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hellothereobiwankenobi · 19 days ago

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yellow ribbon on the door | chapter three

⟢ summary: You are questioning the dynamic between you and Joel, when he suddenly shows up to the flower shop. Again.

⟢ pairing: joel miller x afab!reader (femme but not descriptive as to actual features)

⟢ wc: 2.7k

⟢ tags: no outbreak au, flower shop au, angst, idiots in love, small age gap ( joel is 35 and reader is 29 about to be 30), trauma related to the loss of a love one, operation desert storm mentioned, reader is a single mother to ellie, no beta reader we die like men

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Joel lets Tommy get him obscenely drunk that night. He had accepted the pounding headache he would have the following morning as his penance for how he had treated you. Every sharp look, every clipped response, everytime he had denied your kindness ran through his head like a movie. Joel had been cruel to you in an effort to disguise the emotions he had been trying to repress since your first meeting. The shame and anger he had for himself as he developed feelings for his younger brother’s girlfriend being projected onto you.

But if you weren’t really Tommy’s girlfriend… Joel was just a dick.

The two stay until closing and stumble down the two streets to the elder's house. By the time they enter the home, Sarah has been asleep for hours. Both brothers struggle up the stairs and separate into their respective bedrooms. Tommy in the guest room, and Joel in the master.

Joel tosses and turns until sunrise. Every time he closes his eyes, his tortured mind finally allowing him to find sleep, he sees snapshots of your brokenhearted expression from that morning. He screwed up, and he knew it.

Joel wakes with a start at a loud banging on his door.

“Alarm!” Sarah shouts through the thin barrier separating the bedroom from the hallway. Joel turns his head and sees the digital clock on his nightstand reads 6:30 AM. He slams a fist down on the snooze button, silencing the screeching alarm, and buries his face back into the pillows.

Joel can smell bacon sizzling on the stove as he eventually makes his way downstairs. He squints, trying to block out the golden morning light flooding in from the kitchen window.

Tommy alternates his attention between two frying pans before him, cheerfully pushing around bacon and eggs in each “Mornin’, sunshine.”

Joel can only grunt as he opens the cabinet housing his assorted collection of coffee mugs. His fingers wrap around the ceramic handle of a canary-colored one, and he brings it to rest on the counter. Joel fills his mug from the freshly brewed coffee pot. He can’t understand how Tommy could be so chipper after the night they had, and so few hours of sleep.

“You’re all outta pancake mix. Was lookin’ forward to havin’ a stack this morning.” Tommy takes three plates from the cabinet and sets them on the circular dining table opposite the kitchen.

“You can always sleep at your own place next time.” Joel glares at his brother half-heartedly, bringing the mug to his lips. He savors that first sip as if it could make everything from the last twenty-four hours better.

“And miss the look on that beautiful face first thing in the mornin’?” Tommy flashes Joel the same devious smile he’s had since they were boys, grabbing the frying pans and bringing them to the table. He places equal portions of bacon and eggs on each plate. “Nah, I’m fine right here.”

Joel didn’t have the energy to go back and forth with Tommy this morning. No amount of coffee could stop the hangover rattling his skull and the guilt pulling tight in his chest from draining all his energy. “What am I gonna do?”

Tommy knew he wasn’t referring to the hangover. He calls up the stairs to Sarah before turning back to the older man. “Don't know, big brother. But it sure is gonna be fun to watch.”

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

That following weekend, the smell of blueberry scones fills the air of your single-story, ranch-style home. You stand in your kitchen, hip leaning against the white tile countertop, drinking your third cup of coffee this morning. You had woken up before sunrise to prepare for today.

It is your turn to host the Gold Star Widows of Austin bimonthly brunch. Three quiches in wide glass baking dishes, a rectangular fruit platter, large serving trays stacked with pillowy crepes, crunchy bacon, scrambled eggs, pitchers of juice for the children, and sangria for the adults cover every horizontal surface in the kitchen.

In about an hour, the members of Austin's GSW chapter and more children than you can count would be packed, shoulder to shoulder, in your modest three-bedroom. You had helped the other spouses host in the past, but this was the first time you held your own. It quickly spiraled into more work than you had anticipated. Thankfully, you have backup of your own.

After you had learned your husband had been killed in action, the Army provided you with several resources to help you transition through the mourning process. One of these resources was a local support group for grieving widows of U.S. servicemen and women. Daniella Harris had been the first friend you made while attending meetings.

Dani had a natural sense of confidence—the kind you had to be born with. She was unapologetically herself. You admired her straightforwardness, honesty, and lack of fear for speaking her mind. Despite all the darkness losing the love of your life brings, she never let it consume her.

Dani watches your hands as you bring the coffee mug to your lips.

"Heaven above, how long has it been since you had a fill?" Of course, she noticed the sizable gap between your acrylic nails and cuticles.

Dani had been working as a nail technician since she was in high school. While her husband was on his first deployment in Iran, she had opened a small home studio in her spare bedroom. Over many months, she gained a small following in the Austin area. "I'm puttin’ you on my books for next week. Sure I got an openin’ somewhere."

"I'm working every day at the shop. Wedding season is almost over, and I need to squeeze in as many orders before things slow down in the Fall." You curl your fingers and stare down at your nails. "Even if I did have some time off, I don't have anyone to watch Ellie."

Dani grabs one of the large serving dishes from the counter with both hands and carries it to the dining room. She calls over her shoulder, "What about that handsome handyman you been seein’?"

"Dani, don't be gross. You know me and Tommy are just friends." You scrunch up your nose and set down your coffee mug. Grabbing a tray, you follow after her. "And last time he watched Ellie, she came home with a new favorite four-lettered word."

Tommy had come back into your life after your husband's funeral. The two men had lost touch over the years, but you had heard countless stories about the bond they formed in Kuwait. You felt it was only right to invite him to the memorial service.

"Oh, not him." She shakes her head, flashing a teasing smile. "The other handsome handyman in your life."

You realize she's referring to Joel. You could count on one hand how many times you had brought him up in conversation. The most you had told Dani about him was that he's Tommy's brother, he is a single father of a teenage daughter, and he acts as though being in the same room as you causes him physical pain.

That is, until about a month ago. After putting Ellie to bed, the two of you were sitting on your couch enjoying one too many glasses of sweet red wine. In your alcohol-induced haze, you had confessed to suppressing a primal urge to rip Joel's clothes off and fuck him until neither of you could walk straight the following day.

"Oh, the asshole." You were failing to hold back a sneer. The memory of your last interaction flashes in your mind. You had mistakenly thought Joel was finally warming up to you. Instead, he left you standing on the curb in front of your flower shop, feeling like a fool.

When Tommy had first told you about his brother, you were excited to meet him. He had explained Joel was on the quiet side, which some people can find a bit off-putting. Behind the stoic facade, he was a big softie. He was protective, dependable, and had a type of southern charm only men from Texas had. You had hoped to befriend him as he understood what it is like to raise a daughter alone. The way Tommy spoke about his brother made him seem like a kind man who was trying his best. The image you had made of Joel in your mind was nothing like the man you met.

"Still that bad?" She offers you a sympathetic look.

"I just don't understand him." Crossing your arms over your chest, you let out a long sigh. "He refused to even look at me at his daughter's birthday party but shows up two days later to fix something in the shop. Then, as soon as he's done, he acts like he can't leave fast enough."

The corner of Dani's mouth curl upward "Sounding like a hate fuck waitin’ to happen."

"Trust me, there is no chance." You immediately shut the thought down. "Not with him."

A twisted pang of guilt hits you dead center in the chest. "Not with anyone. Not yet, at least."

Dani closes the gap between you and gently squeezes your upper arm. "You're allowed to be happy. Movin’ forward with your life don’t mean you love him any less."

Dani understood the mix of complex emotions you were experiencing better than anyone else. She had lost her own husband, Staff Sergeant Kenneth Harris, in 2001.

Whenever you thought you were ready to start dating again, a wild vine of shame would wrap around your heart and squeeze. Why do you get a second chance at love when your husband would never have the same opportunity? You don't believe you deserve the happiness moving on would give you. You told yourself you certainly don't deserve all the compassion the other widows have shown you.

Not after what you did.

Tears well up along your waterline, threatening to spill onto your cheeks. Dani pulls you in for a warm hug, stroking your back. You wrap the gesture and force the nausea-inducing guilt that plagued you to the back of your mind. The two of you stay like this for a long moment.

The timer on the stove announces that the scones are ready to leave the oven.

"I'll grab them." Dani pulls away first. "Go clean yourself up. You know how us Texans are about lookin’ presentable."

Entering the master bedroom, you see your reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. You are quite the sight. A streak of flour runs across your cheek, and your eyes are red and puffy. You splash cold water on your face, washing away any evidence of your labors, and calming the crimson encircling your eyes.

Taking a deep, centering breath, you reach for your teak wood jewelry box. Pulling the lid back, your eyes focus on what you are searching for: a modest, single-diamond engagement ring and matching yellow gold band. You pull the set out and slide them on your left ring finger. Even when your husband was alive, you rarely wore them. When asked, you would explain you were afraid to lose them in the garden or drop them down the drain while doing dishes. You always believe love shouldn't be proven by wearing jewelry but by your actions toward those you care for. You only wear them now around the other widows, who all still wear their own.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

The replacement copper pipe for your A/C unit arrives Wednesday evening of the following week. On Thursday morning, Joel is stepping into your shop, carrying his navy tool bag. You're helping a young couple, allowing them to mix and match different peony colors for the centerpieces of their wedding reception.

The silver bell above the door chimes, bringing your attention to the entrance. Your friendly smile falters momentarily when you see it is Joel. Your expression returns to normal as you turn back to the couple. "I'll be right back. If you'd like, you can look at the vase options in here." You lay your hand on a white three-ring binder next to the register.

Walking over to where Joel is standing, you offer him a stilted "Good morning."

You're wearing the same floral sundress from Sarah's party paired with your sunshine yellow apron.

"The part came in." Joel holds up the hand holding the little copper pipe as though showing it to you was enough to explain his reasoning for being here.

"Uh huh," You nod your head slowly. That still didn't explain why it's Joel who's here. Your last exchange made it pretty clear to you that he had no interest in coming back.

"Can I—" he gestures to the door separating the storage room from the main storefront.

Stepping to the side, you allow him to move past you and enter the backroom. Joel grabs the handle of the walk-in cooler and gives it a good tug. Nothing happens. He pulls again, and still nothing. He tries for a third time, and the latch finally clicks open.

As he enters the cooler, a panicked thought enters his mind. What would happen if you were here alone and the door accidentally closed behind you? What if you can't get the door open? You’re trapped inside, at the mercy of a faulty door handle. No one would know you were back here. The linen sundresses you are so fond of are fit for the Texas sun, not a 35-degree refrigerator. He sees flashes of you running your hands up and down your bare upper arms, desperately trying to stay warm as hypothermia slowly sets in.

He couldn't have that.

Joel sets down his tools and returns to his truck to retrieve his ladder. He flips the shut-off switch on the cooler's outer wall and gets to work.

It only takes Joel a few minutes to install the new coolant pipe and restart the A/C unit. After he is satisfied with his work on the walk-in, he turns his attention to the faulty handle. He's able to disassemble it and find the issue. A tiny metal spring housed in the locking mechanism is bent to an awkward angle. Pulling his smallest pair of needle nose pliers, he meticulously bends the spring back into place before reassembling the handle.

When Joel returns from the backroom, the young couple has left, leaving the two of you alone.

"All done?" You don't bring your eyes to meet him as you dust around a shelf of leafy house plants.

"Yeah." Joel nods his head once, "All done."

In the past, on the rare instances Joel decides to grant you a word, he would stare disinterestedly at something across the room. But this time, he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. Now, it’s you refusing to meet his gaze. A painful ache grows in his chest as he mentally begs you for just one look.

A long silence hangs between the two of you. It's him that breaks it.

"That coffee shop still there?" He has to stop himself from recoiling at his own question. That was probably the dumbest thing he had ever asked. Of course, it was still there. It's not as though they had packed up and moved in the past ten days.

"Could use a cup right 'bout now." Joel adds, "My treat."

Your surprise at the offer finally breaks your gaze from the task before you and to Joel. Your eyes search his face for any reason why he would say that. All you found was a look of tortured sincerity in his brown eyes.

You have to look away. The feeling manifesting in your chest at that sight was threatening to overwhelm you. Crossing your arms over your chest, trying to find comfort, you tell him, "Maybe another time. I have a lot of orders to prepare for this afternoon."

"Oh," He breathes. He isn't sure what he was expecting your answer to be, but it wasn't this.

Remorse claws painfully at your ribcage. He was finally trying to be civil, but all you could think of was the memory of his tail lights leaving you alone on the street. "Is there anything?"

"No, ma'am." Joel gives you a polite nod of his head before exiting the store.

You take a moment to catch your breath. You decide it's best not to dwell on whatever just happened between the two of you. Entering the backroom, intending to get back to work. Pulling on the walk-in cooler's handle, the door opens on the first try.

Oh.

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⟢ authors notes: I know I say this every time, but I want to give a big thank you to everyone who has read and interacted with the story so far. I can't overstate how much each reblog, like, and comment means to me.

I originally wasn't going to write the first Joel/Tommy scene, but I felt the chapter needed something else. Also, with Reader going through it, I figured we could all use a silly little scene our two favorite brothers. I felt so bad for breaking Joel's heart like that. He's a sweet little puppy, but he needs to put the work in to win over out dear Reader.

I have a number of future scenes written, including the first to smutty scene. I am just adding the in between parts. I am also cooking up an unrelated Old Man! Joel one-shot, but YRotD is my main priority.

Lastly, I have had a couple lovely users who requested to be tagged as the story updates. If you would like to be add to the tag list, please comment or inbox me.

⟢ tag list: @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @damneddamsy @legoemma

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fandom #ppcu fics #ppcu #yrotd

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madamechrissy · 9 months ago

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Take me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is 28-29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. (Fingering, vibrators, cunnilingus, car blow jobs and endless sexual tension in this chap)

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 8.6k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name. Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right?

That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right? - Lawyer AU (If you wanna be tagged in updates let me know 💓)

<<<Chapter 4 - Masterlist - Chapter 6>>>

Chapter 5

“Aw, these panties match my eyes!” Gojo grins deviously, sliding your little lacy thong down your thighs, you’re bright red now, legs a trembling mess. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Hush, crazy.” You mumble, and he blinks up at you with those long white lashes, pouting cutely. You sigh, rolling your eyes. “They’re not the same blue, there’s nothing as blue as your eyes.”

Shit, you said that huh?

He pauses, exhaling, his breath tickling a bare thigh, making you fidget even more. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a match.” He kisses your thigh then, sweetly, as if he wasn’t about to put a damn vibrator on you. “Too pretty.” You lean back, resting your back against his desk then.

“Thank you, shnookums.” You giggle at him, but his kisses on your leg have you dripping, embarrassingly fast. “Love these fucking legs.”

“I’m short though.” He smirks up at you, charming as he gets the little vibrator out now, along with some little magnet, you have no clue how this thing works, and no clue why you’re down for such a dumb idea.

“Legs don’t have to be long to be sexy. I’ve got enough legs for the both of us, don’t worry.” He shoots you a wink, and you’re bright pink now. “Their shape makes them sexy. Like you could really squeeze my head between them.”

“Toru!”

“Mmm, and they squish here.” He squishes the inner parts of your thighs now, sighing happily. “I wanna just lay my head on em.”

“And here I thought you were an ass man. Or tits.” He laughs at that, slowly sliding your panties back up your legs.

“I love all of your body. Even though, still haven’t seen those tits.”

“What if the hype is too much?” He rolls his pretty blue eyes, then stands up, pulling your panties up with a big tug, you gasp as the cool silicon is pressed right against you, pushing between your lips.

“Nah, I believe in them.” He kisses right above your chest, where the barest hint of your tits were. “How’s it feel?”

“Weird.” You wiggle a bit, not really enjoying it, then he’s wiggling his tiny little remote with a huge grin. “Oh god… Toru…”

“Okay, let’s mess with these settings. Hmm.” He peeks down at the remote, then hits a button, and you feel it start buzzing, vibrating your clit, you whine out, covering your mouth and leaning back further.

“Mmm!” You look at him with wide, embarrassed eyes, and he’s got his lips parted, pink on those high cheekbones, his pupils dilated. Dark, lustful and hungry, licking his lower lip as he watches you.

“ Fuck , that’s so sexy.” He murmurs, just watching you, not touching at all, one hand sliding through his hair as the other clutches the remote.

“It’s a lot. Mmm.” You struggle to stand, clutching his desk now with white knuckles.

“This is the low setting, baby girl.”

“What?!”

He laughs a bit, teeth flashing white, then he pushes a little button, and you’re huffing, struggling not to scream out, as it’s steadily hitting your little clit, shooting desire through you. “Setting number two.”

“ Satoru ! Ah!” You nearly fall, clinging to his jacket, and he’s moaning, watching your face intently, as your brow scrunches, as your mouth hangs stupidly open, as you arch your back.

“Fuck, you’re pretty .” His seductive voice makes it all worse, his pretty blue eyes gazing on you like that, his lips so close.

“Gonna cum… t’much.” You whisper, and he moans, that sound hitting you harder than the vibrator, as it washes over you. He runs his hands down your shirt, popping the buttons then, opening your blouse and standing back, looking at you with hunger.

“Matching blue bra. Fuck… barely holds these tits.” He groans out the words, stepping back and watching you more intently. “On my desk like this? Fuck.”

He pushes a button again, and you can’t stop the moan that comes out, as you feel it getting higher and higher, as he sits down in his office chair, pushing your thighs apart and sitting you on the desk. You gasp as it’s pressed against you more sitting, way too intense, body overheating while it pulses against you.

“T-Toru…” He is just watching you, barely brushing his fingers down your thighs, just his fingertips in the lightest touch, and it sends shivers.

“Don’t cum yet, baby. Not yet.” You struggle to breathe, chest heaving, falling back and leaning your hands back on the desk so you don’t fall, and he’s gripping your thighs tight now, groaning.

“Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. You’re so sexy.” He’s making it worse, every time he talks, every time he exhales you want to cum.

You feel tears in the back of your eyes, as you start heating up, yanking off your blazer, with trembling hands. He hisses, watching you strip down. “Toru, I can’t hold it in, I can’t.”

You’re whining, and he’s smiling more now, pushing a button again, and now it was pulsing on your clit, in some stupid rythym that made everything worse. “We’re on setting four baby.”

“Please…” You just whimper those words, head lolling back, and he’s got his hands on the lace of your bra, shoving it down, whispering your name.

“Baby…” He pulls your tits out, they bounce out of the too small bra, and his big hands cover them, squishing them in his palms. “Fuck they’re so pretty.”

He’s bent down, kissing them, as you’re rocking your hips, rolling against the vibrations, sending shocks through your body, until it’s all humming. You’re soaking the little toy, down your panties, down your thighs, as you start to lose focus, you don’t even know where the fuck you are for a minute.

Satoru’s pretty silky white hair falls softly against your skin as he kisses around an areola, before swirling his talented long tongue around it, sucking it into his mouth, and you can’t hold in your scream. He pauses, looking up at you with drunk eyes and glossy lips, putting two fingers to your lips, shaking his head. You gulp, chest heaving with your labored breaths.

“Hush baby, gotta be quiet. Let me give your other pretty titty attention, hmm? She’s angry at me.” You manage a laugh, through tears, through the pressure on your clit making you slippery and nearly blacking out.

“Like… em… Toru?” You can’t form coherent words. He looks up at you, as he bends his head, sucking the other pretty peak into his mouth and you can’t take it, you feel like you’re going to fucking die.

“Like? No. Love . Perfect bouncy tits. Pretty little nipples. Mmm .” He sucks on it again, pulling back with a loud pop, and you’re just crying, pathetic. “You cryin again baby?”

You just nod, wiggling, and he grins then. “Sadistic… little… lemme cum, please, please, please.” Satoru smirks, teasing your bare nipples with his long fingers.

“Poor baby girl, can’t cum, aww!” He pouts, and you wanna bitch, complain, but your eyes are rolling back in pleasure. “Ah-ah. Don’t cum yet.”

“Too late! Fucking can’t stop…”

Knock Knock Knock.

You gasp, jumping up and nearly falling, and Satoru chuckles a bit, buttoning you up quickly. “Shh, it’ll be fine. This will be good practice.”

You see the insane look in those eyes, and you shake your head. “Oh no… no Satoru-”

“Ya busy, Satoru?” It’s professor Geto. As soon as you hear his voice you’re more of a blushing mess, and Gojo is grinning so evilly you’re terrified.

“Nah, one sec Sugu.” He puts your blazer on, shit eating grin not leaving his pretty damn face. He fixes your hair a bit then winks.

“No, you can’t! I…”

“You got this. Just play it cool. Under pressure.” He kisses your lips with a little pop, then he opens the door, and Suguru comes in, smiling at you a bit, then looking at Satoru, narrowing his chocolate eyes.

“Huh.” He shuts and locks the door, crossing his arms and looking to Gojo, who just chuckles. “What are you up to, Satoru?”

“Me? Nothing.” He’s got his hand behind him, whistling and looking up. Suguru’s eyes go to you now, taking in your red cheeks, before sliding down your body, then back to Satoru, who’s acting stupidly nonchalant.

“Uh huh. Sure believe that.” He says your name, and you struggle to respond, as those vibrations are still pulsing on your pussy, a pussy that’s been trying not to have an orgasm.

“Y-yes, Professor… Geto?” You bite out the words, soft and whispery, and Satoru snorts in laughter, making you glare at him.

Geto walks towards you, tall and handsome, hair half up, the rest flowing down his broad shoulders, dressed in a white business shirt that… fuck, Geto looks hot, and it’s making it worse . And Gojo is watching you, grinning wide, wiggling his damn brows, so pretty you wanna smack him and fuck him. At once.

Geto touches your forehead, and you almost sob, gritting your teeth as Gojo turns it up more.

“You feeling okay, love? Satoru fucking with you?” He puts the back of his hand on your cheek now, and you whine out then. “Are you okay? You're all flushed.”

You can’t look at him, you can’t handle anything. You wanna cum so bad, and Gojo comes up too, wrapping an arm around Geto’s shoulder, looking at you with that knowing smirk as he watches you nearly die. You struggle to get a little bit of a breath, and then it comes out as a whimper. You slam your mouth shut.

“Satoru, what are you up to? Look at her, she can’t even talk.” Suguru shoves Gojo’s arm off, and Gojo just laughs, hand behind his back, he pushes it up, the higher vibrations killing you. You nearly fall over, clutching your tummy.

Suguru catches you, and you can’t, you can’t, his strong arm is around your waist, and then Gojo comes to hug you on the other side, putting you between the two of the tall handsome men. Gojo almost pushes you towards Suguru, chuckling deviously, and Geto looks on with growing concern.

“Should I take you to the nurse, love?” He asks you, and Gojo snorts.

“I… no… Professor… I am… mmnh!” Your legs give out, and goddamn if you’re not cumming, and cumming as your two professors hold you. Suguru pauses, grip tightening, and Gojo’s grinning, until Suguru scowls at him.

“You little shit, turn it off.” He orders Gojo, who pouts, as your cunt throbs around nothing, and you can’t even barely see, just glittery stars. Now it won’t stop and you’re crazy, stupid sensitive, and you struggle not to make noise, shoving your hands on your mouth then.

“Oh fine, it was an important exercise you know.” He takes the remote, but it just goes even higher, and you scream into your hands, unable to stand anymore, your knees give out so that Geto has to hold you as Satoru glares at the remote.

“I said, turn it off. She can’t even stand.” Suguru orders him, and you’re clutching to his arm, so embarrassed you wanna fall in a hole and die.

“I’m s’sorrry… Sugu… Profess…sorry!” You’re whining and Suguru clears his throat, looking down at you, and you see his face blushing.

“Not your fault. Satoru!”

“It’s not turning off! I don’t know!” He’s frantically pushing all the buttons, as you’re cumming again, this time it hurts, you clutch your thighs together. Satoru looks at you, licking his lips. “Fuck you’re hot.”

“Satoru!” You whine it out, Geto yells it out, and Gojo waves his arms.

“Oh fine, fine! I can’t figure it out, shit. Ohmygod, I think it's broken!? Or like malfunctioning!”

“Mmm make it stop… ” You’re burying your face against Suguru’s big shoulder.

“I’m getting jealous, Miss Brat. Shit… hmm…”

“For Christ's sake… she’s gonna faint. Just… get them off her.” Satoru jumps up then, and bends down, pulling the vibrator off, but it’s stuck with the magnet, and it won’t come out, making his fingers brush against your soaking wet pussy. He pulls back for a minute, grinning wide.

“Supersoaker-”

“Satoru!” You both yell again, and he sighs.

“No fun, either of you. Okay we gotta just…” He pulls your panties off with a tear, gasping then. “Shit, my bad. I'll replace them. There, though, all done!”

He’s got the vibrator in his hand, still buzzing like nuts, and you notice in absolute horror that every inch of it is soaked, dripping on Gojo’s sleeves even. You cover your face, backing away, but you still can’t stand, and Geto has to catch you, averting his eyes from the toy and looking at the ceiling.

“I am so sorry… oh my god…” You try to back away again but he doesn’t let you, hand firm on your back.

“Get steady first, love.” You exhale, and Gojo is smacking at the vibrator, which will not turn off, and soon, Suguru is snorting in laughter, making you wanna die again. “So sorry… shouldn't laugh… sorry…”

Gojo keeps smacking at it, as Suguru struggles to hold in his laughter, shaking with it. “Shit, a button! Got it.” Satoru pushes some tiny button, and it finally goes off, stopping the loud humming, and then he’s laughing too.

“I wanna die.” You grumble, backing off until your back hits the wall, sliding down it into a sad sitting position, keeping your legs closed as much as you can.

“Satoru you’re such a fucking idiot.” Geto is nearly crying, he's laughing so hard, and Satoru looks at you then, struggling to speak through his laughs.

“You okay baby?” You shake your head, groaning, covering your face. “It’s okay, Suguru’s seen much worse.”

“Make sure she’s okay, asshole.” Suguru shoves Satoru, and he’s on the floor with you then, putting his arm around you and tilting your chin up.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t know that would happen.” You exhale, shaky, and though you’re embarrassed… you came a lot. And you feel…

Fucking amazing.

“Are you smiling?” You couldn’t stop it, you start laughing too, and then you all are, as Geto sits on Gojo’s desk, watching you two.

“Could you all keep this to like… Satoru’s house or something? Not in school, as entertaining as this was.” He winks down at you and you bury your face in Gojo’s shoulder now.

“We haven’t gone that far yet.” You mumble, and Suguru pauses.

“No… fucking?” Satoru shrugs, shaking his head. “Really?!”

“Is it so shocking!” Satoru glares up at Suguru. “You callin me a slut, Sugu?”

“Sure the hell am. Listen… you don’t need to fuck her life up, so no more antics, got it?” Satoru pouts now, dejected.

“Yes, fine Dad .” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. Satoru helps you up, and you can’t meet Suguru’s eyes, just staring down at his black tie.

“Are you all right, love?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, and you can’t face him at all, just nodding. “Satoru, you’re such an idiot. I… huh. Nice bracelet.”

“It’s from Satoru.” You manage words now, exhaling, and Suguru takes your wrist fingering the charm, then looking at Suguru, seeing him looking between Satoru and you curiously.

“That’s oddly sweet.”

“When am I not sweet, baby boy?” Satoru blows Suguru a kiss, and he chuckles, rolling his eyes and letting go of your hand.

“Be careful, and don’t be stupid.” He smacks Satoru on the back of the head. “You clearly care for her, so… have some care.”

Satoru sighs, lips turned down now, and he nods. “I didn’t know they made vibrators wrong!”

“No more vibrators at school. All right you two… like… don’t fuck in here and just seperate for a bit. Mmkay?” You nod, and Gojo grimaces, holding you close.

“Sorry…” You begin, but he holds a hand up.

“Don’t apologize. Also…” He turns, as he goes to open the door, hand on the knob, looking down at you a little bit, making you heat up. “You’re right, Satoru.”

“I’m always right. Wait… right about what?” He asks, and Suguru smirks, way too charmingly, right at you.

“She does have really nice legs.” With that, Professor Suguru Geto walks out, and you’re left with your mouth open, and Satoru giggling like a psycho.

“See, it’s a unanimous opinion! Aww, you’re blushing. You think he’s hot!”

“Shut up!” You shove at him, but he just holds you, smirking, looking way too attractive.

“I’m prettier yeah? Don’t make me jealous now.” He’s brushing your hair back, before leaning down and kissing you, softly.

“You’re both pretty. But… no one is more attractive to me than-” You pause, about to pour your soul out to this idiot. You gulp, as he leans back a bit, studying you, more serious now.

“No one is more attractive to me than you, either, Miss Brat.” He murmurs softly, and then he’s kissing you once more, so easy to fall into, your mouth melds against his, as he picks you up in his arms.

“No one?” He shakes his head, pretty blown out eyes boring into your own. “Same for me, Toru.”

“Mmm… taste so sweet.” He whispers, then he’s kissing down your jawline, down the side of your neck. “Want me to make this up to you?”

“You better, ‘Toru, that was so embarrassing. Also… you told him I have nice legs?”

“Of course I did. I kinda got lit and bragged about you.” You can’t stop the smile that forms on your lips, the stupid flip your tummy does. “You’re so red, you need to cool off a bit.”

“I know, I know. Kinda got traumatized.” He blows on you, puffing your hair back, you sigh, shutting your eyes. “Maybe a fan?”

“Let me turn it on.” Soon he has you in front of the little desk fan, and you exhale, trying to get yourself calmed down some. “So… making it up to you.”

You peek at him curiously. “What's your idea?”

“Two parts. First part, let me kiss her and apologize.” He spreads your thighs and you tense, stomach sucking in as he pecks little kisses up your bare legs.

“Toru… you don't…”

“Shh. Just kisses. Don't want her mad at me.” Satoru’s soft lips slide up your thighs, as he gets down on his knees, until he’s at level with your aching lips, all sticky from the unfortunate vibrator incident. You hiss as his breath hits it, twitching and jerking.

“Hurts, ugh.” You blink back tears as you’re stupidly overstimulated, and he looks up at you, reminding you of that night, months ago. You gently brush back his soft white locks, sighing at how beautiful he is, with his full lips just slightly open.

“Can I kiss her?” His voice is sweet, husky, and you just manage a nod, then when his mouth is on you? After so long?

Fuck.

You have to slam a hand over your mouth when he just kisses it, just his lips alone send you over the edge, ridiculously. His big hands are gripping you so tight, bruising in their grip, as his breathing is heavy against you. He kisses it again, just above where the hood of your clit is, and you’re gushing again, causing him to moan as he watches.

It’s silent in Professor Gojo’s office, just him inhaling you, kissing one of the lips of your sex, then the other, then back to the mound right above. You grip his shoulders for stability, and the way he looks at it, so hungry, makes you throb, painfully this time, aching so bad for him.

“Does she need more kisses to forgive me?” He whispers, eyes shooting up to yours, so blue it’s hard to look at.

“She forgives you. But… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t- ngh!” He slides his tongue, all the way up your slit, lapping up the juices that were pouring out of your tight hole, and you have to grit your teeth not to scream. “Toru…”

“Fuck I missed you.” He’s talking to your pussy now, you realize, and you breathlessly giggle, as he kisses it again, flicking that talented tongue around your clit in a torturous circle. “Did you miss my kisses?”

“She did.” He moans again, yanking you by your thighs, pushing them apart, when the phone starts going off. He curses.

“Fucking work.” He grumbles, and you back off a bit, sliding your skirt down, but he glares. “Not done yet, baby. We were talking.”

You can’t help the giggle, then the moan as he kisses your clit once more, spreading your lips wide, revealing your sensitive clit to the air, to his eyes. “Toru… please…”

That’s all it takes.

He flicks his tongue quickly, back and forth, on your clit, his moans vibrating against you, shoving his face against your cunt until he’s sucking that clit in his mouth, until you’re about to cum so hard, you can’t even breathe. You’re gripping to him for dear life as he devours you, moans edging you further, until you…

“Gonna cum, s’good… Toru…” You’re whispering, and he eases up for just a moment, looking at you, smirking that handsome smirk of his.

“Miss my tongue baby?” You nod, eagerly, and he licks you again, all while looking up at you, fucking your brain completely. “Cum on my mouth then, please baby, let me taste you.”

“You’re too hot, fuck.” He chuckles, then he’s back down there, humming on your clit until you fall apart, as the alarm goes off again, Gojo smacks at it, and you’re gushing cum all over his perfect face, as pleasure hits harder than a vibrator ever could, than anything could. He laps it up, drinking you, sounds obscene. “Toru! Toru…”

“God I could do this forever.” He finishes cleaning you up, kissing your clit one more time with a loud smack, then easing your skirt down, watching the trembling mess you’d become. “Those eyes…”

“You’re too good at it.” He is leaning down and kissing you, and you taste yourself, licking it off his lips greedily, reaching down and rubbing him, where he’s rock hard against his slacks. He hisses, grabbing your wrist. “Wanna return it, Toru.”

“I’ll get nowhere if you start that.” He sounds strangled as he bites out the words, and you sigh, letting him kiss you again, letting him hug you.

“Can’t just taste him for a minute?”

“Aren’t you being a slutty little brat.” You giggle at it, as he kisses you again and again. “I like it.”

“Not even the tip huh?” He snorts, shaking his head, gently cupping your face with his hands.

“I’m so sorry I laughed so hard, it was…” You sigh, just wanting to stay in his arms, to the point you feel…

Too much.

“It was so much cum though, baby.” You giggle then, joining him, covering your face, but he yanks your hands down. “So pink and cute!”

“Hush. I’ll never be able to look Professor Geto in the eyes again!” He snorts at that now, backing off with one more kiss, then starting to gather his things.

“He’s cool about shit like that, don’t worry. We’ve shared enough girls back in our frat boy days.” You blink a bit, flushing at the thought of how experienced he must be, and how… “Too freaky for you, Miss Brat?”

“No, I don’t judge anything. Shared a lot of women though?”

“Mmhmm, I was a slut, he wasn’t lying.” He grabs his briefcase now and slings his laptop bag over his shoulder.

“That’s why you’re so good at… that, huh?” He grins, coming and tilting your chin up, with two long fingers.

“Honestly, yeah I love to do it. But, guess what?” He’s whispering against your lips now, and you tremble.

“What?”

“Yours is the yummiest. Guess it’s why I couldn’t get it out of my head.” You ache for him, not just your body… your being aches for him.

Fuck.

“But I wouldn’t share you.”

“No? Why?” His lips tense a bit, as he brushes your hair back, studying you so carefully.

“Just would wanna keep you to myself.” Your eyes lock, and you would drop on your knees and suck him off then and there, bend over his damn desk, you’d do anything for him, for that look he gives, for those words. “You thought about it, when you were cumming with us holding you.”

“No! Not even…”

“Such a bad liar.” He kisses your forehead, and your eyes flutter shut. “I’m going out of town this weekend for work. You wanna come?”

“What!? I… huh? Like another case?”

“It’s a little divorce case for a friend, nothing big. But… we could actually go out together, and not worry who sees.”

“You’d wanna do that?”

He sighs, caressing your face gently. “Fuck yeah I would. Plus I promised to make this up to you, supersoaker.”

“Toru!” He just grins, and you gather your things now too, cheeks heated up. “I’ll never live it down.”

“Honestly, Sugu probably thought it was hot. And hilarious.”

“Oh God… you didn’t tell Nanami you liked my legs too, did you?”

“Fuck yeah I did. He just shook his head and sighed, then called me an idiot. But I know he’d agree.”

“You need to keep those thoughts more… hush.” You clutch your books against your chest now, mortified further.

“Shouldn’t have to, but yeah, I know. Nanami and Sugu though? They’re fine. They knew I ate you out at the bar anyway, I bragged.”

“You did!?” He smirks, opening the door, peeking out, then inclines his head for you to follow. You all walk through the halls, and a big part of you aches to hold his hand, so you clutch your books tighter.

“Course I did.” He whips out his phone, sighing. “Gotta go do work, adult things, yuck. You laughing at me?” You just nod, grinning. “You coming this weekend or not, Miss Brat?”

“I… yeah. I’ll come. Not sure I can help?”

“Don’t need help, just wanna spend… time… ugh. Don’t make me say it.” You roll your eyes.

“Time with me?”

“Yeah, that. Stop looking so pleased.”

“Hard not to after all that.”

He snorts in laughter, then it’s time to part ways, and you both look at each other for a moment, wishing you could kiss him, hug him, but you remember where you are. “What’s your next class?”

“Fuck! It’s Geto.” Gojo dies laughing, waving at you and running off, and you trudge miserably to the class, and when Geto sees you, he shoots you a wink and a smirk, and you for the fourth time today want to fall in a hole.

It was gonna be a long class.

***

“You good, girlie?” Yuta comes up to you as Geto’s class ends, and you manage a little nod. “You’re all flushed, you sick?”

“No, no. I’m just… I had a lot of sun yesterday.”

“Use sunblock, silly!” He ruffles your hair. “We’ll see you this Friday right?”

“Oh, I’m going out of town for the weekend. Um… visiting a friend. Can we do lunch Friday instead?”

“Sure, I’ll tell Maki.” He whips out a phone, and then waves at you, as the room clears, and you have to walk past Geto.

After you just came while holding his arm.

Shit.

You cling to your books, biting your lower lip as you walk down the stairs, and Geto is in his chair, looking at papers. You don’t even look at him, don’t even say good bye, just sneaking to the door, when he clears his throat. You look back, as he’s leaning in his chair, grinning, then you grimace.

“Come here, love.” You sigh, walking over to him, as he’s leaned back, steepling his fingers on his chest.

“I’m so sorry, really. It’s unacceptable, I know!”

“Stop apologizing, you’re young and Satoru is a devious little shit. I wanted to make sure you don’t feel weird now.”

“Me feel weird? But I…” You lean forward, whispering to a very amused Professor Geto. “I held your arm and fucking came .”

“Yeah you did.” You cover your face with your books as he’s chuckling. “Satoru is my best friend in the world. He is clearly into you, alot.”

You peek out. “You think so?”

“That’s pretty clear. But, he doesn’t think straight when it comes to his feelings. So I’ll leave it to you to keep him in check. I can only do so much with him.” You exhale, looking at Suguru’s serious gaze for a moment.

“It’s hard to think straight for me too, though. He… does things to my brain, and I become stupid.” He smirks at that a bit, coming to stand now, leaning a hip on the edge of his desk.

“Satoru hasn’t gotten like this over a girl before. As precarious and… dangerous as this relationship could get, I can’t ignore how happy he is just talking about you.” You feel that flutter again.

“It’s hard to believe that.”

“Yeah, he talks a lot of shit. But he’s just a big baby. So would hate to see either of you hurt. Just… keep it together, at least until you’re out of the classes.”

“He invited me… to an out of town thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you all can fuck and get that pent up energy out.” You flush again, shoving at him, and he laughs. “Sorry, love, but you seem… worked up.”

“I’ll never live it down!”

“Maybe it’ll be an engagement party story.”

“You go way too far. I mean clearly attraction but… we don’t know each other just yet you know.”

“You would totally marry him, huh?”

“Shh. You’re just as bad as him, you know, you just act calmer!” He puts a finger to his lips.

“Keep that to yourself.”

“Please forget that… please!”

“There’s no way. I’m sorry. But I won’t bring it up.” You exhale.

“That’s as good as I can get huh?”

“Won’t bring it up to you.”

“Hey!” He pats your head then, sitting back down. “I see why you two are best friends.”

“Hey now, that’s close to an insult. I’m gonna grade your paper low as fuck.”

“Professor!”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Go on now, legs.”

“Oh god!” You glare at him, but break into your own laughter, then sigh, turning away. “Hey Geto?”

“You can call me Suguru, we’re so close now.” He winks, and you feel so flustered but in a way? Happy. Satoru likes you. You have no clue how or what it means, but…

It makes you giddy.

Dumb.

“Thank you for the talk, Suguru.”

“Of course, Legs.”

“Never mind!” You leave a laughing Suguru, and realize more and more how much he and Satoru are alike.

You peek at your phone, seeing Maki is calling. “Hey girl!”

“Hey, babe. You’re fucking hot professor this weekend huh?”

“Maki!” You hiss, sneaking into the bathroom, as if people could hear her over the phone. “I didn’t say that I was!”

“Yuta figured it out. Said you’re as red as a tomato.”

“Oh, god.” You lean over the sink then, taking in your still flushed cheeks, would they ever go back to normal!? “Maki… listen… we…”

“Oh shit, ya’ll fucked!”

“No, no. He… repeated that thing, y’know… the thing.”

“Oooh, lucky girl! Oh my god though at school? Y'all need a hotel or something.”

“That’s the thing.” You’re whispering like you’re a teenager sneaking a smoke, this whole thing was…

Thrilling, fuck.

“We will be in one. Maki, what do I do? I don’t…”

“We’re shopping this week then. Gonna have you looking so hot.”

“Yeah, that actually sounds so good. I need a girl day.”

“Got you, Yuta can stay home like a good boy.”

“Hey!”

You snort as you hear him in the background.

“Thank you, Maki, I know we’re having lunch Friday, wanna go shopping after then?”

“Sounds good babe, text me the details.”

“Love you!”

“Love you too!”

You tremble, and peek, seeing him.

Professor Dickhead: I’ll pick you up at like seven pm Friday, so we can settle in the hotel before I work. Is that good for you?

Your heart races, at the thought of you two finally alone. When you could barely even function when he’s near you in a crowded room, in a car in front of your dorm, but alone? It sounds so intimate.

You: Yes, that works, what all should I bring?

Professor Dickhead: Just you. I owe you panties now.

You: Yeah you do.

Professor Dickhead: Gonna be crotchless.

The thoughts of that? Ugh…

You: Satoru!

Professor Dickhead: What, it’ll be hot.

You: I’ve never worn those…

Professor Dickhead: You’re really cute, supersoaker.

You: Ugh! Geto called me Legs.

Professor Dickhead: See, they’re nice!

You snort at that.

You: I wanna die.

Professor Dickhead: Drama Queen.

You: Jerk.

Professor Dickhead: Need me to buy you a pretty dress?

You: No, I’m going shopping with Maki. Going anywhere fancy?

Professor Dickhead: I have a place there you’ll like. Mmkay, gotta go do adult professor things!

You: I think I’m more mature than you.

Professor Dickhead: Nah, you’re a little brat.

You: Bye, Professor Dickhead.

Gojo gives you a sad face.

You: What?

Another sad face.

You: Bye Toru.

He hearts that one.

Professor Dickhead: Bye, pretty.

You put your phone up, sighing, way too fucking happy. Your mind races for the weekend coming, images wild in your mind. Your experiences were… boring, missionary, and the guys… they were careful? So it could have been a lot worse. But it wasn’t good either. With Gojo you picture things will be so different.

But would you all… have sex? Were you ready?

Your pussy says yes. She’s said yes since you met him.

***

That Friday, thankfully you have no classes, you’d been swamped with studying all week, also you had just started your little off campus job, you only worked a few hours a day doing paralegal work, but that on top of everything was kicking your ass. You had barely seen Gojo whatsoever, aside from class with him, and he’d been so swamped all you all could do was sneak a kiss.

Maki and Yuta had lunch with you, and then Yuta sadly got kicked out, so Maki could take you up to the mall, and you all go into one of her favorite stores. You hadn’t been shopping in forever really, aside from buying professional things for school and work.

You follow her around the store now, looking at different outfits and sharing giggles, and you honestly were feeling more alive than you have in a long time, as tired as you were. Maki snatches up a gorgeous dress suddenly, dark emerald green and flowy, with a plunging neckline, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"This one!" She says with a knowing smile. "It screams 'fuck me'!”

“Maki!” She laughs at your expression.

“But also 'worship me’." She winks, and you exhale, running your fingers down the silky fabric.

“Let’s try it!”

You head to the dressing room to slip it on, and when you step out, you can't believe the reflection staring back at you. It hugs your curves in all the right places, the neckline dipping low enough to show your breasts enough to be tantalizing. Gojo certainly had never seen you in anything like this.

You spin around, watching the fabric swirl around your legs, checking out the back side, which also dipped low, nearly to the dimples on your lower back, the top had a little collar that dangled down with a long gold chain. The color makes your skin glow, your eyes just pop.

"It's perfect." You murmur to yourself, then you step out, and Maki’s fanning herself, pretending to faint. You giggle.

“Gorgeous, babe! Oh, I know my stuff."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. "You totally do. Thank you Maki.” You give her a kiss on the cheek. “Okay, I think we're done here, this is the one."

"No way," she says, grabbing your hand. "We're going to get some lingerie, baby girl.”

“Maki… isn’t that like too much?”

“Babe… he looks at you like he wants to eat you.” You cover your face in your hands, sighing in embarrassment. “Let’s look around this store!”

You all go the the fancy lingerie store, all covered in pinks, and Maki sets out to find lingerie sets, throwing you a couple to go try on. You also get measured, since your bras clearly were too small, and get a new every day bra. You pick up a pretty emerald set then, trying it on nervously.

The bra cups your breasts perfectly, making them even fuller, and the panties? Well, they're definitely going to be an interesting surprise for Satoru, they’re crotchless, as he so desired apparently. It comes with little garters and a little lacy waist piece that hits your waist, and you turn, realizing… Damn, you look hot.

You step out of the dressing room, and Maki's jaw drops. "Holy shit, you look amazing!" She squeals, making you blush even harder. "My wifey is so hot!”

You laugh at that. “I love you.”

A few hours later, Gojo texts you.

Satoru: (You changed it, okay!?) Dress comfy for the ride, it’s a few hours away and you’re always sleepy in my car.

You: Got it! I don’t know why… your car makes me so sleepy lol. I think I’m just… comfortable.

Shit, you said that?

Satoru: Good.

You nervously check yourself in the mirror one more time, the dress was clearly getting saved for when you all were going out, but that lingerie? It was right under your outfit, which was a white collared shirt, a black vest and a black pleated skirt. And honestly, it was comfy and stretchy, but also? Totally fucking with Gojo’s school girl fantasy.

You’d never let him know though.

You spent far too long hooking the garters up to the little thigh high tights, which Maki had picked out for you, and you nervously look at them, imagining Gojo’s hands on your thighs…

Fuck.

Satoru: I’m here, Miss Brat.

You: On my way down!

You grab your toiletries and put em in a little bag, then pass by some of your ties, and you giggle, popping one on real quick, they were pre tied and stretchy. It really was playing with fire, you knew Gojo would lose it. Then, you head out, locking up your dorm room.

When you’re downstairs he’s there, more casual than usual, with some dark blue slacks that look soft to the touch, and a loose button up, unbuttoned right at his chest, showing the shimmering skin of his. He’s leaning against his car, peeking at his phone, then he pauses, eyes meeting you.

You nervously stand there, as his eyes go up and down, gripping the phone so tight you thought it may break in his big hands. You casually step closer, brushing your hair behind your ear, smiling up at him. His blue gaze is softer in the dark light outside, as it’s evening, pinks and purples behind him, outlining his lithe frame.

“All ready, Professor Gojo.” You whisper, and he huffs, running a hand through his perfect hair.

“You’re… you’re…”

“Use your words, Satoru.”

He glares then, looking around, at the still bustling campus, and he manages to clear his throat then, opening the door, and you slide in, trying to ignore the way his eyes are devouring you before he shuts it behind you. When he’s in his seat now, the tension in the car is thick, the air heavy with anticipation.

“You look hot as fuck.” His voice is gruff, and you giggle, making him glare over at you. “You wore this on purpose.”

“Not at all, cute and comfy!”

“Shit liar, Miss Brat.”

As he starts to drive, you act nonchalant, but when his hand finds its way to your leg, and your heart skips a beat. He traces the seam of your skirt, and you bite your lip, trying to keep your cool, and then he hums, plucking gently at the fabric of the little black stockings.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“What, you like this outfit, Professor?”

“I should spank that ass when we get there. I have a ruler somewhere in this damn car.” You giggle, and he smirks at you, sighing. “You’re way too hot.”

“Says you.” Your hand grips his, brushing over his knuckles, and he practically purrs, making you smile as you all hit a redlight.

“These tights go up all the way?” He asks, curiously, his hand sliding up further, he feels your bare thighs, fingering the little straps of the garters. His eyes widen, and his grip tightens for a moment. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he says, his voice low and gruff.

You can feel the heat from his hand fucking with you, making you start to clench your thighs, rocking your hips nervously, and your cheeks flush. "Maki's idea." You murmur, trying to play it off.

"Maki's got great fucking taste." He says, and he starts to drive again, but his hand finds its way back to your thigh, playing with the garter, snapping it against your skin and making you cry out. “And what’s attached to those garters, Miss Brat?”

“You’ll have to see, huh?”

“Teasing me, brat?” You just grin, until he hits higher, somehow managing to focus perfectly on the road, drive rather quickly and precise, all while finding the lips of your hot pussy, groaning then. “You fucking wearing crotchless panties?”

“Amongst… other… things… mmm!” He groans as you cry out, and you’re gripping his wrist tight, hips bucking up when he runs a finger up and down your slit, drawing wetness out that drips on him. “Toru…”

“Goddammit. Fuck.” You notice him shifting, and see it, the bulge that’s growing under his pants, and you lick your lips. “That all for me?”

“Of course it is, Toru.” You couldn’t tease about it, and he exhales, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

As you stop at another red light, Satoru leans over, his eyes locked on yours. "I can't wait much longer. I wanna feel that tight, perfect pussy on me." He murmurs, and then his lips are on yours, hard and demanding. You melt into the kiss, your hands finding their way to his neck, your body leaning into his. The light turns green far too quickly, and you separate with a gasp.

“Fuck…” Is all you manage, and he sighs.

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Toru…”

“Hmm, pretty?”

“I could… make it better.” You reach over, rubbing him, and he moans, looking at you for a moment, eyes so bright blue in the darkening sky around you that they shone brightly.

“You offering a car blow job?” You giggle, nodding, and he laughs, like mad, like he’s losing it. “You… sure about it? We have all weekend to try things.”

“I really wanna, Satoru.”

“You’re freaky huh?” You grin. “Fuck me… shit… well, I can’t offer much direction, I’m driving.”

“I’m a good student, Professor.” He moans again, one hand unsnapping your seatbelt deftly, as the other grips the wheel. You all come to a stop and he looks at you, hungry.

“You want that cock in this pretty mouth, hmm?” You nod, eagerly, going to unzip him then, he arches his hips up, cheeks flushed. “Then ask me for it, nicely.”

“May I please suck your cock, Toru?”

He grins, teeth glinting. “Go with Professor.”

You grin back. “Want your student to suck your cock, Professor Gojo?” He’s moaning and you bend forward now, pulling his pretty, perfect cock out, mouth watering as you look down at the precum at his tip. “Professor, will this help my grades?”

“Oh my god, stop that, brat.” He’s grunting, and you’re laughing, feeling him twitch in your hand. He begins to drive again, a hand gently resting on the back of your head, moaning when you flick a tongue on his leaking tip, tasting him. “Oh… fuck…”

“Can’t speak, Professor?” You slide your tongue up and down the slit of his tip, as your hand slides down the length of him, and you hear his breathy gasp.

“You’re… a… brat…” You giggle, taking him in your mouth now, swirling your tongue around the tip of him, that ridge, and feel his thighs tense, your ass is up in the air, as you suck him in his little fancy sports car, on the highway. It makes you so wet and sensitive you whine. “Fuck you’re so good, baby.”

You suck harder, hollowing your cheeks, sliding up with a pop and looking up at him, he glances down, hunger in his azure gaze, cheeks dusted with pink, his teeth biting his full lower lip. He brushes your hair back gently, then looks back at the road, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob.

“I wanna fuck you so bad, feel that tight pussy around me, pulsing while you cum, squeezing me. Ah!” You moan around his length, sucking and licking, stroking up and down with your hot mouth, and he’s arching his hips up, urging you. “Wanna bury my face in your pretty pussy till I can’t breathe.”

You’re whimpering, your cunt throbs around nothing, and wetness trickles out from your aching hole. Seeming to notice, Satoru removes his hand from your head, wrapping around to your ass instead, fingering your soaking wet pussy and sucking in his breath, all while you’re screaming on his cock.

“So wet from just this, brat? Want my cock so bad, don’t ya?” You just arch your ass up for more of his teasing strokes, sucking harder. Gojo hits another red light, as the car stops, and he puts his hand off the wheel, grabbing your hair and fucking your throat, making you gag so good, while sliding his fingers to your twitching clit. “Fuck, baby… oh my god.”

“Mmnmh!” You can’t speak, as you take more of him, as much of his long, thick cock as you can in your throat, and he has to drive again, but that one hand doesn’t stop, fingering your wetness, that’s pouring all out on his hand.

“Soaking wet for me. Just me. Say it.” You slide up with a gasp, a popping sound as your suction stops, and your eyes lock.

“Soaking wet for you, Toru. You taste so yummy.”

He whines then, a sound you never thought you’d hear, and his cock is twitching in your hand, pulsing. You feel so much power then, over this gorgeous, tall fucking powerful man, a man you want so bad, knowing that he was whimpering over you? Fuck it’s hot.

“I’m close, I… you’re too good at it.” He grumbles, focusing on the road, leaving you giggling, then he glares back down, shoving two fingers in, knuckle deep, making you whimper yourself. “Cum while you’re sucking me, would you baby? Wanna choke you as you scream on my cock.”

“Fuck… Toru…” You slide back down, and then he pauses you. “Hmm?”

“Where do you want me to cum? If not your mouth, we need to… figure it out.” You slide your tongue all the way up his pretty cock, where the two veins wrap, feeling him shiver at it.

“I want to drink your cum, Toru. You taste good here.” You lap up his precum with a flick of your tongue. “Cum for me, Toru.”

“Goddammit, ah! Fuck…” He’s moaning loud, his fingers stopping their motion completely, and with a throb and a pulse, and he’s coming, thick ropes of hot cum filling your mouth and down your throat, and you swallow so eagerly, so greedily, drinking him all, and then you keep sucking.

You lick him clean, and the car comes to a stop, his hand stroking through your hair gently, the other circling your little clit, and you look up at him, smiling. You lean up, and he kisses you, tongue shoving in your mouth, tasting his own cum, and his face looks like he’s drunk.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, making you giggle, but he stops that, pushing you to sit as he drives again. “Spread those thighs and put your feet up on the dash.”

You tremble, all the bravado gone, as he reaches over to your exposed pussy, finding your clit, and rubbing in perfect circles, and you can feel the orgasm building, tightening in your belly. Your hand tightens around his wrist, silently begging for more, for him to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, brat?” He whispers, and you whine, arching your hips up and clinging to him.

“Faster, please, Toru.”

“Anything for you, pretty.” He presses in harder, then he’s hitting your clit perfectly, the tension is unbearable in the car, as all both of you can think of is how bad you just wanna fuck each other. You can feel your legs start to shake.

“T-Toru, I’m close, s’close…”

“Couldn’t wait a few hours, so desperate for this cock, for my hands, for my mouth, aren’t you baby?” You just make a mewling sound from the back of your throat, nodding mindlessly. “Imma make you cum so much this weekend, you’ll forget your name, forget anything, just me.”

“Toru!” You’re screaming now, his finger tip isn’t enough, no, you want that cock in you, the cock that’s gotten hard again, and he adjusts it in his pants, groaning.

“Cum on my finger, baby girl. Please.” His finger doesn’t stop, pushing you until you feel your orgasm rocking you, then it keeps circling and pressing, making it go on and on until you’re a trembling mess. The lights of the passing cars paint your face with a strobe-like pattern, and all you can do is cling to him, head lolling to the side.

“Fuck… I want you so bad.” You whine, finally forced to just be pathetic, and he takes his finger off you, sucking on it, like it’s the yummiest meal, moaning.

“Fuck.” Is all he manages, and you exhale, shaking as you’re snuggled against the side of him, sighing. “Toru… it sounds lame, but what are we… becoming?”

“You’re kinda my girlfriend, don’t you think?” You look up at him, and he pouts cutely. “If you say no I’ll be so sad, shnookums.”

You caress his face, brushing back his white hair, kissing one of those perfectly high cheekbones. “I’d be anything you want. I’m full on pathetic for you.” You cringe at it, hiding your face then.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I like you opening up.” He murmurs, voice husky then, as you look up to him, his profile as he’s driving. “It’s a fucked situation, let’s just enjoy this weekend and… forget about everything for a bit.”

“I like that idea.” You snuggle against him, suddenly sleepy.

“Are you always gonna sleep when I drive?”

“I get comfy, Toru.” He pulls you close, kissing your head.

“So cute, like you weren’t just gagging on my cock.”

“You can be cute and gag on a cock!”

“Apparently so.” You both laugh then, but your eyelids, they get heavy, and your heart is fluttering.

You’re going to be alone with Satoru.

“I can’t wait to see whatever it is you’re wearing under that.” He says, voice seductive, hoarse.

“Maybe you’ll see, if you’re a good boy.”

“Good boy!? You have the roles reversed, brat.”

You just grin against his arm, snuggling deeper. “Imma nap, Toru.”

“Of course you are. The worst road trip buddy. You just snore all cute like a little pig. Ow!”

“Do not!”

You do doze off, though you’re not sure if you snore.

When you wake up, you see it.

A fancy goddamn hotel.

Chapter 6

Chapter on A03:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/146567449

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #fanfic #anime and manga #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo smut #jjk fanfic

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jiminjamms · 4 months ago

Text

sex therapy :: 32. uno reverse

chapter tags/warnings: aftercare. mentions of cum and creampies. other sexual content. nicknames. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.9k

notes: the last chapter was 97% smut. oops. plot? literally, what plot? well, here is the plot. also, happy new year's eve and new years! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

With sweat stuck onto your forehead and spit plastered across your chin, you panted like an overheated dog. Such were the consequences of dealing with too many hands, cocks, and men.

After the sinful fiasco with your sex therapists, your body quivered from exhaustion.

Not to mention, you had been stuffed.

Holding in a potent cum concoction within your womb, you did your best to keep the fluids in, but the sheer volume forced a slow dribble to slide down your plush inner thighs.

You winced from the unwelcome cool against your warm skin, feeling flustered, frazzled, and disheveled.

Sukuna thumbed the dried tears that streaked your cheeks, Geto carded his hand through your hair, and Choso massaged the sore spots on your soft ass, all cooing about how you’ve been an angel for them and that maybe…you all should find time to do this again.

When the three dressed themselves and stepped out eventually for a cigarette, they left you looking at your window reflection, in which you noticed how makeup smudged across your cheeks and how fluids coated your neck and chest.

Never had you felt this...deranged.

Yet, absolutely nothing could be compared to the hot mess that was the Toji Fushiguro whom you straddled.

The man lolled his head back with a low groan and ran his thick fingers through his scalp. His dark strands had become drenched in perspiration and clung to his face's rugged planes. Blistering in his formal attire, he tossed his charcoal blazer aside, undid his knotted tie, and stripped off his button-down. His chest, dusted in a healthy pink shade, heaved. After his pleasure, he still looked like a Greek god in his shame.

Despite all your egregious encounters with him, you still flushed when seeing his bare-chested body. His formalwear might be different from his usual black T-shirt and white lab coat, but he hadn't really changed. He was still fit and subtly edgy with the designs that swirled around his chiseled upper body.

Amid the tattooed tapestry, your gaze once again became drawn by the inked phoenix that rose victoriously from ashes, a symbol that seemed like a parallel to Toji himself. Resilient. Indestructible. Enduring. Both confronting and overcoming challenges, standing stronger and more determined despite their struggles. Each feather branded across his torso held wordless stories about not only his triumphs but also his scars.

“Princess likes what she sees?”

Toji's sudden interjection surprised you. Fuck, he's caught me staring.

After you ogled at his body for too long, the man had naturally taken note, and—with you, of course—he simply had to tease.

"Your tattoos suit you," you had been forced to admit. Not that you lied.

In response, his green eyes held a gentle glister that contrasted with his animalistic actions mere moments ago. "That’s cute. Thank you."

He reached over your shoulder for a tissue and dabbed at your collarbone.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up," answered Toji promptly. With the napkin, he soaked up sins, wiping away at the unholy mixture between sweat, spit, and semen as though they never tainted your perfect body in the first place. "That's the least I can do."

He worked in silence, slightly hunched in his seat, the scattered light from the above chandelier casting sharp shadows over his angular face. Wisps of jet-black hair framed his temples as he hung his head in focus, his breathing turning steady. Toji looked so normal, like he wasn't some sex therapist or some important corporate executive or an heir to a multi-billion fortune.

In this one, singular moment, Toji was just...Toji.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked suddenly.

"Doing what?" Mistakenly, he assumed you referred to how he sought another napkin, this time to wipe at the trickle that ran like white lava down your thighs. “We made a mess."

"No, not that. Why did you become my therapist?" Of course, you did not forget your first encounter with Dr. Fushiguro, particularly how Toji ripped your new patient form to literal shreds the moment he noticed your last name. “You could've kicked me out of your office that day and left me miserable, but you didn't. Why?"

He slowed in his motions and his hot breath skimmed over your upper lip.

Then, he smiled faintly. "Can I abstain?"

This was his hint that the answer wouldn’t be something you liked.

"No." You still wanted to know. "Tell me, please."

Despite your reassurance, he seemed reluctant, his jaw working as he trapped his tongue piercing between his teeth.

"Because you were too…innocent," Toji eventually admitted. He sounded earnest, but he gave you a cautious glance like he wanted to gauge your reaction. "A pretty lady coming to see Toji Fushiguro because his little cousin Naoya Zenin couldn't please you properly? Clearly, you've never had a proper fuck. I wanted to completely ruin you, baby. I wanted to use you. And, shit, that pussy made me want to keep you for myself forever. Sure, I also had a two-timing ex, but who cares about my little cousin's mistress when I had his wife in front of me?"

Even though you braced for a brutally honest response, hearing his words firsthand stung.

Yes, you were naïve back then. However, to hear your closest confidant admit his initial, manipulative motives jabbed at your sensitive heart.

From your husband to your therapist, you were constantly a pawn on another person's chessboard. Yet, the worst part was that you didn't notice the game until much later.

"I am sorry," Toji started again. Perceptive as usual, he noticed how your mood suddenly soured. "I had all these shitty intentions because Naoya fucked me over, so I wanted to take my anger out on you. But, when I realized that you’re just an oblivious puppet in his play, I wanted him to realize that he was mistreating you, and," one long exhale, "most importantly, I truly did want to help you."

Mulling over his words carefully, you sank your face into his shoulder. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

“No, I am being honest," and the dark green in his eyes reflected that. "I didn't expect to ever see you again after our first session. Thought you got scared off for good until you called me to book another appointment. Honestly, at that point, people suspected you to be Naoya’s lap-bitch and spy. Hope that explains the shitty attitudes from the other therapists and my son." Toji flicked the dirty tissue into the wastebasket. "I defended you, though, if that means anything. I thought you were nice and entertaining and, as I've pointed out numerous times, that you deserved better. What I didn't think was how I would end up bringing you into," and he motioned around with his head, "all of this.”

Breathing in slowly, you took in the man's heavy bergamot scent and allowed his warmth to anchor you.

“So, how do you plan to use me now?”

Among your incessant inquiries, this question must be the most pointed.

Toji, realizing this, gazed ahead. Momentarily, you wondered where his thoughts had wandered off to this time, his focus on the ceiling sharpening for a moment before he reverted his attention back.

"There is no plan to ‘use’ you, sweetheart. Because you mean a lot to me," he still responded with great conviction. "You are cherished."

Beneath the rough edges in his features laid a softness—a softness that you started to become familiar with—as he brought his hands to your hip.

“Live a happy life without Naoya," he added eventually. "You don't need me and the other therapists anymore. Only brokenhearted and anguished people are our clients, so forgetting about us should be easy."

Was it wrong to feel even more hurt when you heard that?

Literally one moment ago, Toji was telling you how much you meant to him. Now, he was telling you to go?

"Client or not, I thought we were friends. You even told me once that I'm somebody special."

“You are," he responded matter-of-factly. "You are very special. Which is why I am not going to force you to hang around or anything. That way you don’t think anyone is ‘using’ you. You're young and capable, and I want you to live your life as you wish.” Then, his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “Because I care about you.”

As nonchalant as he tried to come off, Toji also sounded so...broken.

Plenty of people—plenty of women—came in and out of Toji's life. Megumi had said so himself, admitting that his father used to 'sleep around a bunch' after his biological mother passed.

Since then, Toji had probably gotten used to how the women he encountered only wanted him for his name, his wallet, or—yes, to put things bluntly—his dick. Tsumiki's mom would be the best and most recent example.

But, you wanted to heal Toji as much as Toji had healed you.

"There's something Megumi told me the first time I stayed over at your apartment," you began suddenly.

Toji arched a brow, the tendons by his neck taut. "Is that so?" Knowing his angsty son, he sounded curious but moreso concerned. "Like what?"

'Are you going to marry my dad?'

No, you would die from embarrassment before you could admit that.

"Megumi told me about what happened to his mom, your first wife."

"Ah." Beneath you, Toji tensed up. His tongue darted over his scar like he wanted to continue, but no words came out.

So, he stopped and waited for you to continue.

"I...am really sorry to hear about what happened to her."

In the end, Toji tilted his head, a small but obviously sad smile playing on his lips.

"That's years ago." He tried to sound like losing his first wife in a freak accident didn't haunt him anymore, but you knew that the catastrophe still did.

"Well, Megumi also told me about what your relationships with other women were like since then," you resumed. "Particularly about your second wife."

This time, you truly stumped him. "I see."

"Unlike her, I am not going anywhere," you asserted and tightened your hold around him. "No one is forcing that decision upon me, either. Since you want me to 'live my life as I wish,' my wish is for us to be friends for a long time...and for the same reasons friends want to be friends."

"Is that genuinely what you want?"

"Yes. Truly."

Whether due to your common backgrounds in the Japanese aristocracy or the juxtaposition he offered to your ex-husband, Toji had become your haven. He grounded you after your emotional tumbles and uplifted you with compliments and praise—like an anchor, an unyielding outlet with whom you could share your pains and transform your frustrations into something lesser.

Whenever you had needed him most, Toji had been there.

Always there.

Consequently, you hoped to be the same for him.

When Toji cupped your jaw with a large hand, you slowly pressed your cheek into his palm.

“You care a lot about others but forget to think about yourself,” you went on, criticizing him in a light tone. There was also a question that you had been meaning to ask. “Like, why did you agree to take on the CEO position again after experiencing the Zenin family and your past?”

His fingers flexed slightly into your skin.

“My decision is not about the people who wronged me, but rather the people who depend on me,” he clarified after a beat, his voice lowered like he confided in himself as much as in you. “I look at Mai and Maki, who’ve been treated like garbage their entire lives. I think about Megumi and Tsumiki, who deserve a world with the best opportunities. For them and for others, I want to create a future with something better. ”

Which reminds you.

For the therapists, taking on renewed roles within the Zenin Corporation would be concerning given that they have previously faced accusations of neglecting the business in favor of their own pursuits.

“What will happen to sex therapy?”

Naoya Zenin returned to his apartment lobby tossed (yes, tossed) following a blindfolded car ride home.

To some degree, he wished he hadn’t come back at all since—after retrieving his phone and searching the Internet—he discovered a new reality where media spokespeople, online netizens, and business leaders welcomed his cousin’s return to leadership while denouncing his own.

It was like the universe had been waiting to have Naoya reckon with his misconducts all at once, for he never fully understood the consequences of his sins until his face appeared over news websites, tabloid front pages, and social media feeds.

Even when he had business to attend to the following day, he could hardly push past his apartment entrance without being swarmed by meddlers who somehow had gotten intel on his address. Naturally, many people wanted to hear directly from the businessman who had fallen from grace, especially when the company he once led was one of the largest market players in the Asia-Pacific region. First came the paparazzi, the blinding white flashes from their cameras all seeking to capture his face. Then came the other onlookers, jeering with many insults his way.

‘A scumbag is what you are. A disgusting cheater!’ ‘You don't even deserve a penny of your net worth!” ‘Your company, colleagues, and family deserved better!’ 'Someone like Toji Fushiguro!'

The moment Naoya reached the backseat of his sedan, he smashed his phone in one savage blow, startling the chauffeur as the gadget's screen shattered. Didn’t matter. He had the money to replace that by noon anyway.

Meanwhile, with white-gloved hands on the wheel, the driver tried to hide his tremor.

"A-Are you o—"

"To the corporate headquarters," Naoya ordered. "Put your fucking foot on the pedal or the next thing I'll be blowing up is you."

"Yes."

Well, that shut him up.

Thanks to that, Naoya arrived at the Zenin Corporation headquarters in record-breaking time, but he encountered yet another human barrage. People shouted over one another, some even pushing microphones toward his face, as the crowd followed him like a gaggle of geese while he walked into the lobby.

He frowned when his ID badge failed at the security turnstiles, his access removed from the building's security system already. Just two days ago, he held hours-long meetings in the offices above. Now, two days later, he had been deemed an outsider without access to even the company café on the first floor.

He kicked the turnstile (as if that would change anything), and a steely voice interrupted his anger.

"Naoya Zenin, sir," a woman in a security uniform began, "you are no longer with the corporation and are causing a disturbance. Please, leave."

The blonde snapped his badge back into his palm before tucking both hands into the front pockets of his pressed pants. He sauntered forward slowly, making sure that the woman noticed the difference in their height. "No, I won't. I have an appointment."

"Please," she barged in again, unintimidated by his taller frame. Her voice this time was more stern as she glanced over at the nearby swarm. "You're creating a commotion on private property.”

Did he look like he cared? "My family's private property."

"Sir, I—"

"He’s with me." With a third voice joining the conversation, both turned around as no one other than Toji Fushiguro himself walked over. "I invited him for a private meeting. Allow me to escort him."

The antagonism that the security woman had with Naoya vanished completely as she apologized profusely to the older man, and the blonde found her switch in character fucking deplorable and insulting.

After a brief exchange, Toji looked over. “Thank you for arriving on time. I was worried you missed my text since I sent the message very early in the morning. Let me bring you upstairs.”

Despite receiving a smile, Naoya didn’t like the belittling and patronizing tone that made him feel like a child who needed a chaperone or a beggar who needed a savior.

Nonetheless, he followed in tense silence.

When he walked into the designated conference room, Naoya tried to not look surprised to also see his father and your father in the same vicinity as well (although, given that they were the Board Director and the Chief Operating Officer, respectively, that should’ve been expected).

He had to look away from their cold gazes and instead took the seat closest to the door. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

Toji, on the other hand, settled at the head of the table and crossed one leg over his knee. “This meeting is a courtesy. One you don’t deserve but here we are. We’ll be brief.” He leaned across the table, sliding over a sleek black folder. “Later today, the Zenin Corporation will hold a press conference to address our organizational and management changes. In this binder are terms for your settlement. We would like you to accept the proposal, leave, and never associate yourself with the Zenin name again.”

When Naoya saw the documents inside, he wanted to laugh right then and there. “This is a shitty offer that practically gives me nothing.”

What else did you expect? Toji’s unwavering expression seemed to say.

He even opened his mouth to speak, but a much coarser voice spoke first.

"Because you did that to yourself,” Naobito explained. “As of now, your actions have stripped you of everything and you’re still scoffing at someone else’s generosity? You’re a selfish manipulator who has jeopardized our stakeholders’ trust. Our family name will not tolerate your presence moving forward!"

"Listen, Father—"

"Mr. Zenin to you!"

Naoya could not believe he was related to the much older man in front of him. Except for their common features, the duo shared absolutely nothing including warmth for each other.

Which, to the blonde, was ridiculous. Because how could his parent not view the situation from his lens? No one understood the struggles that tormented him since his childhood and the reasons his anguish turned into greed.

"This isn’t fair.” Naoya’s voice rose, trembling with barely contained anger as he shoved the folder away. “I can’t understand you, Fa—Mr. Zenin. Why? Why does everything that Toji touches turn to gold in your eyes? The world welcomes him back like he’s a prodigy, and you hand him everything on a silver platter. But then, why can’t you defend your one and only son in a situation like this? Anything…anything I do, to you, is not enough.”

With his chest heaving, Naoya had to pause and catch his breath. He didn’t want to admit that he was on the verge of another outburst, only to be met with no sympathy in return.

"You and Toji have never been in the same position. Not now, not before, and not ever.” As the Chairman made himself clear, his voice cut through his son’s rant like a blade. “While no one is perfect, Toji—in the past and present—earns respect by owning his failures and proving his worth. Due to his team’s work in the last twenty-four hours, he stabilized the company, helping us avoid an immense drop in our market value and cancellations from our business partners.” In addition to his utter disregard for his son’s feelings, Naobito even mocked him with a scoff. “Meanwhile, you don’t play by the rules, boy. You exploit them to suit your needs, and when something backfires, you blame everyone but yourself. Toji didn’t come back because I handed him anything. He came back because he knows how to make amends.”

Stop.

Naoya wanted this mental torture to come to a fucking stop.

His father’s scorn was bad enough, but the comparison to Toji—always Toji—was like salt ground into an open wound. What made the situation a hundred times more humiliating was how his older cousin sat across the table with a nearly indiscernible smirk on his face.

Yet, what could he realistically do when the Chairman went on?

“In my entire life, I only requested from you one thing,” Naobito added. ‘Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her.’ “And what did you do?”

Precisely not that.

The pointed change in topic made Daisuke L/N sit forward uncomfortably.

"Be honest with us, Naoya," he said. "Aside from marrying my daughter to legitimize your position in your family and company, what other intentions did you have?"

The man stared ahead with a solemn expression because, in that moment, he wasn’t the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer but merely a father.

A father who had been promised a dependable and loving son-in-law, not a cruel and ruthless deceiver.

Naoya shrugged.

"My original plan was to have your daughter for as long as I deemed her useful. Maybe until my old man kicked the bucket and I became the head of the Zenin household? Or, if I liked her enough, maybe longer? I don't know, not that I really cared." Naoya didn't give a shit that he sounded like a total sociopath. As a grown man, he could make his choices in speech. "But, what I did care about is how people only noticed me when I had that…that—"

At that, Toji had to cut him off. “You’ve said enough. We’re done here.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are. As I mentioned earlier, this meeting is only a courtesy.”

Toji rose from his seat and adjusted his blazer, the other executives doing the same but with pursed frowns. When the Chairman and the COO left quickly in silent rage, Toji followed them and gestured toward the black folder again on his way out.

"Anyway, all the legal documents are in there. Can read through them, if you care. You have the next hour to inform my secretary of your decision. My advice is to accept our offer since no legitimate company in the Asia-Pacific—or anywhere else in the world—will want you now. You ensured that for yourself."

Toji walked to the exit in precise and confident strides, but just before disappearing into the halls, he paused.

"Oh, but one last request.” Except what he said next wasn’t a request, but a demand. “Never show yourself to us or anyone we care about again. Take this as a warning."

Then, the door clicked shut.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Naoya stood up.

“God fucking damnnit!” he hollered at the top of his lungs like a mad maniac. His hand shot out, sweeping the papers off the table violently, sending them scattering across the floor.

He hissed and seethed. How he hated this feeling. His current ordeal had been his wake-up call to realize that merely being born into status didn't mean he would be invincible.

If only he hadn’t let his unchecked arrogance blind him, then his life trajectory would have played out differently!

…Or maybe nothing would’ve changed at all.

Because perhaps, all these years, Naoya Zenin had been trying to grasp onto something that was never meant to be his.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my final update for the year, and the next chapter will be the final chapter for this entire fic. I'll save my sentimental notes for later because I don't want to get sappy, but I wish everyone love, hugs, and good health forever and ever! Side note: I am very bad at updating the below taglist, sorry!

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tiredmamaissy · 10 months ago

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Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI

Labor of Love - Part I

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: this shit has zero smut, angst angst angst, did i say angst?, this is so dramatic i'm sorry, expletives, a bit of fluff, pregnancy, cliff hanger, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 8k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: You are now entering angst town, please buckle your seatbelts and try to enjoy the ride. Jokes aside, GUYS. This chapter…is the most angsty thing I’ve ever written. I’m excited and nervous, and everything in between. There’s a lot going on in this chapter and I just hope to Eywa that I’ve written it in a way that flows and is easy to follow. I’ve had this idea brewing for months, it feels. Now…this shit was over 20,000 words long. That is a personal record and I will not be subjecting you guys to such a monstrosity. Therefore, this is part one of (at the moment) three. I apologise in advance for the cliffhanger, hehe. Also, welcome to my brain, because idk how I came up with this shit.

Synopsis: You didn’t foresee this, Ralak kept you in the dark for the sake of you and your baby’s safety. But now the time has come, it’s all too overwhelming for you to process.

<- Previous-> Next

Ralak never shared more than he needed to when it came to his duties with Tonowari. No matter how much you vowed to keep it confidential. He’s a man of few words, but when it came to his business he kept them fewer.

As much as you knew, his trips inland consisted of hunting and gathering bigger game that most warriors struggled to handle.

There's a few times you can count on one hand that he's come home a little more worn down. Each time you cursed Tonowari under your breath as you helped your mate unwind. You’d insist on knowing what the olo’eyktan had him doing to be so spent and why he had not entirely fulfilled his promise to lighten Ralak of his duties since the mating.

Ralak would be quick to shut you down in the most gentle way despite feeling irritable and sombre. It was always something along the lines of, ‘it keeps you safe, and that is my duty’, and that he’ll ‘discuss it when the time comes’.

It seems the time has come.

Another gloomy night, rain and thunder tear through the sky. These storms are more frequent in this season, as it’s Ewyas way of keeping the balance with the freshwater and seawater ratio for the mangroves.

But tonight it’s torrential. You’re in full bloom, ready to step into your new chapter of motherhood at any moment. The babe sits low in your womb and you’re swollen from what feels like head to toe. The rain isn’t helping with the soreness in your joints.

Ralak is seated next to the crackling firepit, stirring the bubbling stew with one hand and mindlessly rubbing your swollen ankles with the other. Meanwhile you lay snuggled in bed, wrapped comfortably in the thick shawl as you listen to the pitter-patter. It’s peaceful, despite the dull ache in your lower back. Maybe the rain isn’t so bad, after all.

Ta-toom!

The low-pitched sound of the war horn has Ralak's full attention, shredding him of whatever serenity he had in his being. Moving hastily, he stands and darts over to the marui door, slipping into his gear and fixing his largest spear on his back.

The scene unfolding before your eyes is a rare one. You’d only seen him in full gear on the day you first laid eyes on him. The day you arrived here in Awa’atlu. And it brings a sinking feeling to your stomach.

“Ralak… what was that?” You ask nervously.

You watch him aggressively tighten the strap of his tstalsena [knife sheathe; carrier] and chuck a bucket of water in the fire—killing the flame. A precautionary measure. He knows the time has come. He hears your voice but he also hears Tonowari's...

'When the horn sounds… you come. And that…is an order.'

In his head, he’s going through an array of possible responses but there’s simply no time for any of them. Using the frame of the bed to pull yourself up, you slowly come to your feet and waddle towards him.

“Ralak. What is going on?” You ask a little louder, a hand gripping his wrist.

Turning to face you, his hands fly to support your stomach as he looks you deeply in the eyes. Then he kisses you with purpose. Pressing his lips into yours like it would be the last time, forcing himself to pull away to briefly glance down at his unborn.

It catches you by surprise, leaving you looking up at him open mouthed. Now you’re really scared. It feels like he’s being plucked away from your fingers and there’s nothing you can do about it. “Ralak—”

“I will explain when I am back. All of it.” He already sounds out of breath, fixing the shawl over your shoulders. “You stay here. Stay warm. Do not leave. Do not answer to anyone. Understand?”

Your forehead wrinkles as you try to process this all.

Don’t answer to anyone? To whom? Why did he put out the fire? Why is he in full gear? What the fuck is going on right now? He said he’d be back…right?

“Y/n.” He booms your name, yet his tone remains steady and calm. “Understand?”

You nod hurriedly, “Yes. Yes.”

“I will be back soon.” He fixes your shawl a last time before stepping back and bolting through the door.

You follow behind him, keeping the marui flap open to watch him click for his skimwing. He makes the bond and mounts the beast hastily, and is airborne soaring towards the mainland at full tilt.

Befuddled, you waddle back inside, your back slamming into the marui stilt as you huff and puff to catch your breath. You nervously check the stew, and see that it’s almost done. The glowing charcoal should be enough to finish it off, so you opt to leave it covered and fidget with the prrsmung [baby carrier] you've weaving for the past couple days.

Anything to keep you busy.

——

Ralak effortlessly dismounts his tsurak, letting it glide past him in the water as he climbs up to the communal pod. This is a gathering place for important meetings and announcements to the clan. He watches as others assemble under the larger, woven marui, drenched with the water of the sea and sky. It’s clear that this was a signal for the warriors of the clan, from the elite, to the former. The young and the old.

Even Zu’té is present, standing lone far off in the corner.

War horn in hand, the olo’eyktan makes his presence known as he stands on the highest part of the pod. His mate, the tsahìk, stands next to him with her chest high and their children next to her.

Jake and Neytiri, along with Lo’ak and Neteyam, group together behind them at the back of the pod, observing the unfolding scene. The warriors begin to chant, defensively positioned with their tongues on display. They’re all armed and ready to protect their own from whatever the impending threat is. Ralak takes his place next to Tonowari, standing tall and still. He observes the uproar before him, his mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face.

“Mawey. Mawey. [Calm. Calm.]” Ronal speaks loudly over the heavy rain, hands splayed out in front of her.

But it makes no difference.

The uproar is growing even louder than the downpour. It was rare to hear this particular horn. It’s been years, ten, to be exact. And those who know exactly what it means are up in arms. Ralak knew this day would soon come, but he was hoping to Eywa that it would be after the birth of his son. Tonowari lets loose a throaty ‘gwah’, driving the butt of his spear into the ground. The crowd hushes down into a dead silence, acknowledging their leader.

“Warriors of Awa’atlu. I summon you for good reason. Ten years have passed and it is time to meet with the ash people once more.” Tonowari begins, only for the younger warriors to mumble among themselves, some of who are unaware of who the ash people are.

“Tìfnu! [silence!]” Ralak snaps through his teeth, “…the olo’eyktan speaks.” Tonowari nods to Ralak.

“The treaty has ended. We meet with them far inland to discuss the terms of a new treaty.” Tonowari’s eyes bounce among the sea of na’vi. “It will be no easy or short journey. We must make the trek by foot. Tonight.”

A few male na’vi are unable to keep their excitement to a minimum and siren a few calls, smacking their strakes together. Neytiri snakes her arm around Jake's upper bicep, tucked under his wing. Neteyam and Lo’ak listen intently, their heads tilted down as they grip their bows firmly.

“Not all will come. I have chosen a few to be at my side.” Tonowari glances at Ralak, and then the Sullys before continuing, “The rest must stay and protect the clan if needed.”

Ronal interjects, speaking of the ash na’vi and their horrid way of living—from their occasionally cannibalistic diet to their view of Eywa and the balance. She further reminds the people of the treaty, and that its tenets include immunity from their ‘hunting practices’ in exchange for a resource only attainable on the reef. The treaty is valid for a decade and then the terms are subject to negotiation based on the two tribe’s needs. She commences it by announcing the names of those who have been chosen by Tonowari.

“I need you by my side, Ralak.”

It was a direct order, and Ralak knows that. He knows that no matter what he says, the olo’eyktan’s order must be obeyed. But it doesn’t mean he won’t try.

“She is due any day now. You know that.” Ralak speaks crystal clear, stating exactly what his concerns are.

He doesn’t want to leave you alone, especially so heavy and full with his firstborn, who will come at any moment. Every bone in his body is telling him it’s the wrong move. But Tonowari glances at his own wife who is swollen with his fourth child.

“I know. I know, Tak. But we must do what we need. For the people.”

Ralak holds a stare with his superior—his father figure. He’s gritting his teeth to keep himself together, to keep his composure. To keep his thoughts just as his thoughts. The two communicate through facial expressions, and a quick tilt to Tonowari’s head has Ralak looking away in frustration.

It’s final.

“No.” Jake butts in, sharp and quick with his disapproval. “He gave me his word.”

Alas, a moment where father and son in law are in favour of the same thing.

“You have the sky people and we have the ash people. They demand his (Ralak’s) presence. If we fail in this, we will be at war. He comes with us.” Tonowari is stern with his tone, leaving no room for an argument.

“Ma’ Jake.” Neytiri chimes in, fright evident in her voice. She is tired of the war.

As a last resort, Ralak’s gaze shifts over to Zu’té. He knew Zu’té would also be chosen despite his...'retirement'. He was undoubtedly one of the best warriors the clan has ever had, wielding great strength and skill. Zu’té returns the stare, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocks a brow. Their brothership had strengthened after Ralak sought help.

Jake notices this, and shakes his head with his hands on his hips. “Nope. No. Who is that guy anyways?”

“My brother.”

“His brother.”

The two taller na’vi speak at once.

“Since when do you have a—You know what? I don’t care. Okay? You? I trust. Him? Not so much. I’d rather my boys stay with her.” Jake says sternly, glancing at Zu’té. “No offence, bud.”

“Good thing I care not for your opinion, koaktan [old man].”

“Zu’té.” Ralak whispers harshly, throwing a glare at his sibling.

“Look, if you got a problem—”

“What about tuk?” Neytiri cuts her mate short, tugging at his arm to remind him of who is watching their youngest daughter.

“Then they take turns or somethin’, I’m not havin’ one baby girl watched and not the other.”

“Toruk makto.” Tonowari lays a heavy hand on the former olo’eyktan's shoulder, drawing him away to break the tension. “They cannot step foot on our land with the treaty. She will be safe. Trust me…” Their voices drown out from the pounding downpour.

As they go back and forth, Ralak begins to process what Tonowari said.

‘They demand his presence’.

Tonowari had made this meeting the topic of conversation over the past few weeks, preparing him for this. But he never mentioned anything about them demanding his attendance in particular. The last meeting with the ash people happened when Ralak was a very young warrior, long before his iknimaya.

Back then, Tonowari had a different warrior at his side—a different right hand. She was strong and well known for being patient with her students. It was a frequent story at family dinner when Tonowari and Ronal took Ralak under their wing. And as Ralak became Tonowari's right hand man, he was thrusted into enforcing the tenets of the treaty, going inland with Tonowari to uphold the clan's part.

Ralak has only caught a glimpse of them once after delivering the resource to the agreed spot. He had just started these excursions with Tonowari, and his curiosity got the best of him. He looked behind him for just a moment, and caught the sight of a curvy, grey woman hastily gathering and stuffing everything into a satchel of some sort.

Her stripes were a deep, ashy blue, and her skin seemed almost scale-like. She was rid of any bioluminescence, as if the light within her was gone, and her hair was matted with what looked like burgundy clay. Tonowari then seized the back of Ralak’s neck and shoved him along, advising that he never looks.

“It is decided. Neteyam, Lo’ak and Zu’té stay.” Tonowari announces as he and Jake rejoin the group, looking at those who are left—Tonowari, Neytiri and Ralak. “We leave soon, make your arrangements.”

Ralak knew his last few words were directed to him. With that, Ralak strides towards Zu’té. “I know what I am asking of you, Zu’té—”

“I will do this for you.” Zu’té turns to face Ralak, who’s undeniably uneasy and concerned.

“Protect her.”

“You protect her. Get in and get out of there, baby brother.” Zu’té speaks, extending his hand out to Ralak. Ralak nods firmly. He’s right, your safety, along with the rest of the clan’s, depends on how this all plays out.

“Oe irayo si ngaru [I give thanks to you].” Ralak's hand meets Zu’té’s forearm with a smack. They tug back and forth a bit, silently wishing each other luck on their own endeavours before setting off on their skimwings.

They arrive, walking with haste along the beach towards the stairs to Ralak’s marui pod in the pouring rain.

“That’s...interesting.” Zu’té makes a comment about the railings for the stairs.

“She has a hard time without it.” Ralak responds, stopping at the bottom step, coming to the quick realisation that this man will essentially be replacing him for the next few eclipses. “She may need help using them.”

Zu’té nods, understanding what he really means. “Do not fret, brother. I will take care of your mate.”

Ralak releases a shaky breath as they make their way to the patio, finding shelter from the rain.

“Wait here.” Ralak speaks with his back turned, “I must speak with her first.”

——

A torturous hour has passed, and you’ve burned circles into your marui floor from pacing so much. He’s taking longer than you’d expected, and worry is really starting to set in now.

What’s going on? What did that sound mean? Why did he leave in such a rush? With all his gear, too?

You gnaw at the calloused piece of skin on your thumb, keeping a warm comforting hand on your bump to keep your kicking babe calm. Regardless, he continues doing somersaults in your womb.

Fuck it.

You rush towards the marui door where your gear hangs, and fight with the strap of your chest piece to slip it on you. It won’t fasten and it’s simply too tight to fit your body right now, but you continue to grapple with the stupid strap with shaky hands.

“Tanhì.” Ralak’s voice is rough and he sounds winded. “What are you doing?” He rushes over to you and quickly removes the piece off your chest.

“Ralak—oh, thank Eywa.” Your voice is shaky, but thick with relief. “I’m sorry, I just got s-so worried.”

“We must speak. Time is going.” Ralak carefully ushers you over to the bed, and assists you in sitting down, holding your swollen belly along the way. He takes note of his active child, feeling his little kicks and pokes. He comforts his young with a few strokes to your stomach. “Shh-shh, little one. Alright.”

He knows this whole ordeal must be stressing you both, and he’s really regretting not telling you all of this sooner.

“What do you mean?” You ask, urgency thick in your voice.

Ralaks demeanour is nothing short of solemn, tensed jaw and tightened lips. It seems serious, and this man is no person to jest on such matters.

"Ralak...What is happening?"

He takes a moment to reply, his gaze fixed on his hand that still lays firmly on your stomach. He then looks up at you, concern etched into his features. “It is time to speak about… my duties with Tonowari.”

You feel your heart thud against your ribcage, your eyes widen at the words. You’ve been eager to know, but now that he’s telling you, it implies that everything isn��t alright. It implies… the safety of your unborn is compromised. You nod slowly, trying to remain calm for the sake of your son.

“We reef people hold a peace treaty with another clan…” the giant begins, slipping his hand from your stomach to clasp yours tightly. “…the ash people.”

“Ash people?” Your voice is less than a whisper, tiny and croaky.

“They are a horrible people, tanhì. Truly wicked. Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted]. Much like the sky people.” He shakes his head as he mutters the words, not even wanting to go into any more detail. He didn’t want to taint your innocence. To stress your mind. Especially now that you’re heavy with his child. “The treaty keeps them off this land. It keeps you safe.”

“Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted].” You repeat through a gasp.

“To them, Eywa is nothing. Tsaheylu [the bond] is for control. Their diet…” Ralak catches himself, bringing his words to a halt.

“Their diet…?” Your bottom lip trembles.

Ralak just shakes his head, taking your other hand with his. “The treaty will soon end. I must go. Tonight.”

“What?!” You shout, wrenching your hands from his grasp to quickly stand up. A shooting pain sears up the side of your stomach, and your hand flies to clutch it. Ralak rushes to steady you.

“Careful, y/n.” He snaps, high strung and tense. “I will be back in a few eclipses.”

“What? No! No, no. It’s too dangerous.” You protest, gripping his wrists to stay standing.

“It is the olo’eyktan’s orders. I must.” He’s quick to respond to you.

This quietens you. Does Tonowari not know that you’re due any day? Or perhaps he doesn’t care. How could he rip your mate away from you at this time? Especially for something so…risky. You feel your fear bubble into something more hot.

Anger.

“Then I’m coming.” You announce, dropping your hands from his wrists to waddle over to your gear once more. Ralak stands in front of you, hands on your stomach to stop you.

“No. You're staying here.” Ralak orders sternly, backing you up to sit back on the bed.

“No. I’m coming. I’m safer with you.” You resist his pushes, trying to stand firm.

“You are heavy with child.” He grits his teeth, giving you another light push, “I cannot protect you there. You—agh—you are safer here.”

Ralak makes the confession, feeling like he’s failing at his duty as your mate. He shouldn’t even be leaving you, not when you're this far along. He should be by your side, tending to your every need.

“What? By myself? What if—what if something happens? What if the baby—” You’re cut short by the sound of Zu’té’s not-so-reserved entrance. He yanks the marui flap to the side, ducking under it and standing tall behind Ralak, by just a couple inches. He, too, is fully equipped with his gear and weapons.

“Brother. I can hear the war party.” Zu’té speaks with haste, keeping his eyes locked onto Ralak.

'Brother?' Your eyes snap back to Ralak, beady and full of tears. “You didn’t.”

It quickly dawns on you that Ralak had planned this out. Made these arrangements in anticipation things went south and he had no say in the matter. To ensure your safety, and the safety of your unborn by going to the greatest length of rekindling a flame that had been extinct for twelve years. Ralak has spoken casually of his brother before, but never in any great detail.

“Y/n. This is Zu’té, my brother. He will keep you safe.” Ralak speaks with shame in his voice, knowing this must be way too overwhelming for you. He hadn’t planned for it to go like this.

Zu’té finally allows his eyes to wander over to you. They widen when they get their first proper look of you, darting all over your body to take in your foreign features.

He caught a glimpse when your family first arrived in Awa’atlu, but never this close. His eyes land on your bulging stomach, lingering a second too long to make even himself a bit uncomfortable. He clears his throat and looks back at Ralak.

You look at Zu’té with anger in your eyes, and then back at Ralak as they begin to swell with hot tears. Zu’té tries to make himself smaller, feeling the thickness of the air now. He backs up into the marui flap, tempted to lift it and walk himself outside to relieve some of the pressure.

“How long did you say this would be f-for? What if I go into labour? Will you really allow another man to deliver our son?”

Zu’té quickly but silently excuses himself from the room, taking a spot on the patio with his arms crossed over his chest, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Oh, Toto. What have you gotten yourself into?’

Angry, you shot the words like an arrow and they pierced your mate’s chest with ease. He grimaces, as if he were actually in pain.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—” You sob the apology, burying your hot face into your hands.

Ralak embraces you, wrapping his large arms around your body, hugging you close and tight. He sways a little with you, humming deep in his chest. “‘ts alright. You’re okay. Take a breath. I know this is frightening.”

He understands—it is not uncommon for a navi pair to remain close during the final weeks of pregnancy. It’s an unconscious mechanism, keeping them together for the birth of their offspring. Ralak feels it just as much as you but in order to truly protect you he must go— another thing that he understands.

“You c-come back to me, o-okay?” Your breath won’t stop hitching. “Come as s-soon as y-you can.”

“I will, I will. ” He coos, pulling back enough to look down at you. “Mawey, tanhì. Strong heart. For our baby.”

You nod, lifting your head to look up at him. He sees the terror in your eyes and his heart breaks with guilt. He gently presses his forehead against yours, slowly stroking your back.

“Nga yawne lu oer, nga yawne lu oer. [I love you, I love you]” He whispers longingly as he closes the distance between your mouths.

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]. S-So much.” You sputter, lips trembling against his.

He kisses you with force, pressing his lips into yours until it almost hurts. You both linger there, not wanting to part ways. But you feel him pulling away, knowing there wasn’t much time left. Instinctively, cling onto him when his lips leave yours.

“Please don’t go.” You mumble into his chest, knowing that he has no choice.

“I have to, my tanhì.” He mutters as he begins to pull away before letting go completely.

You follow behind him, thumb in your mouth as you nibble at the skin, hand resting on top of your bump. You watch him call for his tsurak for a second time tonight, and look back at you for a moment. He takes in the sight of you standing next to his older brother, trying to find comfort in knowing that you’re in safe hands. Ralak gives him a nod and mounts the beast, taking off towards the war party.

Leaving you in the presence of Zu’té.

“Y/n, is it?” Zu’té asks, already knowing the answer.

It’s awkward and he doesn’t do well in these types of situations. He knows comfort is what you need right now, considering you’re now sobbing into your hands again. You’re worried sick. Literally. It’s all making you feel woozy and lightheaded.

“Listen...” He goes to rest a hand on your upper back, but he hesitates, leaving his hand to hover. He retracts it completely, allowing it to fall back to his side. He sighs, droopy ears and tensed brows. “He will return soon.”

Among all the emotions that cloud you at once, anger still remains roaring at the forefront. You find yourself turning your heel and ignoring his presence, waddling away as fast as your swollen feet will allow it.

“Leave m-me be.” You spit between hitched breaths, ensuring the flap of the marui door shuts harshly behind you.

Despite feeling sympathy for you, Zu’té stands outside, finding solace in being alone. He chooses the driest spot, and sets himself up on the patio, getting ready for the stormy night ahead.

You waddle in to bed, wrapping yourself in the thick shawl that smells like your mate, and lay next to the prrsmung [baby carrier] you still have yet to finish. Feeling defeated and empty, you lay on your side in bed as you process everything, letting silent tears crash onto your bed.

——

You’re not entirely sure at what point in the night that you drifted to sleep, but you wake up in a groggy state. Dried tears make it hard to open your eyes, and your hair sticks to your face. You look around in a daze and realise that it’s still dark outside.

The pang in your bladder keeps you awake and forces you out of bed, making you wobble to the curtain. You pull it back and are met with the sight of Zu’té sleeping propped up against the marui wall with his spear tucked to his chest.

Seeing him painfully reminds you of the heart wrenching events of last night. That even though you were hoping and praying to Eywa for it all to be a bad dream—it was all very real.

An icy cold breeze gusts by, making you shiver under your shawl and Zu’té shift in his sleep. The rain had eased off into a light, continuous drizzle some time during the night.

Your ears droop with guilt for leaving him out here in the cold, damp night. You let out a sigh and grip the railing to the marui stairs, turning your body sideways to take your first step down. The wood squeaks when it takes your weight, Ralaks usual tell tale sign that you’re sneaking out at night without his help.

It seems to work for Zu’té too because by the time you reach the second step you hear a raspy voice.

“I was told you need help with these.” Zu’té offers his hand. You let out a sigh and take his arm.

You’ll admit, his helping hand is actually helping, especially now that you’re so far along.

“Irayo [thank you].” You mutter, holding on tightly as you make your way to the bottom step. Zu’té leans against the railing, waiting for you to finish your business.

You don’t take long, most trips recently have been false alarms—just the baby pushing on your bladder because he’s so low down. As you make your way back to the stairs, your lower back begins to warm up. It radiates to your upper and inner thighs, making them ache as you walk.

It’s nothing new, aches and pains are becoming more frequent as the days pass, and the cold certainly isn’t helping. Zu’té meets you at the bottom step with an extended elbow, and you take his arm without a second thought.

It starts to rain again, hard. The temperature easily falls by a few degrees and all you want is to be inside the warmth of your bed right now. Your feet move at a quicker pace and as much as Zu’té tries to be gentle as he can, his grip tightens.

“Take your time.” He says, keeping you steady as you reach the top step.

Once you get to the door, he immediately lets go of you, stepping aside to take his spot on the patio for the remainder of the night. You pull back the marui flap but find yourself hesitating to step inside. You look over your shoulder, watching Zu’té tuck his spear close to his chest and prop himself against the wall.

“Zu’té.” You say. He looks at you, brows raised as he listens. “It’s cold out here. You should come—”

“Don’t worry about me.” He cuts you short, closing his eyes.

“I’m not.” Your words are quick and almost defensive.

Zu’té chuckles a bit, if you could even call it that. “Sounds like you are.”

You sigh, getting a little irritated. “Whatever.”

“I’ll be alright out here.” He says nonchalantly, opening his eyes to look directly at you. Your heart skips a beat and you feel the blood drain from your face. You thought Ralak was intimidating, but this guy is something else.

“Sure.” It’s awkward, but a good awkward…if that were a thing. “Night.”

“Wake me if you need me. No more sneaky shit.” He’s muttering now, ready to go back to sleep. “And get some rest.”

You hold back your laugh, a little amused by the stark difference in his personality and Ralaks. How are they brothers? Or related, even?

“Will do, sir.” You match his sarcastic tone, entering the marui and laying down in bed, hoping to Eywa that sleep will find you soon.

——

Village life continues despite Ralak and the others' absence. You wake up earlier than usual, despite the exhausting circumstances. Your baby moves, letting you know he’s awake too.

“Daddy will be home soon.” You reassure your babe, gently rubbing your stomach.

Perhaps you were also reassuring yourself.

You feel empty, and numb. And as much as you want to lay in bed all day and wait for your mates return, you still have a few things left to do before your son’s arrival.

First thing being, getting some food in your system.

You get ready, and walk outside, noticing that Zu’té is no longer in his spot.

He wakes early.

Looking out into the distance, you catch sight of Zu’té crouching next to a small flame, cooking what seems to be squid. It’s hard to be sure of what it is—the sun hasn’t fully bloomed, and though the rain has stopped it’s still a bit gloomy. You make your way over to him, taking extra care when going down the stairs.

“Morning.” You say nonchalantly.

Zu’té’s ears spring up and he looks behind him—behind you—directly at the stairs. His brows lower and he sighs quickly, knowing there’s no point in making the comment. He looks back at his task, turning the slightly charred squid impaled by a sharpened branch.

“You’re up early.” The giant states, back turned to you to reveal his insanely intricate tattoo.

“Same to you.” You respond, staring at his back hard enough to burn holes into it. You see some scarring and thickened skin, presumably from his days as a warrior. That much you knew because of Ralak.

“Squid. Help yourself.” Zu’té says, handing you a stick of burnt squid.

Taking it from him, you hold it in front of your face, a little baffled at how he seemingly saw nothing wrong with it.

“Hm…thanks. Looks…well done.” You try to force a smile, to no avail.

You try to take a seat next to him, struggling to keep your balance as you lower yourself to your knees. His ears lay flat and he instinctively springs to his feet, helping you sit down. He didn’t think you’d join him here.

It’s silent. Uncomfortably silent. And awkward. You keep your extremities close and your tail closer, curled up in on yourself to remain as small as you can. Although, in comparison to your mate's brother, you were tiny.

He’s not taller by much, but still taller nonetheless. It really makes you wonder how their parents looked for them to turn out this way.

Zu’té eats hastily, shovelling the squid in his mouth as if it had the ability to slither away. It makes you look back at your own serving and suddenly your nerves go haywire. You didn’t want to risk getting sick, your bedside bucket is too far away to fetch. But you didn’t want to be rude—he’d obviously woken up early to make this for you.

You take an experimental bite and fight for your life to keep a straight face. You exaggerate a nod and cover your mouth with your hand, hiding the way you're smacking away at this blubbery piece of meat.

“Mm. Mhm.” You grunt, forcing it down and clearing your throat. “It’s—uhm, it’s not—”

“I am no ‘emyu [cooker].” He says, chucking his cleared stick into the fire.

“Ahem—yeah. Yup.” You twirl the stick between your pointer finger and thumb, bringing his attention to your five fingered hand. His eyes widen a bit before quickly looking away, and you tuck them back in between your thighs.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“Sleep well?”

You both speak at the same time, unintentionally clearing the tension in the air.

“I suppose, all things considered.” You try to speak lightheartedly. “And you? Did any part of you freeze?”

Zu’té laughs and shakes his head. “No, not quite.”

“Well, that’s good.” You say, looking out at sea to witness the sun's emergence. It casts an orange hue over the water, illuminating the ripples of the oncoming waves.

He’s watching it too.

“Your tattoo.” You speak softly, witnessing his ears flutter. “…on your back.”

“Ah. What of it?”

“What does it mean? I mean—” You stutter, still adapting to the idea of inking being a symbolic statement. “What’s the story behind that?”

The story replays in his head—the death of the spirit brothers and family. It flashes before him, as if he were in that moment again. The guilt and pain inside him is eternal, something that’s never left him since. He’s never spoken of it, not even to the person he hurt the most through it all—Ralak.

His ears pin back and his jaw tightens. He shrugs his shoulders and mutters, “Felt like it.”

“So…you’re telling me you did that, for fun?” The surprise is evident in your voice as you look at the tattoo again. His skin is raised and it spans the entirety of his upper back. “That must have been really painful. Ralak did mine and it took days.”

“Didn’t hurt.” Zu’té says, turning his body to you yet keeping his eyes on the sun. But it did. It hurt—a lot. Self inflicted pain, to symbolise the pain he inflicted on others, even if it weren’t his intention.

Maybe they are brothers. You think.

“You going to eat that?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, pointing at your squid on a stick.

“Uhh—I’m going to pass.” You answer, offering it to him, “…sorry.”

“Again. Not a ‘emyu [cooker]” He takes it gladly, biting off a decent chunk and chewing at it unbothered with a deadpan expression.

Nevermind.

Now the silence isn’t as awkward. You choose to sit here a while longer, enjoying this moment as much as you can before coming back to reality. The reality that there may be a war brewing. That—

Ralak isn’t here.

Well, that didn’t last long.

Sadness washes over you, making your ears droop and your tail heavy. Your baby gives you a sudden, hard kick in the ribs, as if he were telling his mummy to cheer up. You uncross your legs and shift your weight to the one side, getting ready to get up and be productive.

Zu’té seems to take note of that.

“Need to get up?” He asks, chucking yet another stick into the fire.

“I got it.” You grunt, shuffling to your knees.

Zu’té lets out a displeased grumble, understanding what his brother meant when he said you have a stubborn streak. He goes to help you anyways, supporting you by the elbow.

You’re just about standing when you feel a sharp stabbing pain in your back. It makes you jolt and grab onto Zu’té, whose slight irritation instantly turns into concern.

“Y/n.”

“I’m good, I’m good.” You repeat out of breath, steadying yourself before letting go. He seemed unsure if you really were okay. “Really. Happens all the time now.”

Zu’té nods, letting go and giving you a little more space. “Alright.”

——

The meeting spot is no other than the ‘head quarters’ of the ash people. It is only on this occasion that another clan may step foot on their land and walk away with a beating heart. That is, if all goes well. Tonowari is confident, however, knowing that the resource they provide the ash people is sufficient enough to prolong the treaty for many decades to come.

It is an ore that forms deep underwater, and can only be extracted by the most skilled divers. Divers that can hold their breath for up to half an hour. The use of this ore remains unknown to the reef people, but the ash people are quick to seize it almost instantaneously at the drop off point. The ore is plentiful among the reef, renewing itself as it is harvested—the act of the great mother restoring balance as needed.

Truth be told, although the reef people are a peaceful people, it is no secret that they hold some of the strongest warriors on Pandora. They are proud of their home, and will fight to protect it at all costs. Even the ash people know this. Which is the reason for their agreement on something as laughable as a ‘peace’ treaty.

Otherwise, what’s really to stop them from annihilating the reef people and taking the ore themselves?

Ralak meets with the others—Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri, and Ronal. They all set off far inland to the place the two clans met ten years ago. The trek is long and tiresome, leaving Ronal winded and in need of a couple breaks along the way. She is, too, heavy with child, but as tsahìk, she perseveres. Tonowari had tried to convince her several times to stay home, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“We are here.” Tonowari announces as the group nears the settlement of their natural enemy. It’s a rocky environment, much like the reef but with plenty of soil and clay. “Heads straight. Ignore them.”

——

Zu’té stays nearby the marui as he tends to some of Ralak’s duties, keeping an eye on you from afar. You sit comfortably on the bottom step of the marui stairs, concentrating on finishing your baby’s sling. Your fingers are a little swollen, making it more difficult to weave. Frustrated, you plop the sling to your side and bury your face into your hands.

Everything is just too overwhelming right now.

“Your technique is poor.” Zu’té’s voice booms over you.

You look up, seeing this tall man with his hands on his hips tower over you, shading you from the sun. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I have plenty of knowledge on—”

“This is a prrsmung [baby carrier], yes?” Zu’té picks up the sling and sits himself next to you, searching for the point in which you left off.

You watch intently, intrigued to know his next move. He carefully unravels all the wefts you’ve managed to do since sitting on this damned step.

“What are you doing? Stop!”

Zu’té sighs and demonstrates a weaving technique you’ve never seen before, entwining and knitting the fabric until it comes together in an even neater fashion. You look at him in awe, dumbstruck that he was able to do that. Ralak dislikes weaving, in fact, he loathes it.

“Try it.” He says, plucking the fabric away from itself to unravel it once more before handing it back to you. You hesitate to take it, caught off guard from his unexpected, skilled movements.

“My fingers are swollen.” You say, feeling defeated and a little embarrassed. He looks down, noticing your five-fingered hand again, not nearly surprised as last time.

“Not as big as mine.” He tries to hand you the sling again. “You got it.”

Reluctantly, you take the sling and slowly mirror his movements, replicating the technique perfectly.

“See?” Zu’té sounds pleased with himself. Looking down at the sling, it dawns on you.

“So, you’re a weaver?” You ask the question as if you had just struck gold. “Usually the women take on that role.”

“Not here, forest girl.” Zu’té defends his role proudly, “But yes, I am.”

“Nice. It is good to see that. My grandmother is a great weaver, she taught me all I know.” You begin.

For as long as your body would allow it, you and Zu’té sat on that step and wove together. You wove the sling and he went to fetch his satchel to work on a piece of his own. Though you did most of the talking, and found yourself dodging one too many snarky remarks, a bond formed on that step.

You told him about your past at hometree, your reason for seeking uturu to begin with.

The sky people.

The words wouldn’t stop flowing, especially when you got onto the topic of how you met his brother. You explained that Ralak was your karyu [teacher] and how that quickly morphed into something much more beautiful. How you broke past his walls—took off his mask of indifference.

But then that awkward silence came again. The silence that reminded you why this stranger was in your home to begin with. That he was playing watchdog because your mate had to leave your side whilst being heavily pregnant.

“I lied.” Zu’té fills the silence. It has your ears perked up and your full attention on him. Your heart picked up speed, almost expecting something bad. “About?”

“That tattoo hurt like a kalweyaveng [son of a bitch].”

His confession has you bellowing out in laughter, clutching your stomach to keep you from shaking up your baby.

“I knew it.” You finally say once you calm down from a much needed laugh. “No good comes from trying to pretend that things don’t hurt, you know.”

Little did you know these words weighed heavy on him. Heavier than you meant for them to. He falls silent, contemplating if he should say what he’s about to. The real confession. The real reason behind the tattoo.

“I killed our spirit brothers.” He blurts out, astonished by his own voice.

Did I really just say that? Shit.

“What?” You exhale, your heart now galloping in your chest.

“It was twelve years ago. I was…seventeen. Sent out to war. I had to keep Ralak out of it. I went alone…lead a group of warriors to protect the tulkun.” His voice seizes up, as if his throat were closing. He looks away, fixing his gaze to his feet. “I was still learning. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. The sky people…they slaughtered them all.”

“Hey, hey. That’s not your fault, Zu’té. You didn’t kill them. The sky people did.” You rest your hand on his back, feeling how raised and toughened the skin where his inking lay deep.

Zu’té just looks at you, eyes trembling with vulnerability. It’s the first someone outside of the family has ever told him that. It’s something that he needed to hear.

“Is that why you fled? Ralak told me you left him.”

Zu’té nods, looking away in shame once more. “I abandoned him.”

You shake your head, knowing now that Ralak has healed and no longer feels this way. “He has healed Zu’té. And now it is your turn.”

Zu’té only nods, allowing the silence to fill the space again. This time it’s needed.

Until it's broken by a familiar voice.

“Sister.” Neteyam greets you at the bottom step, throwing a smile your way, then to your stomach. “Little one.”

He’s checking on you per your fathers request. Of course he wanted to ensure you were okay, too.

“Tey.” You smile big, happy to see such a familiar, comforting face. “I thought you went.”

You reach out for the railing to pull yourself up, and both Neteyam and Zu’té go to help you get up. You side-hug Neteyam, finding comfort in your brother. It’s been a hectic night.

“No, someone’s got to watch Tuk…and you.” Neteyam chuckles. As you let go, your glances at Ralak’s brother. “Neteyam, this is Ralak’s brother. Zu’té.” You introduce the two properly.

Taught manners from a young age, Neteyam gestures ‘I see you’ to the former warrior, and he returns the sign.

“Uncle TeyTey’s got you guys for the day.” Neteyam coos at your tummy, and then offers you his arm.

“Right...Dads orders?” You ask, happy to go with him.

“Dads orders.” Neteyam nods firmly, looking at Zu’té to relay the message. Zu’té returns the nod, being present to hear your fathers concerns about the entire arrangement. Besides, it’ll give him time to hunt for something proper for dinner.

“C’mon guys!” Lo’ak shouts from the ocean, mounted on his skimwing with Tuk behind him.

“See you. Think about what I said.” You say to Zu’té, prompting him to wave goodbye. Neteyam walks you to his tsurak, helping you to get on. You had retired your tsurak for the time being, finding it hard to ride with your back pain.

“Hey Lo’. Tuk-Tuk.” You say with relief in your voice, finding comfort in the company of your family.

——

The ash people are impudent to say the least. They follow behind the five na’vi weaving their way through the growing crowd, right on their tails as they try to get a better look at them. They are particularly interested in Jake and Neytiri, seeing the forest people for the first time. But most haven’t even gotten a look at the reef people yet, despite having the agreement with them for so many decades already.

Some even dare to poke and prod, tugging at their tails and their hair to get a feel or whiff of their scents. Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri and Ralak walk in a formation that allows Ronal to be in the centre, safe guarded from any pointed fingernails or astray noses. Ralak is on edge, but one could never tell by a glance. His appearance is intimidating, a stature so tall he and Tonowari tower over the crowd.

“I do the talking.” Tonowari says discreetly as they near the entrance of the hut.

The room is made of some sort of red clay substance, seemingly burnt to a char until it has been hardened into what feels like rock. This one in particular is large, containing smaller sectioned off rooms, partitioned with thick leather curtains. It's all very bleak, rid of liveliness and colour.

As they enter the hut, two bigger ash na’vi guard the door on either side, blocking and guarding the entrance behind them. Two more ash na’vi lead the group with spears to their backs to a large curtain, and shove them towards it with a few harsh jabs to Jake’s and Ralak’s spines. Jake snaps around, throwing them a dirty look. Whilst Ralak keeps his gaze fixed to his feet. He feels deep in his gut that something isn’t right.

Whether it be here, or back home.

With each step he takes, the sense of impending doom only worsens. He has no desire to be here but he recognizes that this is what is necessary. Yet, he can’t help the way he feels. And when he finally raises his head all the pieces link together. It all makes sense.

Before them are five na’vi in total. Two women and three men. Four ash na’vi and one…reef na’vi. A female, reef na’vi. Her face is unmistakable—unforgettable. It’s been seared into his mind since he was a young boy.

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.

His karyu.

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untitledrockstar-if · 2 months ago

Text

Q: WHAT ARE THE CONTENT WARNINGS?

substance abuse, allusions to abuse, sexual content, mental health struggles and infidelity. this game is intended for mature audiences and depicts dark themes that are sadly normal in the entertainment industry.

Q: WHAT IS MC’S ROLE/JOB?

they’re currently the partner of a rockstar and are considered an It boy/girl. you can choose a career later on and pursue dreams outside of the band.

Q: WHAT ARE THE CAREERS WE CAN CHOOSE FROM?

actor/actress, artist, musician and model for now.

Q: HOW OLD IS EVERY CHARACTER?

mc: 27, ronan/roxanne: 29 about to turn 30 in game, charles/colette: 40/41, scarlett/samuel: 28, milan/margo: 23 and ????: 28

Q: WHO CAN YOU ROMANCE?

ronan/roxanne, samuel/scarlett, charles/colette, milan/margo and ????

Q: WHO IS ????

that will be revealed in game and I won’t spoil it now.

Q: ARE DRUGS REQUIRED TO BE TAKEN?

at the beginning, yes. mc has fully immersed themself in the lifestyle of the band and does drugs and drinks.

Q: WHY IS MC SO MEAN TO RANDOM CHARACTERS/THE REST OF THE CAST?

because they’ve been living this lifestyle for 3 years and the industry oftentimes changes people for the worse.

Q: WILL THE INFIDELITY TAKE PLACE BETWEEN R AND MC?

yes.

Q: IS THE CHEATING GOING TO HAPPEN REGARDLESS OF OUR CHOICES?

yes, it’s an important plot point later on.

Q: CAN WE CHEAT ON R IN RETURN?

yes, you can.

Q: DOES R REALLY LOVE MC?

they do! people still do stupid shit to people they love however.

Q: CAN WE BREAK UP WITH R?

yes, but not at the start.

Q: DO WE HAVE TO BREAK UP WITH R?

no, you don't have to.

Q: CAN WE GET BACK TOGETHER WITH R?

yes, but that will take some time.

Q: WILL R CHANGE IF/WHEN MC LEAVES THEM?

they might try to get better.

Q: WHAT HAPPENS WHEN (X)?

I won’t spoil anything. let’s just wait and see.

Q: HOW WILL R REACT WHEN (X)?

that will be discussed in game.

Q: CAN YOU TELL US WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN THEY BREAK UP?

no, as we are at the beginning and I want to leave at least some things as a surprise.

Q: CAN WE LEAVE R AFTER CHAPTER ONE?

no. mc and R are going to be together happily until the end of the first third of the game.

Q: ARE SEX SCENES MANDATORY?

yes. R and mc communicate through sex a lot and this game relies on romance and sex will be part of it.

Q: CAN MC BE ON TOP TOO/MORE DOMINANT?

yes, but seeing as there’ll be 4 different variations of every sex scene based on the gender of your RO and the mc themself, I won’t offer too much input in terms of choices who will be on top when. the scenes play out the way I feel are best and you can’t be a strict top/bottom this time around.

Q: CAN YOU ADD (X) TO THE STORY?

no. I plotted this game already and want it to play out the way I envision.

Q: WHY DIDN’T YOU WRITE R AND MC LIKE (X)?

because I didn’t.

Q: WHAT INSPIRED THIS IF?

general gossip I’ve read, shows and movies depicting the reality of what being a star entails. certain books like tshoeh and djats.

Q: HOW LONG WILL IT BE WORD COUNT AND CHAPTER WISE?

around 9/10 chapters are planned but I’m not sure about a wc yet.

Q: DID R LOVE THEIR EX?

yes, in their own way.

Q: WILL BE EXPLORE HOW MC AND R MET?

yes, mc’s and R’s past will be depicted and discussed at length.

#m.txt #the faq page I created on desktop won't show up so until then a mobile version #**faq #long post

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holylulusworld · 6 months ago

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His Bride (Prologue) - Creaturetober 29

Summary: Your life gets turned upside down.

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader; John Walker x fem!Reader (for now)

Warnings: nightmares, angst, awful boyfriend, daydreaming, vampire Bucky, mind-manipulation

The first chapter was written for @boxofbonesfic: 𝐵𝑜𝓍𝑜𝒻𝒷𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

His Bride Masterlist

You wake from another nightmare filled with sharp teeth and blood. So much blood.

His teeth: you can still feel where they broke the skin and flesh in your dream. There’s no wound or blood. Of course not. It’s only a dream. A nightmare you have had for months.

It’s always there in the back of your mind—the monster clawing its way into your life bit by bit. Ever since you started working for Buchanan Inc.

There is something you can’t grasp but know is there. A shadow looming over you and your life.

Maybe that’s why your fiancé acts coldly toward you. Or maybe he simply lost interest.

“You look like shit.” You flinch at John’s harsh tone. He glares in your direction as you struggle to get out of bed. Groggily, you push the covers off you, yawning loudly. You’re exhausted, drained even. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re at the club all night and sneak back into bed.”

John snorts and turns around, muttering under his breath. Great, he’s in that mood again. You hear him rummage in the kitchen but are too tired to care.

Last night, the dream was even more intense. You could almost feel the presence of the monster chasing you in your dreams. His teeth sank into your neck, and you screamed—in pleasure and pain. You shudder at the memory of your lustful escapade with the monster.

Oddly, you can remember every detail of your dreams lately. Even the monster’s eyes. Steel-blue and cold.

Touching the itching spot again, you whimper. Your skin feels sensitive and hot.

“You’re imagining things,” you grumble as you get out of bed to walk into the bathroom. “No more romantic vampire novels for bed, young lady!” You chuckle to yourself and hurriedly walk into the bathroom. A shower will help you wash the coldness out of your bones and the shame off your body.

Another day down the drain. You rub your temples and sigh. Restless nights and workload took a toll on you.

“Y/N, you’re still here? Why are you working so late? I thought I’m the workaholic here,” your boss chuckles. “You should go home.”

Your head snaps toward the open door to your boss’s office. Well, everyone’s boss. The CEO of Buchanan Inc. - James Buchanan Barnes. Perfection in flesh and blood.

He's like a classic gentleman, with a sexy Romanian accent and the most stunning blue eyes you ever saw on a man. It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome, rich, and mysterious.

If only you weren’t engaged. If only…

“I wanted to finish a few things before heading home,” you lie poorly. Your boss can see it in your eyes.

You barely get the chance to meet him. He seems to always be absent during the daytime.

In secret, you called him a hot vampire after reading another novel involving a sexy vampire. Well, the accent and his mysterious aura matched the description, and you couldn’t help but daydream about your boss.

“Doesn’t your fiancé miss you when you work for so long? I wouldn’t want him to hate me for stealing his girl’s attention.” He suddenly stands in front of your desk, taking you by surprise. You press your hand to your heart, gasping as Bucky moves so fast you don’t see him coming.

“He wouldn’t care,” you curse yourself for the slip of the tongue. Your boss doesn’t need to know that John gives a shit if you come home late. He’s late almost every day, too. You gave up asking him for a reason weeks ago. “I meant, he’s busy with work too. I only want to finish a few documents and will head home.”

“Do you want something to eat or a tea?” Bucky watches you rub your temples. “You’re having a headache.” He says, already knowing your head is pounding. “Did you drink enough?”

“Yeah,” you lie again. The truth is, you lost track of time and forgot lunch and drinking once again.

“Hmm,” he whispers your name and suddenly stands right before you. His hands reach out for you. He carefully touches your temple with his thumb, slowly rubbing circles. You whimper. His touch is soothing and exciting at the same time.

You close your eyes and instinctively lean in his gentle touch. It feels like Bucky rubs the pain right out of your head. He murmurs your name and a few words you don’t understand in Romanian.

“Păpuşă (doll).” His deep voice and the scent of his cologne fill your senses. You’re so lost in his touch and closeness that you moan his name.

He chuckles but says nothing. Bucky seems to be pleased with your reaction because he keeps on whispering your name and words in Romanian, making you feel warm and safe.

Even if you weren’t lost in his touch, you wouldn’t care. This is the gentlest touch you ever experienced in your life.

“Open your eyes, păpuşă (doll),” he purrs your name with the sweetest voice, luring you in. You fight to open your eyes but follow his order. Your lips part as you search his eyes.

You gasp, watching his beautiful blue orbs turn crimson. His lips part to reveal pearl-white, sharp fangs. “Don’t be afraid, mea mireasă (my bride). Nothing will happen to you. You’re mine to protect and love. Soon you’ll be mine forever.”

The fog slowly lifts from your mind as his warmth leaves you. You blink a few times to watch Bucky scroll through his phone. He lifts his gaze to meet your eyes.

Another daydream—that’s what this was. He never touched you or murmured soft words. This is the worst time to lose your mind. Your boss cannot know about your daydreams or your nightmares.

You can only hope Bucky didn’t catch you staring at him.

Part 1

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #vampire bucky barnes #vampire au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #His Bride (Prologue) - Creaturetober 29 #kinktober vs flufftober 2024

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staytinyville · 2 years ago

Text

Stay Alive Masterlist

" Came like a Miracle, Look like a miracle, Just like Miracle, Those few words...."

Synopsis: When you started working at a pharmaceutical company, you didn’t realize where it was your life was heading. After getting a patient mix up, you meet seven men who would didn’t seem to want any other nurse that wasn’t you. When you start to know them, you notice things that made you question if they were really human. No matter what excuse they would give though, you would always go home with a heavy heart. The day the truth is revealed to you, things take a turn for the worst.

Pairings: BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Genre: Mystical Creatures AU, Fluff, Romance, Angst, Fantasy

Warnings: Smut in future chapters, toxic work environment, abuse

Taglist: I have decided to write smut chapters. However it’s just one per member. Maybe some things here and there. With that being said. I will not have a taglist on those chapters for fear of having minors tagged. My books are mostly for a general audience because smut isn’t my main writing. However with the very small number of chapters I will probably do, it’s best to not tag anyone. I understand some of you have ages but I don’t want to struggle with picking out each adult blog. Thank you for understanding.

A/N

(1) -- (2) -- (3) -- (4) -- (5)

(6) -- (7) -- (8) -- (9) -- (10)

(11) -- (12) -- (13) -- (14) -- (15)

(16) -- (17) -- (18) -- (19) -- (20)

(21) -- (22) -- (23) -- (24) -- (25)

(26) -- (27) -- (28) -- (29) -- (30)

(31) -- (32) -- (33) -- (34) -- (35)

(36) -- (37) -- (38) -- (39) -- (40)

(41) -- (42) -- (43) -- (44) -- (45)

(46) -- (47) -- (48) -- (49) -- (50)

" Those few words that saved me I'll be by your side after many nights..."

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 months ago

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A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 29 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

CW: A Christmas Present for Readers, fem receiving oral, fingering, and a man starved

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Please,” Alastor whispered against your salty wet skin as he walked you deeper into the villa, clinging to your wet body. The setting sun cast the room in a warm glow, though you were far from in a place to notice it. “Let me make you feel good?”

“What?” You could hardly hear him over the rush of your heartbeat roaring in your years.

“Let me show you another way to feel good,” Alastor asked, pulling at your dress, fingering the zipper behind your back, voice heavy with want and tinged with desperation. “Please?”

Somehow, he had walked you into the bedroom without you realizing it. Fear and nervousness jumped along your nerves as you pulled back to look at Alastor, running your teeth over your kiss swollen lower lip. The memory of how Alastor had made you feel good the last time had haunted you, terrified you enough that it sent you running.

“Let me show you another first?” Alastor asked, continuing his pleas even as you nodded. “Let me do for you what he won’t.”

“Okay,” you whispered as Alastor smiled brightly at you, kissing your lips again. Fear and trust warred within your heart.

His hand behind your back worked the zipper down, fingers tracing its trail down your lower back as the dress fell slack around your torso. His mouth trailed down your neck as his hands brushed under the fabric on your shoulders, sending it falling to the ground in a heap at your feet.

It was hard to not be aware of the fact that you were standing in your slip, panties and silk bra in front of the man you wanted to take you as a husband takes a wife. It terrified you. Being taken in such a way was only ever painful. But with Alastor? You wanted to believe it could be something different, something better.

You were sure that was what was coming as his hands settled on your waist, warmth spreading ingot your water cooled skin.

You could hardly breathe as his lips caressed your shoulder, hands running along the exposed skin of your back. Soft open-mouthed kisses left a wet trail over skin as he backed you toward the bed.

“Sit,” Alastor whispered into your skin. The direction was soft, yet firm. You wanted to do as he said without question. That desire to just do as he asked sent another bolt of fear through you.

As you did so, he leaned down, kissing every fading bruise as if his lips alone could heal them. It felt like he could, as you struggled to breathe. Soon he was on his knees before you, hands running up your legs.

Slowly, as if unwrapping a gift, he rolled your stocking down one leg, kissing the newly exposed skin as he went. After placing a kiss on the inside of your ankle, he set your foot on the outside of his thighs.

“What are you doing?” you couldn’t help but ask as he began again with the other leg, repeating the process slowly. Your heart thundered as you tried to understand what you were feeling. A hot ball of iron rolled around in your stomach, a molten desire for something you didn’t understand.

“Worshiping.” Alastor said, as if it wasn’t blasphemous. He set your foot down on the other side of his thigh and you pulled your knees together to maintain some decency, slight though it was.

The warm light of the setting sun made the man kneeling between your feet seem to glow. His skin was warmer, his hair looked soft and yet the way it lit up his eyes- it almost made them look red.

Red. Red like blood. No.

You closed your eyes, pushing the thought away. There was no blood here. Here, at the villa, everything was alright. You were just a woman with the man you loved.

“I don’t-” The words came out choked, strangled, as you tried to strangle the thought.

“The only altar I need to worship at is yours,” Alastor said, kissing your knee. “If you’ll let me.”

“That’s blasphemy,” you whispered as you let him pull your knees apart, though you trembled under his touch.

“As is everything else about our love,” he said as he kissed your inner thigh, just above your knee. “But for your love, I’d burn in hell if it means you’ll be with me in life.”

That shouldn’t have made your heart sing as much as it did. It was wrong. This was wrong. The way his hands ran up your thigh, pushing your silk slip higher, exposing more for his lips to kiss, you struggled to care about what hell would await you.

His hands felt like heaven. If you could just bask in the heaven that was him for a while, it would be worth it. He was worth it.

“Alastor, I-” you didn’t know what you were going to say as he pulled your thighs farther apart, kissing along the warmth of your inner thighs, higher and higher. Embarrassment burned at you as he came close to your core. Would he touch you as he had before?

“I can smell you,” he sighed, nose brushing against the softness of your panties.

“I’m sorry,”

“You smell divine,” he whispered. “Don’t you worry. So ripe and ready for me. I can see it.”

“What?”

“Give me your hand?” Alastor reached up, taking your trembling hand in his. “Let me show you.”

Your hand grazed your thigh as he leaned back, twisting and shifting your hand until he had your palm facing your core. There was a moment of hesitation and then he led your fingers to make contact with the gusset of your panties, hot and wet.

“Your slick,” he said. “You’ve still not touched yourself, have you? Even after I showed you how good you can feel.”

“It’s- I’m- it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ll teach you,” Alastor whispered as he led your fingers through caressing yourself through the soaked fabric. You couldn’t argue with how good it felt when fingertips brushed over the numb at the head of your folds.

“Alastor,” you gasped as he increased the pressure, leaning in and taking the straining tendon running from your core to your inner thigh between his lips, sucking at the skin.

“May I?” he asked as he worked a finger under the band around her hips. “I want to see you. I want to feel nothing but you.”

Shame burned at you as you nodded. Never had it been like this with Laurence. Never had he asked before doing anything. Never had he wanted anything more than to be inside of you. Never had you wanted to allow him to touch you. Never had you wanted him to touch you.

You lifted your hips as he tugged the fabric down, taking your half slip with it. You sat, knees once again together, at the edge of the bed before the kneeling man you loved with only your silken bra to cover your breasts.

“Relax,” Alastor said, raising up to his knees, as he steadied himself with his hands on your thighs, just above your naked knees. He kissed you softly, sweetly, as he urged you to relax. “I will not hurt you.”

You let your legs fall apart slowly, trembling under his hands. Whatever it was Alastor wanted to do to you, you wanted to let him do. Alastor had all of your trust. If you could trust him with your heart, you trusted him with your body.

As you relaxed, leaned his torso between your knees, spreading them farther as he kissed along your neck, hands gripping you as if he feared you’d float away. It seemed like a valid fear; you thought as he kissed down your chest, guiding you to lean back as you supported yourself with an outstretched arm.

Soft kisses trailed along the line where your bra cupped your breasts before jumping down, kissing below and working down your abdomen. Gasping for breath, you tried to understand what he was doing to you and why it felt as good as it did.

Was this what it was supposed to be like before you laid together? Was this something Laurence skipped? Was this something else?

“Alastor?” you squeaked his name as you felt him draw lower down your body, planting soft kisses on your mound.

“May I taste you?” He asked, looking up at you.

“What?” You gaped down at him as he spread your legs farther with this broad shoulders. He made a show of looking at your core and licking his lips.

“Alastor, no that’s-”

“It’s not,” he said, “And I want to. I want to feel you, to taste you, to hear you. Please, let me? I swear to you, it will not hurt.”

“Okay,” you stuttered out, looking away from him only to have him call your name from between your legs.

“Watch me,” he whispered, kissing high on your inner thigh. “Watch me as I devour you.”

You couldn’t look away when he asked that way. First, he ran his finger up and down your folds, spreading them wide as he smeared your slick. Your hips twitched as he passed over your nub each time, remembering how good it had felt when he had reached around and ran his fingertips along it.

“You’re so wet already,” he whispered as he pulled his glasses off his face with his other hand, setting them on the bed next to you. Then he leaned in and placed a soft kiss against the bundle of nerves exposed to him.

You gasped as a spark jumped through you, watching him while he pulled back for a moment again. He licked the slick his lips had collected with the simple contact. It was lewd, but not nearly as lewd as what came next.

“Kiss me again?” You whispered as he glanced up at you. The words were out of your mouth before you thought about what they meant. All you knew is you needed to taste his kiss one more time before whatever indecency would come next.

Alastor rose between your knees and kissed you. He braced against the bed with one hand as his hand worked down your front. The feeling of his fingers slipping through your wet folds as he kissed you had you gasping, gripping him as if he would keep you grounded.

Running your hands around him, you braved taking a liberty yourself. As his touch worked through you, over you, you worked his buttons free, pulling at his shirt. You ran your hands through his hair between tugs, pulling his shirt from his pants, or running over the expanse of his chest you could expose.

He felt good under your hand. Never had you expected to want to touch a man as badly as yo wanted to touch him. His shirt hung loosely around his shoulders, only slightly tucked in at places still as you took in the feel of his scattered chest hairs under your hand, the way his heart beat against his ribs and his pebbled nipples.

“Oh god,” you gasped only for him to chuckle right into you, tongue working between your lips.

His kiss tasted different and after a heartbeat you realized you were tasting you on his lips. Your head spun as he worked his fingers up and down your folds, circling your nub as he kissed you, tongue caressing tongue.

“Let me feast,” Alastor whispered as he parted from your lips, still connected by a line of saliva. “Trust me.”

He sank again to his knees, resting back on his heels as he looked at your core as if it was some fine delicacy. After licking his lips one last time, he leaned forward, tongue out.

The sensation as he ran it along your folds was strange, not unpleasant, but you were stuck in your head, overthinking how terrible it must be for him. He groaned at the taste, flat tongue passing over your nub before he began again, starting lower. The tip of his tongue pulled over your opening, just teasing it before flattening and running through your folds gain.

As he reached the bundle of nerves again, his lips curled around it and he sucked, earning a gasp and a twitch of your lips. A smile spread as his tongue circled your clit.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips moving over folds as if he couldn’t bear being parted from the meal. “You taste so good.”

“Alastor,” you didn’t know what you were going to request, instead running your fingers through his already messy curls. He groaned into you when you’d catch tangles, pulling at them.

His mouth left the nub, tongue finding the opening that had only brought pain in the past. His tongue teased it, running around and over it before pointing and dipping inside the tense opening.

Your mind was spinning, gasping. Never had you wanted something to breach that opening, but now all you could think of was how good it felt when his tongue pressed against it, his nose bumping and rubbing against the sensitive nub.

“I want to go inside.” Alastor whispered, looking up at you as he placed a series of kisses against your clit, sending sparks through you that had your hips twitching. “Let me feel you form the inside. Taste you.”

“Please,” you struggled to understand the words he said as he looked up at you from between your legs, slick shining against his lips. He could have asked you for anything at all, and you would have agreed. “Please, Alastor. I need-”

Your words were strangled, cut off as his lips wrapped around the nub again, sucking hard. What do you do with your hands right now? You couldn’t figure it out as he spread you wider. Your hand rested limply against your abdomen, not wanting to keep pulling his tangles in case it caused him pain.

Reaching up, he took your hand and placed it atop his head again as he pulled back, sucking hard on your clit until it left his mouth with a pop.

You felt his fingers return, running around the opening. No one had reached inside your body before except your husband. It was a temple a husband places his offering in and when blessed; it results in a child.

You gasped as Alastor’s long finger pushed past that opening, sinking deliciously deeper inside. It was terrifying to have another inside you, touching you in a place that had only brought pain. There was no pain with his slow and careful intrusion.

“You’re taking my finger so well,” Alastor said, lapping at your clit. “I can make you feel good from the inside out, darling.”

He worked his finger in and out of you, your back arching as his tongue explored the rest of your core, tasting you and driving you closer and closer to the edge. The breathy gasps gave way to light moans as a second finger breached your entrance.

“Alastor,” you begged, not knowing what for.

“Do you want to come? Do you want to come undone on my hand? In my mouth?” he renewed his efforts, twisting his fingers as he sought the place that would have you crying out.

Just as he wanted, your moans became louder, a series of gasped ‘oh’s as slick poured from you anew. He moaned as his tongue worked around his fingers, taking in the taste before lavishing your clit with attention. The fight was tight, but after stretching you around his fingers, he could add a third.

“Please,” you gasped as he moved faster. “Please, please, Alastor! It’s too much!”

Your fingers gripped his hair as he pushed forward, careful not to hurt you as his teeth grazed over the nub. He felt your walls flutter around his fingers as he continued to work you over. Then your body seized, clamping down tightly around him.

You moaned loudly as you fell back, elbow buckling under the flood of feelings. Alastor pulled your thigh up over his shoulder as he continued to work his fingers in and out of you, placing soft kisses and kitten licks against your clit until your body settled, racking waves of convulsions settling into little more than twitches.

“Beautiful,” Alastor said as he puled his fingers from your twitching opening with a squelch. “You come apart beautifully.”

Your chest rose and fell as Alastor climbed onto the bed with you, pulling your near naked form to his chest as you struggled to think through the fog. The shelter of his arms felt like where you needed to be.

Blinking up at him, you watched as he licked the slick from his fingers.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“And let it go to waste? HA!” Alastor made a show of sucking another finger clean.

He had been inside you, reached and touched a place where none had ever touched before, not even yourself. You tried to curl into him more, still gasping for air. Warm hands ran down your back, soothing you as he reminded you to breathe.

“We’re done for tonight,” Alastor whispered as he gathered you into his lap after he removed his belt, tossing it aside. “You did so good. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Did you like it?”

“Amazing.” you whispered, face aflame with the shame of having to discuss what had happened. “I didn’t think it would… that that could feel so…”

“Shh,” Alastor kissed you and you struggled to care where his lips had just been. The taste of you on his lips wasn’t offensive, you decided, because it was from his lips. “I’ll get you some water. And a nightgown.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’ll be right back,” Alastor said, handing you a silken nightgown from your bag. “You need to drink some water.”

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polarisjisung · 6 months ago

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LOVE ON THE COURT | 29 NOT AGAIN

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | sexual innuendos, swearing, mentions + pretty detailed description of a panic attack, lwk abandonment issues

NOTES | the girls are fighting... you didn't think I'd let them make up this fast did you?? a much shorter chapter today I'm sorry 😓

15:27pm , after the game

Y/n knew ningning inside out, they'd been friends for their whole life, best friends for a number of years, they'd spent longer together than apart.

Y/n and ningning were practically sisters. They'd fought over stupid things like if apple juice was better than orange juice, they'd stolen each others clothes, done each others nails as post breakup therapy— they'd experienced love and loss, and they'd always experienced it together.

It was and always had been them against the world.

Personal problems had always existed, but they'd face them head on and, most importantly, together.

So y/n knew what ningning was feeling, maybe not exactly, but she certainly knew why ningning felt the way she did.

And sure, Ningning's words had hurt y/n too, but that was the thing, they'd said the best and worst things to one another.

Being so close to someone can be a double-edged sword. Knowing their triggers and insecurities so well that in the heat of the moment, it’s almost too easy to throw those daggers. The intimacy shared can turn into a weapon of knowing exactly what to say to hit them where it hurts. In those moments, it’s like being caught in a toxic cycle, where love and pain intertwine.

Regret sets in as soon as the words leave the mouth, but the damage is done, leaving both people feeling raw and vulnerable. It's a harsh reminder that knowing someone deeply can sometimes mean knowing how to wound them just as easily. So y/n knew that Ningning was showing nothing but her concern.

But equally, she understood she deserved somewhat of an apology as well, even if Ningning's words had come from a good place, they'd hurt, and perhaps they hurt even more so coming from her.

It seemed a simple explanation why this argument of theirs had rested at the forefront of her mind for so long too, because Ningning was the only person in her life who Y/n couldn't imagine losing. And after everything that she'd been through, after the people she'd lost, and the relationships she'd seen go with them, she knew she wouldn't let herself be to blame. She wouldn't let herself lose a friend, least of all Ningning, just because she didn't communicate.

Or at least that was her plan, as she made her way down the hallway of the hotel, her hair still dripping from the shower she'd just taken, gripping way too many snacks for the two of them to share. Minjun followed after her, still gushing about having seen his older sister play for the first time, begging her to teach him how to dribble the ball like her, a grin plastered across his face. It was endearing, really.

And Y/n swore she only turned to smile at him for a second, but in the next, she felt her heart drop and her blood run cold. It felt like the ground shifted beneath her feet, and suddenly, she was trapped in a whirlwind of way too many thoughts, coming way too fast.

There, stood across the hallway, was a man she had made many desperate attempts to forget. To no avail, of course.

She blinked, rubbing her fists against her eyes hurriedly, as if he was nothing but a figment of her imagination, that when she looked up again he'd disappear and this would be nothing but a bad dream. But there he was, struggling to open the door to his room, angrily staring down at the key card with furrowed brows.

He seemed older. His hairs greying and wrinkles setting in across the feafures she recognised so well, his smile lines deeper than the last time she'd seen him.

The last time she'd seen him.

Her breaths quickened at the sight of him, becoming deeper yet each inhale felt shallower than the last, and her chest tightened like a vice. This wasn't happening, it couldn't, not here, not now.

She could hear the muffled voice beside her asking why they'd stopped walking, she could feel minjun's grip tighten around her, she could see the way the man turned his head at the realisation he was no longer alone in the haway, but it all felt distant, like she was underwater. Unsure how to answer, she stood silently, gaze locked on the man, blinking rapidly, questioning if he was really, truly stood in front of her at all. As soon as he locked eyes with her, she felt the bile rush up her throat and a distant ringing in her ears, her hands beginning to shake against the smaller ones that held hers. Y/n felt like she was drowning. But she knew she couldn't. It was a luxury she couldn't afford, and the soft skin brushing against her hand was a reminder of that.

Panic surged through her, and y/n fought the urge to break down, feeling the walls closing in on her. The bright lights overhead felt too harsh, illuminating the doubts swirling in her head, making it hard to focus. Calm down. She thought, but she couldn't. She couldn't think she couldn't move, and worst of all, she couldn't calm down. She convinced herself this was nothing, voiced out lies in her mind that echoed with uncertainty. Breathe, she thought. But she couldn't. It was as if every unresolved feeling crashed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her gasping for air and desperate for an escape. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ground herself, but the memories flooded back faster, unrelenting and unforgiving.

Y/n found herself tugging harshly against the smaller wrist that was still loosely resting in her grip, making a sharp 180 and jetting off down the hallway, with shaky steps and ragged breaths.

She had to go, she had to leave, she had to do it now. Her phone vibrated in her hands only seconds later, a painfully familiar contact flashing across the screen, and all y/n could do was throw the device into the bottom of her bag, stuffing her belongings in on top, making no effort to answer the questions coming from the confused young boy who watched her. The blood rushed to her head so quickly, too quickly, in fact, and she swore the room in front of her begun to spin.

Her dad hadn't called her in years, not a single message, not a single word, so why now was he calling? Why was he reaching out now? Just because he'd seen her? Did some sort of shitty parental guilt kick in at the sight of his now grown children? Did he feel inadequate, maybe even jealous that they were doing just fine without him? Y/n didn't know, and she didn't care, but seeing him was still enough for her to take an unwanted trip down memory lane, reliving every moment since he'd left. Her chest tightened, the lump in her throat growing to the point that she couldn't breathe no matter how hard she tried. Still, she kept going, scanning the room to make sure she hadn't left anything behind.

Minjun had never seen his sister like this, so close to breaking down, and y/n didn't plan on letting that change today, sucking in deep breaths and wiping her teary eyes as she pulled his jacket around him. It was getting cold outside now, and she wouldn't let one careless mistake from her because of something so trivial, leading to him becoming sick.

Y/n could barely function, struggling to pull the zipper loop up and through the jacket, still she kept going. Her body ran on autopilot, muscle memory taking full control as she silently pulled the bags through the door and held a hand out for minjun to follow. Too occupied in her own thoughts she rushed out of the hotel with urgency, taking long strides towards the cabs that waited outside, only realising she was moving way too fast for Minjun to keep up when his small rushed breaths filled the air. She needed to calm down, she wasn't alone and she had to act like it. Minjun was her responsibility, and she needed to take care of him.

She muttered out an apology, quick, sincere, but short and found herself falling back into the cycle of her own thoughts again. Comfort was a thought far away, but the surety of heading home, caused the racing of her heart to ease just slightly, a dull ache developing in her arm now that she'd finally set down all her bags inside the cab, a cramp settling in.

In that moment, y/n felt the overwhelming feeling of solitude press down in her, honing in from all sides, and the ache of abandonment crept into each corner of her heart. The pain was bitter and fuck, it ran deep.

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#nct jaemin smau #jaemin smau #nct dream smau #nct smau #jaemin fake texts #nct dream fake texts #kpop smau #love on the court 🏀

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it-was-summer · 9 months ago

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Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #1 (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: After being dead on this account for years, like Christ (or bread?), I have risen (I'm not religious). The point is, if you are new to this series, welcome! I am rewriting this series for myself (and anyone still reading after all this time). It is something I want to see through and that I loved re-reading all these years later. The original reception was so warm and lovely, sometimes making me feel guilty for leaving so abruptly. I loved every reblog, comment, tag, and like for this series. I hope that if you're still here, you like the remake. This series DOES contain sensitive matters such as kidnapping, death, torture, sexual themes, and more. If you struggle with this material please know you are not alone and always reach out for help. I will be making a new masterlist once I have more chapters out. Please let me know what you think and enjoy! - Much love, Em <3

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Next Chapter: Tape #2

WARNING: stalking, mention of kidnapping, blood, cursing, and sensitive material ahead.

Tape Contents: You start recording videos for the BAU once you find out you have a stalker.

Word Count: 2,196

Tape #1- December 29, 20XX

Your face looks a little apprehensive as you move away from the webcam on your computer. Your eyes flick off the screen, leaning forward to read something as if you had planned out a script for yourself. You wave at the camera, offering the lens a weak and shy smile. Your posture slumps for a second, letting out a prolonged sigh. “I,” you frown at the camera, “I’m not good at talking to myself on video, it seems.”

“I guess bluntness might be a saving grace for both of us,” you whisper as you play with a ring on your middle finger, sliding it up and down your finger, “You know that feeling you get when you’re driving home late at night and you think to yourself, ‘Oh my god. I think that car behind me is following me.’ I think it all started with that.” A hand reaches for your hair, and you timidly move a stray strand away from your eyes.

“I tried everything I could think of and kept turning randomly, but it was too late. I would rush up to my apartment, and across the street would the same red van every fucking weekend. I tried to get the plate one day as I watched them leave from my window, but no such luck.” You swallow thickly, your voice suddenly full of emotion.

A sad smile crosses your face as you shake your head, “Fucking dumb, this is so fucking dumb.” you cry softly as tears dance along your lash line. You take a deep breath and push your shoulders back in a desperate attempt to regain your composure.

You hold up a wilted, purple rose. Loose petals fall as you twist the stem between your thumb and index. “Got this last night, just on my windshield.” You mutter with a tone of disdain. “Don’t even like roses.” you joke lightly as you set the rose on your desk.

“I’m going to the police tomorrow. I just… thought maybe doing this would make me feel better,” you pause and let out a bitter laugh, leaning toward the camera, “It hasn’t.”

Then the screen goes black.

Tape #2- January 3, 20XX.

Your eyes have bags under them, and you gently rub the bridge between them. “So, got told off by the police.”

You lean back in your desk chair and shake your head before pointing accusingly at the camera. “Went to the station, brought my stupid fucking rose and everything. They told me they would patrol the area. Of course, what car do I not see across the street anymore? That fucking red van. Guy told me that I was just imagining things.”

You relax for a second before speaking again, your shoulders squaring defensively. “And! And, the second they leave, guess who is back again. Every single weekend, 7 pm to 11 pm.” You let out a weary sigh and rest an arm on your desk, staring directly into the camera.

“The Police said they couldn’t even do anything until something boarding physical assault happens.” You trail off with a sideways glance away from the screen.

“I’m not going to just sit idly by waiting to get assaulted.” You hiss out, leaning forward and stopping the video.

Tape #3- January 14, 20XX

You’re playing with the edges of your sweater as you lean back into your chair, rocking slightly. “Got another love present today,” Your voice distant as you pull a Polaroid from the desk, holding it up for the camera to see.

The Polaroid was of you at the library where you worked. You were sitting in a striped sweater, your hair down. You were smiling at one of the volunteers who works ‘story hour.’ You threw the picture back on the desk with a grimace.

“No one told me that my sweater that day looked so hideous.” You croak out in a desperate attempt to make yourself laugh in the moment, and for a second, it works. You start with a slight chuckle, but it quickly takes a sharp turn for the worst and becomes a full-on sob.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before you wipe tears from under your eyes, “I’m just scared. My mom and I talked about it, and she said that maybe it was a ‘secret admirer,’ which… does not make it any better. I feel like everyone thinks I’m fucking crazy.” Your voice raises before you cut yourself off and look down at your sweater again.

“I’m not,”

Camera off.

Tape #4- January 17, 20XX

You smile at the camera and scoot a little closer. “Hey,” you say with a gentle sigh of relief, “Great news—I’m organized!”

You lean back and relax in your chair slightly, “So I’m Y/N L/N. I work as a librarian here in Richmond, Virginia. My apartment will be in my records, I’m sure.” You laugh out softly, holding up a photo of a tattoo that seems to reside on your lower collarbone.

“I didn’t want to flash the camera, so I took the liberty of taking a photo of this lovely tattoo of mine,” you say, glancing at the photo of the line-art floral tattoo next to your face. “If you think this doesn’t seem like me… well, you’re partially right. I was drunk in Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, and then I woke up missing a good chunk of money and a tattoo.” You shrug as you slowly set the photo on your desk.

“I’m not trying to freak anyone out if they do see this. I just…” you pause, releasing a slow and controlling breath, “I want to be found if I do go missing. I want to be easily identified if I’m not alive. I want people to know I was a person and not just a body, you know?” You let your lips grow into a weak smile, nodding slightly, seeming to agree with yourself.

“I’m making these to help myself, to feel like I have more control. The presents stopped recently, but they’re still watching me every weekend. It feels like it's about to get worse. I can’t explain it. I’m not trying to make the police feel bad. I just… don’t like going down without a fight.”

“Speaking of not going down without a fight,” You reach over to grab a photo and proudly turn it over to the camera. “You know who this is?” You ask your silent audience. “This is the lovely Jennifer Jareau.” You answer with a weak smile, feeling strange as you talk with yourself.

“I decided to beg the police to email this video folder to her. Currently, just the police have this, as I’m annoying and persistent but also very charming. That’s a lie. My coworker's boyfriend’s friend works at the station. Hopefully,” You swallow gently as the photo slips away from your fingers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to send it to her and the BAU team, but in the unfortunate case, she does see this.” You smile, wave a little, mouth a soft ‘hello,’ and lean forward—screen black.

Tape #5- February 10, 20XX

You’re wearing a red, pink, and white striped sweater with a white headband pushing your hair back as the camera focuses again on you. “Happy Early Valentine’s Day to everyone who got a gift from their stalker on the top of their car today,” you say with mock happiness before your smile falls, and you hold up a copy of Wuthering Heights.

You flip through the pages before stopping on one and facing it toward the camera, trying to get it to focus, but you quickly find the task irritating. You groan and decide to read the line, “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad.”

“That's one of the lines circled, underlined, and highlighted…” You say, flipping through more pages slowly.

“The only scenes highlighted seem to involve Heathcliff and Catherine, which are romantic scenes, of course, but just that one quote is emphasized.” You say, shaking your head, and you laugh a little, setting the book somewhere outside the frame.

“What a shitty gift, I already have a copy.” You joke before the screen turns black.

Tape #6- February 14, 20XX

Your face is flush red, eyes swollen and raw from crying as you sit in front of the camera, speechless for a short amount of time. You look positively catatonic for a second, unmoving. The sound of you raking in a shaking breath scares you as you bring yourself to speak. Your face doesn’t match your attire, as you sport a sweater with a giant pink heart in the center and small heart-shaped earrings hanging from your ears.

“They were in here,” your voice is soft and hoarse. “They were in here, everywhere. They left roses everywhere. They were in here! They got into my apartment and left dozens of rose petals on my bed, floors, couch, and kitchen table!” Your voice raises in volume as you cut yourself off, a small tear rolling down your cheek.

“Something isn’t right,” You were shaking your head and letting out fast breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. “This is all getting so,” you raise your hands to run through your curls, pulling gently. “I need you to find me. I’m doing so much already. I went to the police station, and they searched everything: cameras, streets, but there was nothing! Just petals!” You yell softly, voice rasping softly at the end of your outburst.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you mumble softly, tears filling your eyes.

Tape #7- February 17, 20XX

You smile awkwardly at the camera and hold up Jane Eyre, opening it to a dog-eared page. “You are my sympathy --my better self --my good angel.” You read off the quote softly with a light sigh at the end of your reading.

“Seems like we have a Brontë fan in our midst,” you try to be light-hearted as you set the book to the side.

“I wrote down all my passwords, but it's not like you’ll need them. Nonetheless, you can never be too safe.” You quip the sentence in a soft voice.

“I’m trying my hardest not to do anything crazy. I just, nevermind.” You say, annoyance thick in your voice as you shut the camera off quickly.

Tape #8- March 2, 20XX

A terrible gnawing was growing in your stomach. Your hands clutched your waist gently as you leaned back in your chair. You felt like you might be sick as you stared off-camera toward your newest ‘gift.’ Your throat felt taut as you swallowed, a shaky sigh coming from your lips as your pale face looked at the camera.

“I’m scared this might be my last video,” you say, your voice hoarse and tense, “It all just suddenly stopped. There was no more red van, no more gifts—nothing to write home about, but today,”

You lean over to pull a pair of white, blood-soaked panties from a plastic bag into the frame. “These were on my door knob today when I got home. I tried not to touch it. I put it in this bag to ensure I didn’t contaminate it more. It doesn’t look like blood blood, more like period blood.” As you throw the bag back to your desk, your voice edges into an emotional tone, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“I think that they’re mine,” You cried softly, shaking slightly as you tried to control your breathing, “Th-the panties, not the blood. I haven’t, those can’t be from my period. Mine hasn’t come y-”

“I’m not going to be okay. I was stupid to think I might be, but I’m not!” You cry into your hands, and your shoulders shake as you let out a weak sob. “Please find me if I go missing. Please,” Tears fall on your cheeks as you lean toward the computer.

“I need you to find me.”

March 5, 20XX.

A clicker is in J.J.’s hand as she turns off the videos. “Richmond PD sent this over this morning when twenty-eight-year-old Y/N L/N didn’t show up to her job,” She hands out folders as she speaks, “Her coworker called her mother to see if she had gone out of town when she said no. Y/N’s coworker’s boyfriend called a cop friend to check her apartment and found no trace of her or anyone else in her apartment. They sent this video folder over the second he called it in.”

Spencer was frowning as he flipped through the pages of your file, hating the idea that you knew. He knew that dread, that feeling when something bad was about to happen to you. That innate and raw feeling that pushes through a person like a wave. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hotch is already speaking before he can get the chance to.

“We leave here in ten,” He says before leaving the room, cutting everyone’s comments short in one small miraculous moment.

Within ten minutes, the team finds themselves away from their jet, stuffed into groups in black SUVs, barreling toward Richmond.

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