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joelscruff · 1 year

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for what it's worth (joel miller x reader) 18+

part 3 of the soft!dom joel collection has arrived! this one tackles some backstory; it's time to see how they met and how exactly their little "arrangement" came to be. i hope you guys like it, your feedback means the world to me. i also have a kofi if you'd like to give me a tip (but of course this is completely optional). previous parts: you know i don't mean it & don't think we could help it summary: your relationship with joel has always been complicated, but it's about to change drastically, for better or for worse. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: fem!reader, smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), mutual masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), mentions of porn (specifically magazines) word count: 10k (it's a doozy) | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major but i figured i should warn for it anyway.

To say that your first day in Jackson is alienating would be an understatement.

You feel like everyone is staring at you (they are) and no one will let you out of their sight (they won't). You understand immediately that there's a lack of trust which will need to be formed as soon as possible, otherwise you'll never be able to create a home here.

"They're wary of you," Maria explains in your brand new living room - you still can't believe you just went from having barely any possessions to having your own house - and gives you a weak smile, "It'll pass, they just need to make sure you don't have any ulterior motives."

You get it, but it still hurts. Especially that night when you join your new community for dinner and find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the room, poking at your food and trying not to let your emotions betray you. You're determined not to show weakness, even though you've never felt more isolated. You can feel their eyes on you constantly, like they're waiting for you to pull out a rifle and start picking them off like a shooting gallery.

There's only one person who seems to be consistently minding his own business, a middle aged man who sits in the opposite corner of the room. He's hulking and broad, kind of intimidating, but there's a softness to his jaw and the grey scruff covering it that makes you see something else, something kind. He takes large bites and seems lost in his own thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall to his left but unfocused, like he's looking through it. He's by himself too, mirroring you, but you can tell by the way people move around him that he's been here for a long time. He must just enjoy his solitude.

"That's Joel," Maria tells you, sitting next to you and following your gaze, "He's my husband's brother, came down here a few years ago."

"He doesn't stare at me like everyone else does," you say, still looking over at him, "Does he just not care or...?"

To your surprise, she laughs, and everyone who's giving you dirty looks suddenly seems to soften. You're grateful for Maria then for bothering to talk to you, to try and trust you.

"Don't ask me to explain the things Joel does, I wouldn't be able to tell you," you notice that she has a full plate of food with her and that she's decided to sit next to you for dinner, an attempt to alleviate the mistrust for you in the room. You can't help but smile, thankful.

"He's a closed book," she continues, "Even Tommy finds him hard to read and he's his own brother."

She changes the subject then, wanting to know more about you and what you've been through, a not so subtle way of trying to get some information for the council. You humor her; you have nothing to lose.

Your eyes still stray to the man named Joel every so often as you speak, but you're not sure why. After about ten minutes he gets up to leave, and you watch him place his empty bowl in the dishwashing area and give the woman working there a small smile. She smiles back, says something to him. He laughs, and you can almost hear it over the bustle of the dining area. You watch as he says something else to her in parting, gives her one more smile, and turns and walks out the door. He doesn't look at you, not even once.

Over the next few weeks, things get better. Less people are looking at you and more people are actually trying to talk to you, get to know you. You have some nice conversations and answer questions about yourself - mostly appropriate, save for the one teenager who kept asking how you got the different scars along your bicep, the long one on your neck, the one on your cheek, stories you really didn't want to recount. After hounding you for a few minutes, her friend had pulled her away with an apology, "She likes scars," she'd said sheepishly, tugging the girl's arm, "Come on, Ellie, leave her alone."

You meet everybody, shake hands and even hug a few people. You start getting invited to things, asked to suggest films for movie night, help set up some games for the kids, Tommy even asks you one evening to help him herd a few sheep that had gotten loose. They trust you, and it feels good.

You still see that man, Joel, every night in the dining hall. But that's the only place you see him. You're not sure where he goes during the day or after dinner; he must just be a bit of a recluse, which you can't blame him for. The people here are nice but a lot are overbearing and a bit too friendly sometimes, plus it's hard to find time for yourself when everyone has tasks to complete and always likes to help each other out. You begin to wonder if he'll ever notice you, which leads you to wonder why it even matters to you that he does.

Your patrols start around the three month mark. Tommy takes you out with a small group beyond the borders of the community and shows you the ropes, points out where most of the patrol spots are with a pair of binoculars and goes over the routine. Your first assignment is simple: manning the watchtower with Maria. You spend most of the patrol getting to know her, hearing about her past and telling her more about yours. You like her a lot, she's easy to talk to and has a strong spirit akin to your own. The conversation gets pretty personal around the seventh hour, and you end up telling her how exactly you got the scar along your cheekbone. She listens deeply, thoughtfully, nodding along as you detail the more difficult things you've had to deal with in the past, the things that have made you stronger.

"You're tough," she says near the end of your shift, nudging your shoulder, "You don't really belong on watchtower, do you?"

You shrug, "I mean, if there's somewhere else I'd be more useful..."

"How'd you like to head out to the ski lodge with Joel next week?"

Your ears prick up at the name and you nod quickly, unsure exactly why, "Yeah, that'd be great!"

"He knows the area well," she adds, then grimaces, "I have to warn you though, he might not talk very much. He keeps to himself, I'm sure you've noticed."

You wonder why she's so quick to put you on patrol with someone who might not even speak to you, but it starts to make sense as you're walking back from the watchtower in the early hours of the morning. Tommy exits the dining hall and walks over to the both of you with a smile, pressing a tender kiss to Maria's cheek.

"How's my girl?" he asks flirtatiously, and she bats him away playfully.

"Was just telling the new recruit that she's gonna go on patrol with Joel next week," she replies, and Tommy stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow.

"Her? With Joel?" he appraises you and bites his lip, "I don't know, honey, wouldn't she be better off with someone who'll actually talk to her? I thought she was on watchtower with you."

"Tommy, I never see you anymore," she gives him an exasperated look, "The weekends used to be for us and ever since the Kingstons left-"

"I know, I know," he looks at you again, twisting his mouth in thought, "I've been, uh, a lot busier than usual lately. We had this family here for a while, big family, they helped out with the patrols. But they decided to go south a few months back, so-"

"So Tommy's been filling in for every shift he can," Maria finishes for him with a sigh, "And I never see the damn idiot anymore."

You smile, "I'm totally fine with taking over for you, really."

Tommy raises an eyebrow, "Seriously? You sure?" Maria slaps his arm lightly and he gives her a look, but then shrugs, "I mean, okay, if you wanna give it a try. It won't be all the time or anything, maybe just every other weekend, but it would actually be a big help."

"It really would," Maria adds, "You have no idea."

"But... you gotta understand, my big brother, he's.... he's complicated," Tommy's expression is serious now as he looks at you, "He's not very talkative these days, not since..." he shakes his head and you don't push it any further, though you do wonder what's changed.

"So you'll do it?" Maria asks, eyes bright.

"Even if he doesn't talk to you?" Tommy adds with a grimace.

You nod, somehow believing it won't actually be that bad.

It is that bad.

The first time you're officially introduced to Joel he doesn't even bother to shake your hand, just nodding vaguely to you as you stand there like an idiot with your palm outstretched. Tommy makes a face at him and then looks back to you with a reassuring smile.

"There's not usually much trouble up at the ski lodge," he says kindly, ignoring Joel's ambivalence, "The trek back and forth is arguably the worst part. The lifts were already damaged beyond repair when we got here so it's a bit of a hike, 'bout an hour to get up there and the same back."

You begin to wonder if maybe this really isn't the best idea, eyeing Joel silently as Tommy explains what you should expect. You've seen this man smile, know he's capable of making some kind of small talk, but it's clear that you're not an ideal candidate as he stands there stiffly and lets Tommy do the talking. Tommy had told you earlier that if the patrol didn't go well he wouldn't make you do it again, and you're already thinking this might be your first and last shift with Joel.

Tommy walks with both of you to about the halfway point, still going over the routine as Joel trudges silently ahead of you. He hasn't said a word, not one word. It's honestly starting to piss you off.

"Well, I gotta head back," Tommy says, giving you another smile of reassurance, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, see how it went, see if we might make this more permanent." He seems doubtful but you can't blame him.

A few moments later it's just you and Joel, hiking in complete silence save for the sounds of nature. The cogs in your head frantically turn, trying to land on something you can say to make things less awkward.

"So, when's the last time you saw infected up here?" you settle on, hoping it'll be enough to start some kind of conversation.

"'Bout a month ago," he replies immediately, voice gruff but quiet, "Weren't too many."

He's got an accent like his brother but it's fainter, less obnoxious, like he's spent more time with non-southern people in the later years of his life. Tommy had said they'd grown up in Texas and lived there 'til he was in his late 20s and Joel his mid 30s, then somewhere along the way they'd separated. You don't know much else about him other than that.

"It's the people you mainly worry about though, right?" you ask, quoting something Tommy had said a few weeks back, "Tommy said you've had more run-ins with raiders than infected."

"Tommy's tellin' you too much," he replies with a grunt, "Don't know what he's even thinking sendin' some kid up here."

You feel anger rise in your chest immediately, "I'm not a kid, asshole."

He stops then, turns around and appraises you with his eyebrows furrowed. It's the first time he's actually gotten a good look at you, his gaze catching on your face for a lasting moment before his eyes fall to your gun. You feel slightly vulnerable, intimidated by his heavy stare.

"How old are you?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Twenty seven."

His brow furrows even more, "Coulda sworn he said you were seventeen."

"Well, I'm not," you reply awkwardly.

"No, you're not," he acknowledges, "I'm sorry," He seems to mean it, giving you the smallest of apologetic nods and then turning around again to keep walking.

"You thought Tommy sent a seventeen year old up here with you? I thought you had to be eighteen to patrol outside the border."

"You do, I just wouldn't put it past Tommy to send a kid up here with me," he grumbles, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"...Why?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, but now I'm just thinking you're some kind of pervert," you say it in a joking manner but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he stops again and spins around, looking at you with what you can only explain as pure rage. You flinch backward, eyes widening.

"Do I look like a fucking pervert to you?" he asks, voice hard and angry.

"I was joking," you say immediately, shaking your head frantically, "It didn't land."

"No, it fucking didn't," he starts walking again at a faster pace, leaving you standing there completely floored.

Yeah, it's bad.

"Ellie's not speaking to him," Tommy explains to you the next morning in the dining hall, hands gripping his coffee mug. You've just told him about your patrol with Joel and the horrible impression you've already managed to make. "I really shouldn't be telling you this but with an outburst like that...I need you to understand why he reacted the way he did."

You look at him, bewildered, "Ellie? That teenager who plays guitar down by the stream?" And the one who'd relentlessly bothered you with questions about your scars, but you keep that part to yourself.

"Yeah, she's...well for all intents and purposes, she's Joel's kid. And she stopped talking to him a while ago, maybe six or seven months back now," he takes a sip of coffee, "Don't ask me why 'cause I have no idea. I've asked both of them and neither'll give me any kind of explanation. All I know is they ain't speakin' and he's heartbroken over it."

"Must've been a bad argument," you say, scrunching your nose in thought, "I mean...seven months? That's a long time to not speak to someone, especially your dad."

"Eh, you haven't met Ellie. She's one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. They both are," he shakes his head, "Anyway, you calling him a perv probably pissed him off 'cause Ellie's real special to him, a surrogate daughter. He wouldn't like someone misunderstanding that, seein' somethin' dirty or wrong there."

"I wasn't-"

He puts a hand up, nodding, "I know you weren't, I get it, no worries. It's partly my fault anyway 'cause he's right, I have tried to send a teen or two up with him, thought it'd do him good to mentor somebody again. But he doesn't want it, I know that now. He doesn't want it if it's not Ellie."

"Well, he doesn't seem to like me anyway, no matter how old I am," you sigh, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms, "I mean, he didn't talk to me once after that, not for the whole shift. It was bad. I don't know if it's gonna work, Tommy. I'm sorry."

He nods and gives you a small smile, thumbing the handle of his mug, "It's okay, I didn't think it'd work out anyways." He tries to hide the disappointment in his expression but fails miserably, and you leave the dining hall feeling bad about your failure.

A few days later you're back in the dining hall finishing up dinner, chatting with a few of the community members who you've warmed up most to. There's not many, but you are starting to find yourself feeling more and more comfortable around people as the days go on, more like yourself. You're caught up in a story about an infected you'd encountered in a gas station when their gazes suddenly divert from you and instead fix above your head. Confused, you slow your words and turn around.

"Oh, hi," you say, voice a bit breathless when you see Joel standing there, hands in his pockets, "Did you need something?"

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you," he says it softly, kindly, completely the opposite of how he'd talked to you before, "When you're finished, of course."

"Oh, yeah, sure," your words are broken and awkward, "Uh, I'll meet you...?"

"I'll be outside the main doors," he says quickly, "Take your time."

"Okay, I'll be out in a few."

He nods to you and then to your friends, then turns on his heel and walks out through the big double doors at the end of the dining area. You watch him go, bewildered.

"I thought he hated you," one of your friends says, voicing exactly what you're currently thinking.

"Yeah," you reply, furrowing your brow, "So did I."

You finish your story much quicker than intended and shove away from the table, waving goodbye to your friends and bringing your empty dish to the cleaning station. You push past the double doors and scan the outside area for Joel, eyeing the picnic tables where a few people are enjoying their meals in the fresh air.

"Hey," you hear behind you, and you turn to see him leaning against the left side of the building, arms crossed, "Over here."

You walk over, trying to plan out exactly what you're going to say so you don't end up making some stupid joke again that'll push him further away from you. It turns out you don't need to, because he speaks first.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he says it seriously, a soft and genuine look in his brown eyes, "I treated you horribly the other day, you didn't deserve that."

You raise an eyebrow, "Did Tommy put you up to this?"

He frowns, "No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause if he did...I mean, I get it. It's nice of him to look out for me like that but you really don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything, I'm the one who said the tactless joke."

"Tommy didn't say anything to me," he seems to mean it, kicking the toe of his boot against the building, "And I know you were joking, I knew it then too but I'd just..." he takes a breath, avoiding eye contact, "I was havin' a bad day. Doesn't excuse my behavior by any means but it...you just..." he finally looks at you again, expression pained, "I wasn't expectin' you to be there. Tommy only told me you were takin' over for him about ten minutes before you showed up. And then I thought you were a kid and-"

You put your hand up, silencing him, "Joel, it's okay. You don't have to explain."

"I didn't even shake your damn hand," he says gruffly, sounding genuinely ashamed.

You extend your hand to him immediately, splaying your fingers out into the cold air, "Here, shake it now." He stares at it, unsure, and you wiggle it a bit in response, "Seriously, it's okay. Let's start over, clean slate."

He slowly reaches up to take it, his much bigger hand enveloping yours completely. His grip is strong and firm and you can feel calluses along his fingers, showing you exactly who taught Ellie how to play that guitar.

"Clean slate," he repeats, and it begins.

He's annoying, but you kinda love it.

He's grumpy most of the time, hates when you don't obey his orders, isn't afraid to give you shit, and gets irritated with you very easily. But it goes both ways. You're stubborn and set in your ways, you hate being told what to do, you dish it just as much as you take it, and it doesn't take much to get you riled up. And somehow, as much as you'd both probably hate to admit it, you work well together.

After your little conversation with Joel outside the dining hall, you'd flagged down Tommy and told him you were willing to try again with Joel on another patrol. He'd looked at you like you were crazy but hadn't shot the idea down, telling you that if it's what you really wanted, he'd keep the schedule the same.

You've been up on the mountain with Joel three times now, and while there's certainly been challenges and a few arguments, it's starting to become a routine. He doesn't talk about himself - it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you dare not break - but in return you don't tell him much about you either. Your main conversation points are usually tied to your interests, not your pasts, and you find yourself discussing movies with him, as well as music and books. He's surprisingly well-read for someone in an apocalypse, but you suppose he could say the same thing about you.

The fourth trip is what sets things in motion.

"Did you catch the movie last night?" you ask nonchalantly as you hike beside him, almost to the ski lodge. It's early morning, around five, and the sun is just beginning to crest the tree line, "I don't think Maria knew about the sex scene."

He groans, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes - you've noticed that he does this a lot, a quirk you've become rather fond of.

"Yes," he replies, wincing, "I heard her givin' Tommy a piece of her mind afterwards."

"The way she was yelling for him to turn off the projector was so fucking funny," you grin at the memory, still fresh in your mind, "And listen, I get it, sex is taboo, yada yada yada, but it's not like there were any little kids there last night, it was just the teens. And it's not like it was a porno or something, it was one little sex scene."

"Oh, I know, but I think Maria's trying to keep 'em as innocent as possible for as long as she can."

"Good luck with that," you snort, "I think we all lost our innocence a long time ago, for better or for worse."

"For worse," he replies instantly, "Definitely for worse."

"You're probably right," you grimace, "Although, you know what? I've actually never seen a porno."

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Seriously? Never?"

You bristle slightly, suddenly a little self conscious, "Well, it's not like there's an adult video store in this town, is there?" You can remember them existing when you were a kid, before everything happened, but it's not like you'd had any use for them at that time.

"No, you're right," he turns away from you, lost in thought for a moment, "They do still exist though. Pornos, I mean. Just in other forms. There's a stack of magazines up at the ski lodge, actually."

Your eyes go wide, "Wait, really?"

"Yup."

"Could I maybe..." you trail off and stop speaking, realizing that you should definitely not be asking what you're thinking.

"Look at 'em?" he finishes for you, not looking behind him as he keeps walking, "And you call me a pervert."

The conversation ends there, and you don't dare try to continue it.

The day is spent keeping watch along the ski lodge balcony, binoculars passed back and forth as you trade shifts and chat here and there about irrelevant things. Your main objective in this patrol spot is to keep watch of the main watchtower's blind spots, keeping an aerial view of the border perimeter in case people - mainly raiders - decide to make themselves known. You'd thought early on in your admittance to Jackson that infected were their main concern, but you've come to learn that's not the case at all. When Joel had said they'd come across infected up here he'd been lying to you; they'd actually come across a group of raiders who'd tried - and failed - to murder Joel and Tommy during their watch. Not the most reassuring thing to hear now that you've taken over, but you needed to know.

"It's why we got the trip wires down near the entrance now," Joel had explained to you during your second patrol with him, "We won't get snuck up on again," he'd made a face, "Not unless someone decides to disobey my orders."

You'd given him a weak smile, remembering how you'd decided not to heed his warning about going outside the ski lodge after light's out and ended up almost getting your leg shot off by a booby trap, "My bad." He'd rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself.

Now that it's your fourth watch you've gotten the hang of things and have learned to enjoy the semi-solitude of being on the mountain with Joel. He's got a battery operated radio and a box of cassette tapes that keep you from being bored out of your mind, plus a few containers of books that he and Tommy had carried up over the course of a few patrols. Now that you really think about it, you don't remember seeing any of the aforementioned porn Joel had spoken of in any of those crates.

It's midday when you decide to glance through them again out of curiosity, handing the binoculars over to Joel and slipping past him as he traipses out onto the balcony. You head for the boxes immediately and start to dig through them, not sure exactly what you're even looking for. Someone naked, you guess.

"They're not in there," Joel calls to you after a few minutes and you stiffen, turning to look at him through the glass where he can very clearly see what you're doing. He's got a shit-eating grin on his face and you feel your skin flush red.

"I don't know what you're even talking about," you call back, walking away from the books and plopping yourself in the chair by the unlit fireplace, which has somehow become your chair via another unspoken rule, "I was looking for a tape."

"Okay, well the 'tape' you're looking for is in the back of the supply closet," he sounds like he's fighting back laughter and your skin burns even more, "Underneath a box of cleaning supplies."

"I'm ignoring you," you yell out, "Get back to work."

You swear you hear a muffled laugh through the glass.

When he comes in from his shift he barely looks at you, just pushes past you lightly and heads for the supply closet. You follow behind him, heart pounding a bit harder in your chest the closer you get to the stash. He opens the closet door and you watch as he yanks out the cleaning supplies, then digs a bit deeper and reappears with six or seven magazines in his arms.

"Here," he leans them toward you and you hesitantly reach forward to take them from him, "They're mostly from the 90s."

"And you know this because....?" you raise an eyebrow and you swear his cheeks go pink.

"I'm a man," he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant as he passes you again to head back to the living room.

"Perv," you call after him, but he doesn't turn around this time.

"You got ten minutes."

You've never seen so much nudity in your life, which is saying something considering you'd seen your fair share of it back in your QZ when life had been a bit easier. But seeing it on paper, in photographs that have somehow lasted through years of this shitty reality, it's something else entirely. You stare with wide eyes at the onslaught of naked bodies, most of which are posed in extremely graphic sexual positions, and feel your heart continue to pound in your chest.

Without much thought you'd opened the first magazine right there where Joel left you standing outside the supply closet, and you now find yourself sitting in said closet with your flashlight aimed at the pages, breathing heavily and trying to comprehend exactly how you feel about what you're looking at. A lot of it feels kind of fake, especially the looks on the faces of the models, but there's enough sexual energy there that makes you start to feel a bit wet in your underwear, a feeling you haven't experienced for quite some time; not since a few a years ago in the QZ when you'd been in your last relationship.

"I gave you ten minutes," you suddenly hear Joel say from the other room, and you quickly scramble to your feet and frantically shut the magazine, "In case you forgot, it's your turn."

"Fuck," you trip out of the closet and dash to the living room, clutching your brand new collection of media to your chest, "Sorry, I got distracted."

He stands by the balcony door and looks you over quickly, eyes scanning from the magazines to your face and back again, "Enjoy yourself?" his expression is unreadable and it makes you self conscious.

"Oh please," you reply, making a face, "Do not start."

"So which was your favorite?" he asks you casually once darkness has fallen and you're both safely settled in the lodge for the night.

"Which what?"

He looks at you from over his book and gives you a look, like he's questioning your sanity. You stare for a moment and then slap your hand over your eyes when you realize.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you groan, "I'm never gonna hear the end of this now, am I?"

He laughs and you look over at him again, laying there on the couch with a smug look on his face. You retaliate by grabbing the pillow behind you and tossing it at him, making him drop the book he's reading.

"Hey!" he reaches down to pick it up again, "I showed them to you, I'm allowed to ask."

"False," you say, flipping your hair, "And for your information, I only managed to look at one of them."

He chuckles to himself and returns to his book, "Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. I was just kiddin'."

"Joel Miller? Kidding?" you make a faux-shocked face, "I fear we've entered the Twilight Zone."

"Don't even pretend you know what that is," he says it seriously but his smile betrays him, "You didn't know about the Twilight Zone 'til I told you about it last week."

"That's just what I wanted you to think."

He rolls his eyes and keeps reading, letting the silence take over again. You watch his eyes scan the page back and forth, taking in the story - whatever it is - and transporting himself to another world, away from the ski lodge. He does this every patrol once it's too dark to see outside, sets the battery powered lantern to its highest setting and reads until he falls asleep. You wish you had his concentration and focus; instead, you curl up in the red armchair and force your eyes shut until your thoughts quiet down enough to let you sleep. Which is difficult tonight especially, seeing as all you can think about are those damn magazines.

After about five more minutes of silence you take a deep breath, then quietly say, "The one with the blonde girl in the bunny ears."

You don't dare look at him, waiting for his response and focusing instead on the empty fireplace beside you. You hear the crinkling of paper as he dogears the page of his book and then the gentle thud as he places it on the floor.

"That's a good one," he says just as quietly.

Another moment of silence passes, and your skin feels like it's on fire as you whisper, "I like the page where she's like...bent over."

"I can't remember the pages, if I'm being honest," he replies, "I haven't looked at them in a while."

You nod to yourself, "Well, there's this page where the guy has her bent over a table. And he's like...pounding into her from behind." You wait for him to say something else but he doesn't so you continue, "It's one of the only pages where she actually looks like she's enjoying herself."

"Hey, uh, I really was just kiddin'," he says awkwardly, "You don't have to tell me, it's okay."

"Oh," you can't help but sound dejected and embarrassed, your fingers trembling a little bit as you push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Sorry."

"I mean, if you want to, you can," he corrects, sounding slightly embarrassed himself, "I know you probably....you probably want to talk about it."

You bite down on your lip and sigh exasperatedly, placing your hands over your face, "Kinda," you mumble against your fingers, "It's all I can think about right now."

"Did it make you uncomfortable?" he asks, voice still gentle, "A lot of people are offended by that kinda stuff, you wouldn't be the first person to find it weird."

"It's definitely weird," you take a shaky breath and drop your hands, "But no, I'm not uncomfortable. It was....I mean, it was hot," you bite your lip, "I haven't even thought about sex for a long time so it made me...uh..."

The silence is deafening and apparently neither of you wants to break it as you sit there without speaking, letting your words hang in the dead air. You suddenly feel like you want to crawl out of your skin for saying anything to begin with, for even asking about the magazines in the first place.

"Wet?" he suddenly says, voice breaking a bit, "It made you wet?"

"Very," you reply, relieved that he's not freaked out and trying to change the subject.

"Well, that's normal," he says, voice stiff.

You can't help but laugh, finally peering over at him and seeing that he's just laying there, staring at the ceiling, "I know it's normal, Joel. It's not my first time being turned on, trust me."

"Well, what am I supposed to say?" he grumbles, looking at you in exasperation, "You can't just say that and expect me to give you a casual response. It made you wet, you got turned on, congratulations."

You stare at him, watching as he reaches for his book again, "Wait," you clamor out of the chair and reach beneath it to grab the magazine you'd looked at earlier. You shuffle over to him, thumbing through the pages until you find the right one, "Here," you open to the correct page and show it to him, "This is the one I'm talking about."

His eyes assess the page, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily in his throat as he takes in what you were referring to. He nods slowly, "Okay yeah, I see what you mean. She's about to come, that's why she looks like that."

Your brow furrows, "You can tell that from a picture?"

He shrugs, eyes still on the magazine, "Well, see, he's rubbin' her clit," he points to it and your face goes hot again, "And he's fuckin' her pretty hard. So yeah, I'd say she's either already comin' or about to." his gaze shifts back to you, noticing that you're staring, and he awkwardly pushes the magazine back toward you, "What?"

"I just..." you swallow, shaking your head apologetically, "Sorry, it just sounded really dirty hearing you say that."

He suddenly looks uncomfortable, shifting on the couch and leaning away from you as he crosses his arms, "Well, you asked."

"I know, I don't mean it in a bad way," you step back and realize you're suddenly throbbing in your jeans, feeling that familiar wetness again, "It just... hearing you say it out loud like that, it makes the picture hotter, somehow."

He looks at you, gaze trailing from your eyes to your lips. You suddenly feel like you've said too much, exposed even though you're fully dressed, and you walk back over to the chair and quickly plop back down in it. You give him another look and see his lips parting like he's going to say something else. Instead he takes a breath and drops his eyes from your face, twisting around on the couch to face the opposite way, "It's late, we should sleep."

"Y-yeah," you breathe, crossing your legs, heart stuttering as your clothed core presses wetly against the denim of your jeans. "You're right."

You curl back up in the chair and try to calm your breath, slow your heart, try not to focus too much on the fact that hearing Joel of all people say the phrases he's rubbin' her clit and fuckin' her pretty hard has made you start falling to pieces. Do you even see Joel that way? Has there ever been a moment where you found yourself thinking about him like that? You want to tell yourself the answer is no, that your body is simply experiencing some pent-up sexual frustration and he has nothing to do with it, but you know you'd be lying to yourself.

He's hot. It's not some shocking revelation or something you've realized over time. There's a reason you'd felt so drawn to him that first day in the dining hall, a reason you'd watched out for him every day and hoped he'd notice you. Hell, there's a reason you're still doing patrols with him despite him being a pain in the ass. You're not an idiot, you know yourself well enough by now to know what these things mean.

You're attracted to him. You've been attracted to him this whole damn time.

You shut your eyes tight and curl up into a ball, holding your knees to your chest. He's rubbin' her clit, his voice echoes in your mind, and your cunt begins to ache.

Stop thinking about it, you shake his words away and try to focus on falling asleep. There's no way you're gonna touch yourself right now, not with him in the room, and you're not gonna excuse yourself either like some horny teenager. You can do this, you can get through it, it'll go away soon.

It doesn't go away.

About twenty minutes later you're still sitting there with your eyes shut, trying your hardest not to touch yourself. But it's so fucking difficult. His words are playing on a loop in your head, over and over, soft yet rough, kind yet sexy, his southern drawl making it all the more hotter:

She's about to come, that's why she looks like that.

He's rubbin' her clit.

He's fuckin' her pretty hard.

I'd say she's either already comin' or about to.

You squirm in the chair, imagining what he'd sound like whispering that in your ear with his fingers pumping in and out of you as you came undone beneath him. Rubbin' her clit, his voice breathes in your mind, fuckin' her pretty hard, she's about to come.

You're ten seconds from breaking your own rule and heading back to the supply closet to find some release when you hear an unfamiliar sound coming from a few feet away. Your eyes flutter open, thoughts stopping momentarily as you try to figure out what it is. You turn slightly in your chair to see if Joel hears it too, and you feel your breath stop completely.

He's turned off the lantern so you can't see him properly, but you can make out the shadow of him in the moonlight, see the long shape of him directly mirrored against the floorboards and his hand stroking himself up and down, quick and rough. Your lips part in disbelief, realizing the noise you're hearing is the sound of his palm slapping against the base of his cock as he jacks himself off.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

Here you've been, desperately trying to push away any and all sense of desire so you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself, wouldn't make him uncomfortable, and here he is doing that exact thing. Angrily, almost out of spite, you sit up in the chair and stuff your hand down your jeans.

Two can play at that game, asshole.

Your finger goes straight to your clit and you begin to rub it furiously, eyes trained on the dark outline of his hand moving up and down. You can only vaguely make out the shape of him but it's enough to make you start dripping, the base of your palm getting slick as you stimulate yourself continuously. He's well endowed, that much is obvious, and you watch his silhouette as he releases his large cock for a moment to bring his hand to his mouth and lick a stripe along his palm. You have to bite down on your lip to suppress the moan that threatens to bubble from your throat at the action, watching through lidded eyes as he brings his wet hand back down and fists himself once more.

Without much thought you slip your middle finger inside yourself, eyes trained on him as you pretend it's his cock pushing past your entrance. It's pretty difficult to imagine though, considering his cock is probably five times as girthy as your one finger, but you make do. You can kind of make out the shape of the tip, wide and shiny, disappearing and reappearing over and over. You slip a second finger inside and bite back a whimper.

The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin and the sudden wet squelch of your fingers; you don't even bother to try and make it softer, you're getting off now whether he knows or not, the fullness overwhelming you as you lick your lips and furrow your brow. You haven't masturbated in a long time; you know it won't take you long to get what you need.

"Are you-" he suddenly gasps into the darkness, and your head snaps up to look at him again, heart pounding when you see that his hand has stilled on his cock and he's looking over at you with an expression of pure disbelief.

You should probably be embarrassed, apologetic, but instead you can't help but feel a rush of pride, of spite, as he realizes what you're doing.

"Like you're not," you hiss back, practically spitting as you continue to fuck yourself, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he says back, and you can see his fingers clench around his length, like he's doing everything in his power not to stroke himself.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He groans and lets go of himself completely, sitting up slightly on the couch and shaking his head like he's trying to wake himself up from a dream he isn't having. When he looks at you again his eyes fall to where you're still getting off, not bothering to be sneaky about the way he practically bores a hole in your jeans with his gaze.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" he challenges gruffly, eyes coming back up to meet yours, the hint of a cocky smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Oh, he's proud of himself, isn't he?

You glare at him, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going," you mean it too, fingers not even slowing down as you pant breathlessly in his direction, "And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

It does matter, actually, it really does. If he was to get up and walk out... it would basically be a rejection, something you're not sure you'll be able to deal with. You don't break eye contact with him, staring him down as you give him your own challenge.

He swallows, gives you one last look, and then flops back down into a horizontal position as he reaches for himself again. He returns to his quick strokes, almost purposely more heavy this time as he mutters, "No talking. Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you reply immediately, and add a third finger.

It doesn't take long for you to find your release, a particularly hard slap of skin from Joel on the couch pushing you over the edge. You don't try to stifle your moan this time, focusing completely on enjoying your orgasm as your hand stills in your pants and you begin to shake in the chair. Your hips buck pathetically, eyes shutting tight as you whimper and cry out in pleasure.

"Jesus Christ," you hear Joel pant a few seconds afterward, followed by a long groan as he starts to come too, "Fuck."

You manage to catch a glimpse of the way he twists his wrist, aims his cock against his button-down and stains it with his release. You wish you had a better view, that it wasn't so dark, but just hearing him come apart is enough. It's exactly what you hoped it would be.

You lay there in silence for a few moments, both of you panting breathlessly from your orgasms as the weight of what you've just done starts to creep in. You're suddenly slightly afraid of what he'll say, what he'll do. Will he get mad? Will he say he doesn't want to patrol with you anymore? You decide immediately that you don't want him to have the first word.

"What were you thinking about?" you ask, barely a whisper.

It takes a few moments for him to reply, and you start to worry that you've already ruined everything, but then he answers.

"Bunny ears," he says quietly.

"What?"

"I was thinkin' about the bunny ear girl," he's still breathless, "From the magazine. Weren't you?"

You figure you can't dig the hole any deeper.

"I was just watching you, Joel," you breathe, feeling butterflies tingle in your belly at the words, "Didn't have to think about anything else."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, then mumbles something to himself that you don't understand. You can't fully make out his expression but you swear you see him frown in the moonlight, not exactly the response you were aiming for. He suddenly turns on the couch again to face away from you, exhaling loudly, "Go to sleep."

The words strike you hard, lips parting in surprise. You obviously hadn't expected him to completely reciprocate, to jump into your arms and kiss you, but that? "Go to sleep"? What the fuck kind of a response is that? You stare at him, hoping against reason that he'll turn around again and apologize, say something different, but he doesn't.

"Yeah, sure," you mutter, curling back up into a ball in the chair and hoping sleep finds you as soon as possible so you don't have to think anymore, "Asshole."

You hope he hears you.

You wake the next morning to the sound of someone rummaging nearby, and you open your eyes blearily to see Joel crouched near the door, packing his bag. You stretch and yawn automatically, momentarily forgetting what had transpired between the two of you last night. His head tilts up to look at you and it all comes flooding back when you see that familiar frown on his face.

"Do you ever smile?" you say, voice rough with sleep.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his pack, shaking his head, "Like you're so chipper."

"Well, at least I have a good reason to be annoyed," you snap, sitting up in the chair and stretching your legs, "Asshole."

"You love to call me that, don't you?"

"Just calling it like I see it," you mutter, pulling yourself up and heading past him to the door, "I'm taking a piss."

"Watch out for th-"

"The trip wires, I know," you interrupt coldly, "I'm not an idiot."

He doesn't say anything else but you feel his eyes on your back as you walk out onto the balcony and down the steps. You both have to pee in the woods when you're out here - the ski lifts aren't the only things that don't work properly anymore - so you've managed to each figure out your own designated area. You feel relieved once you're out of his eyesight and beneath the thick layer of tree branches that keep your makeshift bathroom secluded.

You really shouldn't be so pissed at him, it's not like he owes you anything. You know you're projecting your own feelings onto him and that it isn't fair, but god, him telling you to go to sleep after you'd essentially confessed your attraction to him makes your blood boil. He'd really had nothing else to say? Couldn't have come up with something a little softer, a little kinder? Let you down easy?

You grumble to yourself on the way back up the steps, questioning whether or not you should keep ignoring him or just get over it. Is it really worth an hours hike of hostility? You already know this is your last shift with him, there's no way you can come back from this in any way that will keep your dignity intact. It's over.

"You say you're not a kid but you sure do act like one," Joel says the second you re-enter the ski lodge, and you stop dead in your tracks. He's got his arms crossed, nose flaring in anger, "I'm sick and tired of the silent treatment, the cold shoulder, all that shit. What happened to people just talkin' to each other?"

You shut the door behind you and shake your head, "I'm not giving you the silent treatment Joel, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," his voice is firm but you can hear some emotion there, something deeper. He doesn't like being ignored and you know why, but it doesn't soften your resolve.

"I'm pissed at you, yeah," you admit, shrugging, "But I think I have a pretty valid reason."

"And what is it?"

You stare, scrunching up your face in confusion, "Are you serious? Jesus, Joel, I thought you were smart."

"Oh, fuck off," he grumbles, rolling his eyes again, "I ain't a mind reader."

You shake your head again, inhaling deeply, "I'm not asking you to read my mind, Joel," you exhale and try to calm yourself, feeling the angry tears begin to sting your eyes. God, you hate how emotional you get when you're angry. You hate showing weakness like this.

"Then tell me," he groans, "Is it about last night? 'Cause I thought we made a deal that we're not gonna talk about it."

You laugh at his words, cold and hard, "Right, yeah, sorry. Deal's a deal, right? My bad," you couldn't sound more sarcastic if you tried, stuffing your roll of toilet paper back in your pack and zipping it up, "Come on, let's just head back and forget about it." Your voice cracks on the last few words and you bite down hard on your lip, feeling the tears spill over.

"Are you crying?" his voice falters, and you hear a twinge of kindness in his tone, something you'd desperately wanted to hear last night.

He crosses the room before you even have a chance to reply, striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder firmly, making you turn around. His face softens immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your face, the tears you're already trying to wipe away.

"Fuck," he says, brow furrowing in concern, "I'm sorry."

You snort involuntarily, shaking your head, "I'm just stupid."

"You're not stupid," it's almost a whisper, "I'm the stupid one, believe me," he brings his hand up like he's going to touch your face but seems to think better of it, bringing it back to your shoulder again, "I shouldn't have... I don't know what I was thinkin' last night, I'm sorry. You showed me that magazine and-"

You put your hand up to silence him, "I don't care about why, Joel. I don't even care that you did it, it's not like I told you to stop."

His brow furrows deeper, "Then what...?"

You close your eyes, breathing deeply before putting on your best impression of him and mumbling, "Go to sleep," like he had the night before, opening your eyes again to see if he understands.

He stares at you for a few seconds, confused, but you watch as it suddenly dawns on him, realization spreading across his features. He suddenly lets go of your shoulder and takes a few steps back, eyes falling to the floor.

"You can't... you can't think of me that way," he says it gruffly, swallowing and shaking his head.

You stand there without saying anything, waiting until he finally looks back up at you to speak. When he does, you make sure to look directly in his eyes.

"Why not?"

His hand comes up to touch the back of his neck and you swear you see patches of red begin to bloom along his collarbone, like he's embarrassed...or flattered? You take a step forward and he quickly takes another step backward.

"If it's because of the age thing... I really don't care, Joel," you say earnestly, heart beginning to beat heavily in your chest, "I think you're..." You can't believe the words are even coming out of your mouth, the tears on your face already beginning to dry as you try to process this new situation you've found yourself in, "I think you're sexy."

His brow furrows again, not in anger but in confusion. He doesn't take another step backward when you move toward him this time, staying rooted in place as you peer up at him, waiting for him to speak. He remains silent, his eyes trained directly on your face, lips set in a firm line.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

He shakes his head slowly, "I don't."

"Why?"

He doesn't reply, just keeps staring at you like he has absolutely no idea what to say. You suddenly feel the need to reassure him, comfort him. Your hand moves upward, aching to cup his face in your hand, feel that grey scruff beneath your palm.

He pulls back before you get the chance, shaking his head again, "Don't," it's barely a whisper, voice breaking as he says it, "Just...gimme a minute."

"Okay," you nod, dropping your hand, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin'," he breathes, still not breaking eye contact, "Just let me think, please."

You swallow, teeth tugging on your lip as he continues to stand there motionless. He's still looking at you but his thoughts are miles away; you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating exactly what he's supposed to do in a situation like this. Part of you wants him to kiss you, part of you wants to kiss him, part of you wants to wait until he makes a decision. You settle firmly on the third option.

"I lied," he finally breaks the silence, jaw tense and firm, "I wasn't thinkin' about that fuckin' bunny ear model."

Your lips part; you hadn't been expecting him to say that.

"Then...what were you thinking about?" You already know the answer before he replies.

"You," his voice is strained, broken, like he's holding himself back, "I was thinkin' about you and the stupid magazines in the supply closet."

You feel your skin flush, a tingle trailing up the back of your neck as you try not to show him how pleased you are, "W-what?"

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about you in that closet, lookin' at those pictures, getting...." he trails off and swallows, then whispers, "Wet. Gettin' all wet in your panties from that girl getting fucked."

His words send an immediate throb to your core and you can feel your heart in your throat, pounding relentlessly as he continues to speak, continues to say exactly what's been on his mind as you stand in front of him, so much smaller than him, letting his words get lost in the sudden warmth of your body and the buzz of your thoughts.

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about it," he repeats, voice rough, eyes dark, "Your wet panties, your big eyes, your..." he practically chokes then, "Your pussy, all wet and aching."

"Oh my god," you whimper, crossing your legs involuntarily as you feel an immediate surge of wetness in your underwear, "Please, keep talking, please."

"Wanted to see it and touch it," he murmurs, his breath ghosting across your face as he peers down at you with desire in his eyes, "Wanted to fuck it and make you come."

Without hesitation your arms shoot up to wrap around his neck, burying your face in his warm chest and tugging at the collar of his coat, "I want you to," you practically moan, clawing at the material, "Joel, I need you to fuck me right now."

To your absolute dismay he reaches up and removes your arms from him, taking a step back so neither of you are touching. His eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide and that red blush of heat now spread all over his neck and cheekbones.

"I can't," he says, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, I can't."

You're about to protest, whine and beg if you have to, but his eyes fall to your groin. You watch with wide eyes as he goes for his belt, begins to unloop it and remove it.

"Take your pants off," he groans, and you don't need telling twice.

You end up masturbating together again, this time in the light of day. You find yourselves laying on the couch where he'd slept last night, the memory of what he'd done there fresh in your mind as you pump two fingers in and out of yourself steadily and watch him stroke his cock to match your pace. He watches you behind hooded eyes, his lips parted as he pants and gets himself off to your pleasure, watches you do the same thing to him.

"That's it," he murmurs, eyes scrunching in arousal as he scans your face, watches you come undone, "Rub your clit, nice and fast."

You whimper, unable to hold on for much longer as you eye his cock and see the way the fat head of it drips for you, slicking his hand and allowing him to stroke faster and faster. You want to say something to help get him off too but your words are completely lost in the sensation; you couldn't speak even if you wanted to.

He knows you're about to come, can see it in your face the way he saw it in the face of the model in the picture. He swallows heavily and fucks himself impossibly faster, harder, silently asking you to match his pace. You do it, thumbing your clit and feeling the tense coil in your belly snap as your jaw drops and you let out a long and ridiculously loud moan. Your eyes shut tight and you throw your head back, feeling your body begin to shake from the stimulation.

"There you go," he grunts, and you hear the slapping of skin stop as he rides out his own release, coming into his fist, "Fuck." Your eyes open at just the right time to see his jaw go slack, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head from the pleasure. It somehow makes you ache for more, even though you can't possibly imagine being any more overstimulated than you already are.

You both lay there, chests heaving, hearts pounding, completely undone. It goes without saying that you've both just managed to each have one of the best orgasms of your lives.

"New patrol rule," you whisper to him, legs still wide and cunt dripping with your release, "We do this. Every time. Please."

"Yes," he replies immediately, still catching his breath, "I can do that."

"It can't be any more than this," Joel says to you quietly as you hike down the mountain a little while later, the sunrise cresting the trees again the way it had yesterday when you'd hiked up; it's like nothing has changed, but you both know that everything has.

"Okay," you say just as softly, though part of you aches to reach for his hand, loop your pinky through his and have some degree of touch between you. But you can tell he means business, that there won't be any more discussion on the matter today.

"Just this," he whispers, glancing at you with a meaningful look, eyes soft and tender as he peers at you, knowing what he's done, what he's started.

"Just this," you agree, but you don't really believe it.

You hope, deep down, neither does he.

thank you so much for reading! there will be more in this collection coming very soon. i'd like to do some short fics of certain nights they've had, especially the first time he calls her a good girl. that was originally going to be in this part but it was just getting wayyy too long and i have so many ideas i need to flesh out more lol. i'm also going to continue where they left off in "don't think we could help it", and yes, eventually they will do the deed, i promise. among other things....

if you liked it, please let me know! and again, if you'd like to give me a tip you can do so on my kofi 💖

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: soft!dom joel

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onismdaydream · 28 days

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yuuji x older sister ‼️ he probably asks her to teach him how to kiss and stuff but then he gets turned on oops 😅 he just admires her so much and wants to make her feel good too :(

anon i am eating you i love this so much ...... i think yuji is so ... he gets attached very easily and he would definitely be like that with his siblings but tenfold. and he doesn't necessarily mean for it to be more than siblings, it just kinda happens where his feelings and love get so big that it becomes something else.

tw for incest (obvi..), mostly just kissing, not really anything smutty

his words come out rushed, fingers gripping his shorts until his knuckles turn white, but his amber eyes never leave your face.

"you want me to... kiss you?" you ask, slowly, almost as if you were unsure if you heard him right. but you know you did. you always knew what yuji needed or wanted. it started when you were kids, when his mouth was still learning how to form sounds properly and you were there to translate his butchered speech. you understood him like no one else.

it'd be scary if it was anyone but yuji.

"yeah." he nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"why?"

"because... well, because i don't know how." his eyes drop for a moment, landing on the space between the two of you. you haven't moved away from him, your knees still practically touching, legs crossed as you sit on your bed. part of him expected you to push him away, to call him disgusting and a freak.

the other part, though—

"okay." you hum, agreeing to it like it's the easiest thing in the world. and maybe it is.

the moments your lips touch, yuji knows that he never wants to kiss anyone else. your mouth feels so soft and warm against his own and he finds himself chasing you when you begin to pull away.

"yuji," you smile, a light giggle making his heart skip a beat. "start slow."

"right. sorry." but his gaze fall to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. the slightest taste of your chapstick lingers on him, a sweet strawberry flavor. something a bit too artificial to be real and now something a bit too you to be anything else.

you must take pity on him in that moment, must notice the sound of his heart thumping against his ribs, because you're kissing him again.

and then your hands are on him.

you lean forward, your palms resting on his thighs to steady yourself as you deepen the kiss. it's like electricity is flowing through yuji, his body overheating from excitement and bound to catch fire soon enough. but he wants more, needs more. it's not his fault that you're so addicting.

he tries to focus on the kiss, he really does, but your hands are so hot and burning through his shorts, and he can smell your shampoo and you're just so close to him that all he can think about is you. he feels guilty that his blood is rushing to his cock, knows that he should stop this before you notice but he can't. he can't pull away from you. yuji is always going to be drawn to you like the moon to the earth, tied to you from the moment he was born.

he doesn't follow when you break the kiss again. instead, he grabs onto your wrists, hoping you won't pull away. his eyes are half lidded, slightly unfocused, as he catches his breath.

"please."

it's all yuji needs to say for you to know what he's asking.

#.asks #.anon #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x reader #perce.doc #.jjkai #tw incest

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misstycloud · 1 year

Text

Yandere omega x reader. Pt 2

TW: baby-trapping, non-con

Pt. 1

——————————————-

Yandere omega who freaks out at the news of your recent engagement. This wasn’t supposed to happen! The stress keeps him from sleeping at night and makes him unfocused at work, so much that the boss has no other choice but to send him home to rest. They can’t have their most valuable asset either away, can they?

Yandere omega that believes that if he could rekindle your passion for him, maybe you’d break off the betrothal and come back to him. So he decides to rush to your home and ring the doorbell until you finally open.

Yandere omega who begs to let him in. It won’t be more than five minutes, he promises. He just needs to get some of his clothes that he forgot last time. Albeit reluctantly, you accept his excuse and allow him to wander inside, as you had done so many times before. But those were under different circumstances.

Previous to your arranged marriage, you were free to some degree. With a large amount of wealth and charm, you were able to get anyone you wanted. There were hardly someone who would pass the opportunity to spend some good time with you.

To maintain this life, the only thing you had to do was work and that you did. You had to say you did a great job in your family’s company, creating hit business deals and increasing the finances.

But it appeared your family would not be satisfied solely with that. That was why you have to marry some guy; to secure an heir to the corporation, as your parents would put it. Your mother was also rather intrigued by the idea of grandchildren as well.

Yandere omega sneaks into the bathroom to prepare by switching his casual outfit to a more eye-catching one. He even styled his hair slightly, hoping you’d pull on it like before.

Yandere omega who thought he could win back your affection, however, it appeared fate had other plans. The second you see him walking out the restroom wearing what he knew you’d have like him in had it been the past, you growled.

“Fuck, I should’ve known you’d pull shit like this.” You had to admit he did look very appetising. Though you were engaged now, which meant you couldn’t immerse in such activities anymore.

“Why the long face? You didn’t object before?” The beautiful omega whispered seductively.

“Yeah but- ugh- look, just go.” Pointing at the entrance, you ushered him to leave.

“I’d rather stay here though, with you.” He ignored your warning and continued advancing forwards into your arms, then he laid his head against your chest and dragged his nimble fingers across it.

“Milo, I said!-aah!” Quickly you slapped a hand over your mouth and nose, for something sickenly sweet and familiar filled your senses. “N-no stop…”

Milo smiled, showing delight at your troubled expression. “Ah, I knew you couldn’t resist me. No need to hold back.”

You wanted to push him back and create as much distance between you as possible, but it was getting hard when the young man in front of you looked so enticing. No, you must not give in.

“I- ahh~“you were forced to stop in your tracks because his hands had started wandering lower and lower, teasing you. “Shit…”

Yandere omega who had decided to use his trump card. No one could refuse his pheromones and that includes you. Milo hadn’t used that trick to intentionally seduce anyone before, so he wasn’t actually sure if it would work. Turns out luck was in his favour, even he was a bit surprised at how fast you yielded.

Yandere omega who is sooo happy he can be together with you again, and he is not meaning only for one last time until you finalise your vows or anything. Why is he so confident? Well, let’s just say he has a plan B to make you unable to leave.

Yandere omega that wonders how you would feel about having that son you always dreamed of.

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ouroborosorder · 8 months

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Guide Ahead Means Something To Me

Writing about Guide Ahead is…. extremely difficult, for a few reasons. One is that it is a very dense story, and to fully unpack it would require an essay so unfocused that it would be functionally unreadable. But the biggest one is that Guide Ahead is a story that focuses really heavily on the subjective nature of interpretation. How can I speak authoritatively on the thematic meaning of the plot when even a basic description of its events demands a deeper poetic interpretation?

The answer is “I can’t.” So, let’s piss off my English teacher, and coat an entire essay in the phrase “in my opinion.” Because I have to get personal if I’m going to tell you why Guide Ahead is my favorite video game story ever told.

I was raised Mormon. My mother was religious, but my father was absolutely not. You can understand why I related to Cecilia basically immediately.

Ultimately, the thing that draws me to Guide Ahead is the very thing that makes it hard to write about. Guide Ahead is, in my reading, a story about the subjectivity of divine meaning.

The most obvious manifestation, and the most important, is Law. But, Law’s execution, in traditional Arknights fashion, is kinda unclear, so I’ll recap for those who have hobbies outside of this, unlike me.

Law is the supercomputer buried underneath Laterano, and is the sentient religion that binds all the Sankta together into a hivemind of sorts. The Sankta are actually just Sarkaz connected to Law, given halos, wings, and empathic communication between each other. But, the main thing they gain, is a biological impulse to obey the Lateran religion’s thirteen doctrines. Anyone who breaks these doctrines are marked as Fallen, are cut off from the empathic connection, and slowly revert back to Sarkaz. Law represents religion as a concept and a community. Saints and sinners are just one and the same. But despite that, the laws of religion are created just to perpetuate the existence of a special in-group. One enforced by empathic connection they cannot share with anyone outside of them. That is Patia’s point - the Sankta have created an “us” and a “them,” and even the devout Liberi are not seen as “us.” They’re just converts, not real Sankta.

But, Falling has… weird grey areas. Like how Andoain was able to shoot Lemuen, or draw his gun on the fucking Pope, and not Fall in the process. This is because the doctrines are not actually the guidelines they’re held to. The Doctrines are subjective interpretations of the objective Law that they are all beholden to. That Law being “It must survive.” Law only is interested in the perpetuation of Itself, and, as a result, the continued existence of the Sankta as a societal structure.

This is the first and strongest example of what I mean when I say Guide Ahead is about meaning. Law says that the failure of religion is ultimately that religions supplant any subjective meanings with an “objective” meaning. But this “objective” meaning is just another person’s interpretation of the in-group’s best interest. Laws biologically programmed into the Sankta’s souls are revealed to be nothing but interpretation of Law’s interpretation of events.

People Fall not because they have broken a concrete law, but because Law… because the in-group has decided they did. Or when they broke the rules, they did something that’s good for the church. There is no objective laws within the Lateran religion, no matter what the machine is named. The system just declares sin when it deems worthy, and absolution when sin is a benefit.

It is this very hypocrisy that drives Andoain.

——————————————————————————————————

I remember being pulled aside at church one day. Everyone above 14 was given a sermon about the recent legalization of gay marriage. He said it was wrong, the church would never accept it. I asked him if it was like the time the church refused to give black people the Priesthood. He said this was different. I asked him how. He did not answer. I left and someone followed me out. He asked if I was okay. I told him whatever he was saying in there was not the teachings of any god that I know, and wasn’t the teachings of any god that loves me. I kept going to church after that, but deep down, I think I didn’t believe in it anymore. I didn’t feel like part of the community, I lost that reciprocation with my people. I just… began to think.

Andoain, as an antagonist, is defined by a search for meaning. He was the bishop of an Iberian church, and Iberia is doing pretty bad lately. His request for aid from Laterano was denied, and the message was clear to him. “You are one of us, but they are not.” But that answer just created a new question. Why? Why would those who claim faith and utopia as their ideals reject those who are suffering?

He searched for an answer in exile, and he didn’t find one. Instead, he found another story. The Sarkaz man who died in the watchtower to warn a town who hated him of an invading force. And this story made his question develop. Why would someone who is hated by everyone give their life to protect those very people? And why would those people then cry over the grave of someone they hated?

He had seen the realities of the Sarkaz and Sankta laid bare, but he couldn’t figure out the meaning behind it. He tells Cecilia these stories, knowing full well he doesn’t know what to make of them. I think he tells them to hope he finds the point partway through.

——————————————————————————————————

As much as I hate the Mormon church for dear god everything they’ve ever done holy shit look at them? My feelings are predictably complicated. Years later, my family fell upon hard times. I don’t want to say more than that for my own sake. We were struggling to even live. But… the church helped us. None of us gone to church for years, but they offered a hand. They gave us access to the Bishop’s Storehouse, gave us food and supplies for free, because we were starving.

And yes, I know. I know they do this in an attempt at creating a false brotherhood in an effort to create a fascist sense of community. I have also read that part of Brothers Karamazov. I have also read Guide Ahead, come to think of it. But… Shit. Most of them tried to pretend we didn’t exist when we met them in the grocery store. And… they still helped us. In their eyes, I was Fallen.

But still, they saved us, and didn’t even ask for faith in return. I still can’t figure out why.

This is why I just… can’t see Andoain as a villain. I mean, yeah, he shot Lemuen, but even she doesn’t blame him for shooting his friends while holding the Stick That Makes You Shoot Your Friends. His entire goal is an attempt to sort through the cognitive dissonance between what the church tells him and what the church does. A dissonance that is, because of Law and the doctrines, innate to what the church is. An experience that should feel damn familiar to anyone who has spent time as an apostate. His plan is to simply confront the Pope about this hypocrisy, to get an answer, to find a meaning.

The answer he gets back is… It Must Survive. Law must survive. The in-group must survive. It doesn’t matter if we cry over the grave of the Sarkaz, because the Sarkaz would die for us. He searched for the answer to a question, the meaning of a statement. You are one of us. They are not. All this time, he searched for the meaning of those words, but in reality, those words were the meaning. That was all they ever had to say. He just needed to accept that.

…but if the in-group is all that mattered… why allow Mostima in Laterano? Why give her her position? She’s not needed for the survival of the in-group, the Law has deemed her an exile.

And… Why not Andoain?

Before he leaves, his gun is taken from him. A gun that, according to the church, has meaning. A meaning he takes as truth. He believes a part of him is left behind there. I don’t think he realizes it, but Mostima and Fiammetta are the question he left behind. They are Not Sankta, but yet they are accepted. And… I don’t know if there is a meaning to that. I still can’t figure out why.

——————————————————————————————————

For a long time, I missed those days spent in the community I had left. I would remember the things I left behind. The churchball basketball games we were destined to lose. The conversations held on the roof of the storage building behind the church. The scouting activities that were clearly an excuse to go bowling. The shitty halloween parties with the game where you ate donuts tied to a string hanging from a fishing pole. I missed it, for a time. I couldn’t help but look back.

Cecilia is searching for meaning to almost everything. When Andoain tells his stories to Cecilia, he tells her that he can’t find the meaning of them. That if there is meaning to be found, she’ll have to find it herself. So. She does.

Cecilia was faced with the same situation Andoain was obsessed with. But for her, it wasn’t hypothetical. She existed between Us and Them. She felt the pull between the community and the love and fun they represent, and the outsiders who were hated and rejected by the people around her. Society told her the meaning of her dual identity, the meaning behind each half, and then told her to choose. But… she’d experienced otherwise. She’d felt the kindness of the Sarkaz from the Pathfinders, and the hatred from the Church. She’d felt things that contradicted the meaning that she was told was true.

Her story isn’t just being forced to pick a side between the church or apostacy, it’s being forced to pick what meaning she ascribes to the world. Ultimately, that’s why her answer can only be her own. Your belief is… subjective.

And she answered… with a bell. A Sarkaz girl, bearing a halo, ringing a bell that has not been rung since the Sankta were still called Teekaz. A bell that once marked the beginning of the new era. A bell that carries the weight of a Sarkaz, hated by the place they called home. A bell that rings with the melody of a Sarkaz lullaby once sung by a Sankta. A bell that asserts her answer. She’s not Sarkaz, she’s not Sankta. She is Cecilia.

Everyone else finds their own subjective meaning within that action. Something as mundane as the ringing of the bell suddenly has more meaning than divine scripture.

No one else understood the nuance of what she said, but they understood parts of it. They understood what they wanted to. Those who know nothing of Lateran culture understand it as just… a beautiful welcome, celebrating the arrival of talks of peace. Most have their meaning determined by the church’s traditions. The pious see it as the beginning of a new era, whatever that signals to them. To the Church, it is that their talks will bring about a new era of peace. To the Pathfinders, it is a signal to begin their attack on Laterano to begin their new era.

There is so much meaning in that action, but in the end, it’s still just a fucking bell. There’s got to be hundreds, maybe thousands of them in Laterano. But this bell meant something more than the other bells. This bell had meaning, and that meaning made it divine.

This, to me, is what Guide Ahead has to say. That there is so much meaning to be found in something as mundane as a ringing bell. Within such a simple action, there is personal expression, liberation, the sound of change. And in all of this, there is the echoes of divinity, the echoes of faith, as if all of these things are, in themselves, divine.

——————————————————————————————————

When I left the church, I couldn’t help but look back, still tethered to a community who hated me. I think I wished I could stop looking back. I don't know if I realized I was.

In the end, everyone else looks back. They still have meaning to be found in Laterano. Andoain looks back, a part of his soul anchored there by the symbol he was told to believe in. Mostima looks back, knowing she’ll return just as she always does. Fiammetta looks back, because she refuses to let herself leave. Ezell looks back, unsure if he will be able to return home after what he has found.

But… Cecilia doesn’t. She has decided that she is not defined by the church, or the meaning they try to give her. She has decided to leave Laterano and see the world outside of it, to explore the world around her and find the meaning for herself.

And the last thing Cecilia does is... defined by ambiguous meaning. She sees Andoain walking in the sunset - and a word appears to her. The title of Martyr. A title she doesn’t understand the meaning or weight of, but that she feels is appropriate regardless. A title that, to other people, would mean something more. But to her, brings to mind the saints she heard of as a youth, a word her mother told her was important.

The story is ending, and they end it with an assertion. Cecilia is finding meaning, and others will find what they will within. Perhaps even she doesn't know all of it.

A while back, during a theater rehearsal, I suddenly remembered a conversation I had years before I left the church. I remembered speaking with my friends outside of the chapel after a sunday service. My friend said a sentence that has stuck with me ever since. “I don’t think science goes against God. I think God uses science and math. I think those things are holy, because they’re… what everything is made of.”

I remember looking around the rehearsal space and thinking that if science could be sacred, then… so is this moment, now. So is my time spent with the people I love. This is sacred. What I missed, what kept me looking back. It wasn’t the actual religion, but instead… just belonging to something. So… I stopped looking back. In that moment, however fleeting it was, I had found whatever it was I needed.

—————————————————————————————————

Look. You probably had a different interpretation of Guide Ahead. This story is just… So goddamn dense. There is so much there that I didn’t even touch on. For the love of god, I just did an analysis of Guide Ahead and didn’t even really discuss Fiammetta?? What kind of hack writer am I? (I just… couldn’t talk about her without being more personal than I am willing to be in public.)

If you have an interpretation that is different than mine, that’s great. I encourage you to hold on to it, and hold it close. That meaning is yours, and yours alone, and that’s a precious thing.

Because to me, what I found… is that very idea.

There is meaning to be found in anything - and a meaning that is yours, and yours alone. All you have to do is find meaning. and the idea that there is meaning to the world, that everything has meaning not because there is a “true” meaning to it, but because we find one there, because we put one there… that makes everything feel… divine, to me.

So… wherever you find meaning, you can find the divine.

You can find divinity in a ringing bell. In a terrible cactus tart. A carnival game you know how to beat. The promises of peace around a table. A cup of coffee. A city you hate. A community you love. A flower growing near a grave. A weapon you carry. A people you surround yourself with.

Those are all… holy to me.

And to me… that meaning is enough.

I hope yours is for you.

#arknights #critical analysis #feel free to reblog #i know this is personal but don't worry I wrote it to be shared #thank you all.#finally i can rest

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lovelybucky1 · 7 months

Text

Sweeten the Deal

Kinktober Day 4- Femdom

warnings: batgirl!reader, afab!reader, bondage, canon typical violence, implied batman x reader, degradation, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, spit as lube, unprotected sex, fade to black sex scene, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

kinktober masterlist

when you take the bag off of crane’s head, he is already conscious. he grins, though it’s lazy and dazed with his eyes unfocused.

“batgirl,” he drawls in that sickly sweet voice of his.

“crane,” you reply bitterly.

you had chased him down the streets of gotham in the rain. he had gotten some hits in, but your injuries were nothing compared to the uncomfortable squelching in your suit. when you finally caught up with him, you hit him in the back of the head with a rusty pipe and he was out. it’s not your most tactful capture, but it worked.

“i have to say, i’m a little offended they sent you after me instead of daddy. i guess i’m not as big of a bad guy as i used to be,” he smirks.

it’s a dig at your power, strength, and a slightly misogynistic one at that. you narrow your eyes at him. he can talk all the shit he wants, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s bound to a chair bolted to the floor.

crane looks around the warehouse he’s being held in, taking in the sight of the tall ceiling, dim lighting, and seeming lack of exit.

"this doesn't seem like the interrogation room they usually take me to," he notes.

you roll your eyes. "No, it isn't."

"have you bat-people finally taken over and judge and jury now, too?" crane looks far too smug for someone who is ultimately at your mercy.

"this isn't your typical trial, crane." you step closer to him. "you have information i need, so in return for your cooperation, i won't turn you in to the police."

crane leans his head back as much as he can due to the high back of his chair and raises his eyebrows at you. "you think you're doing me a favor by not turning me in? you turn me in and i'll just escape again, just like i did the last time, and the time before that. seems like those arkham employees really don't have their heads on straight," he smirks.

you pause for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal. sure, crane has a phd, but you didn't think he'd be able to figure you out so quickly.

"how about we made a deal, then, crane?"

he looks at you with an unimpressed stare. "what, i tell you what you want to know and you stop torturing me?" he adjusts in his seat. "no offense, but a little girl in a costume doesn't really scare me." before you can respond, he's talking again. "besides, there is nothing you can do to me that i haven't already done to myself."

after that, he grins. it's unsettling, maniacal, and it reminds you that you're not just dealing with a guy who wears a costume and runs around the city. this guy is fucking crazy.

you exhale through your nose, resolving yourself to using a different interrogation method. you're not proud of it, but like crane said, there isn't any way to hurt or scare him. he already thinks you're only good for using your feminine wiles to distract enemies. what do you have to lose by confirming his suspicions?

"no, i'm not going to hurt you."

"oh, good. i have to say, i was getting pretty tired of batman breaking my ribs."

"i have something to offer you at batman can't," you say. you walk right up to his chair, almost standing between his bound legs. "sex appeal."

crane laughs, and the sound makes you feel slimy. "you must be one of those blind bats, or maybe batman really is your father." you furrow your brows behind your mask.

"but i can offer you something much more comfortable than what he would."

crane looks your body up and down, not trying to hide ogling in the slightest. "i see... so why don't you get on with it and take off that ridiculous suit."

"that's not how this works. you talk first," you say.

"how do i know you're not going to take my information and leave me here?"

you slip your leg over his hip and hold onto the back of the chair, lowering yourself onto his lap. he raises his eyebrows, looking up at you with a slight smirk on his lips.

"how about i give you some, you give me some?" he asks.

"fine. you go first," you say, not bothering to hide the annoyance from your voice. "tell me what you know."

"i know a lot of things. i'm a doctor, after all. i doubt most of it would be of any interest to you, though."

you sigh heavily. "tell me what you know about the drug supplier for arkham."

"hm, i'm not sure that rings a bell," he looks up at you with a devilish look in his eyes. you clench your jaw as you reach towards the base of your throat to grasp at the zipper to your suit. you drag it down slightly, revealing some of your cleavage.

"don't play dumb with me, crane."

"i have no idea what you're talking about."

"the original drug supplier for the asylum got bought out by some no-name company with no public records or anything."

"and why do you think this has something to do with me?"

you narrow your eyes. "because a week before the merger, the old ceo checked into arkham after a psychotic break. that has scarecrow written all over it."

crane chuckles. "it wasn't my idea. i was simply following orders."

"who's orders?"

"i don't know. i got back to my temporary residence and there was an unmarked envelope with my name on it. thirty-thousand dollars cash up front. the letter said they'd give me the rest upon completion of the job."

"so you did this without even knowing why? he was an innocent man," you say, voice almost a growl.

crane laughs mockingly. "oh, you precious thing. men like that are rarely innocent. he could've been corrupt, or an infidel, or a sexual predator. everyone is guilty of something. even batman, even you."

ignoring his bait for a reaction, you continue with your questions. "they gave you cash up front. why didn't you just take the money and run?"

"steal from a mysterious organization who knows my identity and where i'm hiding out?" crane scoffs.

"so you're-"

"if you want anything else, you better show some more skin," he interrupts.

glaring at him, you unzip your suit all the way but leave it on to show off the rest of your cleavage and down your stomach. his eyes trail over your skin hungrily.

"so you're just a hitman for hire now?" you ask.

"why, are you in the market?"

"have you done any other jobs?" you ask instead of answering his ridiculous question.

"maybe i have. maybe your precious batman is screaming and crying for you to come save him. wouldn't that be a sight? your mentor needing to be rescued from his bad dreams by you."

his voice is almost hypnotic, but you know better than to fall for his tricks. he's trying to persuade you to give into your baser urges, your jealousy, your need to be useful. fucking psychopath.

you reach around his head and twist your fingers in his hair, yanking it back causing it to knock against the metal back of the chair. he winces a bit, but it does nothing to quell the wild look in his eyes.

"shut up, crane."

"feisty," he remarks. "i did a few jobs outside the city, but those aren't in your jurisdiction."

unfortunately, he's right. outside of the city is too vague to track anyone down and connect crane to crimes.

"how did you do it?"

"do what?" he asks, looking at your tits instead of your eyes.

"do whatever it is you did to that guy."

"you want the dirty details, batgirl?" he smirks. "of how i strapped him down and injected him with my chemical that put the fear of god in him?" his hips thrust up, jostling you on his lap and making you grab onto his shoulder for support. he looks up at you with a sick smile. "he screamed and screamed, begging for mercy, for death to take him. he ripped out his hair and scratched his skin bloody. i think he was imagining spiders from what i could gather, but in my professional opinion, he just seems like your regular nutcase."

recounting his crime clearly feeds into some sick fantasy he has, but by playing into it, you're getting the information you need. you look down to see his cock straining in his pants.

"jesus, you're crazy," you say in disbelief, though you shouldn't be surprised.

"yet you still decided to crawl into my lap. you're just as crazy as i am, you're just afraid to get your hands dirty."

you can handle crane doubting your strength, your intelligence, your capability, and your worthiness to wear the bat symbol, but you refuse to let him compare the two of you.

"we are nothing alike," you hiss. "i don't torment people for my own enjoyment."

"what are you doing to me now?" he says, looking down at where your hips have shifted closer to his erection.

without thinking, you reach forward and harshly grab his cock through his pants. he winces and squirms, trying to get away from your touch or wanting more of it, you're unsure.

"you sick fucking bastard," you spit. "talking about your attempted murder got you this hard?"

"it was mostly the slut on my lap."

"you want me to hold up my end of the deal, crane? well it's going to be on my terms."

you climb off his lap and take off your suit, leaving you in your undergarments and mask. his eyes study you intently, making you feel more like a test subject than sexy.

when you step back over to him, you yank open the fly of crane's pants and take out his cock. he's hard and average sized; nothing impressive but enough to satisfy you.

standing in front of him, you spit into your hand and bring your wet fingertips down to your pussy. you open yourself up while he watches, unable to do anything else.

once you deep yourself open enough, you sit back on his lap and hold onto his dick, positioning his tip at your entrance.

"ask me for more," you say. "beg me for my pussy."

"this wasn't part of the deal," crane says, smug.

"i won't give you anything if you don't play by my rules. you're my prisoner right now."

crane rolls his eyes but resolves himself. "please give me your pussy," he says unenthusiastically.

"you can do better than that."

"please bless me with your fucking cunt, batgirl. i want you to use me." his tone could use some improvement, but the words were good enough to satisfy you.

you sink down on his length slowly to adjust to the size. by the time you're fully seated, crane is having a much more difficult time keeping his composure. his breathing is faster and small whines occasionally escape his mouth.

"how's that, crane?" you ask, voice breathy in his ear. "everything you thought it'd be?"

"looser than i expected. guess daddy treats you well," he chuckles, though it trails off into a moan.

you roll your hips a bit, gripping his shoulders tightly. perhaps you're holding on tighter than you need to, but pain clearly isn't a problem for crane.

"now you can tell all your freak friends- joker, harley, the riddler, whoever else you run with these days- that you got fucked by batgirl. i bet you'll spin it like you got me begging on my knees for you, but we'll know the truth. we know that you whimpered for my pussy like a little bitch."

“they don’t give a shit about you. but they’ll love to hear that i fucked batman’s bitch. does he know that you’re stepping out on him tonight?” he asks with a grin.

no, bruce doesn’t know what you’re up to tonight, and when you tell him, he’ll get the abridged version.

“stop fucking talking about him,” you hiss in his ear. “keep his name out of your disgusting mouth.”

crane moans at that. a genuine, low moan.

“i would’ve let myself get caught sooner if i’d known you were so easy to give it up.”

you’re riding him now, bouncing on his lap and using your grip on his shoulders as leverage. he watches as your tits jiggle in his face, staring shamelessly like the pig he is.

this doesn’t seem like much of a punishment for him, but fucking yourself on his cock is too enjoyable to care. besides, as soon as you finish, you will be promptly sending him back to arkham where he’ll be held in a much more secure wing.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow smut #nolanverse #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane fanfiction

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mrrharper · 3 months

Note

I love your stuff so much dude! Do you think you could turn me into a huge hot muscular cop?

There has been a certain disconnect between the public perception of the Police and the politicians' perception of the force. That resulted in lower recruitment numbers, which pushed police departments across the country to adpot unorthodox recruiting strategies. And you fell victim to such a strategy.

You got pulled over by an officer standing by a fairly busy road. You were certain you didn't go above the speed limit so it would probably be just a routine randomized check. You roll down your window and a fine-looking cop in his early thirties walks up to your car.

"Please, give me your documents, sir" he asked and you gave him your driver's licence and proof of insurance. He went back to his cruiser to check them in the police database. When he came back, for some reason he asked you to come with him to his vehicle. You didn't know why - he didn't specify - but you didn't want to anger him and you had time to spare, so you left your car, walked up to the big SUV standing on the side of the road and got in.

The cop nodded and continued checking something in the database and you just sat in the back, anxious. Then, he pushed a button on the radio, which lit up.

"You're a regular at Iron Gym at 22nd and Main? I think I saw your face already?"

You were suprised by the question. "Uhm, no, I... I'm not really a workout guy."

"No way, I'm sure I saw you there, like, last week."

When you heard this your mind lost focus on the conversation and it took you a moment to remember where you were and why.

"Last week? Yeah, I thing I was doing legs last friday." You respond, still confused as to why this officer was asking you this. You then, absentmindedly, stretched your muscular arms.

"Hah, I knew it. And you also have that whole vibe of a man in uniform, huhuhuh."

"What... what do you mean?" you say. This was a really weird thing to say during a... You again lost the track of the conversation and what it was about. "Uhhh, what did you ask me?"

"I said that you have this whole vibe of a dude in uniform going on."

You let out a low chuckle. "Huhuhuh, you got it right, man" you then flex your right arm and grin. "I'm on the force, just, you know, having a day off."

"Yeah, and let me guess. Sergeant, 13th Precinct, Grade County?"

Your mind unfocuses again, this time for longer. When you get out of it and look at he cop sitting in the front seat. You then chuckle and say "Yeah, man, that's me. Dude, how do you remember all that shit?"

"I have my ways" he smiled and gave you your documents. Why did he have your badge and driver's licence you didn't know, but there must have been a reason.

"Well, man, it was nice talking with you, but I gotta go. Have to get ready for my next shift." You say as you put your badge in a pocket in the tactical vest you're wearing.

"Yeah, of course. Dallas Harper, always on duty."

"You bet your ass I'm always on duty." You laugh as you get out of the car and walk back to your Ford Interceptor to continue your way to your precinct. You have a shift to go through, a recruitment quota to fufill and a junior partner that needs his balls dry and empty.

Sergeant Dallas Harper, ready to serve.

#cops #cops tf

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fear-is-truth · 3 months

Text

౨ৎ 𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑬𝒀, ⋆˚｡⋆ ⁣

⋆˚｡⋆ 𝑻𝑾𝑶 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑾 ౨ৎ

── 𝑲𝑨𝑰 𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵 × fem! reader × 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑬𝑵 𝑳𝑰𝑷𝑲𝑨

WARNINGS: nsfw．mdni ．“y/n” used twice ． swearing ．slight dub con． oral (m receiving)．threesome．unprotected p in v．mild degradation． not proofread．english is not my first language

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: you accompany your boyfriend to one of his “business trips”.

꒰ A/N— ok so i know the request said “euphoria inspired house party” but i don’t wanna get in big trouble with my mum for watching that show. so i winged it, sorry ꒱

═════════════════════

“Can we go home already?”

You grumbled, your voice barely heard over the noise that filled the crowed room. The party was in full swing, the din of laughter and conversation exacerbating your nascent headache. The room was awash in a kaleidoscope of colours— red, blue, and green lights danced overhead, casting lurid shadows that flickered and swayed with the rhythm of obnoxious pop music.

“We literally just got here. Besides, I've got to meet a client. Business stuff, you know?”

Kai replied, not looking up from his phone. He was scrolling through his text messages.

“Business”, as in forging prescriptions with Vin’s doctor’s pad, you thought disdainfully but didn’t say anything. Instead, you nodded reluctantly, a pout settling on your lips.

“Fine, but make it quick. I'll be in the kitchen, waiting. I don’t get why you always drag me to these places.”

“Yeah sure. Let's play a game then,”

Kai suggested distractedly, gesturing towards a random guy in the living room smoking a joint.

“See that guy over there? The one with the ugly-ass Hawaiian shirt? First one to give him a boner wins. I’ll even give you a head start,”

“You’re not serious, are you?” you stammered incredulously. But Kai was already moving his way into the crowd.

“Tick tock, time’s a-ticking, princess,”

With that, your boyfriend disappeared into the crowd. He was serious. With a sigh, you weaved your way through the throng of partygoers towards the living room. The whole thing was fucking stupid. Snagging two red party cups from a passing guy, you sauntered over to the designated “target.”

Kai was right about one thing—the shirt was truly hideous. But the person wearing it? Not so much. Sporting brunette curls, the guy looked attractive in a rugged way; bit of stubble on his cheek, nice jawline and dark eyes. He was lounged on the couch, eyes distant and unfocused as he took a drag from his joint. He also looked a bit stoned, which you figured would make the whole operation easier.

“Hi,” you greeted him with a faux coy smile, offering him a cup as you approached. He looked at your hand with raised eyebrows, then returned your smile with a flirty one of his own as he accepted the cup.

“Hey, beautiful. What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you replied sweetly, flouncing onto the couch next to him.

“Well, nice to meet you, 'doesn’t matter'. I'm Warren. Warren Lipka,”

“Y/n,” you smiled. He smiled back.

“You're pretty hot, Y/n. You must know that right?” He observed plainly before taking a sip from his cup. As his gaze continued to linger on you, a nervous flutter stirred in your stomach. Kai hadn’t shown up yet, and your gut instinct told you this was way too easy; there had to be a catch. Besides, using this innocent guy as a pawn in a game didn't sit right with you. You decided it was best to explain everything and apologise in private. Fuck Kai and that stupid, asinine game of his.

“Hey, you mind if we go somewhere a bit more private? I have to tell you something.” you asked quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he replied smoothly, rising from the couch and extending his hand to you. You took it, feeling a knot of nerves in your stomach as you led the way through the crowded living room and towards the stairs. The stairs were littered with couples, some immersed in deep conversation while others were engaged in full spider-embrace. You stepped carefully, avoiding stepping on any hands or feet.

Eventually, you both reached the top of the stairs, where the hallway stretched out before you. As you ventured further down the hallway, you passed by several closed doors, the faint, muffled sounds of moaning spilling out from behind them. You looked at Warren, silently agreeing to skip those rooms.

Finally, at the end of the hallway, you spotted a door that was slightly ajar. Warren pushed the door open gingerly, revealing a (thankfully) empty bedroom. You shut the door behind you, not bothering to lock it; after all, you had no intention of doing anything except talking.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you began, “Look, Warren, I—” before you could finish, his lips crashed into yours. The taste of Southern Comfort and nicotine lingered on his lips, a heady combination that momentarily clouded your senses. But as you began to respond to the kiss, you quickly came to your senses and shoved him away.

“Warren! What the fuck—” you hissed, but he just grinned devilishly and leaned in to kiss you again. The moment his lips met yours once more, the door swung open, and Kai stood in the doorway, his face an inscrutable mask.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here. My girlfriend enjoying herself. Who would’ve thought,” he remarked dryly, leaning against the doorframe before he approached the bed. Warren stood up abruptly, his body language tense and frigid as Kai stopped in front of him. The two were practically nose-to-nose. Then, quick and unexpected as a viper, Kai's hand shot out and seized Warren's neck, pulling him into an aggressive kiss, all tongues and teeth and moans. You had to admit, the whole scene looked pretty hot.

“Ha! Guess we have a winner!” Your boyfriend crowed in triumph as he broke the kiss, a shit-eating grin all over his face as he nodded downward at Warren’s crotch. You followed Kai’s gaze and sure enough, the guy was practically splitting at the seams.

“Dude, no fucking way. I’m not gay, I’m not gonna f-” Warren spluttered, his face flushing a deep red.

“Who said anything about us fucking? Did you forget about someone?” Kai said slyly, turning his attention back to you.

“Lie down. With your head at the foot of the bed.” He instructed. Seeing the shocked expression on your face, he added;

“I won the game. Be a good sport and fucking do what I say.” Resigned, you lay down on your back, your head lolling back over the edge.

“Go ahead Warren. Have a go with her,”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you get the privilege of fucking my girl. One time offer, man. Go on, I know you want it,”

“She’s cool with that?”

“Of course she is. It’s part of our deal. Just one thing– That pussy is sacred territory. You can have her mouth though, she’s good trust me.”

Kai answered smoothly. Warren ignored him and looked down at you, his Adam’s apple bobbed once before he asked,

“You okay with this?” You nodded weakly, and that seemed good enough an answer for him.

Through an upside-down point of view, you watched as Warren fumbled open his jeans and allowed his boxers– which were already stained with a small wet spot to pool at his feet. He took your chin in his hand, eagerly nudging your lips with his thumb.

“C’mon, show Warren what a good little cocksucker you are,” Kai’s voice floated from somewhere above you. You complied immediately, your mouth opening and your lips closing around his shaft as you took him in to the best of your ability. The sweet-salty taste of his pre-cum made your mouth water.

“That’s it… just a little more m’kay?… I know you can take more.” With Warren’s cock getting harder and swelling further inside of your mouth, you couldn’t respond except for hollowing out your cheeks and sucking him.

“Fuck… you’re being so good for me babygirl…”

he groaned, moving in deeper when he felt your jaw relax. Then he filled your mouth to its full capacity, your lips touching the base of his cock and his balls tickling your nose. Warren began rocking his hips, throwing his head back and exhaling sharply. Kai clicked his tongue in disapproval, though you could tell by the strain in his voice that he was definitely turned on.

“Oh my God, you're such a greedy whore. One cock isn’t enough for you? How about two?”

You felt the mattress dip as he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself between your spread legs. His hands roamed over your waist, two fingers hooking into the sides of your panties. You lifted your hips slightly, making his job easier. When Kai successfully removed the garment, he placed both palms on each of your knees and pushed your legs even wider apart.

One large hand tightened around your hipbone, the other guiding his cock to probe at your soaked entrance. You whined at the stretch, fingers gripping the bedsheets as he sheathed himself fully inside.

“Holy shit, she feels so good-”

Warren groaned, his tip nudging the back of your throat. It took everything from you to not gag around him.

“I know, right? Women can multitask so she can focus on sucking your dick while I fuck that sweet pussy.”

Kai leaned forward and pushed up your bra cups along with your sweater, playing with the soft flesh. A pornstar-worthy moan escaped your lips as he began grinding his pelvis into yours, causing you to clench tightly around him.

“See these titties, Warren? Now tell me they aren’t something, hm?”

Another hand, rougher and more calloused than Kai’s, brushed against the curvature of your left breast, rolling the already-erect nipple between his fingers. The sensation was almost too much, prompting you to arch your back and whine. Kai was pounding into you fast and hard, while Warren was giving you a slower, more leisurely pace, cradling the base of your skull to help you take him in better.

And when you all began to move in sync with one another, all was lost. The sounds grunts and moans reverberated off the walls; not all of them coming from you. Even as you clenched around them, squeezing hard, they didn't so much as pause.

There was only one way of describing the feeling of having two of your holes filled all at once—it felt fucking phenomenal.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna cum-”

Warren yelped from above you. Within seconds, you felt the sensation of his hot load filling your mouth in thick spurts before he staggered backwards, panting heavily. Kai wasn’t far behind, grunting as he chased his own release. He could tell that you were also close, the way you clawed blindly at his shoulders and how your pussy constricted tightly around him. Kai bucked his hips, squelching inside you as he grabbed your chin and stared down at you.

“You enjoyed being fucked like a whore, didn’t you? One thing you should know, is that you’re mine. I’ll fuck you over and over until you spread your legs when you see me— ah, fuck-” he was cut off by a grunt before continuing,

“Now. Tell me. Who do you belong to?”

“Nughh… Y-you, Kai! I belong to you!”

“Good girl,” Kai leaned down and crushed his lips against yours, clearly not caring what had occupied your mouth only seconds ago. He kept your lips locked until the lack of oxygen finally made him pull away, a thin, glistening string of saliva still connecting the two of you.

“Take it all, you fucking slut.”

Your whole body trembled when he drove inside you with one final, brutal thrust, his cock pressing right up against your cervix. You both came at the same time, a string of incoherent words and curses leaving his lips as you felt thick ropes of cum painting your walls.

He thrust into you for a few more times for good measure, grinding his release as deep as possible. When the residual spasms finally waned, he pulled out, your combined release dribbling out between your thighs.

The bedroom was silent, save for the sound of heavy breathing and soft, occasional gasps of air as the three of you struggled to catch your breaths. After a moment, Kai broke the silence.

“Now, let’s change positions.”

REQUESTED . thank you for the request, anon! ♡ ༝༚༝༚

𐙚 TAGLIST: @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @stveharringtn @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @officerballs @lissasharp @feefymo @howtobesasha @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @taintandviolent @babydollxxblood @babygorewhore @doll3tt33

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dark-and-kawaii · 3 months

Text

A Cruel Game

Raphael x f!Tav/Reader x Mephistopheles

⋆˙⟡♡ 18+ Dark Content

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Raphael remained bound by the chains in Cania, his flesh etched with the marks of a whip's assault, his visage swollen with the beatings dealt by a Cornugon that took pleasure in toying with him. The chastisement Mephistopheles imposed upon his offspring was far from concluded; indeed, an archdevil's methods of torment extended well beyond the scope of mere floggings and physical abuse.

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Dubcon | Noncon | Heavy Angst | Double Penetration

Raphael hung from the chains in Cania, his body marred with lashes from a whip, his face bruised from a Cornugon that enjoyed playing with him. Mephistopheles’ punishment for his son was not over quite yet, no an arch devil was far crueler than mere lashings and beatings.

He could hear the sound of an instant teleportation, and despite the pain, Raphael lifted his head to see whom it was that came to visit… He had figured it would either be Haarlep once more or his dear father, and he was partially right. His father was indeed here to pay him a visit, but what he didn’t expect was finding you trailing behind Mephistopheles, in the nude.

Raphael’s eyes roamed your body, as he did he felt his heartbeat begin to race. There, around your neck was a metal collar, attached to it a long chain that led straight to his fathers hand… Raphael could feel his teeth clench, what was his father doing with you!? His precious little mouse.

Mephistopheles stopped in front of his son, his hand tugging on the collar for you to pick up the pace. He was grinning from ear to ear, his white teeth on full displace, “I can see why you kept this soul all to yourself, son. She makes quite the beautiful pet.”

You came into view, your body just as divine as Raphael remembers it. Your face was flushed, your thighs pressed together, and your nipples were fully erect… Raphael could see something was off about you, your eyes were glazed over, the corner of your mouth had the smallest of sheen from drool. It all made him uneasy.

The Archdevil circled around you, "I've never met a more submissive bitch." His hands trailed over your shoulders, his touch causing you to shiver and emit a soft whine.

Raphael's face contorted in anger. His blood boiled at his father's words and actions. But what infuriated him the most was the fact that you seemed to enjoy his father's touch. The thought of you submitting to someone other than him made his stomach churn. His father must have done something to you.

"She is mine," Raphael growled, pulling at the chains, his muscles straining against his skin.

"Not anymore," Mephistopheles grinned, his fingers gripping your hips. "Ah, but because I'm such a considerate father, I was going to allow you some fun with your little mouse, as you called her."

The archdevil leaned into your back, his hands sliding down the sides of your hips. A low whimper escaped your lips, your body trembling from the stimulation. "Do you miss my son's cock?" Mephistopheles taunted.

"Yes," you nodded eagerly, your thighs rubbing together, your fingers curling, and your bottom lip bitten.

Raphael's body burned, and not in the usual hellish way. Your eyes never left his, but they appeared unfocused, clouded, with dilated pupils.

His father waved his hand, and in an instant, Raphael was chained to the cold prison ground.

"Do you wish to remind my son of what he left behind due to his foolish ambition?" Mephistopheles continued.

In a hushed tone, Raphael seethed, “You disdainful creature! She would would never stoop so lo-“

"Y-Yes," you breathlessly interrupted.

Mephistopheles released a soft chuckle. "She is very honest with her body, isn't she, my son?" His fingers creeped down to your bare sex, the tip of a finger playing with your sensitive bud.

You jerked, a loud moan escaping you while your body convulsed. Raphael's eyes hardened more, his arms straining against the chains along with his legs. His father's fingers were not even inside you and already your legs shook. Your body was aflame with lust, and he could only stare as the scene unfolded.

Mephistopheles grabbed the metal collar and pulled you back to him, his fingers still circling your bud. "Look at my son's expression," he breathed. "He's envious, isn't he?” The archdevil kissed your head, “go make him feel at home, pet.”

Releasing his hold on you, you fell onto the ground in front of Raphael, your knees skidding from the hard floor. You crawled forward, the sway of your hips beckoning the archdevil's gaze, "Y-yes!! I'll do anything you want- Mephy…“

Raphael winced at the nickname you gave his own father, but he could see tears brimming at the corners of your eyes…

Without wasting a single moment, you eagerly crawled on top of your former lover, your eyes dazed- almost vacant from what they once truly were. Your tongue flicked out, teasingly licking his chin, savoring the taste you had missed. Your hands roamed up his bare chest, relishing the feel of his chest hair and skin against you. "Raphael," you whined, your fingers curling into fists as you rubbed yourself against his abdomen, feeling his erection pressing against the curve of your ass.

Raphael growled, his cock throbbing. It had been weeks since he last touched you, and the need to bury himself deep inside your warmth consumed him. His hands clenched into tight fists, his desire almost unbearable as he thrusted his hips.

Mephistopheles watched with delight as his son struggled against the chains that bound him. "Ah, it's good to see that you're still a devil at heart," he taunted. "Willingly wanting to rut into this mortal in front of your dear father."

You whimpered, grinding against Raphael, the friction causing your juices to slide down the front of his length. You adjusted your position, aligning yourself with his girth, and slowly impaling yourself, feeling his length stretch your walls deliciously. Your back arched, head thrown back, as a loud, pleasurable cry echoed through the room.

With fervor, you bounced on his cock, your head thrown back and your voice filled with unrestrained pleasure. "Nn’! Feels s’good!"

Mephistopheles watched as you fucked his son, he knew this would eat at Raphael, knew this would be what bruised his pride. It's what the brat gets for being deliberately worthless.

Raphael fought against the chains, his eyes fixated on your bouncing breasts and the expression of pure pleasure on your face. "Y-You'll pay for this, Mephistopheles," he growled.

The arch devil knew what would be the crumbling point. Stripping his clothes the true devil positioned himself behind you, “be a good little mouse and vocalize just how much you want this.”

You stopped bouncing, your hands sprawled over Raphael’s chest while his cock plugged your tight little cunt, “M- Mephy” Taking your hands your chest falls to Raphael’s so you can spread your ass cheeks apart, your eyes pleading for Mephistopheles to ruin you.

“Such a good little lamb you are,” he patted your head just before lining himself up with your tight hole.

Raphael never liked to share what he considered his own, especially when it came to you. Haarlep was the only one allowed to bed you, and even then, Raphael had to be there to indulge in your arousal. He furrowed his brow and scrunched his nose, a clear sign of his displeasure, “Do not dare-“

Mephistopheles laughed at his son's reaction. "Are you asking me, your own father, to deny such a pretty and desperate plea? It seems like the human side of you is getting the better of you after all. Let me remind you of our devilish nature, my cambion."

With a forceful thrust, Mephistopheles buried his length deep into your tight ass. The sensation was overwhelming, causing you to scream out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Tears cascaded down the corners of your eyes as they slid down your cheeks, while a trail of saliva dripped from the corner of your lips. The arch devil fucked you relentlessly, as if trying to fuck right through you.

Raphael's teeth clenched, his hands shaking violently with rage as his body writhed beneath you, desperately trying to break free from the chains that bound him.

Mephistopheles thrusts inside you, each snap of his hips becoming harder and more brutal, not giving you a moment to adjust.

Haarlep, you thought… Raphael… Your eyes squinted at a memory… Your heart skipping at the vision of Raphael smiling down at you, praising you…

A guttural moan escaped your lips as you found yourself visualizing being sandwiched between both Haarlep and Raphael… Their thick lengths penetrating your body, driving you to the edge of pleasure.

It was all coming back to you…

Your nails raked across Raphael's chest, leaving deep, bloody scratches in their wake. Despite the facade of pleasure moments ago, you were in agony. The pain in your ass overshadowed any pleasure you could derive from the situation. Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the fresh blood drawn from your true lover's chest.

You leaned up, your consciousness flickered like a faint candle in the wind, surfacing from the depths of your ensnared mind. Your vision cleared just enough to take in the horror of what was truly happening, your body a marionette to another's will. As your gaze, heavy with the weight of an unspeakable grief, found Raphael’s, “R-Raphael- I-I’m Sorry…-“ the sight of his face, twisted not in anger, but a haunting visage of sorrow, eyes glistening with the sheen of unshed tears.

Raphael, knowing you better than anyone, could see through this trickery. He recognized that you were under some sort of spell, and the real you was desperately fighting against it, trying to come to.

Raphael observed the expression of pure ecstasy returning to your face, your tongue hanging out to the side of your mouth. He couldn't bear to witness you being used and abused between them, your once vibrant spirit reduced to a mere plaything for his father's sadistic pleasure. It tore at his heart.

A sob escaped your throat as the arch devil continued to slam his cock into your ass while you bounced on Raphael's cock. Each forceful thrust caused your body to shake, your hips meeting his thighs with a loud, rhythmic slap.

It didn't take long for the two devils to reach their climax. Mephistopheles was the first to succumb, his cock spasming as he released himself deep inside your ass. His cum oozed out, coating the walls of your tight passage, dribbling onto Raphael's balls.

Raphael followed suit, his body trembling with a mix of pleasure and despair. He watched as Mephistopheles asserted his dominance over you, his cruel actions tearing at the remnants of Raphael's shattered pride. Still, his cock pulsated and twitched, shooting rope after rope of cum. His seed spilling out of you, pooling at the base of his cock.

The familiar sensation of Raphael's release snapped your mind back into reality. It wasn't Mephistopheles' name you called out, but rather, "Raphael!" You moaned his name, a pure sound escaping you as you came down from your high.

Your body shook and collapsed onto Raphael's, seeking solace in his embrace. "R-Raphael... Raphael... i- I’m- s-so sor-f-forgive- me... R-Raphael," you sobbed into his chest, your former self regaining consciousness as the spell Mephistopheles had placed on you came to an end.

Raphael fell silent, his heart sinking to the depths of his stomach. He blamed himself entirely for once. If only he hadn't been so careless, you wouldn't have ended up in his father's clutches.

The arch devil chuckled, running his fingers down the side of your cheek in a seemingly gentle manner. "There, there. You did such a good job, little soul," he said, his tone deceivingly tender.

Instead of leaning into Mephistopheles' touch, you sought comfort in Raphael, burying your head into his chest. Your sobs continued, the sound of your pain filling the room.

Mephistopheles took notice of the way his son looked down at you, cradled on his chest, “It appears that your mother's blood runs through your veins more deeply than my own," Mephistopheles sneered, "How precious."

The arch devil withdrew from your presence, creating a portal with a swift motion of his wrist. As the portal materialized, "Enjoy the remainder of your time together," he taunted, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. And with that final proclamation, the arch devil vanished into the portal, leaving you and Raphael alone to face the aftermath of his cruel game.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #raphael #Mephistopheles #bg3 smut #tw.noncon #tw.dark content #tw noncon #tw dark content

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bless-my-demons · 10 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Nine

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Cussing and a mild mention of killing vampires

Notes: This chapter is… the longest one yet and definitely my fav so far - I love me some protective men, enjoy!! [FYI: Y/m/n is your middle name]

Word Count: 5096

Series Masterlist

• March 12th, 2005 • Forks, WA •

Jasper

I pull my motorcycle to a stop at an outlook over the Olympic Forest just outside of town, not wanting to go far for her first ride, but also wanting to get her alone and just be. I reach a hand behind me for her to take as she climbs off before I pop out the kickstand and get off myself. She’s handing me my protective gear as I turn to see what’s got her eager to leave my side and I’m met with the second most gorgeous view, the first being the girl before me.

The deep green of the forest clashes against the oranges, pinks, and purples of the descending sun to make for a spectacular sunset. To make it even better, I can see the reflection of it in her eyes - the duality of beauty rendering me speechless for longer than I’d like to admit.

This gorgeous creature, this kind and beautiful soul before me is meant to be mine. My singer, the greatest temptation a vampire could ever experience and I have found her. How on earth a monster like me is supposed to be an equal for an angel like her, I might never know.

Reader

He’s staring at me in such a way that I feel completely alive. It’s causing my face to heat, but I could care less about being embarrassed-this beautiful sunset and the vampire next to me have snatched all rational thought.

I turn to meet his eyes and I can tell a million things are running through his mind by the slightly unfocused look. The hint of a grin on his perfect lips bring a smile to my own, “Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.

“You’d have millions.” He jokes, but I’m slightly lost and tilt my head. “My thoughts are nothing but you, darlin’. You’d have millions if you had a penny for each one.”

My mouth gapes like a fish for a few seconds, for someone so stoic usually, he sure can make a girl swoon. So instead of replying, I turn my gaze to his hands, running my fingers over them and up his wrist. Before they could ascend any further though, one of his hands reaches up to stop me. Fearing that I’ve unknowingly pushed a boundary, I glance up in alarm.

“There is a reason I wear sleeves, sweetheart.” He explains quietly with a sad half-smile.

“If you think any part of you could scare me, you’re wrong Hale.” I mean it and I know he can sense the truth of my words.

“I’ve done things, horrible things for a horrible person, and I did them without question-“

“So tell me and let me prove that none of that matters now.” I lift a brow daring him to defy me.

In response he pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal scarred forearms. Not just typical scarring, but bite marks. I let out a gasp at the hard ridges and pits that penetrate his skin, there must be hundreds and they have to have been painful to permanently damage the skin of a vampire. My wide eyes meet his and I can tell he’s holding his breath for what I might say.

“Who-what could do this to you? Why? How?” Questions begin tumbling from my lips as my fingers float across his damaged skin, anguish beginning to seep into my bones as his explanation begins.

“I was the youngest major in the Texas Calvary, evacuating women and children from the battlefield when I… came across three women that I thought required assistance. Being the gentleman and soldier I was, I offered them aid and it cost me my life.” He inhaled a deep breath before continuing, still watching my hands explore his skin. “Their leader Maria, was the one that changed me with the intention to use me as a general for her own army. An army of newly turned vampires, impossible for anyone, human or vampire, to beat. I was…” A heavy pause, “Also in charge of dispatching them once they outlived her usefulness for her.”

I meet his eyes as he struggles through that last sentence. Unbelievable. This man? This kind, gentle, sweet, considerate man was used to train and then kill other people for a woman clearly not strong enough to do it herself? I’m in shock at the audacity.

“If you’re waiting for me to run screaming, you’ll have to try harder.” I whisper, afraid I might scream in frustration should I speak any louder.

He puffs out a breath at my words and shakes his head. “You amaze me at every turn, you know that?” One hand pulls away from my touch to run fingers across my cheekbone in a tender gesture, drastically contrasting the story his skin tells.

“You think you can scare me, but I’m still here.” I’m here because I’m a magnet drawn to you and I don’t ever want to be pulled away, but I keep those words from slipping out with the rest.

“I’m a monster that has killed more people than I can remember, and that’s okay with you?” He asks honestly and bluntly, eyes searching mine.

“You did what was asked of you by someone that manipulated you, that is not on you and it does not make you a monster, Jasper.” The conviction in my voice is strong.

“You feel so strongly for my past and my demons, but you won’t let me in that pretty little mind of yours, why is that?” He taps on my temple gently, questioning my very being.

“Who said you aren’t already in here?” It’s my turn to tap my own temple, but my words and actions are a little more harsh now that my own demons are rushing to the surface. “You are in every single thought night and day, Hale-“

“Then why do you play this game - one moment you’re all in and the next you’re scared-“

“Because someone like you don’t waste their time with someone like me!” The quiet is deafening for a few beats following my confession. “You are gorgeous, and-and mysterious, and everything a girl could dream to have-“ but he interrupts my ramble with hands cradling my face.

“And utterly taken by you. You, darlin’. Never have I felt so alive, so seen by someone. Someone that is so incredible she caught me off guard with a door and a simple look, me-a vampire!” His words are frantic.

“I’m just a plain ‘ole regular girl like everyone else, the one you date before the real one comes along and-”

“No.” One word, one syllable and yet it holds so much weight. “Do not diminish yourself because of the value you’ve placed upon me, I will not allow it.”

What do I even say to that? Before I could articulate a response, his face lowers and his forehead rests on mine. “You are everything I need and I want you to understand that I’m not going anywhere and no other will ever take me away from you or catch my eye if you’re worried about something like that.”

A rumble in the distance reminds us of our surroundings again, darkness having moved in and a storm notifying us that it’s on the way.

“Let me get you home, sweetheart.” A kiss is delicately placed high on my cheekbone, tender and cool to soothe the heat that might be permanently settled there.

• March 13th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

The outing with Jasper yesterday has had my mind in a spin since he dropped me off at home. I can’t believe he not only indulged my request, but that I got to essentially be a human backpack for an insanely hot vampire. And our conversation… I can’t even - he flipped my world around and stole my breath away.

I’m still breathless. And looking for my stupid hat.

“Mom, have you seen my Cubs baseball hat?” I yell from the top of the stairs.

“No sweetie, did you check the bottom of the hall closet? Maybe it fell in there!” She yelled back from her spot fixing lunch in the kitchen.

I huff and run to the closet, swinging the door open and spotting the blue hat tossed haphazardly on top of our snowshoes. Great, now I’ll smell like feet. I hurry to the bathroom and grab the fabric spray from under the sink as the front doorbell rings.

Shit-shit-shit, he’s early! I finish tying my shoes to prevent myself from tripping down the stairs in my haste. As I reach the top, I hear my mother beat me to the front door to invite Jasper in, swinging the door wide in her excitement at a boy standing on our front porch.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” He drawls in his southern accent, he offers his hand out to shake my mother’s, “Jasper Hale.” His eyes flicking up to meet mine as I descend the stairs, my mother accepting the gentlemanly gesture.

“Oh good afternoon dear!” My mother turns to me, “I made lunch in the kitchen if you two are hungry.”

“No thanks mom, we’ll just get going!” I tell her breathlessly, popping a kiss to her cheek as I brush past, “Love you!”

She sputters a second, trying to catch up, “Love you too dear, just be home at a reasonable time!” She yells after me, standing in the doorway to our home.

“I won’t keep her too late, ma’am.” Jasper flashes her a smile, “Promise I’ll keep her safe, to the best of my ability.” Finally he gives in to my tug of his jacket sleeve to follow me down the front steps.

My mother continues to stand on the porch, watching us like a hawk as Jasper opens the passenger door for me to Edward’s Volvo. He throws a wink at me before shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side, waving goodbye to my mother who returns it.

“In a hurry, doll?” He asks, placing his right hand on my headrest as he leans over to back out of my drive.

I can’t think straight when he invades my space like this, “I just spared you from the third degree my mother was about to lay on you back there. You’re welcome, Hale.” I huff, trying to not let his proximity affect me.

He chuckles, for what I’m not entirely sure: my increasing heart rate or the comment about my mother.

“I think I can handle your mom.” He eventually responds, hands now having returned to safe territory on the steering wheel.

“Oh of that I have no doubt, but she would’ve kept us entirely too long and I’m not about to let you keep me from watching the most interesting game of baseball I’ve ever witnessed.” I responded.

Lord knows my mother would’ve embarrassed me by asking what his intentions were and we don’t need that kind of talk. We don’t need it yet, anyways.

• March 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

Jasper parked the car in the garage of his massive home, if a work of architecture could be called ‘home’. He speeds around to the passenger side to open my door before I even got the chance to reach for the handle.

“I can open my own door, you know?” I mention as I stand from the car.

“Where I’m from, a lady should never have to open a door for herself.” He states matter-of-factly, shutting the door and moving past me to lead the way, arm brushing my shoulder and creating goosebumps in its wake.

Flustered by his chivalry, I follow him silently inside.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, taking in the view of the forest from the large windows.

It takes him a minute to respond, having disappeared somewhere momentarily just to return with a jacket draped over his arm and a warm-looking scarf in hand.

“Edward is picking up Isabella and should be here any moment to get us. The rest of my family is in the clearing warming up.” He answers, draping the scarf around my neck with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Before I could comment on the look, Edward honked impatiently from the driveway.

Jasper

A little part of me wishes I just ran to the clearing while Y/n rode with Edward and Bella, just to clear my head from her scent. The rest of me is happy to have a few more moments in her presence, even if for just a little while.

I make eye contact with my brother in the rear view mirror, knowing he can read my thoughts. He gives a small dip of his chin in acknowledgment, as if to say he understands the internal conflict of wanting to be close to her while knowing it’s also torture to do so.

“Are you warm enough?” I ask, catching her rubbing her hands together in her lap.

“Oh I’ll be fine, I’m just excited is all.” She responds, I can tell she isn’t entirely telling the truth the way the little white lie taints her emotions. Unfortunately I can’t tell if it’s about the temperature or her excitement at the prospect of watching a vampire baseball game. I chuckle and glance out my window, now I know how Edward feels not being able to read Isabella’s thoughts.

My brother lets out a small laugh himself causing the women to turn on us, “What?” They ask in sync.

“Edward finds my thoughts amusing is all, nothing to worry about darlin’.” I tell Y/n. I notice her face blanche and immediately realize I never told her of Edward’s power.

“He-he what?” She stutters, clearly worrying over the invasion of privacy she was never warned about and I kick myself for not having this conversation beforehand.

“Edward can read the thoughts of those in his vicinity. He’s respectful with his power though, he wouldn’t invade your privacy like that.” I reassure her, using a portion of my power to round out some of her nerves.

“I can hear you, but it sort of passes through.” Edward hesitates, “It’s like sitting in a room full of people conversing, but not really paying attention even though you can hear them talking all at once. I’m used to communicating with Jasper this way, I apologize for not prefacing my abilities sooner.” He finishes, glancing back to look over his shoulder with a sad smile.

“Thank you Edward, I appreciate that very much.” Y/n sighs, “I think it’s actually a pretty amazing power to have.” She tells him with a smile.

“Sometimes it is,” Edward glances to Bella, “Sometimes it isn’t.”

“Why did we have to wait for a thunderstorm to play baseball?” She turns to ask me innocently after a beat of silence.

“Oh you’re about to see.” I tell her with a grin as Edward pulls the Jeep to a stop at the edge of a clearing, the rest of my family gathered not far away.

As I help her out of Emmett’s Wrangler, I remove my jacket to place around her shoulders.

“Before you say anything, I don’t need it. Keep it warm for me.” I can’t resist placing a kiss to the crown of her head, her scent mingling with mine making for a heady mixture. I turn and lead her to where everyone is gathered, Emmett sending a pointed look my way at the interaction he just witnessed. I shrug as a way of answering, trying not to make it a big deal since he’s always been worried about my loneliness the last few decades.

“Alright let’s pick teams!” Carlisle announces, attempting to wrangle our rowdy bunch.

Reader

As the Cullen’s separate into their teams, I follow Esme as she tugs Bella and I over to home plate explaining the game. Carlisle and Rosalie play-flight over who gets to go first, but my eye is on Jasper as he warms up with a few test-swings with a bat.

“We could use a few impartial opinions.” Esme smiles at us, shifting Bella and I to stand behind her as she assumes the ‘catcher’ position.

Rose is up to bat first, Jasper and Carlisle on her team while Emmett, Edward, and Alice make up the opposition. The latter taking up her place at the pitcher’s mound - she nods her head and announces, “It’s time.”

First pitch from Alice and Rose absolutely smashes it, the thunder cracking in time with the strike of the bat.

“Okay, now I see why you need the thunder.” Bella says, impressed. “That’s gotta be a home run, right?”

Rosalie rounds second and heads for third, a blonde blur on the field. “Edward is fast.” Esme tells her with confidence.

Right when I think there’s no possible way Edward could get his sister out before she slides home, a baseball rockets it’s way out of the woods and straight into Esme’s hands. Tagging her adoptive daughter with the ball, she looks over her shoulder at us for confirmation.

“You’re out!” Bella motions a thumb over her shoulder at a very not happy Rose.

I turn to look at Jasper, completely blown away by what transpired, but I’m distracted in the way he idly spins his baseball bat. My emotions must catch his attention, because he doesn’t stop as he makes eye contact. Who knew something so basic as flipping a bat could be so attractive?

“Babe, c’mon! It’s just a game!” Emmett yells from across the field, garnering my attention from his brother.

Rosalie brushes past Bella to intimidate her umpire call as Carlisle takes his place at home plate. Another beautiful pitch by Alice and powerful swing by the doctor, the ball heads straight for the middle ground between the two brothers in the outfield. Colliding together, they miss the ball and their dad claims second base.

Next up is Jasper and I’m positively vibrating with excitement to see him in action. Showing off again with his idle bat tossing, he settles in and sends Alice’s next ball into orbit, but Emmett manages to snag it out of thin air.

“My monkey man.” Rose says proudly from her spot next to me, I huff in aggravation at Jasper getting out so early.

Just as Rosalie takes her second turn and is running for first base, Alice yells out a warning, “Stop!”

After a few seconds and hearing something that clearly Bella and I fail to pick up with our human ears, the family not gathered around us returns to our sides in a hurry.

“They were leaving and then they heard us-“

“Let’s go.” Edward cuts off Alice to grab for Bella, but Carlisle stops his son.

“It’s too late.”

Jasper is at my side as the rest of his family shuffled around us, “What’s happening?” I ask him worriedly.

“Vampires, they heard us playing and are on their way here.” He answers me completely serious, zipping up his jacket that I’m wearing. “Stay behind me, don’t move and don’t attract their attention.”

“Jas-“

“No one touches you.” He meets my eyes as his words send ice through my veins, will it come to that?

I will my heart to calm as I get shuffled to stand behind him and Emmett, I rest a hand on Jasper’s back to anchor myself.

I can’t see them from my hiding spot, but I hear one with a slight accent, “I believe this belongs to you?”

“Thank you.” Carlisle replies curtly.

“I am Laraunt, this is Victoria and James.”

“I’m Carlisle, this is my family.” I feel Jasper tense under my hand like he’s concentrating. Readying for a fight? What do I do if this turns into a vampire brawl?

I turn to look at Edward over my shoulder but he doesn’t meet my gaze and Bella has her head turned down. Hiding her eyes I realize - her human eyes, acting shy in the face of new vampires so that they might not be interested in her.

Carlisle and the one speaking for the group, Laraunt, continue their efficient conversation as I step closer to Jasper. From this position I can see all three strangers and fear begins to worm it’s way into my chest. I’ve become so comfortable with the Cullens’ that I’ve forgotten they’re vampires. Vampires as dangerous as the ones before me look, minus the red eyes.

The tall one missing a shirt, James presumably since Laraunt and Carlisle are still conversing, seems to lock in on Bella and Edward. The grip I have on Jasper tightens and he reaches a hand back to pat the outside of my thigh in reassurance at his earlier statement.

“So, could you use three more players?” My heart almost stops, how do we get out of this? “Come on, just one game?”

Seemingly reading my mind, Carlisle plays along with a little chuckle, “Sure, why not. A few of us were leaving, you could take their place.” I feel Jasper’s arm nudge me in the direction of Edward and Bella, a sign to join their departure.

“We’ll bat first.” Carlisle announces, throwing the ball to the newcomers as our group begins to separate.

“I’m the one with the wicked curve ball.” The female, Victoria taunts in a low voice.

Jasper let’s out a low laugh, “Well I think we can handle that.”

As everyone begins to take their new places and I make my way towards Bella, I notice that one of the new males seems zoned-in on Edward, or rather, Bella. Next thing I know, a breeze shifts Bella’s hair and my heart shudders in my chest - the wind, our scent-

“You brought a snack?” James threatens as he leans into a crouch. Snapping his gaze to me as I let out a gasp, “Two snacks?”

Jasper let’s out a deep growl as he lunges in front of me, the rest of his family surrounding Bella and I in a protective stance.

“The girls are with us.” Carlisle asserts, “I think it best if you leave.”

“I can see the game is over, we’ll go now.” The one in charge tries to placate the tense situation. “James.”

As the new vampires turn to leave, Carlisle urges Edward and Jasper, “Get Bella and Y/n out of here, go!”

The four of us jog back to Emmett’s Jeep, Jasper keeping me from stumbling in the mud.

“Okay I’ve got it-I’ve got it, I’m alright!” Bella yells at Edward while he tries to buckle her in. “What, n-now he’s coming after me? Us?”

“Listen to me-James is a tracker, the hunt is his obsession. I read his mind, our reaction on the field set him off. We just made this his most exciting game ever, he’s never going to stop.” Edward explains, frantic in his words and his driving.

“So what do we do?” Bella panics.

“We kill him-“ Jasper starts.

“Rip him apart and burn the pieces.” Edward finishes.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from Forks. We’ll get a ferry to Vancouver.”

“I have to go home, now. You have to take me home.” Bella orders him.

“You can’t go home, he’s just going to trace your scent there-it’s the first place he’s going to look.”

My chest constricts, my mom. Jasper grabs my hand, no doubt feeling my growing fear. “My mom.” I whisper to him as his eyes bounce between mine searching for what to say.

“My dad is there!-“

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Yes it does! He could get killed because of us! What about Y/n’s mom?!”

“Just let me get you out of here first, alright? Neither one of you are safe.”

“It’s my dad, we have to go back!” She argues back, exasperated. “We’ll figure out a way to lead the tracker away somehow-I don’t know, but we have to do something!”

“Jasper, you have to take me home.” I plead with him while squeezing his hand.

“Darlin’, I-“

“I’ll go anywhere you want me to, I just need to make sure she’s okay! If I disappear, she’ll hunt me down.” I try to reason with him, short of panicking myself.

Pulling up at Bella’s house, both her and Edward leap out of their seats and for the door. Just as Bella slams the front door in his face putting on a show, Jasper hops in the driver’s seat and peels out of the driveway in the direction of my house.

“You go inside, make up a reason to leave tonight. I’ll wait in the car, but if you aren’t out in five minutes, I’m coming in to get you.” He orders me and I nod.

“Thank you, I can’t leave her without saying anything… Thank you, Jasper.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m taking you far from here until this is settled.” His voice steady even though my life is turning upside down as we speak.

As the large vehicle rumbles to a stop just in front of my porch, I leap from my seat. The light above the door flicking on, my mother swings it open before my fingers could grab the handle.

“Everything alri-“

“No, mom.” I brush past her to ascend the stairs. “Bella is leaving for her mom’s tonight, I need to go with her!”

“Sweetheart, it’s too late for a drive like that!” She says, chasing me.

“She can’t drive by herself, she needs me mom! I can make sure she’s safe and keep you updated.” I plead with her as I throw random articles of clothing in my empty gym bag.

“Y/n, you can’t-“

“Mom,” I turn to her, dead serious, “I’m going whether you let me or not. She’s my best friend and she needs to leave. I can at least make sure she’s okay and gets to her mom’s. I’ll turn around and come right back afterwards!”

“Your phone stays on and charged.” She says with her hands on her hips, “I call, you better answer after the first ring. Anything - and I mean anything happens, you call me and Chief Swan immediately, Y/n Y/m/n.”

“Yes ma’am.” I snatch my bag and give her a hug as I rush out of my room. “I love you.” I murmur into her shoulder.

“You’re my world, sweetheart. Please be careful?” I nod, “I love you too.”

After a peck to my head, I race down the stairs and back out to the Jeep.

“It’s going to be alright.” Jasper tries to soothe me, both with his words and an artificial wave of calm.

“Don’t.” I bristle, “Nothing about this is alright.”

Immediately the foreign feeling vacates me and a coldness slides into my chest. I know he was only trying to help me, but I can’t take it, I can’t take the easy way out right now. So I glance out my window as the trees rush past on our way to his house.

• March 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Jasper

This day-this whole thing is fucked. And not at all how I saw this weekend going. I promised her mother I would keep her safe and now a fucking group of nomadic vampires is hunting her and Isabella.

Three vampires aren’t really much when it comes to my family of seven, but seeing as I’m the only one trained to… deal with the dispatching of vampires besides Carlisle, the odds aren’t great that we all come out of this unscathed.

And Y/n. This fragile human that already means so much to me is caught in the middle, caught up in my dangerous world. I told her that nothing and no one touches her and I meant it. If I can be sure of one thing, I know I can do this for her.

Slamming on the breaks as the Jeep slides into the garage, I grab Y/n’s hand as she meets me behind the vehicle. I tried to soothe her worry after we left her house, but I obeyed her request to stop. I almost feel useless - not being allowed to do what I do best and fix emotions, but I know her sense of autonomy shouldn’t be infringed upon if I want her to let me in. I slam the button to shut the garage door to shield us from potential prying eyes and make my way across the enclosed space.

“What now?” Y/n asks me as I throw her bag in the trunk of Carlisle’s Mercedes.

“I stay with you, no matter what. You and Isabella, I can protect the both of you.” I turn and meet her gaze, resting a hand on her cheek in reassurance. “You are mine to protect and I take that charge very seriously.” My words snatch her breath, so I give her a half-smile.

“After… everything, you’re not opposed to violence, Hale?”

“For you? Violence is my middle name, darlin’.” Before I could comment on the shudder the wracks through her and the arousal trickling into her scent and emotions, my family rejoins us in the garage.

Snatching the keys to the Mercedes Emmett tosses my way, I seperate myself from Y/n.

“I’ve had to fight our kind before,” I hesitate choosing my words, glancing at Y/n, “We’re not easy to kill.”

“But not impossible.” My brother responds.

“I don’t relish the thought of killing another creature, even a sadistic one like James.” Carlisle laments.

“What if he kills one of us first?” Rose questions harshly from her seat on the counter.

“I’m going to run Bella south and lead the tracker away from here-“ but Carlisle stops Edward before he could finish.

“No, Edward. James knows you’d never leave Bella. He’ll follow you.” My adoptive father glances at me, “Jasper-“

“I’m not leaving her.” I level my gaze on Carlisle and boost my words with my power, “None of you are trained like me, I stay with what he wants - the girls.”

“I’ll go with them, Jasper and I will drive them south.” Alice pipes up, “I’ll keep her safe, Edward.”

“Can you keep your thoughts to yourself?” I can feel Alice’s hesitation in what I feel is her confidence in the outcome of all this.

I will that emotion away immediately, nothing will hinder a positive outcome in this scenario. Y/n and Isabella will make it through this unscathed and James will die, end of story. Nothing threatens what’s mine or my family’s and lives, nothing.

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #twilight #jasper hale x reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x female!reader #female reader insert #romance

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timetoletmyimaginationfly · 3 months

Text

Falling In Love Again

Nanami Kento x Reader

Requested by @patpatspatz . I hope you enjoy! Sorry it took me a bit! It’s been getting busy with school again.

(Song Inspiration: Scott Street by Phoebe Bridgers)

“You alright?” Utahime asked. You quickly wiped your tears and nodded. You rubbed your nose with your sleeve.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and straightened out your body.

“You got the call? I’m here to let you know about your mission,” she said as she sat down next to you.

“I was about to head there.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just…life.” You stood up and tied your hair up in your usual ponytail. “I’ll be back in a few days I guess.”

“Few days?”

“Since I’m in Tokyo, I might as well have a tiny vacation for myself. See you later.” Utahime watched you walk away. Confused, she stood up to figure out what happened. But when she did, she caught a shine in her eye. Her eyes widened and she picked up a familiar ring on the ground. Anger filled her as she stormed throughout the Kyoto campus.

You thanked the assistant manager and walked towards the area. You already know it’s going to be a rough mission. Your mind is constantly wandering. You’re there but not really there.

“Are you okay?” The deep voice that was in front of you made you jump. You looked up and down at the tall, blonde male. You can sense that he is a sorcerer and you found him interesting with the suit and tie he wore.

“Y-Yeah, I am,” you said quietly. You bowed and introduced yourself to him. He mirrored your movements.

“Nanami Kento,” he said. “So, you’re from the Kyoto school.” Puzzled, you nodded your head. “Did you get notice that this was a joint mission?” Slightly, your eyes widened.

“I-I did not,” you answered. You rubbed your arm, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, it just hasn’t been a personal good week for me.” You watched him nod, his expression still apparently blank.

“You seem tired,” he said softly. You don’t know why, but his gaze just seemed so intense. You slowly looked away and nodded.

“Like I said, not a good week.”

He stayed close by as you two walked around, finding the culprit of mysterious murders around the construction site. The building was half done, but still a danger zone. You were finally focused. After the first encounter of a weak cursed spirit, you found yourself back in your zone.

“Nanami-san,” you whispered. Nanami looked at you in response. The two of you hid in the hallway. “Three more weak ones.” You closed your eyes for a few more moments before opening them to see Nanami’s calculating ones. “The big one is up one more level.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. You nodded confidently. “Your technique…”

“There’s a certain distance that I can see around me,” you said. “I’m a good support.” You watched the corner of his lips curve up. You caught your breath and for the first time in the week, you felt okay. Even for a moment.

“Then, you must be a good planner,” he said. “How should we go about this?” You smiled and started to list a handful of options and continued from what you and Nanami agreed on.

The two of you watched the veil go down after defeating the curse. It took longer than usual, just as you expected. The sun was already setting and you checked your phone for the time. You saw many missed calls and text messages from Utahime. You sighed, feelings from earlier were back to overwhelm you.

“Did you get hurt?” Nanami asked as he walked towards you.

But you didn’t respond to him. Your eyes remained on your phone. You returned back to how you were from when you two met. Unlike during the mission, you are now distracted, unfocused, and unaware of your surroundings. He couldn’t help but take a quick peek at your phone. He noticed Utahime’s name. And he saw the cap locked messages she sent one after another. Again, he called your name and placed his hand on your shoulder. You jumped back to reality and looked up at him.

“Nanami-san,” you said softly. He could practically see your eyes glisten with tears.

“Are you hurt?” You shook your head before looking at your body. “Your arm.” You nodded and watched the blood trickle down and drip to the floor. Nanami unwrapped his tie from his hand and wrapped your arm to help stop the bleeding.

“Wait! Your tie!” He stayed silent, making sure it was wasn’t too tight.

“Let’s get you checked out,” he said. You nodded. You didn’t have the energy to protest. You followed him in the car that was awaiting for him. “No one came for you?”

“I was going to stay in Tokyo for a few days.” Your eyes widened and you winced in pain. Delayed reaction for sure. “Ouch.”

“We’re not too far from the school.” You nodded, your hand not leaving your arm. Your phone dinged from another text message. It was Utahime again. You sighed, ignoring your friend and looked out the window.

“Okay, all done,” Shoko said with a small smile. You moved your arm, the sharp pain gone and scarless. “Utahime called. Will you be alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” you said.

“Nanami,” Shoko called. Your eyes widened. You looked up and watched him walk towards you two. You didn’t realize he was there the whole time. You held on to his tie tightly in your hand. “Make sure she finds a nice hotel to stay in.” You gave Shoko a look.

“You don’t trust me?”

“I just want you safe, and Utahime was worried. You wouldn’t say anything to her. So, Nanami is staying close by.” Shoko would’ve gave Nanami a stern look to agree, but his quick yes surprised her. Shoko was pretty sure he wouldn’t be flattered with the option.

“Nanami-san, thank you but I’ll be okay,” you said as you hopped off the table. “I will get your tie cleaned up and I’ll return it before I go back to Kyoto.”

You abruptly left and without a word, Nanami followed. You knew he was. Nanami made his presence known. But all the energy you had was gone. Nanami was nothing but kind. You didn’t have the heart to continuously push him away. So you walked side by side with him and let him follow you to the city.

He never said a word. His silence became comfortable to you. You just walked aimlessly around the city. And he never questioned you once.

“I caught my ex-fiancé cheating,” you confessed. “I came home from a mission a week ago and saw heels that weren’t mine. I smelled perfume that I didn’t own. And I heard a woman’s laughter and…more noises. I quietly walked to the bedroom door, it was opened ajar, and end of story.”

Nanami was in shock that you told him. Someone you just met today and yet here you are, telling him what was wrong.

Why did I tell him…?

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. You only nodded in response. Nanami mentally sighed and looked around. He held your shoulder and turned you around. You faced a dim window. People crowded the area inside as they talked, laughed, ate, and drank. “After you.”

“Eh?” When you looked at Nanami, you felt your face heat up. His smile was soft, softening his usual blank expression.

“I had my heart broken once,” he said. “My friend took me here. Thought I do the same for you.”

“Why? We just met.” Nanami shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t see why not, right?”

“I-I guess not.”

He found a high, square table fitted for two people. He ordered the both of you drinks and food, an entree for him while you opted for an appetizer.

“How long were you with the guy?” Nanami asked.

“About six years,” you answered. “Engaged for not even a year.”

“How old are you?”

“I just turned 25.” Nanami nodded.

“So, your first relationship?” You nodded this time.

“Nanami-san,” you called. He looked at you and hummed in response. “How long was your relationship? Or maybe your longest? Did you have multiple relationships? Did you have to do the break up?” Your curiosity took over. Nanami looked at you with adoration.

“I just had one relationship. She broke up with me a few years ago and we’ve been dating for almost four years,” he answered. You gave him a pouty look. “She wasn’t a sorcerer and she hated that I was out most of the time.”

“Mine was too,” you said. “And he took advantage of it.” Elbows on the table, your palms rested on your cheeks. You looked at Nanami with sad eyes. “Love sucks.” Nanami picked up his drink and took a small sip.

“It does.”

“Nanami-san?” He looked at you. And when he did, he felt his heart skip a beat for the first in three years. You gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you for this.” He felt his voice in the back of his throat. So in response, he gave you a smile and nodded. He mentally thanked the dim lights that you couldn’t see the slight blush to his face.

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you do joint missions often?” He shook his head. “I’m glad my first one was with you then. I think we make a pretty good team! What do you think?”

“I think so, too.” You checked the time on your watch.

“I should check in a hotel soon,” you said.

“I have an extra room.” You looked at him with wide eyes before you shook your head.

“I-I can’t intrude, Nanami-san,” you said, your voice slightly shaking.

“It’s for a few days right? I don’t mind,” he said reassuringly. He didn’t know where it came from. Nanami inviting you to stay at his place. A broken-hearted stranger.

“Are you usually this kind to strangers?” you asked with a giggle as you swirled your drink in your cup.

“Technically, we’re not strangers anymore,” Nanami replied with a slight smirk. You blushed slightly. Nanami let out a small chuckle. “May the one who was broken-hearted help the current broken-hearted.” You raises your glass slightly.

“To shitty love?” Nanami raises his glass yet shook his head.

“To new love.”

You decided to clink his glass to those words. It was probably one of the few things that seemed right. So far, anything related to Nanami Kento felt right.

“WHAT?!” you pulled away from your cell phone from Utahime’s screaming. You sat on the balcony of Nanami’s apartment. After dinner, you quickly shopped for necessities after dinner. And he gave you a tour before the two of you went in separate bathrooms to shower. “Okay, okay. Look. Can you please tell me everything from the beginning? Please? As your best friend?” You sighed and nodded.

“It might take a while.”

“Wait, let’s get Shoko in this call.”

Once the three way call started, you began your story. You started from a month after the proposal when your ex became distant and secretive around you. You told them the things he did, what you found and speculated, up until last week when you caught him in the act. Profanities flooded your ears that you pulled the phone away from your ear.

“But are you okay? You dealt with it on your own,” Utahime said worriedly.

“I wish you told us earlier,” Shoko added. “I thought you guys were doing great.”

You sniffled and wiped your tears away. A soft knock was heard behind you. Nanami stood there with a tray that held two tea cups. You opened the door and quietly, he joined you, sitting on the empty seat. Nanami pulled a small packet of tissues from his pocket and handed it to you. You mouthed him a ‘thank you’ and he nodded back in response.

“After today, I am better than I thought I would be,” you said.

“Did Nanami accompany you today?” Shoko asked.

“Oh, Nanami was with you during the mission! That makes sense,” Utahime said.

“What does?” Shoko asked.

“She’s residing in the Nanami Kento resort for the next few days she’s in Tokyo.” You blushed. You slowly moved your eyes to Nanami who stared ahead at the city skyline. Before he looked back at you, you averted your eyes.

“Odd of him but that’s good,” Shoko said and yawned. “Alright, fill me in on anything else. I’m going to sleep.” Utahime called your name.

“Promise me that you’ll be okay.”

“I promise.”

“And take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

You and Nanami were alone. No phone in hand. Just the two of you sipping on tea while staring at the city skyline. It was content silence. And you didn’t mind it. You figured that you’ll take advantage of the silence with him to keep your mind at peace.

Gojo looked at Nanami as he was on the phone. He heard ‘joint mission’ often, which brought the white-haired man curiosity. He knew Nanami as a man who prefers to work alone. But for the past couple of months, he would hear ‘joint mission’ every now and then, making him curious as ever. So by the next day, he decided to confront him. But he was stopped when he saw the usual blank expression from the blonde male with a smile. His eyes widened when he watched him laugh. With a woman! He quietly walked backwards, eyes remaining on Nanami before he turned around and ran to find Shoko.

“Nanamin!” he yelled once he barged inside. Shoko was healing a young sorcerer. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What about him?” she asked.

“He’s with a girl! She’s cute! He’s with a cute girl!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot she’s here today.” When Shoko briefly talked about you, Gojo nodded. “Leave them alone. You’ll just be asking for it.”

You smiled when Nanami looked at you with surprise. He noticed the change in uniform. From a purple and blue kimono, you wore a fitted dark purple tank top with a high neck and black shorts. You wore a black belt with small pockets to the side and a holster holding your katanas. You wore black gloves and knee high black boots. Yet, you kept your purple bow on your hair when you tied it up.

“So I work at both schools,” you answered. “After the move, the travel gets too much. At least twice a month I have to go to Kyoto.”

“You seem happier,” he said. “You’re like a different person.”

“Is that a bad thing, Nanami-san?” you asked teasingly. Nanami shook his head. “Thank you again for helping me move my things.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. Nanami looked at his phone and nodded. “Ijichi-san is here. We should go.”

Nanami placed his hand on the small of your back. You smiled and it made him relaxed. He opened the back door for you, and you thanked him as he entered the car.

“Nanami-san,” you called. He hummed in response, his eyes focused on you. “Let’s have dinner after this.”

“Okay. Did you want Ieiri-san and Iori-san to come too?” Nanami asked. To his surprise, you shook your head. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you answered. “I see them pretty often.”

And after the fairly easy mission, you followed Nanami to the restaurant of his choice. You smiled widely. He took you back to the place where you first met. He opened the door for you and you happily thanked him.

“Now, you should order an entree from them,” Nanami suggested. You smiled.

“What do you suggest, Nanami-san?” you asked. “Should we order a bottle of wine? I’m in the mood for red.”

“Perfect choice. Do you like steak?”

“I love steak! Nanami-san, be lucky that I’m not a picky eater.” When the waiter arrived, Nanami ordered the drinks, appetizer, and entrees. You giggled, watching Nanami pour the two glasses of wine. “Feels like we’re on a date, Nanami-san.” You could feel your cheeks slightly warm up.

“It does, doesn’t it?” he replied with a small smile. “Have you thought about dating again.” He asked you slowly and carefully. As he asked, he paid close attention to your expressions. He didn’t want to hurt you. But he was relieved when you gave him a small smile.

“I don’t know if I’m ready but I probably won’t know if I don’t start, right?”

“Probably.” You raised your glass and Nanami followed.

“Cheers to new beginnings,” you said happily. He clinked glasses with you. “If you don’t mind, can I count this as a date?” Nanami felt his face warm up immediately. And automatically, his smile became larger.

“Only if you allow me to properly take you out on a second date. I—I can…what I mean to say is…” Nanami cleared his throat and loosened his tie. “Allow me to show you how well you should be treated and that, if your view on love is destroyed, I’ll have you believe that it’s a beautiful thing.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t address you to Nanami-san then. Is Kento okay?”

“More than okay.” You felt butterflies in your stomach. Maybe it was the brightened expression on his face? Or maybe the slight joy in his tone? “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answered softly. “My stomach did flips. In a good way.” His chuckle, oh my gosh his chuckle, it made your heart race.

“Good.”

Utahime shook you hard when you told her about your dates with Nanami. After the fifth date you two had the night before, you couldn’t help but to finally catch up with her.

“Utahime!!” you yelled to stop her shaking.

“You so love him!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“We’re not even official,” you mumbled. You held your warm cheeks in your hands.

“So? Nanami is such a sweetheart,” she said dreamingly. “If only more men were like him. But despite that, it doesn’t matter! Did you kiss him yet?”

“O-On the cheek.”

“Boring! Look, love is weird. It’s different for everyone.”

“But, what if he falls for someone else while I—“ The sudden insecure feelings started to rise. As your feelings for Nanami grew, so did your insecurities.

“Nanami will listen to you. Talk to him,” she said. “Speaking of…” You watched her squint. You turned around and your eyes widened.

“Kento…” Nanami smiled as he walked closer to the two of you. He greeted you both.

“Can I steal her?” he asked Utahime.

“Of course you can!” Utahime replied with a big smile on her face. “See you soon!” Before you said anything, she scurried away. Your heart was racing now that you and Nanami were alone. You turned to face him.

“Do you usually wear your kimono when you’re in Kyoto?” he asked curiously. You nodded. “It looks beautiful.”

“T-Thank you, Kento. I-Isn’t it your day off?”

“It is. I just wanted to see you.” You couldn’t help but giggle lightly.

“We saw each other last night,” you stated. Nanami watched your cheeks blush into a faint pink. He raised his arm and gently caressed your cheek.

“I know,” he said. “I couldn’t help myself. I love seeing your beautiful face.” He softly chuckled. “I want to spend time with you when you finish work. Maybe we could roam around Kyoto. And I’ll bring you home.”

“I would love that. I have paper work to fill out. Keep me company?”

“Of course, sweetheart. That’s what I planned to do.” He stood by side and held your hand, intertwining his fingers to yours. He slightly turned to your direction. “Lead the way.”

You were definitely more distracted with Nanami sitting nearby. You caught yourself looking up after filling out half of your paperwork every time. And every time you did, Nanami sat there comfortably while reading the paper. He turns the page, you quickly look away. The sound of his voice calling your name made you jump. And what he said made your world go round.

“I like you. A lot. Maybe even more than like you.” When you looked at him, his eyes remained on the paper. But you caught the pink in the tip of his ears.

“W-What’s more than like?” you asked slowly and curiously. You looked away but you listened to his movements. He stood up and you can see him walk closer to you, his shadow towering over you.

“I don’t want to say anything that makes you uncomfortable, sweetheart,” he said. “I know what I’m sure of. And I can wait for you to be sure.” Your body froze.

“How long are you willing to wait? Because …I’m scared.” A small amount of tears started to blur your vision, but you held them in.

“I know, sweetheart.” Slowly, he curled a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Have I done anything wrong?” You shook your head. “If I do, tell me. Okay?”

“I don’t even think you can do anything wrong. You’re perfect. And that’s what’s scary. You can have anyone you want.” Softly, Nanami gave you a kiss.

“You’re perfect. And the one I want is you. I can wait, sweetheart. Starting today, you are officially mine. If you have me.”

“I do want you, Kento. But the more I like you, the more insecure I get.”

“And the more I can show you how much I want you. I’m not going to leave you. I’ve shown two months of it and I’ll never stop.” You couldn’t find your voice, so you nodded. Nanami smiled and kissed your forehead. “Oh, I forgot.” You watched him reach inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a bow for your hair that matched his tie. “I thought it be cute if we match every now and then. I know it’s not your style.”

“I-I love it,” you said with a large smile on your face. You undid your hair with your purple bow and replaced it with his. “What do you think?” Nanami cupped your chin with his fingers. He looked at you lovingly and leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips. He left you in a daze.

“Beautiful.”

You couldn’t help but keep your hand on your stomach where you continuously had the worst gut wrenching feeling. You stared at your phone. Nanami’s message was letting you know that he had an emergency mission to attend to in Shibuya while you, Utahime, and the students were south of Kyoto. He never read your message back after you replied to him to be safe. And he likes to leave his read receipts on for you so you know he’s seen your message.

But after hearing Mechamaru’s message, you remained quiet. Praying for the train to hurry.

“It’s Nanami,” Utahime said. “He’ll be okay.”

“Shoko hasn’t seen him yet,” you said. “Ijichi-san and a few other sorcerers are injured.”

And once you all arrived, you went separate ways.

“Kento! Kento!” you called. You held in your tears. “Kento…” You closed your eyes, hoping to see him somewhere. You somehow got a glimpse. His figures blurred. His body lying on the ground. “Kento!”

You pulled your bow tie out of your hair. Your cursed energy flowing through it as you closed your eyes, letting your tears fall.

You’re alive. You’re alive. Kento, don’t leave me.

You gasped. He laid lifeless on the ground, body half burnt. You barely noticed him breathing. But the extremely subtle raise of his chest was good enough for you. You noticed the subway. The exact location. Once you opened your eyes, you ran for your life.

The gasped at the sight of the area. All of the civilians and cursed that were killed. You couldn’t help but cry again. Cry for the innocent people who lost their lives.

But now, your focus was somewhere else. You ran around the subway station in Shibuya. You noticed a couple of sorcerers from the Tokyo School as well. You found one carrying an unconscious Maki. You were relieved. She’s still alive.

“Kento! Kento…please…” When you turned a corner, you gasped. The amount of cursed killed laid around the area. “Kento!” You heard a voice so familiar. You ran towards the source of the voice. You gasped.

Nanami laid there, lying in pain. His breathing was shallow and eye lids half open. You knelt down next to him. Your body shook. All he did was give you a small smile. You looked at his body.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said and reached out slowly to hold your hand. “I’m here.”

“I thought…I thought—“

“How was your mission?” he asked weakly and tiredly.

“Idiot! Don’t ask me how my mission was when you’re about to die!” Nanami smiled. He saw your bow tie loose and wrapped around your hand.

“That’s how you found me?” You nodded. “That’s amazing.”

“L-Let’s bring you to Shoko. Can you even stand?” Nanami nodded. “Let me help you.” You held his hands and gently pulled him up so he was sitting. Nanami groaned. He was exhausted. But one look at you just helped him stay awake. Thinking he was going to die earlier, he was worried. He didn’t want you to worry.

“Sweetheart.” You looked at him with teary eyes. Nanami reached out to your face and wiped your tears away with his thumb. “I love you.” More tears fell and you hugged him.

“I love you, too. So let’s hurry up and get you healed.”

It was the middle of winter. The snow in Tokyo grew heavier. You laid down next to Nanami in his bed. One hand held his book while his free arm was wrapped around your shoulders. Your head rested on his chest while you scrolled through your phone.

“Kento, I’m getting hungry,” you said and looked up at him. You watched him smile. He wore an eyepatch and half his body was scarred through the burns. His hair fully grew back. And for a while, he feared that you would leave him.

“What would you like, my love?” he asked as he closed his book. You put your phone down and climbed on top of him and hugged him tightly as you straddled his lap.

“Soup and garlic bread.” You can feel the calming vibrations of his chest as he caressed your hair. You sighed in content and smiled. “Kento?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Thank you for loving me,” you said and raised your head so you could look at him. You cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with your thumbs. “I never thought falling in love again would be better.” Nanami held your left wrist and brought it to his lips to kiss it.

“I fall in love with you more every single day, my love. And I want my love for you to grow forever.”

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #nanami jjk #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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verysium · 6 months

Text

『02』原神: genshin impact recs

魈: xiao

preta by @itoshisoup

"People think that ghosts are born exclusively of resentment, but they can also be born of love. Between those driven by resentment and those driven by love, which do you think cling most strongly to their suffering?" Xiao replies without pause, his gaze unfocused yet fixed upon something you cannot see. "Love." After a yaksha saves your life on the Plains of Guili, you insist on joining him in his war against the evils of Liyue. As the two of you encounter hungry ghosts and resentful spirits, you learn about the ones haunting him. notes: incomplete but intricately woven together; heavy emphasis on chinese culture, wuxia/xianxia genres; if you have watched any historical cdrama, you will like this fic; xingqiu and chongyun are wrapped up into the dynamic; xiao wishes to protect you for centuries; him and his paradoxes; not being strong enough to be considered invincible but still strong enough to try

公子: childe

thin ice by @falconcoast

childe is that senior frat boy on teyvat university’s campus. the one who majors in economics because he’s on scholarship to play sports. the one who is way too loud and you can hear him all the way across campus. the one who’s daddy’s money rich because he’s already sponsored, even while just in the ncaa. the one who manages to get everyone to swoon over him. oh, right. and your favorite title for him: the one hockey captain who hogs all of your free time to skate after lessons because he always steals it. all you want to do is do your job and teach skating lessons to the kids to keep your mind off the year-old mess with your figure skating, maybe even get an hour of skating in afterwards as a reward. that is, until the hockey coach sits you down and tells you that surprise! you’re the new team manager for liyue’s hockey team! ...it can’t be that hard to manage twenty or so boys and their captain, childe, right? spoilers: it absolutely is. notes: wonderfully curated modern skating/hockey AU; childe is so american white boy in this; teucer being adorable; diluc and kaeya sibling dynamic is well-established; university and post-grad plans; figuring out your life and then working other people into it

国崩: scaramouche

tea screen by @after-witch

The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers? notes: forced marriage and abuse; tea ceremony; sort of reminds me of the edo period; examination of womanhood within a patriarchal society; sexy, sad, and scary all at once; i pity the reader at the end; cycle of love and violence

a simple cup of tea by @after-witch

You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes... notes: reader grapples with lust and objectification; unhealthy dynamic but portrayed realistically in an almost historical setting; reader is unable to separate her identity as wife apart from her husband; women being defined in the context of men; could be a social satire on traditional gender roles if you squint

love is a dog from hell by @itoshisoup

"A will is something you don't have. That's why you'll follow mine." notes: this fic is the reason why i do not think the concept of ownership in love would translate well into real life because it would be so self-destructive; reader struggles with aftermath of abuse and mistakes possession for protection; realistic depiction of unhealthy relationships; the fatui is exactly the dark criminal organization it is supposed to be; human trafficking and child sexual abuse; scaramouche is so goddamn funny i can't

钟离: zhongli

spoil of war by @bye-bye-sunbird

In the dead of night, you hear the sea calling your name. Sometimes the sound is as soft as a love song, gracing your skin in a gentle breeze that lures you to the seashore where the waves can finally lay claim on you. Other times, the sea strikes the land in a deafening, challenging roar. "Really now... How long do you think those mountains of his will stand in my way?" notes: accurate depiction of characters because archon war morax was genuinely terrifying; zhongli trying to deny his obsessive tendencies; rivalry with osial; reader is essentially sanctified as a symbol of innocent purity; imagine having two spiritual gods pine after you while you are helplessly stuck in the middle of their tug-of-war and simultaneously trying to mourn; that is basically the entire premise of this fic

迪卢克: diluc ragnvindr

the parent trap by @falconcoast

twelve years ago, you got married to a man who had swept you off your feet in a little under two years. diluc was like a prince out a of storybook; effortlessly charming, strikingly handsome, and a kind man. you were supposed to live happily ever after at that winery, running a wedding planning empire, having a family, and growing old together. until it all goes off script with a divorce. flash forward, and the only remnant of diluc that is with you is your daughter, dawn. the only piece of you that remains with diluc is your other daughter and dawn’s twin sister, phoenix. it isn’t until both of your children get you and your ex-husband in a bit of mess that you realize that maybe, just maybe, you still harbor feelings for diluc. or maybe it’s the wine talking. notes: one of my favorite comfort fics; i am a sucker for second-chance romance; diluc and reader now older but still being the same bumbling idiots they were when young; at this point the children have more situational awareness than them; based on the original movie; treat yourself to a cup of tea and a friday night with this work and trust me life will be good

博士: il dottore

deus in absentia by @bound-in-parchment

The first time was a coincidence. The second time was a fluke. But the third time? You were starting to think it was fate. Or, more likely, a calculated trap. notes: at this point we can just scrap whatever mihoyo puts out and use this work as canon instead; the world building is so originally creative; this author must possess such a giant sexy brain; reader is basically adopted by dottore and forced to be his apprentice/assistant; idea of losing yourself to your own ambitions; slow-burn to the max; reader is oblivious to full extent of feelings until it is too late; tragic to the point i need a time machine to resurrect them

dream a little of me by @bound-in-parchment

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. notes: soulmate trope but with the two most aromantic fools to ever exist; zandik drowns himself in the river of denial; comic dynamic between segments; music and failed dreams; reader actually has a backstory dark enough to match dottore's character; does not shy away from the uncomfortable and gritty aspects of trauma, abuse, and literal mental insanity

chemistry / magnum opus by @jessamine-rose

In the realm of science, love and insanity are closely intertwined mysteries. Disillusioned with the world, you had long forgotten its beauty until the wise doctor gives you a change of perspective. notes: by far the most accurate characterization of akademiya zandik; he hates you then hates himself then hates the world for allowing your paths to cross; treats you as an objective experiment but then wonders why he's suddenly humanizing you; slow-burn; zandik is selfish and machiavellian and somehow you fit into that equation

the only hope i had was the freedom of death by your hands that held me together by @tiens-letters

It was a burden. The weight of the power you hold in all the land. Any human who has enough ambition would dare to covet it and any god even given divine powers would lust after it. You were powerful, able to end civilizations and make a new world altogether. Many would think that you are a sovereign being but you too are limited to mortality than what most would believe. You were human with a blessing of a god and you felt cursed and dirty. notes: honestly the ending made me so mad but take it as a good sign; basically entails the circumstances that would drive dottore to become somewhat capable of love; what is done cannot be undone; zandik finally meeting someone who is wiser and more depressed than him; deluding himself into thinking he could ever be domestically normal; somewhat idolizes/idealizes reader; themes of betrayal and misunderstanding

富者: pantalone

house cat / alea iacta est by @jessamine-rose

Your entire life has been a gilded cage. The gods refuse to grant your greatest wish, and so you have resigned yourself to the will of destiny. But what happens when the red string of fate is severed and replaced with the silver chains of the Regrator? notes: liyue nobility; dishonest business and financial deals; reader is a cat hybrid but i didn't notice until part two because the plot was so good; pantalone is the mastermind behind all his interactions with reader; heavy manipulation and orchestrations; wolf in sheep's clothing; alternate ending found here

隊長: il capitano

herbarium / fairytale / forget-me-not / astilbe by @jessamine-rose

You had long given up on wishes and happy endings. After what you believed to be the end of your tragic story, you resigned yourself to a shadow of a life with only your books and flowers to keep you company…until the vestiges of Windblume brought forth a mysterious stranger and a new ending for your dark fairytale. notes: capitano being the strong stoic protector of a delicately fragile reader; manipulation is so subtle and that is what makes it alarming; somewhat stirred my daddy issues because he is so parental; reader struggles between accepting his love versus hating him for taking away her personal agency; flower motifs

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wolfiesmoon · 5 months

Text

Irregular heartbeat

Riddle Rosehearts x gn!reader

We learned about disney in film class this week and my mind was infected by images of twst boys lmaoo this game is a disease

I've had a turbulent week but its finally time for the holidays which means.... more schoolwork because our school doesnt subscribe to mental health

Lately, Riddle has been unfocused in class. This is very much unlike him, and he realises this. For him, being this distracted is like a death sentence to his perfect test scores.

He needs to get to the bottom of this, and quick.

Classes are over for the day and he's returning to his dorm to check up on the rose maze. Soon, it will be time for an unbirthday party and he must make sure everything is progressing smoothly.

Especially the painting of the roses, which was started a little late this time.

Ace and Deuce ended up complaining to you about the workload and since you have nothing to do anyways you decided to join them in painting the roses. Grim opted out of it this time since he "has better things to do".

You hummed to yourself as you painted the first rose on a heart shaped bush by yourself.

"What are you doing here?" a strict voice stopped you in your tracks. You'd recognise that voice anywhere. You probably should have asked if it was fine for you to help out beforehand, but you've helped without his permission before, even if it was on account of a certain first year's stupidity.

"I was bored and Ace and Deuce were complaining, so I decided to join. Don't tell me you're mad about free labour from the good of my own heart?" you added the final spot of paint to the rose, pouting back at him dramatically.

"I am thankful for your help, I don't know why you would make such an accusation." And yet, he still looked pissed off for some reason.

You stepped off from the stepstool, moving closer to him and humming. "Then why do you look like an old grumpy persian cat right now?"

"What- I do not!" he defended himself, cheeks turning a little pink as he crossed his arms.

In reality, he's angry that you're doing more work than you have to. He knows how horrible it is to be overworked a little too well and he wants you to be well rested and happy under every circumstance, not helping out when you really don't need to.

"I'll paint the roses. Don't bother yourself. I am much faster because I can simply transform them with my magic anyways." He moved past you, stepping up on the stepstool (which was unnecessary since he can use magic from a distance).

He doesn't really know why, but he gets the urge to protect you sometimes. Even from a task like painting the roses.

"If you say sooo..." you sat down on the soft grass, watching Riddle paint rose after rose. You have to admit, the slight smile on his face is quite adorable.

You could get used to watching this.

"Hey! Get back here, you stupid weasel!" you heard Ace's voice from somewhere in the rose maze. Weasel...? There's only one weasel you know.

And sure enough, in a few seconds Grim was running past you with a mischevious look on his face and a magical pen in his mouth, which you presume belongs to Ace.

Seems he got bored of "all the better stuff he had to do" and decided to cause trouble for poor Ace again. You got up, trying to grab him but ultimately failed in doing so.

"Wait right there!" Riddle yelled after Grim, attempting to stop him with his magic but he was a moment too late with Grim dissapearing behind a corner.

A few moments after him, Ace came running around the corner. "Where did he go?!" he asked frantically, whipping his head around at all the paths where Grim could have gone.

"That way." you pointed casually, already used to their shenanigans.

Ace quickly ran past you, accidentally moving the stepstool in the process and making Riddle stumble and fall over.

You quickly caught him, softening his fall. Thank god you were standing so close to him.

"Wha..." he whispered, cheeks turning red again. What in the world is this feeling? It feels like his chest is tightening, but it feels... good? Being caught in your arms is strange.

"Are you okay?" you asked, concerned by the look on his face.

"I umm.... I am completely fine." Riddle cleared his throat, straightening up and taking a singular step away from you.

"Are you sure? Because you look pretty shaken up to me." you moved close to him again, inspecting his face up close.

"You must be doing that on purpose." he felt like his heart was about to explode out of his chest. Now that he thinks about it, this feeling is similar to the one he gets during class. The one he can't get rid of for the life of him.

"What do you mean?" you asked innocently. You really want to kiss his red cheeks right now, but with Riddle you never know if they're red from anger or... something else. You don't want to take any chances, but it's hard to hold back around him sometimes.

"Nevermind. Just do something about those two!" he huffed, turning his head away, face now completely red.

Oops, looks like you ended up painting the housewarden red instead of the roses.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗#twst x yuu #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x you #twst x y/n #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x you #riddle x yuu #riddle x reader #riddle x mc #riddle rosehearts x yuu #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x mc #riddle fluff

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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

Text

The mission was fine.

It wasn’t even a big one. It wasn’t even complicated. There were hardly any stakes.

Keith is exhausted.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, to bone-deep fatigue. Maybe it’s the way he’s struggled to sleep right his whole life, maybe it’s the tumultuous nature of being a paladin, maybe it’s the will of God. Who fucking knows. Not Keith.

He feels leaden. He doesn’t know how he summons the strength to walk to his room, doesn’t even remember doing the walking. He presses a heavy hand to the lockpad and keeps it there as the door open, because he realises abruptly that this is it, this is where it ends. The lockpad is currently holding him up. He can go no further — there is not a kilowatt of energy left in his body.

“Keith? What took so long? We landed at the same time but it’s been nearly fifteen — oh, baby.”

Keith’s vision is deeply unfocused, so he can’t see exactly, but he hears the soft thump of something set on a surface, then the familiar slide of Lance’s slippers against the floor.

Cold fingers resting gently on the side of his face shock him somewhat out of his stupor, and he blinks away the blurriness, focusing now on the face of his partner in front of him, eyebrows creased and brown eyes clouded in worry.

“‘M so tired,” Keith croaks before Lance can ask. He pitches forward and he’s damn lucky Lance is there to catch him, to stabilize his head on his collarbones and run gentle fingers through his tangled, sweaty hair.

“I see that,” Lance murmurs, troubled quality to his voice. He’s stunningly careful with his hands, taking time every time his fingers curl around a knot to untangle it without pulling, without hurting. He scratches the back of Keith’s scalp softly and Keith thinks he might just turn to liquid in Lance’s hands.

Lance presses a kiss to the crown of Keith’s head and then stays there, lips pressed to skin, hands falling down his sides to rest at his hips. “D’you know why?”

Keith shakes his head, exhaling long and slow, sagging deeper into Lance as he does.

Sometimes he just…gets like this.

He remembers how it would cost him at the Garrison. He would sink into these episodes of pure, endless, soul-leeching tiredness, weighed like a rock in his bed, asleep but aware of the hours and hours passing. When he shuts off like this time feels like thick honey, and he is trapped in the thick of it, trying desperately to yank his way through and only succeeding to get himself stuck further. He is a fly in a glue trap; the life is leeching out of him and he’s too groggy to panic about it.

Lance knows this, and Lance has never faulted him for it. It’s more than Keith has ever had before, more than he knows he deserves, deadweight as he is.

“C’mon,” he says, and then Keith is being tugged. Boneless as he is he does not resist, stumbling after Lance into their room, door sliding shut behind them. Lance tugs them further than expected, past their bed and to the ensuite, and he must read the distress in Keith’s face because he laces their fingers together and says in the same voice he uses when everything has gone to shit and Lance is their last hail mary: “Trust me.”

And Keith does.

Lance stops them a couple steps into the small room, moving Keith’s limbs for him so he’s leaned against the counter. He’s already down to his underclothes but doesn’t bother with himself for a moment, instead making quick work of the latches of Keith’s armour. He starts on the chest plate, unlatching it and pulling it off, letting it clatter to the floor. Keith is surprised at the relief it brings, at the extra breath that settles into his lungs.

Altean armour is made to be lightweight, but as Lance meticulously peels off every pieces of it from his shoulder pads to his boots, Keith feels as if one of the dozens of rocks on his shoulders has been removed, as if things are just a little bit lighter. Brazened by the newfound relief, however minuscule, he lifts his hands and reaches behind him to unzip his flightsuit, only to be stopped by fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Let me,” Lance says quietly. Keith wants to protest but there’s the look in Lance’s eyes again, a bid for trust, an assurance that he can handle it, so Keith lets his hand drop back down to his side. Lance looks pleased, tugging down the long zipper and pulling the skintight fabric over Keith’s shoulders, down his hips, all the way down to his feet where he pauses for Keith to step out of them. Keith’s face burns, humiliated at his own babyishness, at his inability to undress himself like an adult; hell, like a kid. He knows Lance and he knows there are no unkind thoughts in his head right now, knows Lance has done this and more and for people in worse states than Keith, knows Lance has played nursemaid and clinician and sober friend and every other role where someone couldn’t function on their own and needed someone steady to function for them, because at the core of him Lance is whoever people need him to be. Because Lance will stretch and mold himself to help and help and help because he is painfully, endlessly, unbelievably kind, for all his brashness and bravado.

But the humiliation still warms him from head to toe, still makes acid churn in his stomach, still makes something crooked and twisted sneer in the back of his mind and whispers you think he will still respect you after this? after weakness? and Keith lets it echo because he can’t fight that sentiment off even when he has the energy to undress himself.

Skin still heated with his mortification, he watches as Lance quickly strips himself, stepping to the shower and turning the dials with great concentration. The sight makes Keith’s lip twitch involuntarily, at the furrow of his brow and tongue peeking out between his teeth. He stands with his hand under the water for well over a minute until he’s satisfied with the water, nodding to himself once before shaking out his wet hand and turning back to Keith.

Wordlessly, he links their fingers together again, squeezing three times in quick succession. He pulls Keith in and closes the curtain behind him, manoeuvring him so he’s under the stream, water soaking into his hair and pelting his bent neck and tense shoulders. It’s hotter than how he would usually have it, but surprisingly the extra heat is like a balm to his worn muscles, and it’s a struggle to keep himself upright.

He has no idea how long he stands under the spray. The only measure of time he has is Lance’s humming and the steam that slowly fills the shower.

Eventually though he forces himself upright, jaw set. He needs to wash off, needs to push through. He has been coddled enough — he is a grown man. He is a paladin of Voltron, whom others depend on for survival. What would they say if they saw him like this, struggling to wash himself, to move on his own? The faith in the universe’s strongest weapon would crumble in an instant. The fate of the universe would rest even heavier on Keith’s shoulders.

He counts to three in his head then forces himself to move, tried and true method. He catches Lance’s eye when he lifts his head, and Lance smiles at him. (He’s beautiful, all the time, but when he smiles he becomes for a moment the most stunning thing in the universe. Keith has seen so much of it and so he is sure.) He offers a weak smile back, because it’s almost impossible not to, and reaches around him for the shampoo bottle. For the third time that evening, Lance fingers wrap themselves around Keith’s wrist, stilling him.

“Let me,” he says again, and his voice is equally as quiet, equally as steady. “Let me help you.”

He holds Keith’s gaze and his expression is unreadable not because Keith can’t understand what emotion it conveys, but because it doesn’t fit, it isn’t right, what has Keith ever done to warrant that gentleness? What has Keith ever done to bring out such an intensity, such a single minded focus on taking care of Keith, as if he hasn’t been the one to care for himself his entire life? As if he isn’t the one who is meant to be doing the protecting, the caring? Keith is supposed to be strong. He is strong. He doesn’t need to be handled like strained glass, like the tip of a prince rupert’s drop, explosive under pressure. He can handle himself. He can.

“Please.” Lance’s grip loosens, slick anyway with soap, and he slides his fingertips down the palm of Keith’s hand, tracing small circles on the calloused flesh. “I want to.”

Keith makes a noise he’s never made before, a punched-out, hollow kind of sob. The last dregs of strength, of stubbornness that kept him standing, leave him. He slides to the floor, knees first and then they aren’t enough to hold him either. The tile is icy cold on his thighs, at direct odds with the heat of the water still raining hard down his back.

Keith starts to cry, and no amount of steam or water flow will hide it. The sobs and wails that rip their way out of his throat and chest are horrible, broken things, painful in the way they jerk him around, louder and more wretched than anything he’s ever sounded like before, ever. He knows he cried when he lost Shiro and he knows he cried when Shiro lost Adam and he knows he cried when he lost his Pa and a million times before and after. Keith has spent a lot of tears; they come when he’s frustrated or hurting or frightened and he hates the way they make him look small. But never has he ever clutched himself desperately together as hurt tears itself out of his lungs and burns his eyes, never has his body wracked with the effort of expelling this hurt from him.

He doesn’t understand where it’s come from.

The mission was fine.

There’s a click and a squirt, loud enough to be audible even over Keith’s cries. Seconds later Lance’s hands are in his hair again, fingers combing out the tangles, palms lathering soap deep into his roots. He takes his time to massage the soap deeply into Keith’s scalp, every so often moving his soap-covered hands to rub into his neck, his shoulders, his back. Over the course of Keith’s tears he hears the click of the bottle again and again as Lance moves to a different place in his body, spending careful amounts of time cleaning and caressing until the tightness in Keith’s muscles recede by pure loving force. Keith knows Lance is satisfied when his hands stray away for a moment and the stream of shower water is shifted, high-pressure stream shifting to feel more like the trickle of a creek, drizzling in rivulets down the dips and hills of his spine, his hips, his thighs. No soap ever stings Keith’s eyes, and soon the sound of Lance’s humming soothes some of the wound-up ache in his chest. The floral scent of the soap, of Lance’s soap, plays a part in the relief, too, a scent he has associated with security for longer than he has realised.

Soon Lance’s love is pressed into every inch of his skin, and the bonelessness laden in his body feels less like a sapping of energy and more like a moment of rest.

The steam still wraps warmly around Keith when the shower head turns off, and the weight of Lance’s hand on the wide expanse of his back is heavy and reassuring, rising and falling with each of his stuttered breaths. His finger traces a line across the base of Keith’s ribs and up the side of his chest, making him shiver, hugging the curve of his pectoral and travelling over the swell of his shoulder, running a line down Keith’s arms until it rests finally at the base of his wrist, where it circles once before linking around Keith’s pointer finger, tugging him gently to his feet, steady, and out of the shower. He stands eyes closed on the soft bathmat, water dripping steadily from his soaked hair, eyes burning from his tears and lips trembling.

Something soft and warm brushes against the curve of his ribs, tickling him slightly, making his muscles twitch and quiver. Lance drags the towel over his skin, mapping it in the same, slow, gentle way he washed it, soaking up the water and exchanging the wet towel for a new one three whole times before he finally gets to Keith’s hair. His fingers are deft then, too, digging the towel through his locks to squeeze out the water, pull it back from where it was stuck, soaked, to his skin.

Lance leaves the towel draped over his head as he begins to tug Keith out of the bathroom. Keith still has — he keeps his eyes closed, because he doesn’t think he can open them, because right now, he truly is fragile. He is tittering on the edge of somewhere he’s never been before, and he knows opening his eyes will send him careening over, and he’s not ready to fall quite yet. He trusts Lance to guide him, anyway.

Lance’s soft humming never breaks as he stands Keith in the middle of the room and then putters around; fabric rustling, more tubes and bottles clicking, some other sounds Keith can’t identify. When he comes back to Keith his hands are coated in something creamy and cool and fragrant, and he takes his time working the lotion into Keith’s skin like he did the soap; meticulous, fingers moving in small tight circles from area to area. He doesn’t miss a single square inch of Keith’s skin. By the time he finishes the stutter in Keith’s breath has faded and he’s steady, now, every time he inflates his lungs. He no longer feels the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

He moves where Lance’s hands guide him, eyes still closed, stepping into soft pyjama pants and a loose t-shirt. When Lance pushes gently on his shoulders he sinks to the floor, feeling Lance settle on the bed behind him, leg on either side of him and fingers tilting back his head to rest against his stomach. He starts the comb at the end of Keith’s hair, carefully working through the thinner and more knotted pieces, before slowly making his way up to the roots and combing it all back. The drag of the teeth along his scalp is nice, but it’s nicer when Lance switches back to his hands, nails less abrasive and impersonal. He thinks Lance ties his hair back into a French braid, strands of hair pulled taut but not tight, not painful.

When Lance pulls gently on his shoulder, kindly asking him up, is when Keith finally finds within himself the strength to open his eyes, to fall, to careen off that edge. Lance is looking at him so lovingly, eyes dark as packed Earth, and inside them Keith melts and crumbles and rises again.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hoarse and crackling.

Lance smiles until crinkles form at the corners of his eyes. He cups Keith’s face in his hand and presses the softest of kisses to his lips, unexpectant and open and inviting. He pulls away but doesn’t go far.

“Of course,” he says, and it doesn’t escape Keith’s notice that he says it instead of you’re welcome, instead of no problem; of course, I will hold your weight, of course, I will help you remove your armour, of course, I will wash you, cleanse you, caress and anoint you. Of course, of course, of course. I would consider no other options. “I love you.”

You are not the first to love me, Keith thinks, impossibly, as he crawls into the sheets Lance has turned over for him, curls into him as Lance flicks off their lamp, tucks their sheets around them. He thinks of fathers and brothers and distant distant distant mothers, of teammates and father-uncle-figures and sisters and brothers, as Lance wraps his long arms around him, tucks his face into his neck. Keith thinks, No one has loved me like this.

“I love you too,” he says, pressing his lips to the hollow of Lance’s throat, and he thinks You are my centre of gravity. He thinks there is no weakness in the way he is loved. He thinks all he has left after being stripped to his soul is the strength Lance has wrapped around him.

He thinks he is so, so grateful, to love and be loved by Lance.

———

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