come into play? (this can be a part two or just a new plot)

DIVULGENCE j.todd

☆ WORD COUNT - 4.7K

JASON TODD X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - part two to calefaction. after an uneasy meeting with jason todd the morning after he had slept in your apartment and an awkward coffee arrangement with his brother, you come to terms with what you have seemingly always known.

☆ WARNINGS - kissing (dont get stds kids), enemies to lovers, jason todd being a loveable prick, dick being a shipper, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

part one here

you knew from the moment you awoke in your bed alone, something was off. it wasnt as if anything appeared to be out of place or something drastic had happened when you were asleep but there was something you simply couldnt place, it was just... off. when you lifted your head from being stuffed into a pillow, you noticed that the presence of the man who once slept in your bed was gone. you ignored the pang, however, that struck your heart and brushed it off. you were being ridiculous, you hadnt seriously assumed he would stay the whole night? had you? and after all that, what were you expecting, you and jason hated each other or at least you were supposed to but to think you'd wake to him sleeping soundly next to you was laughable.

with groggy eyes, you slowly rose from the bed and rubbed your face, kneading the soft skin together as your feet hit the ground, allowing what was left of the silky blankets to fall from your skin. your throat felt dry so you opted for a drink.

you realised that it was actually rather late for you to be awake, usually you would be up and ready much before the clock could strike nine but for an odd reason you had managed to sleep in until half past ten, strange, it was almost as if someone had switched off your alarm before you could wake. nonetheless, you ignored the off feeling in your stomach and simply descended down the staircase, ignoring your god awful bed head of hair, just knowing that you looked like nothing other than something that had just swam up from the bottom of the ocean.

you cursed yourself through the hallway, muttering words of insults to yourself, incoherent as you practically hexed your own mind and body, how had you been so obnoxiously stupid to believe the man would stay the night? of course he had only been there in the first place because dick had told him to, perhaps he knew he wouldnt make it back to the manor and so he settled for your bed, you were an idiot to believe anything else. it was hardly as if he would actually-

"morning." eyes snapping up instantly at the sound of another voice, inside your very kitchen. you would be lying if you said you had expected a groggy looking jason todd with his hair tousled and dishevelled, a phone in one hand and toast in the other. suddenly, you stood a little straighter, your hands had moved to your own knotted hair to instantly matt the strands down as best you could as if you truly cared for his opinion on what you had looked like when you first woke, but you did, you cared so much.

"morning." clearing your throat as you moved towards the counter, acting as if you hadnt been utterly shocked to see him there, sitting in one of your own kitchen chairs as he greeted you... politely. there was a furrow to your brow as you popped your own slice of bread into the toaster. you and jason had always spoken, whether it was an argument or a simple conversation with one too many jokes that hit close to home but by all means the man wasnt exactly the nicest person you had ever met and he certainly never spoke politely to you.

but you soon realised, all good things must come to an end eventually you just wished he had lasted a little longer. "So, good sleep, then?" but you knew just by the tone of his voice, he had something on you for he would never have had that smug smirk or that complacent timbre to his voice.

your brows furrowed into a knot, head turning towards him with a confusion stricken face as your toast finally popped from the toaster. "yeah... you?" still baffled to the reasoning for his leer that lay on his pink lips. All while grabbing your toast with two slices of kitchen paper before taking a seat at your kitchen table, across from the man.

"Oh, yeah." his grin only widening but still, you looked at him perplexed. "great sleep, real warm." you nodded suspiciously but nevertheless took a small bite from your toast, it was nothing to worry about probably something along the lines of his normal boasting that he managed to fill almost every conversation with. he was an arrogant man, that much was for sure and it most definitely wouldnt surprise you if he had turned into that same man once more by the time morning came. the man that had been awfully sweet last night was long gone by now. "y'know, it was almost like i had a stuffed animal with me."

and now your heart began to pick up its pace. you were sure that you had hidden all of your secret stuffed animals into the bottom of your wardrobe, you never left them out in fear that your vigilante friends would find them, you were not looking for one of them to start on you for you were sure dick grayson would never let you hear the end of it, your awfully large stuffed toy collection. "uhm." your breath caught in your throat. "what do you mean, jason?" a fake thin lipped smile as if to prove your innocence that had not yet been found guilty, or so you hoped.

"well, to put it like-" then he stopped, scratching the bottom of his chin and glancing upwards, thinking. "let me just show you." your eyes went wide though they dialed down a little when you saw him pulling out his phone and not one of your giant teddy bears. when finally you were met with his screen, you shifted in your chair to get a closer look. craning your neck up, lightly pushing your body forward but as soon as your eyes fell on the picture on the screen, you were sure that your heart quite literally dropped to your ass.

with wide eyes you stared forward at a photograph that you could only assume had been taking a couple of minutes ago, maybe an hour or so. your head, laid on the mans chest as if you truly were a stuffed animal, clinging to him as if desperate for heat. his arm was draped across you too but you paid no mind to that and instead tried to fight the instant pink that rushed up to your cheeks. "so what do you think? should i pursue photography?"

"jason you can't show that to anyone." believe it or not your reputation was indefinitely worth more than a picture of you cuddling into your supposedly sworn enemy but you couldn't help but feel the anxiety begin to build up. "please delete it."

he placed his phone on the table, his head slightly falling to the side. "what will you give me if i do?" and suddenly you found it hard to breathe. it wasnt the photograph that had made your knees feel so wobbly or your head feel so dizzy but instead at the way the man had managed to look at you, as if awaiting your answer, as if you had one.

his eyes never strayed from yours, locked together like one and it had your head gears turning in all directions. what was he hinting at? and why did he do it with such a look on his face that made you feel so utterly powerless. and why had you loved the feeling of weakness under the mans stare?

before you could so much as part your lips to respond, you were, thankfully, cut off by the door opening and closing. your head snapped back to see what it was, thankful to any lord that was watching now for if you hadn't been interrupted, you weren't too sure what you would have done. "hey, guys." never in your life had you ever been so thankful to see dick grayson in the flesh.

"hi." a smile falling on your lips yet even so you couldn't push away the worry that jason had that god awful picture on his phone and how he was ready to share it to the whole world, and how on earth could you stop him? the feeling set in at the pit of your stomach, the realisation of what you had done, cuddling into him in your sleep, the mere thought made you want to hide under a rock and never come back again. it was either that or hitting your head against the table right in front of you and you didn't exactly wish to cause a scene.

"he wasnt too bad was he?" ruffling his younger brothers hair as if he were a parent collecting their child from a babysitter. jason wore a scowl, pushing the mans hand off of his head but nevertheless dick only shovelled some of the other mans toast into his mouth.

"i never am." he protested with the same scowl still sitting on his face, watching his older brother steal his food.

you watched dick let out a playfull scoff but nonetheless sent him a reassuring smile, as if you weren't on the verge of hitting him already. dick gave you the same thin lipped smile, happy that you too had agreed with his statement even if he didn't. "thanks again, y/n/n, appreciate it." but jason no longer wore any expression at all, his teasing smirk long gone and his scowl slightly softened as he watched dick and you speak, old friends that looked to be so much more. for the first time in almost forever, jason was quiet. dumbstruck.

"not a problem, really." a small beam on your face, attempting to make it look like jason hadn't truly annoyed every last bone in your body with your last conversation. eyes adverted from him but his never left your face, travelling from your forehead through the slope of your nose down to your chin and over and over again, as if every time he were discovering something new.

"well, can you still let me take you out for coffee for a thanks?" jasons eyes squinted and his brows furrowed, head turning up at dick who didn't so much as look his way. was he seriously flirting with you right now? in front of his little brother? and for some odd reason jason felt sick to his stomach. he wasn't quite sure what it was that made his heart fall to his knees but before anyone could say another word he was grabbing his phone and making his way out of the apartment. your eyes travelled across the room along with his figure, a furrow to your brows as he all but stormed out of the flat, ignoring the pair of burning eyes on him though he made sure to slam the door on the way out. you turned back to his brother, confused. "don't worry about him, he'll be fine." but that did nothing to soothe your worries. "so... about that coffee?"

it took you not only a minute to accept his offer for going to get coffee, it wasnt as if you liked the beverage but that wouldn't be a problem, you'd simply buy something like a sprite or a fanta and that was exactly what you did. so while you and dick had made your way towards a table, you spoke about every day things all while taking sips from your fizzed drink while he blew his coffee, then taking sips. you knew he was a little too addicted but he'd never compete to tim drake, that boy simply lived off the beverage though you were not too sure that was great for his health neither his physical or his mental.

"whatcha thinkin'?" his voice in a playful tone but nonetheless he had a hint of seriousness in it, he always used jokes and sarcasm to get into peoples heads. this was no unusual for either of you, two friends getting drinks together, as always though every time an old woman would pass you for a couple you always winced as he instantly came to defend the fact that you were siblings, even though you were not but he needed some sort of an excuse otherwise you'd be there for days listening to the old women.

your chin came to rest on the palm of your hand. "the way jason stormed out earlier, i wonder if he's okay." you spoke in a low voice. jason had always had his outbursts and while sometimes it left you rolling your eyes, annoyed at the fact he was getting annoyed at everyone else for something so small, you always still felt a pang of guilt, like there was something you should have done, should have said and by the way he stormed out of your apartment that day, he surely didn't look to be too happy.

dick sighed, looking towards you with a serious expression etched to his features. "y/n/n, trust me, he's fine. he has these tantrums all the time for no reason, you know jason every little thing pisses him off, he was probably just bummed that i didn't ask him for coffee instead." you nodded with a small sigh. it made sense, for jason to be angry about something so utterly little but you were still worried for him, you wanted to call him, make sure he was alright but you knew better, after all, you were still supposed to hate him, one night in the crazy l/n apartment wasn't bound to change that. "can i ask you something? and i want you to answer honestly?"

dreaded questions that left your stomach swirling, something you certainly weren't ready for right now but nevertheless you nodded your head with a small quirk to your lips. "of course." he could talk to you about anything, you'd always be honest with him but by the seriousness in his voice, you were sure to regret your decision.

"do you have feelings for my brother?"

your eyes buldged from your head. "look, dick, tim is great, i mean it, lovely guy but seriously, i cant-"

"not tim." rolling his eyes as if you were stupid now your eyes only widened further.

"well that's just inappropriate!" you exclaimed with nothing less than an astonished look on your face. "damian is twelve." you hissed at the man to which he face palmed.

"i'm not talking about damian, either." you settled back in your seat slightly, now finding it a little awkward that you had thought dick was assuming you to like damian. he was great, really funny when he wanted to be but by no means did that mean you liked him. "come on, y/n/n, it's like im sitting here with a bag of popcorn waiting for you and jason to kiss already!"

watching him with saucer eyes and awestruck, you closed your mouth, only for it to part open once more. "dick me and jason- we hate each other!" you hated him when you met him because he hated you when he had met you, it was one sided surely but soon it turned to be a mutual hate that kept both of you on your toes and you certainly didn't need it any other way.

his eyes rolled instantly at your words. "say the word hate all you want but we both know it's not true." you didn't respond to that, aggressively sipping the drink in your hands as your eyes left his, glaring down at the table as if it were jasons face. "i've got a pair of eyes, you know, I see the way you look for eachother in a room, that nose scrunch you make when he talks."

this time your mouth formed a sort of pout. "I do not!" you protested though sinking back into your chair. "do you think he hates me?" a tilt of your head and a crane of your neck. you wouldn't admit to your longing for some sort of attention from the man but you couldn't help but ask. your sworn enemy, the man in which you were supposed to despise with every being in you, yet you found yourself anxious pondering the thought if he had such feelings for you.

dick sat up a little straighter, placing the coffee cup on the table. "jason's not exactly happy go lucky, we know this." giving you a pointed look from across the table. "but he doesn't hate everything in the world, believe it or not. he hates the joker, he hates himself and i'm pretty sure he hates anyone that takes up too much room but he doesn't hate you. in fact, the little bickers that you guys have, the sarcastic.... squabbles, it just makes him like you more." your brows knotted together as you pushed your fingers against the others, fiddling. "he likes that you fight back, he likes that you don't take offence to everything he says because god knows he's not the sweetest of the bunch."

a sigh passed your lips. "how do you know all this?" you knew the relationship between dick and jason but by the way dick was speaking it was as if he were in his head.

"y/n/n everyone knows how jason feels about you, we also know how you feel about him. oh, by the way, tim and i kind of have this bet going so if you could ask out jay first that would be great because i really want that ten bucks."

now your brows furrowed together in fake offence. "i'm only worth ten bucks?!" crossing your arms in an annoyed manner.

"no, i'm just poor." he fawned sadness before letting out a chuckle as you giggled yourself, you both knew he wasn't poor, the son of gothams infamous billionare. his eyes glanced down to the watch on his wrist. "i gotta get back to the manor, you coming?"

now it was time to stutter in your movements, juttering as you looked down at your phones time, contemplating the offer. "i don't think i should." after the conversation about a certain member of the family, you didn't think it would be best to be around him despite your growing worry for how he had stomped out this morning.

he groaned. "come on, y/n/n, you won't even see him, promise." but a part of you was hoping you would, that ounce that jerked every time his name was mentioned and every time your eyes caught his own. "besides, tim is dying to see you."

you didn't need telling twice. "tim's back?!" but you were already getting up from the seat, your coat clutched between your fingers in excitement of seeing your favourite batboy, not that you'd ever admit such a thing to dick grayson.

it didn't take long until the awaited manor was in front of you and it certainly didn't take long for tim to come dashing out of the house to see your face. in no time you were sat in the game room, a chess game sat in front of you and damian across from it, dick grayson laid sprawled across the couch that you had your back against and of course tim was watching the chess game from the sidelines, cautious to catch out any cheaters.

you werent a batkid and truthfully you didn't think you wanted to be, the hardship was something no one could endure you still werrent too sure how they pulled it off but you would be lying if you said there was a place you felt more comfortable in rather than where you were now, surrounded by your favourite people in the world. it was as if you were home, not just in the walls of your apartment but home, not many people truly understood that feeling.

"checkmate." and as soon as the words left the twelve year olds lips three groans were heard. you had lost the game once more, groaning as your head hit the back of the chair, dick flaring his arms up and tim studying the board as if he had missed something. damian had managed to win every single game you had played, it was truly becoming unfair but you didn't miss the tinge of a smile when he saw all of your disappointed faces.

"how?!" tim cried as his hands went straight to his hair, pulling on his long locks.

"you're too good at this game." dick commented as he plucked the cuison from the chair he was sitting on tossing it across the room but of course damian had dodged it with ease.

"or maybe i just suck." you spoke with a soft bite of your bottom lip, you too studying the board. how had he won so many times? and how had you let him? you were supposed to be the good one at this game though you knew ultimately the only one in the whole of the bruce wayne manor that could beat you truly was damian wayne and no one could beat him. "i'm going to the bathroom, don't kill each other while i'm gone."

"you better win next round!" you were only able to dodge the pillow coming towards your head thrown by dick grayson right before you ducked through the door, he was always the one with the post rage when it came to these games. he thought competitively, tim thought logically, damian thought in many ways though you only ever thought in the sense that would you could have the most fun possible, you created that for everyone around you.

you giggled to yourself as you walked down the hallways you had known off by heart, they were the place you spent most of your time if not in a room of the manor, come to think of it you were sure you had spent much more time here than you did your own appartment. the hallways were quiet as usual, it was a god awfully huge manor.

to say you were caught off guard by a quick yank of your wrist was an understatement.

you felt fingers capture the skin of your wrist, enclosing over you before instantly snatching you from your place in the hallway and instead into a room, you didn't get to so much as look at where you were before your back was hit against the wall, eyes going wide as your mouth parted. eyes instantly darting up, they came in contact with brown curls you'd recognise anywhere and that chiseled jaw and nose that could only belong to one man. "jason? what the hell? you scared me half to death!" attempting to free your wrists from his hold but when he didn't allow you to move, you glared up at him.

"do you have feelings for my brother?" your jaw went slack, was he serious? this was the second time you'd been asked such a question today and you were nearly as shocked as you were before.

you wanted to protest, to instantly yell no and exclaim, tell him you'd never like dick like that, that he was just a friend and it would continue to be that way until the day you died but something inside you told you not to, to play along, to find out if this was the real reason he stormed out of your apartment that morning. to find out if he shared the bundle of feelings buried deep inside you. "so what if i do?" you saw the way his face fell, the way his brows softened and his grip on you slightly loosened. "what's it to you? it's not like you've ever cared about me before." though you knew, it was a lie. when you were hurt, so was he, when you had invited him into your bed you felt... at ease, so he had to care even if it was just for a moment in his life.

"you're a fucking idiot, y/n." he seethed and watched as your brows furrowed together in hurt, then to anger, who was he to speak to you like that? he had no interest in you before but now that you had gotten seemingly closer to his elder brother, he was all over the fact and for the first time in his life, brought you into his room.

"and what are you, then?" anger thick in your voice. "what were you thinking would happen when you drag me into your room and then accuse me of being in love with, excuse me, dick grayson." you often bickered but there was something about your tone of voice, he never truly shut up in an argument but this time, he couldn't find words. "you're the idiot because you can't put behind your own stupid wall you've built to keep everyone out to realise that i don't like dick- i like you!" when you said it, you finally realised just what you had admitted to. but even then, you didn't falter, you didn't move your eyes from his own. you took in his shocked face, the way everything softened above you but you didn't stop. "and the fact that you had to second guess it says everything. do you think i'd let someone i hate into my bed for the night? do you think i'd care when you get hurt if i hated you? you're the idiot because i've been in love with you since i met you and you always acted like you hated me when i did nothing wrong!"

and then came silence.

that eerie silence that had you wishing you had never opened your mouth, you realised that his hands had fallen from your wrists, you could leave, he was practically shoving you out the door, really for if he wanted you to stay, he would have made that happen. you felt stupid, how could you admit something so utterly stupid to the one man you were supposed to hate the most but you didn't hate him, you always knew that. you were told that he was mean, rude, and incredibly dangerous, you shouldn't be around him so why had you felt so pulled to him in the first place? that was the thing about love, it always seemed to happen with the people you didn't want it to, the people you especially couldn't.

"i have to get back." a low mumble that had created so much nose in the nearly deafened room. you moved yourself from the wall, attempting to get away when suddenly, the breath was knocked from your lungs.

your back fell against the wall once more, but this time the man wasn't towering over you but instead his lips were on yours.

they were soft, smooth, something you never would have guessed with the roughed man though his calloused hands had made it to the side of your face, one on each cheek. he had kissed you. you always knew there would be a day where you couldn't deny that you didn't hate him but you had never thought he'd actually kiss you. the kiss wasn't rough and certainly wasn't too much but it was just right. the man, the dangerous, scary man, was being so soft and gentle you almost forgot it was him. his hands kept your face in place while his lips moved against your own so slowly. your own hands travelled up, behind his neck was where you settled for though you couldn't deny the excitement bubbling inside your chest, the sparks that flew just like in all of the love stories you had read. here you were, with your sworn enemy, kissing him.

you only parted for air for you were sure that if you went on any longer, you may actually loose your breath. your eyes travelled up once more, to see the man's face, you wondered if he'd be angry, if it would all go away when morning came. you were worried that something so sweet could turn so evil. a part of you expected him to be gone, as if it were all in your dreams but instead, the man stood in front of you, his hand still grazing your cheek.

"I've waited a long time for that, sweetheart."

main masterlist/jason's masterlist

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dearestgojo · 2 years

Text

Indifferent Love

Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo’s life gets turned around when you declare you’ve never held any feelings for him, and an arrangement is formed so that you may live the rest of your days in peace with each other. But upon your declaration, something stirs to life inside Satoru.

Warnings: 18+. Smut. Oral f receiving. Breeding. Vaginal Penetration. Creampie. Dubcon. Fingering. Violence. Choking. Mentions of Alcohol.

Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Series Masterlist | Wc: 8.2k

Satoru wakes up on Suguru's couch the next morning, a warm blanket slung over his body, and a hard pillow under his head. He wakes up later than usual, his phone flooded with messages from his mother asking where he was and now from his wife. He stares at your name on the screen, reading over the dry texts from before your wedding. He wonders if you ever question where he spends his nights. If it bothers you that he doesn't sleep at your side.

From your lack of messages, it doesn't.

The sound of footsteps walking the hall pulls his gaze away from the screen. He sits up to see Suguru walking out of his bedroom, hair sticking up every which way. "Morning," He greets from the couch, sitting up and running a hand through his messy white hair.

Suguru rubs his eyes and looks up at him, raising his shirt up as he scratches his stomach, making his way into the kitchen. "You're here later than usual. Thought you'd be home already, having breakfast with y/n and your parents."

"I overslept," Satoru answers, getting and following Suguru into the kitchen, grabbing a mug for a cup of coffee, "I'll probably head to the office from here."

"What about y/n? Won't she asks where you've been?" Suguru asks, starting the coffee maker.

Satoru shakes his head, leaning against the counter, "She never does."

Suguru nods absentmindedly, moving around his kitchen and starting to prep breakfast. "That explains why she didn't seem to care when I told her we were meeting. Lucky you."

"Lucky me," Satoru echos, serving himself a cup of coffee, "You saw her? When?"

"Yesterday, when I was with Yuki. We ran into her, Utahime, and Shoko at a cafe near downtown," Suguru answers, tossing his toast into the toaster, "They seemed in a hurry to leave, guess that's because she was meeting you."

Satoru sips from his coffee, glancing at him, "That or they were just trying to get away from Yuki."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yuki and Shoko dated a few years ago, from what I heard. It didn't end well, Shoko wanted to let people know about their relationship and Yuki wasn't ready. So they called it quits."

"Didn't know that."

"No one really does. I just happened to see them once," Satoru responds, glancing at his watch, "I have to go. I'll be late."

Glancing at Satoru, Suguru watches as Satoru grabs his coat from the back of a chair, his mouth filled with toast, "See you later man."

Satoru waves over his shoulder opening the door, with his hand that holds his jacket, "I'll bring your mug back some other time."

"Not spend the night here?" Suguru calls out.

Sipping from the mug, Satoru shakes his head, "Not tonight. See you later."

He's fifteen minutes into the drive back to the office when his phone rings, your name popping up on the screen of his car. He answers, greeting while turning right with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his coffee in place. "Hello?"

"You never arrived for breakfast," you answer, sounding bored.

The corners of his lips turn up, and he's sure you can hear it when he replies, "I thought you didn't care what I did."

"I don't you," you grumble, shuffling traveling through the speaker, "but your mom was worried and asked me to call you since you haven't picked up your phone." You pause for a moment, "She asked me why I didn't know where you were when we shared a bed."

Satoru's eyes flicker toward the screen. "Oh," he pauses turning back to the road, swallowing the knot in his throat.

"Don't worry though I remember that Suguru told me you were going with him and told her that...she still wasn't happy that I had forgotten. Pick up her phone calls next time."

He listens to you sigh, his father's building coming into view, "It won't happen again." He smiles again, his teasing nature surfacing, his voice falling down an octave, "You know we sound like a real married couple right now. Arguing like this."

You puff out an annoyed breath, "Shut up." The line falls silent for a moment, but he can hear you move around on the other side before your voice travels through once more, "You're going in to work soon, aren't you? Your dad left a few minutes ago."

He nods his head, pulling into the parking lot, "Yeah, I'm just now getting here."

There's another pause of silence on your in, "Well...good luck today," your voice sounds lighter as you speak to him, "Do a good job. I'll see you when you get home."

Satoru feels his heart flutter in his chest, and his stomach doing a couple of flips. He can't explain it, but hearing you sound cheerful turns him into nothing but jelly for a few moments. He stumbles over his words, parking the car and staring at the empty space in front of him. "T-thanks. I'll try. I'll see you later. Have a good day."

"I will," you answer, the sound of water traveling through the speakers of the car, "bye, now."

"Bye."

Satoru still stays in his car for a few more minutes after hanging up, staring at the wall in front of him. His heart still thrumming against his ribs and replaying the sound of your voice through the phone. Taking in a deep breath he exits the car and walks towards the elevator, closing his eyes and picturing you on the bed speaking to him, gathering your close before walking to the bathroom and running the hot water. He imagines the corners of your lips twitching with a smile as you wish him a good day at work.

The ding of the elevator reaching the top floor draw him out of his thoughts, Yuna greeting him by the elevator as usual. He listens to her give him the usual run-through of what his day will be like, working on calming the storm in his belly. But the sweet sound of your voice plays throughout the entirety of the day, and he anxiously waits for the day to end.

You're lounging around in the study, reading a book you had randomly picked up after coming back in from visiting the orphanage to find the house empty, your mother away to organize a charity with a few other housewives. You're dressed comfortably, in a pair of loose stripped beige dress pants and a white blouse, your hair tied into a loose chignon. The footsteps of the maids walking outside the study help to fill the silence of the house, but do little to hide the sound of the front door slamming closed.

You look from your book, hearing the maids greeting the person who just walked through the door. You can't make out what they're saying, but you can hear footsteps approaching the door. They open a second later, revealing Satoru.

"You're home early," you welcome him, looking at the time on your phone, the time reading five thirty, slowly getting up from you're spot on one of the chairs in the room.

Satoru nods his head, eyeing you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet, "I left work early." He looks around the space, "What are you doing in here?"

You close your book, walking toward him, "I've been reading a few of the books in here. Why am I not allowed in here."

"That's not what I was saying, you are allowed to do whatever you want, this is also your home. It's just no one ever goes in here, not even my dad," he answers, walking out the door.

"Why?" you ask, following close behind him up the stairs.

"It...doesn't matter. It can be yours while we stay here if you want. I mean you're already using it, but you can ask the maids to change stuff around if you want."

You shake your head, "I like it as it is."

"Okay."

The two of you walk past down towards you're shared room, the falling sun barely casting any light over the backyard and terrace. "How was work?"

"It was okay," he responds, opening the door to the bedroom and walking in, "we had a lot of meetings that I thought wouldn't end. Yuna seemed extra annoyed today for some reason too."

"Yuna's your secretary right?" You ask sitting on the bed, kicking your shoes off, and leaning against the bedframe.

"She is. She's been on my side since I graduated college and started working for my father," he answers talking off his blazer, "I don't know what I would do without her, she's the only reason things run so smoothly."

"Sounds like she is non-expandable, "you respond opening your book and reading.

Satoru continues to move around the room, taking off his watches and gathering a change of clothes. He eyes your form on the bed from the doorway to your shared walk-in closet, stands of hair framing your face, and your lip caught between your bottom lip as you read.

"I'll be staying here tonight...hope that's fine," Satoru tells you, fingers undoing the top buttons of his shirt while he walks towards the bathroom door. When you look up at him with your eyebrows raised, he's already sliding the shirt off his body. You swallow and tear your eyes away as the muscles of his back become exposed, freckles sprinkled across the back of his shoulders, lean muscles flexing as he moves to stretch them.

You clear your throat and eyes back to the book on your lap, "Yeah, this is your room, I don't see why you need to let me know you're staying the night."

"Guess you're right," he answers, peeking at from his peripheral vision, slightly upset that you haven't asked where he's been spending his nights the last two weeks and a half, "You're not going to ask where I've been sleeping, or why I'm suddenly staying here?"

You shake your head, turning the page, "No."

"Not even so you can give my mom an answer?" He asks, walking into the bathroom to turn the water on.

You snort, calling after him, "It sounds to me like you want me to worry about you. Like you want me to nag you about your whereabouts."

"I don't," he answers, poking his head out of the bathroom door, white hair falling out of its place, "But there should be times we ask each other this type of stuff while we live here."

"I thought the paperwork would be signed by the end of this week."

Satoru disappears back into the bathroom, "They will, but we still need to have answers. Thought you'd be the one to think this through since you're the one all about keeping appearances."

You pout slightly moving your legs off the bed and walking towards the door, leaning against the frame just outside, "I didn't think it would matter since we're moving soon."

"Apparently you thought wrong," Satoru responds, his voice muffled by the sound of water falling and the glass of the shower.

"In that case, you would be the only one who would have to give that information, you're the one who spends most of his nights outside of our bedroom. Showing up early in the mornings." You toy with the edges of your nails while you speak to him, "I on the other hand am here day in and day out, and if I go anywhere I let the maids know I'll return in a few hours."

"Then that's things will be until we move out," he calls back out.

Sensing that was the end of the conversation you move away from the door, and pick up your book again. The image of Satoru's back muscles flexing replaying over in your head no matter how hard you try to push the thoughts out of your head. The words in front of you blur into one another as you try to concentrate on them, and not the burning between your legs. A burning that only increased when Satoru came back out of the bathroom towel hanging low on his hips, droplets of water falling from his hair. "Sorry forgot my clothes," he excuses himself grabbing the clothes at the end of your bed and returning to the bathroom.

Your face burns, the highs of your cheeks feeling warm, "It's fine," you swing your legs over the end of your bed, slipping back into your shoes in a hurry, "I'm going to go see if the maids have dinner ready."

"Okay," Satoru calls out from the bathroom, the bedroom door opening and closing a moment later. You're face burns throughout the entirety of dinner and even afterward as you crawl into bed next to him. Pillows reoccupy the space between the two of you.

Satoru falls asleep long before you do, his light snores filling the bedroom door. All the curtains in the room are drawn close together, but the moonlight still manages to seep in through a few cracks, lighting your long night as you toss and turn before sleep takes over your body.

The fluorescent lights flash above you, blurring into one long strip. You can hear people speaking hurriedly around you, and pressure against your side, along with something warm dripping down.

You can't really make sense of any of it, your mind feeling fogged as you take in gulps of air. There's an echo in your head of screaming and yelling and a sharp sting on your right cheek, followed by the sound of glass breaking. You recall feeling warm spreading across your back, and your clothes stick to you.

There's the sound of your mother screaming, her hands cupping your face as she yells at someone to call for an ambulance. There isn't much to remember after that, the world fading into nothingness until you're watching the lights fly above you.

"Is she going to be okay?" you hear your mother's voice ask as you pushed through the halls of the hospital. The world fades again before you can hear the answer.

When you come back too, you laying on a hospital bed, a warm hand wrapped around you as the sunlight comes in through the hospital windows. There's beeping all around you and the television is playing the weather, you can barely hear it over the ringing in your ears. Looking around you see you're mother's head resting near your legs, her hand holding yours in her's as she sleeps.

You struggle to sit up, pain shooting up your sides. Your toil causes your mother to stir, her eyes shooting open and tear decorating the edges of her eyes, "Y/n, you have to stay still, you'll open your stitches again." The pained look she gives you calms you, and she slightly pushes you back onto the bed, empty apologies stumbling from her lips, "I'm so sorry, y/n. I should have done better to keep you safe. I'm so sorry."

You remain silent, turning your head away from her. Unable to fully forgive him, the pain on your side was a reminder that you were just a pawn to the two people who were supposed to care for you.

The cafeteria is buzzing with life during lunch, the employees giving him a quick greeting as they walk past his and Sukuna's table. The food on the table remains untouched.

"I thought we were meeting at the office to sign the papers," Sukuna says, breaking the long silence between them.

Satoru takes a sip from a glass in front of him, "We were, but I have some meetings I need to take care of." He reaches for the papers Sukuna places on the table, pulling a pin from his shirt pocket, "And I wanted to talk about my wife. You two seemed close."

Sukuna swallows, feeling as if all eyes are on him, "I've known her since my sophomore year of college, we were never really close so I don't know why you think I could answer any questions about her. Or why you would ask me instead of Utahime or Shoko who have known her longer," Sukuna drinks from his own glass, "And shouldn't you know her better than any of us, you've known her your entire life."

Satoru glances up at him from where he's signing the paperwork, "I presume at one point I did, but there's been a riff between us for some time now. I suppose that's my fault."

"Is that why you hired me," Sukuna queries," because you heard I was close to y/n and thought you could get to know her to better instead of just asking her."

Satoru sets the pen down, pushing the papers back toward him, "Yes and no. I knew found out you were close to y/n after hearing that she was personally sponsoring your brother's scholarship. Then I saw you at our wedding with him and assumed it was true. It was then I found out you were a real estate agent through my assistant and that you were good at your job."

"That's good, 'cause I'm here to speak purely business, nothing more nothing less," Sukuna answers.

"I see," Satoru laughs, running his thumb over his chin, "What do I have to do to have a personal conversation then?"

Sukuna leans back on the chair, thinking it over. He didn't see any ill intentions behind Satoru's asking about you, unlike when Kenji would, just a man trying to know a bit more about his emotionally distant wife. Sukuna answers with a sigh getting up "My lunch break is five minutes. I have to call the office to clock out for it, so give me a few minutes. I'll be right back."

"Okay, I'll be right here then," Satoru replies.

He doesn't take long, returning exactly five minutes later, tie loose and hair slightly disheveled, picking up his plate of food. "Ask away then," he grunts.

Satoru leans on the table, his elbows resting on the surface, "Did you and her ever date?"

"No. She wasn't interested. That and I'm pretty sure when we meet she still had somewhat of a crush on you," Sukuna answers shoving food in his mouth.

"Did she see anyone else then?"

"She did. Though I don't think it could've ever become anything serious since you were still in the picture," Sukuna twirls his fork over the food, "Shouldn't have y/n already told all of this? I mean you are both married."

"We're married on paper. And I would ask if I thought she would answer me directly, but she always seems to circle around with her responses," Satoru answers, "She never answers me straight."

"Oh," Sukuna laughs, "She's scared to let you in. I guess that's understandable considering what she's been through."

"What exactly has she been through?" Satoru asks, intrigued by the comment.

Sukuna considers his next course of action. He answers steadily, "It isn't my place to tell you all of this. Y/n will tell you when she's ready, just know that it'll probably take her some time and that she's in a...fragile state right now," he pauses and adds, "You're partly to blame for it in a way."

Satoru glares at the man, in front of him, "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying y/n could've been spared whatever heartache she's experiencing if you hadn't run off overseas," Sukuna returns his glare, "She and I could've been spared much pain if you had just married her sooner."

"I don't know what you're trying to say."

Sukuna laughs between his teeth, raising his glass up to drink from it, "Of course, you don't. You don't know anything about her. About what she's been through the last seven years. What she went through behind the closed doors of her house. All you know are your assumptions of her...from what she's told me."

Satoru takes another bite of the food, chewing angrily, "Then you tell me."

"Why should I? I don't owe you anything," Sukuna answers.

"But you owe y/n, don't you?" Satoru throws back, swallowing down his food "For whatever reason, you both feel compelled to only tell me half the answers, but I don't understand why you do. Maybe you do it cause you feel you owe her for paying your bother's tuition. Or because she got you this nice job. Whatever it is I'll find out."

"I hope you do," Sukuna glances at his watch, getting up and gathering the papers from the table, "I'll have to excuse myself. My lunch break is almost over and I would like to have some time for myself. I hope you and y/n enjoy your new home."

Satoru nods, wiping his mouth, "Okay. I guess we'll be seeing each other around still though since you're my wife's friend."

Sukuna returns his nod, "I guess we will. Goodbye for now then."

Satoru watches the large man walk away, noting the faint limp as he walks away. The curiosity of wanting to know more about the hints of your life Sukuna had given swimming in his head for the days that followed.

The move to the apartment feels like it takes longer than it should. Late deliveries of new furniture, the painters not turning up on time or painting one of the rooms the wrong color, and Satoru being busy at the office with meetings and late work nights. It takes you a week longer to finally move into the place that will be your home from now on.

Six weeks into your marriage and things have finally seemed to fall into a sort of routine. A routine that would need to be readjusted once again after the move.

Walking through the doors of your home you take in the space, not much has changed save for the new furniture and freshly painted walls. The walls of the entire bottom floor are no longer gray, black, and white, but an arrangement of colors that bring life to the space. The living room lies just beyond the dining area, with two small steps separating it from the kitchen space, and the large staircase that leads up to the second floor is still on the left, behind the large couch. The large windows still allow sunlight into the entire bottom floor. The kitchen granite kitchen counters have been wiped clean, and new appliances spread along the surface of them, resting neatly on top.

You walk past the dining table and down the steps to the living area, glancing out the large windows peering onto the terrace, and watching the sun glisten in the water of the pool. Eyeing the terracotta pink decorative wall the bathroom door is on and furniture accents of the space. Behind you Satoru huffs and drops the bags he had carried from the underground parking lot and up to the elevator, dragging it down the hallway that leads to your penthouse.

"Did you really have to bring these with you? Couldn't you haven't sent them with the movers?" He groans, falling on one of the white couches.

You shake your head, "I have some priceless jewelry in those that my grandmother gave to me on our wedding day."

"You're dad or mom's mom?" He asks, wiping the sweat from his face.

"Mom's."

"Was that the lady that came up to us and held our hands together while she gave us marriage advice for a happy marriage? Or was it the one that looked like she had a stick up her ass?"

"The first one," you respond, moving away from the windows and towards the bag, bitterly mumbling, "You think that with all the advice she was giving us she would have made sure her own daughter married happily."

Satoru peeks at you as you move across him, "What?"

"Nothing. Do you want anything for lunch?" you ask, picking the bag from the ground and setting it near the staircase.

"I could eat," He answered, watching as you move into the kitchen, "Don't tell me you're going to cook."

You look back at him over your shoulder, "I am."

He stands up from his spot following you to the kitchen, "I have to see this."

"What you don't believe that I can?"

"Not really. You don't seem the type who would be interested in that type of thing," the tone of his voice teasing.

You give him a small smile, opening the fridge, "Well I do, I actually had a really good teacher."

"Who? Your nanny?"

The memory of learning to cook in your old penthouse resurfaces. You swallow, "Yes and no." You pull two tomatoes out, and place them on the island, turning to look for a pot and pasta, "Did you have someone stock the pantry before we moved in?" You ask, changing the subject.

"Yes, I sent a few maids," he sits on one of the stools, watching as you move about the space, "You're not going to tell me?"

You shake your head, "No, just be happy we don't have to hire a cook."

"We'll see about that once I try your poison," he teases.

You grin back at him, pointing at him with the knife in your hand, "Keep teasing me like that, and I will poison you."

You finish making lunch, two servings of meatball spaghetti, and some freshly made lemonade. Satoru seems satisfied with your cooking, closing his eyes as he takes the first bite, humming from the back of his throat as he savors the food. "Have you always cooked like this? Maybe I should have married you sooner."

You laugh and shake your head, "I actually use to be a horrible cook when I first started to learn. Nana got food poisoning several times from undercooked chicken."

He laughs, the sound echoing in the empty home, "Well I hope you've gotten better since then."

The rest of the day is spent with the two of you settling into your new home. Dividing the closest space, and unpacking the clothes and jewelry you brought with you. Satoru spends most of his day in the study, the sound of the door opening and closing traveling up to the bedroom every few minutes. You barely notice the sun has started to go down the horizon before you climb down the stairs to make dinner, frying some chicken and making rice.

The smell has Satoru crawling out of the office, and he settles in the same stool, pouring you each a glass of wine. He compliments your cooking once more, as he bites into it, not expecting the next words to stumble out of your mouth.

"I'm ovulating," you comment, cutting into the chicken.

He stops chewing his food, swallowing the entire bite, "Oh."

"I wasn't going to bring it up since we haven't really talked about it, but I think it's best we get this done and over with." You take a bit of your food, Satoru's eyes never leaving you as you chew and swallow.

"So you want to...tonight?" He asks, picking up his knife and returning to eating.

"If you want we can figure out the rest later."

He nods his head, taking another bite of his food, speaking with his mouth full, "Okay."

The walk to the bedroom after dinner and cleaning is awkward. Satoru follows you to the bedroom you had spent the entire day organizing, with clean sheets on the bed and dressers decorated with fresh flowers and photo frames. You sit at the end of the bed, kicking your heels off.

"How are you going to do this?" Satoru asks, undoing the top button of his dress shirt and pulling the belt out from the loops of his pants all while removing his shoes.

"Just do what you would normally do I guess," you sigh, the palms of your hands feeling sweaty.

He nods his head," Okay." Satoru stalks over to you, falling onto his knees.

"What are you doing?" you ask as you feel his hands travel under your skirt, pushing it up to your thighs.

Satoru keeps in a moan when he sees a peek at your panties. "Doing what I normally do," he answers, dipping his head down.

You try to pull away from his greedy gaze, the back of your neck feeling hot as he looks up your skirt to your covered core. "You don't have to do that," you tell him, squirming in his hands.

"It's no fun if you're not feeling good, so just let me do this," He sighs into the inside of your thigh, longer fingers kneading the soft flesh, pushing your skirt further up your legs. His tongue runs along after, tracing the same trail his fingers have left behind.

You try to ignore his warm tongue as he spreads open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs, your head traveling further up your skirt. His breath fanning over your heat seconds before he runs the tip of his tongue on your covered slick, damping the material slightly. He does it over again, again, and again, nudging his nose against your clit every time. All you can do is stare at the bump under your skirt and feel his hands need the sides of your thighs as he licks you.

Suddenly you're gasping, your body jerking forward as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking in through the thin material of your underwear. "Satoru you really don't have to," you grunt, squirming even more in his hold as he continues to suck on your clit. You can see his hand moving before you feel it, two fingers sliding up and down your slit while he works your clit, pushing your underwear into your entrance a bit every time he glides them downwards.

You continue to wither above him, one of his hands coming out from beneath your skirt to pull your leg on his shoulder, fingers pushing your panties to the side. His lips leave your clit, letting it be exposed to his eyes as he removes the material from it.

"You know when I saw these in your clothes, I didn't think you actually wore them," he comments, pushing the tip of his fingers in just an inch, "they're just too hot."

Pinching your eyes together you try to remember what underwear you had slipped on this morning. Your eyes widen as you recall putting on a blue stain thong with a small bow on the waistband, but you don't think long about it before you repeat what he just said in your head. "You looked through my underwear?" You pant, feeling his fingers go in deeper.

His head shakes underneath, voice muffled as he talks, "I didn't mean to, they were just sort of hanging out...and I grab them for a second," he spreads and closes them, stretching your hole open.

"B-but you still looked through them didn't you?" you gasp, hips bucking into his touch.

Satoru's ministrations pause for a moment, his blue watching your slick gather on his fingers, your accusation ringing in his ears. "I did," he answers, resuming his movements, mouth enveloping your swelling bud, tongue sliding down to move along with his fingers. The same fingers that are curling against your sweet spot. You toss your head up, watching the moonlight dance on the ceiling of the bedroom, not being able to come up with anything more to say, your brain muddled by pleasure.

It feels good, his tongue on you, you'll admit, probably the best head you have ever received, but your heart is yearning for another.

A black-haired someone. Who would make you giggle and laugh as he trailed kisses up your thighs. The man who had held your heart in the palm of his hand and crushed it. The only man who had been the very first name to come apart up until now. Even with Satoru kneeling between your legs, tongue lapping at your heat, you can't help but think of Kenji.

A loud hum, and Satoru's head pushing closer to your cunt while greedy hands knead the sides of your legs, snaps you out of your thoughts. His tongue is teasing around the entrance of your pussy, pushing in along with two of his fingers. He twists and curls, running the tips of them over the spot spongy spot that has your producing more slick. Satoru hums feeling his fingers slide in easier, tasting you on his tongue, the vibrations cause pleasure to shoot up your spine.

A familiar knot forms in the pit of your belly as he builds the pleasure up with his tongue and fingers. Your legs are starting to quiver and your gripping the edge of the bed, slowly grinding up into Satoru's mouth. He notes this and becomes more greedy, you can hear and feel his lips move against your lower lips, basically making out with your cunt. Your face burns as you listen to the wet sounds of his tongue running against your core and his hums as he tastes your juices on it.

Feeling the knot slowly start to cum undone, your legs tighten around his head, sighing out, "I'm g-going to cum." Your hand reaches down to keep his head in place as you release on his face. Your back falls onto the bed, back arching off the bed as you let out broken gasps and moans. Satoru's tongue never stops moving against your heat once, taking everything you give him, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Pulling back, Satoru watches as your walls pulse around nothing and listens to you breathing heavily above him, humming as you gently rub your legs on his head. He comes out from underneath your skirt, standing up at the end of the bed, looking as you blissfully stare at the ceiling.

Your eyes flicker to him, taking in his smile as he brings up the two fingers that had been inside of you to his lips, licking your juices off of them. He climbs onto the bed beside you, fingers trailing up your side.

"How do you feel?" He asks, spreading a few kisses along your jaw.

You stare at the spot on his head, your body still buzzing and feeling warm. Nodding, you shift your weight on the bed, "Good. Felt good, but you really didn't have to do that."

He glances up at you through his long white lashes, undoing the buttons of your blouse, "I did. As I said, It's not fun if you're not feeling good. We should both feel even if we don't like each other." He sneaks his hand beneath your shirt and bra groping your right breast, "I know what you think of me, but I do enjoy making the women I sleep with feel good. It's not always about me." He pinches your nipple between his fingers, tugging at it as he whispers in your ear, "And I should be making my wife feel great."

"And do you expect me to do the same for you?" You ask, biting your bottom lip to keep a moan in as he tweaks your bud between his fingers. To keep yourself from gasping when you feel him grind his crotch against your thigh.

"Trust me, I'm feeling plenty good," he grins into your neck, nipping at your earlobe. He rolls his body over you, knees resting on either side of your waist, unbuttoning the rest of your shirt. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he looks down at the valley between your breast, watching as the mounds rise and fall.

"Careful there sounds like you've been waiting for this to happen. Like you in love with me or something," you breathe, looking up at him.

His hands trail down your body, untucking your blouse and tearing it off your body. "Not exactly," he responds, unclasping your bra next, mouth watering at the sight of your bare breast, "but I won't lie that I've been slightly intrigued to see what you hide underneath." His head deeps and he takes your left breast between his lips, circling the nipple with his tongue while his free hand kneads the right. His fingers brush against a rough jagged patch of skin, his attention turning towards it, "What is this?"

"Nothing," you answer, "Just an old scar. Ignore it, it doesn't matter."

"Fine," he responds, pulling your breast back into his lips.

You squirm beneath him, "All this feels unnecessary. We could've already started and finished."

Satoru releases your nipple with a soft pop, a string of spit connecting it to his lips before he switches over to the right. "Trust me none of this is unnecessary."

You grunt, body curling up into his when his teeth dig into the hardened bud, "Well it feels like it is. We don't have to drag things out like this. We don't even like each other, so I don't see the point of it."

Looking up at you, he sits back on his knees. pulling his shirt off his body. He slides down your body to pull your skirt down your legs, speaking to you, voice low, as he raises your hips off the bed, "So would you rather I act like an animal and take what I want?" He rests between your spread thighs, fingers massaging the fat of them, trailing them up back to your panties, "It's true none of this is necessary because the only reason we're doing this is to have a kid for show." He whispers the end of his sentence, eyebrows scrunching as he seems to realize something.

There had been a time when Satoru thought he was the entirety of your world, and some strange part of him still believed that even after you repeatedly told him that wasn't the case. And now as he rests between your soft thighs and trances circles on your skin, listens to you tell him to get on with it, the idea crumbles in his grasp. "Have it your way then."

It's all the warning you get before he forces the head of his length into your walls. Your mouth falls slaps as you feel him stretch you, eyes widening as he pushes inch by inch, your hands gripping onto his forearms. It stings, but it isn't painful, the slick and spit from earlier making it bearable. Above you Satoru grunts as he feels your walls clench around him, your nails digging into his forearms.

Pulling his hips back he snaps them against you, one hand resting near your head and the other on your hip. He starts out slow and hard, steadily thrusting his hips against yours, swirling them every time they meet yours. Your clit bumping against his pelvis. "Fuck you're tight," He grunts, head tossed back as he takes in long breaths. Sweat dribbles down his temples, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he ruts into you.

Your body feels on fire, the head of his cock brushing against your g-spot with every snap of his hips. Every vein that runs along his shaft rubs against your walls, his balls slapping against the curve of your ass. He's by no means rough, but his pace is hard and quick, wet squelching sound bounce off the walls with every thrust. He pushes one of your legs up, his face buried in your neck as he slowly loses himself to the feeling of your warm cunt wrapped around him.

You're not much better off than him, though your heart is disconnected from the act of intimacy, you can't deny that the drag of his member feels otherworldly. He has you seeing stars flying overhead as he moves into you, clit getting stimulated with the swivel of his hips every time they meet you.

The fire in your belly spreads, slick coating your thighs and Satoru's. You can keep your moans down, and mutters of his name, while you claw at his back and arm. "Too much, 'Toru," you gasp, the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

Grunting into your neck, his nails digging into your hip he reminds you, "This what you wanted. You wanted me to put a baby in you and that's exactly what I'm doing. Can't complain when you're getting what you wanted." He pushes his face further into your neck, his thighs starting to tremble, "F-fuck, I'm gonna cum soon, so just bear with me."

He becomes sloppy with his movements, his climax close to washing over him. He inhales your sweet scent, the aroma of lavender filling his nostrils. His pace falters and you feel his warm semen paint the inside of your walls as he heaves for air.

Satoru doesn't stop rutting against you, pushing his cum further inside, and you into your second orgasm. Your leg shakes against his hip, your body arching up into him, as you cum all over his cock. The name of another man threatening to slip from your lips.

The two of you remain still for a few more minutes, steadying your breaths before Satoru pulls out and sits at the end of the bed. "You good?" he asks, breathing laboriously still.

You roll over, gathering the duvet from the bed and covering yourself, "I'm good. Gonna go wash up." You get off the bed, pull the cover out from under Satoru, and head towards the master bathroom.

"Okay."

When you come back out, Satoru is already asleep on the bed, a pair of pajama pants resting lowly on his hips. You hesitate before climbing into the bed next to him, staring out the large windows of your bedroom, watching the city lights dance before sleep washes over you. The inside of your legs sore and your chest is heavy with longing for another.

The lights of the club glow overhead, and across the walls as Kenji enters. Music blasting from every which way. It's a crowd with men and women dancing to the loud music, people bumping into him as he glances around the room, making his way toward the bar.

He keeps an eye open for a specific person, someone with bright red hair that reaches her hips, her height measuring just above five-three. He knows that the girl would be serving drinks at this particular bar on this particular night unless she was forced to call in sick.

He's been waiting weeks for this to happen, spending sleepless nights waiting for news that the person he had hired had found information about the woman in the photos you had thrown in his face. His body was buzzing with anticipation to confront the woman who had ruined his life.

He wonders what you're doing right now. Have you eaten? Are you asleep? Have you let the man you called your husband touch what was rightfully his? Were you thinking of him? Of your lives before all of it came crumbling down.

How long had it been since he had last seen you? Two months? Three? It had been close to four now, and fall was starting to roll in. It had taken the investigator longer to find the name of the club than he had predicted, the girl they had been searching for using an alias during work. The last he had heard of you from Sukuna and the girls was that you had moved out of your in-law's home and into a penthouse Satoru had bought. The thought of you living along with that man made his blood boil.

Downing another drink to push back the thought he spots the face he's been looking for, heading straight to the bar to get drinks for a table. Yuri Tanaka, the girl who turned you against him, is leaning across the bar right next to him, giving the order for one of her tables. The smile on her face makes Kenji want to wrap his fingers around her neck and force her to confess everything about what happened that night. But he's a patient man if the last four months have proven anything.

He'll wait until he can get alone and then interrogate her, in the meantime he'd keep an eye on her. He drinks as the night drags on, making sure to drink water in between to keep himself sober. He waits for the right time to bump into her causing the drinks on her tray to spill all over him. He lets her drag him towards the employee restrooms, where she keeps apologizing as she tries to dry his shirt.

"I am so sorry, I should have been more careful. I should have watched where I was stepping." She answers.

"You're fine," Kenji answers, resting a hand above hers, getting her to stop, "it was an accident." He glances into her eyes, trying to see if she'll recognize his face, but she doesn't seem to and continues to clean him.

"You don't remember do you?" he sighs, slumping back on the counter.

"Huh? Should I remember you?" She questions, her hands stop moving.

Kenji laughs manically, his hand coming up to grip her back neck, not applying any pressure to break her airflow, but enough to scare the poor girl. "Yeah you actually should, you ruined my life. Made me lose the girl of my dreams. You made her think I cheated on her when I would never have done that to her when she's my entire world."

The girl claws at his wrists as he pushes her out of the bathroom into the poorly lit hallway. His body looming over hers, she struggles to speak, but Kenji can hear her over the sound of the music, "I don't know what you're talking about. I have no idea who you are." Her eyes are open wide in fear, the more she denies not knowing who he is the tighter his grasp around her neck increases.

"Just admit it," he growls, pressing his body into hers, slamming her head against the wall. Yuri shrieks as she feels pain shoot up the side of her head.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know," she repeats over and over as she cries. Her eyes flickered between the end of the hall and Kenji's glaring eyes. Scared that these were her last moments.

Kenji loosens his grip around the poor girl's jaw, staggering back to the wall behind him, running his hand over his face. He swallows, regaining control of his breathing, guilt bubbling in the pit of his stomach when he looks up to see the girl's fear-stricken face.

He sighs heavily, looking down the hall, neon lights and music traveling down it, causing his ears to hurt from the thumping and flashes. Kenji looks back at the girl coward next to the wall, mascara running down her face as she runs her fingers over the ghost feeling of his fingers wrapped around her throat. "I just want to know what happened that night. It's the only way I won't lose her," He breathes, carefully stepping towards her, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, "Please just tell me what happened."

Yuri continues to sniffle, rubbing the side of her head as she falls to her knees. Glancing up at Kenji, recognizing him after a few moments, the guilt that had been riddling her since the night she met him knawing at her throat. "I can't tell you any of that," she confesses to him, grabbing Kenji's attention.

Kneeling in front of her grabs her jaw forcing her to look at him, "So you do remember," Yuri nods, "Why can't you tell me?"

Her eyes glance at the end of the hall before she answers, curling away from Kenji, "I just can't. I'm so sorry, but I can't help you."

"Whoever had you take those pictures paid you off didn't they?" Kenji sighs, standing back up, and rubbing his temples when she doesn't answer. "They must be pretty powerful or rich in order to cause this much fear in you." He taps his foot on the ground, "Just tell me this then, 'cause I'm not asking who paid you, I just want to know this one thing." Yuri peers at him through tear-filled eyes, "Did we sleep together?"

The girl shakes her head, "No. I just undressed you and took the pictures, then waited until morning before you woke up to take more. We never slept together."

"Okay, good girl," Kenji answered bending down to lift her off the ground, "Now I'm going to need you to dry that pretty face, redo your make up and repeat all of that for my phone camera. I promise no one else other than me and the girl who will watch this will know about what you just told me. Understood." Yuri nods, as she gets dragged back into the restroom, the door clicking shut behind her, "Good girl."

Taglist(closed): @thetempleofnyx @legbouk @purplecandygerl @cloudsinthecosmos @watyousayin @descargueestoporgojosatoru @moonlightaangel @the-amaranthine @vintagexparker @fushiigumi03 @pyschopotatomeme @mekorausada @belovedcherry @my-names-angel-but-im-not-one @kellyyween @shintin @rntrsuna @crispmarshmallow @weebotaku21 @ekaterinatepes @artemisthestar @levisfav @lezgohome @winter-bearv @attackonsimpp @rogueofbullshit @no-name-jack

#Gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #Gojo angst #gojo fic

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