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tonycries · 4 months ago

Text

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that.

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes.

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck.

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one.

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir.

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have.

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber.

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time.

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.”

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face.

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife.

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out.

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you.

Finally.

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.”

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. .

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.”

Next. Next. Next. Next.

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break.

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never.

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before.

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done.

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked.

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need.

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor.

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably.

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits.

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll.

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you.

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most, “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.”

RIP—!

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now.

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears.

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy.

But he does for you anyway.

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt.

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard.

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt.

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second.

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt.

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy.

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for.

You.

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air.

Shit - he was big.

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close.

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.”

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone.

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy.

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?” His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle.

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you.

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him.

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.”

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear.

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive.

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass.

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying?

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die.

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside.

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

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gojonanami · 1 year ago

Text

I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: aka sugar daddy! gojo. when you accompany your friends to a bar rich men and women frequent, you catch the eye of a certain white-haired rich man, who is more than willing to spoil you -- in more than one way. ✴︎ contents: 18+, a lot of smut, fluffy, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, virgin!reader, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), but w/ feelings, semi-public sex, sex in a changing room, lingerie, nipple play, first time sex ✴︎ wc: 9,065

This had to be the dumbest idea you had let yourself be convinced to do.

You sat in a bar, nursing a soda instead of a drink (because it was all you could afford), and you glanced at your group of friends who had all split off to chat up a different man. And meanwhile, there you were, at the bar alone.

Your friends had seen a video or article online with a list of places that rich men tended to frequent, and after another dinner of instant ramen and looking at your dwindling bank account, you let yourself be dragged along to this bar.

You were surprised how easy it was for you all to be let in, but you supposed young clientele also helped to attract the rich ones the bar was really after. It was the perfect place to find a sugar daddy, or mommy. In your case, you were hoping to just find someone who would pay your bills month to month and possibly your tuition. But now you were just hoping someone would talk to you, much less anything else.

You had sat here for about twenty minutes, and not a single person had approached you — you had felt a few men and women alike eye you, but none had spoken even a word to you. Heat crept up your cheeks and insecurities bit at your nerves as you stirred your drink absentmindedly — you were such an idiot— you should have just stayed in today, snuggled up in bed and watched Netflix—

“Mind if I sit here?” And your gaze snaps from your flat soda, ocean blue eyes stopping your breath in its tracks, his lips curled in all too tempting smile, and his snowy locks just tousled enough to look natural.

“Not at all,” you manage to say, surely you were gonna catch flies if you didn’t pick up your jaw off the floor. He was gorgeous — as he slid into the stool beside you, his baby blue button up showed off his toned physique, his sleeves rolled up, as he looked over the menu.

“Can I order you a drink?” a smile on his lips as he offered you the menu — non-presumptuous and didn’t order your drink for you — was he even real?

“Just another soda, I don’t drink often, and I’m the designated driver for tonight,” though, as you glanced at your groupchat, you didn’t think many of your friends would be making it back tonight, at least not with you.

“A woman after my own heart— two sodas please,” he ordered, “I’m not a huge fan of alcohol either. I prefer things that are sweet,” and his gaze slides over your body, “are you?”

And you flush, trying to look nonchalant as your drinks arrive, “Take a guess,” and he hums, as he takes a careful sip of his drink, eyeing you.

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t guess — I intend to know,” your eyes snap to his, playful mirth in his eyes, “and if you have a price, I’m more than willing to pay it,” he places his platinum credit card on the bar, sliding it to the bartender, “start a tab for me and the beauty right here,” he flashed a wink at you.

Even though this is exactly what you had come “You don’t have to—“

“But I want to,” he leans forward, his lengthy fingers brushing against your hand, giving you ample time to withdraw, but you don’t, your fingers intertwining with his, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles, “you deserve to be taken care of, sweetheart,”

You bite your lip, “and how do you know that? You don’t know me,”

And he tilts his head, a wry grin on his face, “I know enough, baby, and I know that I want to be the one to take care of you,” he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing it against your palm, “now what do you say? I’m sure we can reach an agreement that you’d enjoy,” and his other hand brushes your thigh lightly, “and that I’d enjoy as well,”

Your lips part as you stare at him — he could have anyone he wanted, that much was clear — the wealth, the affluence, not to mention his charm and looks — but he wanted you.

And who were you to say no?

He dropped you home that night, having his driver fetch your car for you after. You both sat in the back of his town car, his hand resting on your thigh, as he spoke to you, his breath warming your skin, as he leaned against you. He didn’t ask to come in or to take you to his place, instead he helped you out of his car, walking you to your apartment’s doorstep. His fingers resch inside his coat pocket, and handed you his business card, his personal number scrawled on the back.

His fingers ghost over your jaw, as he tilts your chin up, the low buzz of the overhead light drowned out by your heart thumping against your ribcage, “Call me, ok?” And you nod wordlessly, breath hitching as he drew close.

“Good girl,” he smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I’ll talk to you soon,” he winks, before heading back to his car, “you won’t regret it.”

But here you sat, staring at his business card the next morning, the only proof that what happened wasn’t a dream, as you lie awake, staring at the number typed into your phone.

Satoru Gojo.

How do you do this? Hey it’s the person you hit on at a bar and propositioned to be a sugar baby?

But you couldn’t get him out of your head — it wasn’t just the money, he was…smooth.

Fuck it.

You go to text him, but fate is cruel, and you hit the call button by mistake. You end the call quickly, and contemplate throwing your phone out the window, when your phone starts flashing with the exact number you had called.

Double fuck.

You panicked, as it rang, then taking a breath and picking the call up, “Hello?”

“Gotta hand it to you, sweetheart, didn’t think you’d be so bold to call me,” Satoru is chuckling over the line, the sounds of the road in the background, and it was clear he was driving somewhere, “but it’s a pleasant surprise,”

“Is it?” you ask, and he hums, a noise that sends heat across your cheeks.

“Very,” he cuts to the chase, cutting over any of the silence that could linger, “could we have dinner tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“I don’t like to waste time when it comes to things I want,” and you’re glad he can’t see you — your knuckles pressed against your lips, “are you free?”

“I am,” you say slowly, “but I wanted to ask, after dinner what would the expectations be?” You had no idea how any of this worked, what the arrangement would be, or how it would be handled.

“There are no expectations except for your time,” he says, “we can take this at your pace, your rules, your limits - we are getting to know each other, and we both happen to want more, I’d be more than happy to make that happen,” and his words nearly make you shiver, “does that sound good, princess?”

“Perfect,” you murmur, and he chuckles, “what time—”

“7:00 PM — I’ll send a car for you. I have your address noted, and I have a little dress picked out for you if you’re comfortable with that?”

You hold your burning cheeks, “Sounds too good to be true,”

And he hums, “Well, perfect,” he echoes you, “because that’s what we both are.”

The car is prompt when picking you up, and your roommates help you get ready — thoroughly jealous when they see a selfie the two of you had taken that night. And then the doorbell rings, and the three of you are rushing towards the door.

“Tell us everything don’t miss a detail,” your roommates yell-whisper, “hot, charming, and so rich? I hate you,”

And you shush them opening the door, as Satoru stands in a blue button up, simple slacks, and a grin that made your knees nearly buckle, “Well I am rich, she ain’t lying,” he offers you a bouquet of flowers — your favorites, all arranged perfectly, “and I’d like to think I’m the others as well,”

“Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you inhale their scent, before you furrow your brow, “how did you know—“

“Lucky guess,” he smiled, fingers finding your own, “I guess we have the same taste in flowers, beautiful — great minds,” and he plucks the flowers and hands it to your roommates, “please take care of these, and I’ll be sure to take care of your gorgeous friend,”

And he’s whisking you into the car, opening the door for you, as he slides in beside you, his arm sliding behind you, “do you mind?”

And your heart squeezes, he’s so close, you could smell his cologne — a musky, amber smell mixed with his own scent — his strong arm brushing against your back, and as you peered up at him, a smile on his parted lips, as he stared at you with his cerulean gaze.

“Not at all.”

God, you were in trouble.

“How’d you like this to work, sweetheart?” And you nearly choke on your drink at his blunt question, dinner now finished, as the two of you wait for dessert, his lips curled in his perfect smile as always, “I just want us to have an understanding, so I don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable,”

You shake your head, “No, you’re right,” dinner had gone on fine — the restaurant he picked was impeccable, the prices must have been astronomical (not a single price on the menu itself), and the atmosphere of the corner booth gave the perfect illusion of privacy, “we should talk about it,”

The financial aspect is simple enough — he offers a stipend that was more money than you could fathom and even consider accepting — but after discussion, you settle on him paying for your tuition and other educational needs as well as a monthly stipend.

“But this doesn’t include anything I choose to treat you to,” he smiles, fingers toying with the hem of the dress, making you almost shiver under his touch, “like this dress or this dinner,”

“Fine,” you smile, gaze still shying away, “there’s still the matter of what I do for you,” you bite your lip, swirling your drink in its glass, “I’ve never done this before,” you admit, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, and he tilts his head.

“Nooo, I would have mistaken you for a pro,” he teases, and your cheeks flush, as you sip your drink, mostly for bravery — that was true, you had never done the sugar daddy thing — but that wasn’t what you meant.

“I mean that too, I’ve never had this sort of arrangement, but,” you toy with the napkin spread across your lap, “I’ve also never…been with anyone before,”

And he pauses mid-sip of whatever fruity drink he had ordered — more juice than alcohol (he didn’t prefer the taste of liquor), “At all?”

You flush, swallowing thickly, as your eyes looked down at your lap, “I’ve been on dates, but never beyond hand holding — I’ve never let it get beyond that,” you never had much an interest, and the people you were interested in had never truly reciprocated— until, you glance at Satoru, now.

He sets his glass down, his lips curled, “but with us — you think there’s a chance that—“ and you squirm under his gaze, “of well—“

And his gaze softens, “You never have to feel obligated to do that — no matter what we agree on for what I can do to help accommodate you, I don’t want you to feel like I’m paying a price for your body,” before he adds with a cheeky smile, “unless that turns you on,”

You huff a laugh out, chewing on your lip, “I appreciate that, but,” you finish the rest of your drink, before sliding closer in the booth, your thigh pressing against his, “I want to know what it’s like,” and you lean forward, all too close, but he dares even closer.

His fingers find your jaw, tilting your gaze up, “And you’re sure, Princess?” his breath warms your lips, and you can smell the sweet smell of his drink on his, “there’s no rush,”

“Who said anything about rushing?” you murmur, and you don’t know if it's the intoxication from the alcohol or from Satoru Gojo himself, but your lips graze his first, barely even. Your lips parted as you brushed your lips for a moment, before sliding away a centimeter, “Satoru—”

But his lips find yours again, fingers cupping your cheek gently, thumb gliding along the soft slope of your cheekbone, “You’re right, you’re not something to be rushed,” he murmurs, words as smooth as velvet, “you’re something to be savored,” and his lips slide against yours, swallowing your gasp as he deepens the kiss with the tilt of your heads, before he’s pulling away, allowing you a moment, “does that mean I’m your first kiss?”

And you nod, with kiss ruined lips parted and chest rising and falling, eyes half lidded with pleasure and excitement — all of which makes him want to kiss you breathless, kiss you silly until you have no thoughts but of him, “I’m sure I’m not yours,” you tease, a small smile on your lips, but a slight anxiety about your inexperience lingering in your words.

He only chuckles, wrapping his arm around you to draw you closer, one hand cupping your jaw and the other sliding through your locks, “But you’re the only one that matters, sweetheart,” and he’s kissing you again, and your lips begin to learn the dance he was teaching you, as he steals your breath and sense in one fell swoop. And when his tongue asks for entrance, he swallows your gasp with a smile, as you part your lips for him. And you swear you almost hear him murmur, “good girl,” between fevered kisses and touches.

Now, his body leaning into you, pressing you against the plush leather of the booth, his hand rested on your thigh now, toying with the hem of the very same dress he had bought you, “Satoru,” you sigh, as your lips finally part a moment, foreheads resting against each other. His eyes take you in, kiss bitten red lips, your cheeks flushed.

His lips kiss your cheeks, and then your forehead, “I think I should take you home,” his thumb rubs against your lips, pulling at the bottom one.

“What about dessert?” and he shakes his head.

“There’s only one dessert I’m craving at the moment,” he murmurs, crystal eyes lidded with lust, as he cups your cheek, “and I wouldn’t be keeping my promise if I indulged, now would i?”

“And if I offered…dessert?” and he makes a noise — a cross between a hiss and a sigh, before shaking his head.

“I want to do this right,” he murmurs, “I know this isn’t a relationship, but it’s like one — and I want you to enjoy it, and if we rush into things, you may end up getting hurt, and not in the enjoyable way,” he pinches the soft flesh of your thigh teasingly, “let’s get you home, princess, and we can plan our next outing, and our next step,”

And you rise, as he helps you out of the booth, as the waiter comes over, “Have you changed your mind about dessert?”

Satoru hands him his card, paying off the tab without even a glance at the receipt, “Yes, I had something far more sweeter and satisfying,” he winks at you, as he pockets his card again. He escorts you to the car, hand resting on the small of your back, his side pressed to yours, as if he was afraid you’d slip away any moment.

The car ride home was spent with quiet conversation and stolen kisses, your hand slid up his thigh to tease him, as his lips slide over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, both of you moaning lowly, as he stares at you with lidded eyes, “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Promise,” you flush, a rush of pride settling into heat as you saw the way he looked at you, before your lips find his again, “but you make me never want to stop,” and he growls lowly, leaning forward his hand snaking around your waist to nearly pin you down on the seat.

“Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self control I have,” he groans, and he’s kissing you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth again, as you slide your hand into his hair, finding smoothness underneath his white locks — an undercut, fuck.

“Maybe I want you to,” you murmur, and he pulls back to look at you with his crystal gaze, dark pools of lust that made you shiver, his fingers digging into your waist.

“Don’t tempt me,” and he’s about to kiss you again, when the driver clears his throat, and the two of you glance out the tinted window and realize you have arrived back home. And the fact of the matter was the car hadn’t been moving for quite some time.

You bite your lip, “Do you want to—”

And he kisses you softly, his fingers tracing over your jaw, “I want to, but we should take this slow,” he presses another kiss to your cheek that only serves to make me pout, “it will be worth it,” and he leans in to kiss your other cheek, but you turn your head to meet his lips in another kiss, making his breath catch, as you pull away with a smirk. His lips parted, as his gaze darkens, “such a tease, princess — I was thinking you were an angel that I was corrupting, but maybe you’re the one doing the corrupting.”

“As I should be,” you grin, before pulling open the door, moving to slide out of the car, “call me?”

“If I don’t, I can always count on you calling me first,” he teases with a wink, “I’ll call tomorrow, dream of me, ok?”

“And if I don’t?” and he laughs, leaning forward with that smile that always made your heart stammer in your chest.

“Oh, you will.”

“Satoru,” you whined, “can we—”

“So impatient,” Satoru chides, chuckle rumbling from his chest, voice deliciously raspy from the makeout session they had just had, “forgot how needy you are, baby,”

And how could you not be? Splayed across his lap, your back pressed to his chest, thighs spread across his now very damp slacks, your dress riding up on either side as his hands slid up your bare legs, his touch teasing enough to have you on edge, your panties growing more drenched by the moment.

“I need—”

“You don’t know what you need,” Satoru murmurs, as his fingers brush your hair aside, “do ya, baby? You just want—” and his fingers finally tease your inner thigh, “more, don’t you? Such a greedy little princess,”

“Only for you,” and that makes him groan in your ear, his lips pressing a kiss behind it, before sucking at your earlobe, “please, Satoru,”

“We have a shopping trip planned, baby, gotta get you some new clothes for our little vacation, don’t we?” He hums, his fingers toying with the edge of your panties, “especially since you keep ruining all of yours,”

“You’re the one ruining them, baby,” you pout, your lips pressing wet kisses along his jaw, “I know we promised to take it slow, but please, I’ve been so good— don’t I deserve a little reward?”

He hums, two fingers pulling and snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin, “Let’s go shopping and I’ll see about your reward, Princess,” and your lips purse, as he chuckles, lips pressing against yours, “don’t worry it will be worth the wait.”

And it was.

That was how you ended up in this particular predicament, pressed against a changing room wall, the black dress he had insisted on you trying on for him, hiked up around your waist, as his thumb pressed against your puffy clit.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, pretty baby?” Satoru coos, his finger beginning to press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “wanted to reward you, and you look so pretty and perfect in this dress, how can I resist?”

And a whine leaves your throat, and he tuts, “Not so loud, don’t want the other shoppers to hear what we’re doing,” and his fingers finally pull aside the crotch of your soaked underwear, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, baby, you sure this pussy is a virgin?”

“Satoru, please,” and he pulls your lips into a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth, right as his finger finally sinks into your needy cunt. He swallows your moans eagerly, as his thick finger curls against your gummy walls, reaching places you were never able to by yourself.

“So fuckin’ tight, sweetheart, gonna break my finger, how would I fit my cock in this tight cunt?” And he drags his bulge against your ass, making you gasp at the size of it, “Gonna have to stretch it out, make you nice and loose for me,”

“Fuck,” you whisper, and he’s grinning as his lips press sweet kisses against your neck, his finger pumping in and out slowly, your slick squelching as he does, finger brushing against that spot that has your knees nearly buckling, “Satoru, I—“

“Already gonna cum, baby?” he’s humming, while your lips try and fail to pout, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your walls flutter around his finger, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

But he’s not stopping, as your hand reaches for him, he’s caught you by the wrist, a second finger sinking into your dripping cunt now, “not done with you yet, pretty baby, I know you got more left for me,” he’s scissoring and stretching your walls - curling his fingers just right so he hits that special spot of yours. And it isn’t long until you’re cumming again, his hand covering your mouth, muffling your moan as you ride his fingers.

“Satoru, please,” you’re nearly crying from the overstimulation, but you’re refusing to use your safe word, as he guides you and him to the seat in the fitting room, sitting on his lap right across from the mirror.

“Look at you, all fucked out and pretty for me,” his fingers under your chin forces you to look at yourself —- your cunt dripping and spread open, his fingers plunged inside you still, your slick dripping down his hand, “so perfect for me,” he murmurs, “think you have one more for me?”

His fingers move slowly, parting your walls, making you gasp, “Too sensitive,” you whine, but he’s sliding your lips against yours again, as his fingers begin to push into you, “Satoru,”

“C’mon baby, this is your reward,” he’s grinning against your lips, “just relax and enjoy it,”

And you don’t know how many more times he makes you cum. By the end, the dress you’re wearing was ruined, damp from the cum dripping down your thighs, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,” he’s cleaning you up, before sliding your underwear back into place, “now let’s find some other clothes for you, baby — need to get you out of this dress now, don’t we?”

“Do you want to stay over?” Satoru murmurs, his lips pressed to your neck, making you pause, “I’d stay over at your place, but with your roommates we’ll have an audience,” and he adds, “unless you’re into that,”

And you roll your eyes, before smiling, “what would staying over entail?”

“Anything you’d want it to,” he’s kissing your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your lips,“I just want to wake up with you — maybe make breakfast together, maybe a little more if you want to,”

“That sounds perfect,” and you knew just what you wanted for breakfast.

“Princess,” he hissed, his ocean blue eyes half lidded as he stared at you between his thighs, “this isn’t what I meant when I said I’d make you breakfast,”

And you pressed a kiss to his weeping tip — you never expected a cock to be so pretty — but why wouldn’t it be on Satoru Gojo? If a higher being existed, it gave with both hands when it came to him — the tip was flushed red, every vein and curve was perfect, and it was so long.

“Well this was exactly what I had in mind,” you grinned, your tongue flicked against his slit, collecting the pearl of precum resting there, “couldn’t wait to taste you, Toru — if I couldn’t have you fuck my cunt, I might as well have you fuck my mouth,”

He swallows thickly at your words, adam’s apple bobbing, crystalline pools clouded with lust, “Careful what you wish for, Princess,”

“I’m always careful,” you suckle at the swollen tip of his cock sloppily, drawing a moan from his lips. It was clear you were inexperienced — your lips and tongue were clumsy, your fingers grasping at his base were unsure, but the heat in your eyes only made all of your inexperience all the more arousing, “tell me what to do,”

And Satoru swallows thickly, eyes fluttering down at you, as his lips slowly curl, “start by sucking at the tip, slowly at first,” and you do just as he says, all too eager, making him liable to cum on the spot, “now trace the slit at the tip with your tong—” and he grunts as you’re already doing as he says before his sentence is done, “good girl,” and the praise sends a wave of heat through your body, your needy cunt growing wetter by the second.

“Now, want you to slide my cock into your mouth, mind your teeth,” he warns, “no rewards for bad girls who bite my dick — that’s a lesson for a different day,” he adds with a wink, making you hum around his cock, making it twitch, as you take more of his length, slowly sliding it further into your warm mouth.

He’s grunting, holding himself back from fucking your mouth then and there — there would be time for that, but right now, he needed to teach you right.

He was a teacher — first and foremost.

“Just like that, pretty,” he’s moaning, his fingers gently gripping your head, guiding your mouth up and down his cock, “that’s it — fuuuuck—” and he’s hissing when your fingers toy with his balls, as your tongue traces over his veins, forcing every muscle in his thighs from having you deep throat his cock then and there, “now can you—”

And you suck at his cock, lips wrapped around, as you stare up at him, eyes lidded with lust, thighs pressed together, as you slurped at his cock, your tongue flicking at his slit, “baby, you sure you’ve never done this before?” and his hips begin to stutter against you, making you gasp around his length, “so fucking perfect for me, baby — know what I like without even trying,”

And how is he this fucking close already? Is he the virgin or are you? His hips roll into your mouth shallowly, your fingers finding what couldn’t fit in your mouth and stroking it, all while his fingers grasp at the mussed sheets below him, “fuck, sweetheart, ‘m s’close,” and you’re only re-doubling your efforts, cheeks hollowing around him, “you don’t have to—“ but you suck at the tip, tongue laving at his length, and he’s spurting his load down your throat.

His head falls back, as his hips stutter into your mouth, fingers tugging at your hair, drawing a moan from your lips. And his half lidded eyes falling to your lips around his cock, his cum slipping down the corner of your mouth as you continue to swallow.

“Fuck, baby,” he’s panting, hissing at the sight of you as you pull your lips away from his length, strings of his cum and your spit connecting your mouth to his cock, “such a good fucking girl,” he says, nearly a growl, “my good fucking girl,”

You’re smiling up at him, watery eyes, as your tongue darts out to clean up his release from your mouth, making his breath catch, “You taste so good, Toru,” and god, you’re so cute — he wanted to spoil you, buy you the whole world and more, and he catches your thighs rubbing together — but first—

And he’s manhandling you, fingers sinking into your thighs and he’s flipping you onto your back, his chest still heaving, sweat glistening on his forehead, and a grin on his lips.

“My turn,” he murmurs, sliding his lips against yours, tongue tasting his release on your mouth, before kissing down your body, before he’s settling between your thighs.

—he was going to have his breakfast.

The semester wore on and Satoru became more and more busy with work. His messages became few and far between, and your time together dwindled to nothing. Although he still sent the stipend each month, you found your thoughts wandering to him far too often — daydreams between paragraphs of reading and review for an exam that you didn’t particularly care about.

This should be the dream right? Money for essentially no effort. You had long forsaken the days of ramen noodle dinners and scraping by on your loans — you should be happy. You could go where you wanted, do what you wanted — but why was the only place you wanted to be was with Satoru? You pulled out your phone, refreshing the notifications over and over as if it would change the outcome — but it didn’t — still no new messages from him.

Was he really busy with work? Anxiety begins to creep into your mind — or was he busy with someone else? Had he been hanging onto you on the back burner — waiting for someone better to come along? You open Satoru’s text chain — the last message sent was your own — and you chew on your bottom lip.

Were you about to break your own rule about double texting?

You type — Hey, just wanted to check on you. Been thinking about you a lot.

You delete it. Is this desperate? What if he thinks you’re desperate? You’re running your hand over your face, pressing your knuckles against your lips.

Fuck it. You type the same message and send it.

Oh, it’s worse. Texting and having to wait for a response is worse — and now you simultaneously want to constantly check your phone and also chuck it in a lake. You lay back on your bed, turning and burying your face in your pillow.

What the fuck were you doing?

Several hours pass, and you place your phone in the kitchen, as you sit in your room, trying to focus on studying for your exams, instead of thinking about whether Satoru texted you back or not. You finally allow yourself a break at dinner time, and wander out, spotting a few texts from Satoru. Your heart squeezes as you pick up your phone and check.

Hey baby, is that your way of saying you miss me?

Because I miss you too.

When’s your last exam?

You bite back a smile — it’s on this Friday — I’ll be done at 6:00 PM.

He types, and then stops, then types again, and then stops. Then he sends a simple “ok.”

And you don’t hear from him again, which only makes the rest of the week a delight to get through. You’re sure you scraped by on your exams — Friday didn’t come soon enough, but it had arrived. You stretch as you leave the exam hall — bundled up in your jacket, as you make your way back to your apartment. But only, you're not the only one outside the building.

Satoru stands, leaning against the side of the car, eyes on his phone as he stands in a long deep gray winter coat, a cream sweater underneath, looking utterly too perfect. He glances up, cerulean blue eyes finding yours, lips curling in a smile that you hoped was only reserved for you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” and you’re holding yourself back from running, quickly walking over, and he’s closing the gap as well, pulling you into his arms, his arms sliding over your jacket — “is this all you’re wearing? We need to buy you a warmer coat,”

“Satoru,” you’re shaking your head at his priorities, your fingers sliding over his front before sliding them under his jacket, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, my project finished up earlier today, so I spent the day preparing a little surprise,” he’s tilting your chin up, leaning down to brush his lips against your jaw, and you shiver — most assuredly not from the cold, “we’re going on a trip,”

“A trip?” you blink, utterly too distracted by his lips placing wet kisses up and down your jaw, nearing your lips, but always stopping short, “where—”

“A hot spring — I thought we could use some rest and relaxation,” his lips hover right over your own, his thumb dragging down your bottom lip, “and some privacy — I reserved us a private hot spring,” and his palms slide down to your hips and squeeze, “just you and me,”

“That sounds amazing — wonder what else you have planned,” your lips lean up and brush against his, making his curl into a smile, and your heart stirs — god, you didn’t care about the money, about the amenities, about the dates — he could have just taken you for a walk and you’d be happy by his side, “I missed you so much, Toru,”

And he’s kissing you again, his hand sliding back to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss before he pulls away. You’re panting as he does, lips kiss bitten red, “I did too, baby, it was so difficult being without you — kept thinking about seeing you. I had to hold myself back from seeing you the minute you texted,” he’s sighing, “but that’s why I thought this weekend would be perfect — spend it just with each other, no distractions,”

“Toru,” you murmur, “I need to tell you something,” you can’t hold back — you need to tell him, you need him to know, and his lips press into a pout, forehead wrinkled, “I think I have feelings for you — more than what our relationship should have,” your cheeks flush, eyes falling to the ground, and you watch your breath warm the cold air, “I don’t know if you feel the same or if we should stop, but I needed you to know because I—”

And his finger rests against your lips, eyes nearly shining in the moonlight, “You really mean that, sweetheart?” and you swallow the lump in your throat, before nodding. And he grins, before his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, wrapping you in his jacket as he presses himself against you, “I have feelings for you too — I have for a while,”

“You—do?” you manage between kisses and breathes, and you look up at him with wide eyes and parted lips — and you’re so impossibly cute — he has to hold himself back from taking you against his car then and there — “Satoru, please—”

“I do, I do, sweetheart, you said you’ve never done any of this before, well I’ve never done half of the things I’ve done with you,” he murmurs, a chuckle caught in his words, “do you think I’d plan a trip like this for just anyone? I’ve never even engaged in this sort of relationship before — until I saw you,”

You pause, mouth agape, “So you’ve never had a different—”

“You’re my one and only baby,” he teases, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, “and worth every cent, second, and effort I’ve used,” And you bite back a smile, eyes slightly glassy, “what?”

“I thought — I don’t know, when I hadn’t heard from you, I thought you had found someone else, that you were going to leave, and it just seems so silly now,” you shake your head, but he’s cupping your chin, meeting your gaze.

“It is silly, baby,” he’s pressing another kiss to your lips, “because I’d never leave you — and I’m not planning on it, are you?”

“No! No, of course not,” and he laughs at your eager reply, making your cheeks hot, as he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, “Toru—”

“At this rate, you’re gonna make me fall for you, princess,” and your fingers card through his hair, grinning as kisses your neck, and you make him look at you — pale skin flushed from the weather or your touch, it could be either.

“That’s the plan.”

“Was this part of your plan?” Satoru’s voice is caught, as looks at you — oh and he could look at you forever.

Your innocent lips painted pink, a perfect accent to the light cerulean lingerie that you had wrapped yourself in. The lace and see through panels left almost nothing to the imagination, but at the same time, hid just enough. You were a present ready to be unwrapped — and you wanted him to do the unwrapping.

“You tell me,” you chuckle, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers, letting your legs spread further apart, making him drop the bouquet he was holding, “nothing to say?”

It had been a few weeks since your trip away and you had been hinting at wanting to finally have your first time with Satoru. But each time, he always ended up fingering you or sucking you off — he was hesitant, he didn’t want you to regret your choice.

But how to explain that you could never regret him? Well, this was the only way to think of — a hammer instead of a gentle hand.

And his gaze grows lidded, mouth dry, as he steps forward, “sweetheart—“

“You kept saying you wanted our first time to be special, but you don’t get it—“ you reach out and tug him closer by his tie, “my first time will always be special if it’s you,” you kiss his jaw, smiling, and he’s wordless as he stares at you, hesitancy eating away at your confidence “but if you don’t want—“

And he’s got you pinned under him, knee pressed between your thighs, his fingers sliding up and down your exposed skin of your sides, his perfect lips curved in a smile, “I guess we’re really not understanding each other, baby,” his lips ghost over the nape of your neck, as he inhaled deeply, before pulling back, his thumb now dragging over your lips, “I want you — badly,” and his fingers tease the fabric of your lingerie, “you don’t know how many times I’ve come close to giving into you, to wanting to just fuck you like I’ve dreamed about, fantasized about — but, I guess I was waiting for a perfect moment that didn’t exist — since every moment with you is special, right?” He teased, making you flush.

“I want you too, Toru, so bad,” you rub yourself against his knee, “I can’t wait anymore, are you gonna fuck me or—“

His knee grinding against you cuts you off with a whine, “don’t tempt me so much, sweetheart, we gotta do this right,” his lips find yours again, all tongue and teeth, as he swallows your noises and more with pleasure, his knee rubbing against you in earnest, “gotta prep you right,” he murmurs reverently.

His lips trail from your lips to press wet kisses to your jaw, and his fingers part your thigh further — and you let him with ease. And his lips tease the edge of your lingerie, “it’d be a shame to take this off, so maybe I’ll just take you in it,” his mouth closes over your clothed nipple, teasing it through the fabric, making you gasp, “but then again, I wouldn’t be able to see your body without any obstructions. Decisions, decisions,”

And he’s snapping the shoulder strap against your skin, as he pulls his knee away, the dark damp patch on the fabric, “Plesse, Toru, I need more—“ and his lips curl, as his fingers tease your clothed cunt, two fingers dragging right down the slit. The wet fabric barely doing anything to stop the press of his pads against your sensitive folds.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart? I’m flattered,” he grins, leaning down to inhale, before a soft moan leaves his lips, “your scent is as good as you taste,” making you keen against him at his words — you could never grow used to the sight of him between your thighs, his blue irises fixed on your cunt.

“Just for you, Toru,” and he bites back a groan, his gaze half lidded with lust, “only for you,”

He can’t wait anymore.

He kisses up your body, teasing your bellybutton with his tongue, dragging his mouth up your abdomen until he reaches your lips. And he kisses you again, lips burning against yours, stealing any coherent thought with only a brush of his lips or a stolen touch of your thighs. But now his lips reach the waistband of your lacy panties, giving another broad lick, tasting you through the soaked material, before he’s sliding two fingers inside the elastic tugging it down your legs.

“As much I love your lingerie — it needs to go,” and he’s sniffing the fabric with a small moan, before pocketing it with a wide grin, “for now,”

“Toru, those were expensive—“

“I know, my money paid for them,” he winks, making you shiver with a graze of his teeth against your inner thigh, “I’ll buy you as many as you like, as long I’m the only one taking them off,” his warm breath makes your cunt twitch as his fingers part your pussy, stretching out your walls — so fucking tight, “s’pretty, all for me,” his thumb brushing against your clit, making you whine, “so needy, pretty girl — you need my cock that bad?” He’s thumbing your chin, making you meet his gaze and his cock throbs — you were already so fucked out — chest nearly heaving, your breasts nearly escaping their cups; your lips parted with pants and soft moans; and your eyes fixed on him, lidded and needy — it was enough for him to cum there and then.

Was he the virgin or were you?

“I’ll give you my cock, baby,” his tongue finally licks up your cunt, savoring the taste of you on his tongue — sweetest thing he’d ever had — “but I’m going to have your cunt first,”

You’re a mess — moaning and twitching as your fingers grasp at his snowy locks, white strands between your fingers bury him deeper in your aching warmth, thighs nearly suffocating him — and he wouldn’t want to die any other way, honestly. Fuck, how is he so good at this? Two seconds, and you’re ready to squirt all over his face — the way his tongue drags against your insides and flicks against your clit, before sliding back into your sweet cunt, making your walls twitch around him.

And he can’t help but grind against his sheets and mattress, surely leaving a stain on his pants — but fuck, he couldn’t help it. All he couldn’t help it — all he wanted to was sink into you, bury himself deep inside, until he made you cum over and over — but he wanted this to be good for you.

It’s when his lips close around your clit and suck as your fingers sink into you once again and fuck you open when it’s all over for you. You’re moaning unabashedly now, your back arching and your legs trembling as you cum hard, his name on your lips in an almost scream, as he only eats you out through your orgasm, tongue lapping every drop of your release, as you come down from your high. Intense pleasure ebbs away to slight twitches and heavy pants, as you look down at him with fucked out eyes, his face absolutely covered in your glossy release, as his pink tongue darts out to collect the rest, back of his hand taking care of the rest, your cunt convulsing at the sight of him.

“Know it was good, but didn’t realize it was that good,” and he’s leaning up, sliding off the bed to strip off his jacket before undo the buttons of his shirt’s cuffs, fingers deftly undoing his button-up now, “so perfect for me,” and he’s pulling his phone from his pocket, as he leans down to part your thighs for him, his gaze dark with lust as he snaps a few pictures of your leaking cunt, “such a pretty princess cunt,” and you hear the clink of his belt as he undoes it, your gaze lifting as your eyes raked over his defined abs and muscles, following all the way down to his v-line and below…

Fuck.

You knew he was big — hell you could barely fit him in your mouth, but how the fuck was he going to fit inside you? And your nerves come back full force, but mixed with an excitement — an excitement and a relief that your first time — your first time would be with someone you loved, would be with someone that the word ‘love’ failed to encompass your feelings for.

Even when he was a teasing ass.

“Like what you see, baby?” he’s grinning, as he drags his engorged tip against your fluttering walls, smearing his pre-cum against yours, groaning as he watches it mix, “fuck, been dreaming about this for so long,” as he leans over you to press a kiss to your sweet lips, the lust mixing with love — an entire ocean of love that threatens to drown you if you look for too long, “are you sure?” the words are said with such concern, such care, such gentleness that it almost makes you want to cry — but you don’t know why.

“I am, always, when it’s you,” and your fingers find his cheek, as you lean up to kiss him, his lips curved in a smile reserved for you.

“Don’t go getting all soft on me now, sweetheart,” and you laugh.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you, old man—” and you gasp as he presses the tip against your entrance, waiting for your go-head to push in — but that doesn't mean he couldn’t make you eat your words.

“What was that, baby?” it’s his turn to laugh and yours to pout, before you’re pulling him close again.

“Satoru, please—” and your gazes meet again, and there’s no need for any more discussion. He moves slow, lining himself up, making sure he is lubricated enough to slip into you.

“If I’m hurting you—-”

“I’ll scream,” you tease, and he snorts.

“I’d like to see you screaming for a different reason, but that works too,” and he’s leaning down to capture your lips once more, as he sinks into you slowly. Your lips part in a gasp, your expression twisting with the discomfort you felt, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t tolerate, and his eyes meet yours, as you give a nod, and inch by inch, he fits himself in you — until he finally bottoms out.

You both groan, his fingers running through your hair, “So fucking perfect f’me, sweetheart,” and he’s not moving, letting you get used to him filling you up, “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it, baby? But you’re doing so well,” and his lips met yours again, as the slight discomfort ebbs away, all you feel is want, want as his tip finds your cervix, want as you feel your walls meld to his shape, and want when you hear the low groan stuck in his throat, “good girl, my best girl,”

And you can’t help the desperate whine that parts your throat, “Please, move,” you nod, and that’s all he needs for him to pull back and thrust back in, pulling gasps and moans from your pretty lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, as he falls into a rhythm, “fuck, your cunt is practically sucking me back in — getting the feeling you don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, in contrast to the dirty squelch of your cunt and the slapping of your hips with his as he fucked you.

It felt so good.

Your fingers find purchase on his neck, fingers dragging through his white locks and undercut, drawing him impossibly closer, as his lips close over one of your nipples, licking and sucking as he thrusted into you. And he’s guiding your legs around his waist, and your legs pull him ever closer — ever deeper — as he groans against you. He presses sloppy wet kisses along your collarbone, his groan vibrating against your skin.

“Look at that, pretty girl, taking me so well,” he’s grunting, as he looks at where you two meet, watching himself sink into you over and over, “g’nna make you only want this cock — no one else’s — all mine,” and you’re so close — your head buried in the nape of his neck, and he could hear every pant, moan, gasp right as it left your mouth, “such pretty noises — never made these noises for anyone else, have you, baby? Just f’me,”

And you nod, eyes fluttering shut, “Close, s’close,” pleasure building, like a coil ready to snap, you can’t find the words — “I’m—“

“Cum on my cock, Princess,” his fingers press down against your clit, rubbing and that’s it, “let me make you feel good,”

Your walls clamp down hard his dick twitching in your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips, as he fucked you through your orgasm, and his hips stutter against you, low moans leaving his lips.

It felt so right. Pleasure washing over you as your toes curled, your eyes nearly rolling back, as you came. And he can’t stand it much longer —

“Where—“ he groans, your slick cunt too much for him, your cum drenching him, “I’m close—“

“Inside, please, I—“ and he gives a shaky chuckle.

“So greedy, baby — want my cum too?” He kisses you, long and soft as he moaned your name far too loud, his warm, thick load spilling inside you, as he fucked it inside, “look at that, filled you up so good,” as he finally stills inside of you, as he eases out, groaning as he watches your mixed release slip from inside you and trickle down his balls, “s’good, so perfect for me,”

He grabs a towel to clean you up, gently cleaning your thighs, murmuring sweet nothings. Before he leans down to press a kiss to your reddened lips.

“Are you okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair, and you nod, as you cup his cheek.

“I’m perfect,” you sigh, as he curls up beside you, burying his face in the nape of your neck, “and you?”

“What’s more than ‘perfect?’” And you snort, before he’s leaning over you, “what?”

“You’re such a dork,”

“But I’m your dork, your very rich dork, who loves to spoil you,” and you laugh, pulling him close.

“Just mine,” and he’s kissing you again.

“Just yours.”

And you find yourself at that same bar you did many moons ago.

You nurse a soda, instead of a drink, because you didn’t care for the taste of alcohol. Habits die hard with the company you kept. You felt the gaze of several people on you, but none of them approached — and you didn’t mind one bit.

“Mind if I sit here?” And you smile, stirring your soda with its straw, not bothering to look up at the sound of this very familiar voice. The same voice that had woken you up with several kisses to your neck this morning.

“Not at all,” you reply, as you slide over his fruity drink — some concoction that is utterly too sweet — “you’re late,”

Satoru sighs, swirling his drink in its glass. “Well, the business partners were particularly chatty. I think they knew we had dinner plans,” Satoru sips at his drink, pouting, as you comfort him with a chaste kiss to his cheek, “how’d the job interview go?”

“I think they might give me the offer,” you smile, but you shrug, leaning against the surprisingly not sticky bar counter, “I’m not too worried either way,”

“I told you don’t have to work—“

“And I told you I want at least to work part-time to contribute something,” you remind him, as you lean close, fingers lacing with his with a squeeze, “don’t worry we will spend a lot of time together,” and he’s still pouting.

“That’s not enough,”

“Plenty?” And he relents, murmuring something about “that’s better,”, “where are we going for dinner anyway?” You raise an eyebrow, “such secrecy tonight,”

“I have to keep you on your toes, sweetheart, can’t have you losing interest,” he smiles, as his fingers reach into his pocket, and you roll your eyes, unimpressed.

“Never,” you roll your eyes, as he leans over and presses a kiss to his neck, and he’s finding your lips, fingers brushing your cheek, panting as he parts, “I know you’re trying to avoid the question.”

And he only offers a grin, before he’s holding a ring before you, “take a guess,”

You stare at it, blinking, your fingers covering your mouth, “Satoru—“

“I told you a long time ago here that I wanted to be the one to take care of you — and now I’m asking to take care of you forever,” and you can’t help but grin, “I’m sure we can reach another agreement — as long as you let me call you my wife,”

And you’re already pulling him into your arms, lips sliding against his, as he melts into the kiss, “is that a yes?”

You laugh, offering your hand, “put the ring on me,” and he does, sliding it onto your finger, smiling.

“You won’t regret it,” and you kiss him again, pressing your forehead to his.

“I know,” because saying yes to marrying Satoru Gojo was surely the smartest idea you’ve ever had.

✴︎ a/n: s/o to @laneysmusings for being the best beta reader, and i was truly possessed with the idea of having gojo take care of me and hearing mei mei say that he's "so rich" and he's like " well, she ain't lying." I also didn't listen to agora hills while writing this fic, but i used all the edits of gojo to that song as insp for the title and header lol.

✴︎ taglist: @deegausserr, @satoryaa, @orianakira, @tinnkerbell, @laylasbunbunny, @aztecmoonwarrior, @empresslazingway, @chosoilysm, @idktbhloley, @lorain07, @dreampiies, @nestafarren, @daydreamermarimo, @hydraafk, @theonetheycallbatman, @soccasium, @clearlandchild, @indigoghnights, @cha-raena, @strawberiicreme, @thegreatandpowerfulloreothecat, @jgh15hog, @onlyangeltae, @satocidal, @mrsmoriarty-holmes, @arrloww, @kyyyynziee

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo imagine #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk fluff #jjk x resder #jjk x you

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pucksandpower · 5 months ago

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Moments of Glory

Oscar Piastri x Brown!Reader

Summary: notoriously calm and collected Oscar meets his match in the outgoing and extroverted daughter of his boss

Note: this is not the maiden win any of us wanted for Oscar but that doesn’t make it any less deserved — McLaren’s ability to jumble strategy should not take away from his amazing drive

The McLaren Technology Centre hums with energy as Oscar steps through the sliding glass doors, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s his first visit since signing with the team, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on him. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

As he walks further into the lobby, a burst of laughter catches his attention. Oscar turns to see a group of people gathered near the reception desk, centered around a vivacious young woman with a contagious smile. Your presence seems to light up the entire room.

“And then I told him, ‘Dad, if you don’t make some cuter merch, I’m going to have to support a different team!’” You exclaim, causing another round of laughter from the group.

Oscar finds himself drawn towards the commotion, his feet moving of their own accord. As he approaches, you notice him and your eyes lock. For a moment, the world seems to stand still.

“Well, hello there, stranger!” You call out, breaking the spell. “You must be our new golden boy. I’m Y/N Brown, resident troublemaker and daughter of the big boss.”

Oscar feels his cheeks flush as he stammers, “H-Hi, I’m Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

You grin, stepping closer. “I know who you are, silly. I’ve been watching your career for years. Welcome to the family!”

Before Oscar can respond, you’ve wrapped him in a warm hug. He stiffens for a moment, unused to such casual physical contact, but then relaxes into the embrace.

As you pull away, you wink at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “I, uh ... I don’t ...”

You laugh, patting his shoulder. “Relax, I’m just teasing. Come on, let me show you around. I bet I know this place better than any of the official tour guides.”

As you lead Oscar through the facility, he finds himself captivated by your energy and enthusiasm. You point out various areas of interest, peppering your tour with amusing anecdotes and insider information.

“And this,” you say, gesturing dramatically to a seemingly ordinary hallway, “is where Lando once tried to skateboard down the stairs. Spoiler alert: it didn’t end well.”

Oscar chuckles, finding himself more at ease. “I can’t imagine that went over well with management.”

You lean in conspiratorially. “Oh, Dad was furious. But between you and me, I think he was more upset that Lando didn’t invite him to join in.”

As you continue the tour, Oscar finds himself opening up more. “So, how long have you been involved with McLaren?” He asks.

You grin, twirling around to face him as you walk backward. “Oh, pretty much since Dad got hired to run it back in 2016. But I’ve been working here officially for about two years now, in PR and social media.”

Oscar nods, impressed. “That must be exciting, being so close to the action.”

“It has its moments,” you agree. “But enough about me. Tell me, Oscar Piastri, what makes you tick? What drives you to risk life and limb hurtling around tracks at breakneck speeds?”

Oscar pauses, considering his words carefully. “I guess ... it’s the thrill of pushing myself to the limit. The constant challenge of improving, of finding that extra tenth of a second. And the teamwork aspect, knowing that every person plays a crucial role in our success.”

You smile softly, a hint of admiration in your eyes. “That’s beautiful, Oscar. I can see why Dad was so keen on signing you.”

As you reach the simulator room, Oscar’s eyes light up with excitement. You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

“Want to give it a go?” You ask, gesturing towards the state-of-the-art equipment.

Oscar nods eagerly. “Can I? I mean, I don’t want to overstep ...”

You wave off his concerns. “Please, you’re part of the team now. Besides, I want to see what you can do.”

As Oscar settles into the simulator, you lean against the doorframe, watching him with interest. He takes a deep breath, centering himself before starting the virtual lap.

You observe silently, impressed by his focus and skill. As he completes the lap, you let out a low whistle. “Not bad, Piastri. Not bad at all.”

Oscar grins, a hint of pride in his expression. “Thanks. It feels good to get a feel for the car, even if it’s just a simulation.”

You step closer, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Want to make it interesting? I bet I can beat your time.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a hint of competitiveness creeping into his voice. “Oh really? You’re on.”

For the next hour, you and Oscar take turns in the simulator, trading friendly jabs and encouragement. To Oscar’s surprise, you prove to be a formidable opponent, matching him lap for lap.

As you finish your final run, you jump up with a whoop of victory. “Ha! Beat you by two-tenths!”

Oscar shakes his head, laughing. “I can’t believe it. Where did you learn to drive like that?”

You shrug, a hint of vulnerability showing through your confident exterior. “Growing up around racing, I guess. But I never had the nerve to pursue it professionally. Too much pressure.”

Oscar nods understandingly. “I can’t blame you. It’s not an easy path.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the hum of the equipment. Oscar finds himself studying your face, noticing the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and how animated you become when talking about something you love.

You catch him staring and smirk. “See something you like, Piastri?”

Oscar blushes furiously, stammering, “I, uh ... I was just ... you’re really ...”

You laugh, but there’s a softness to it. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Listen, Y/N ... I know we just met, but I was wondering if maybe ... I mean, if you’re not busy ... would you like to ...”

Before he can finish, an alarm on your phone goes off. You check it and grimace. “Shoot, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Rain check on whatever you were about to say?”

Oscar nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”

You start to leave but pause at the doorway. Turning back, you say, “Hey, Oscar? For what it’s worth, I hope you were about to ask me out. Because I’d say yes.”

With a wink and a wave, you’re gone, leaving Oscar standing in the simulator room, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling in his stomach. He takes a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face as he realizes that his journey with McLaren might be even more exciting than he initially thought.

***

The hot Qatar air shimmers around Oscar as he stands before the camera, sweat glistening on his brow. His race suit clings to his body, still damp from the grueling sprint race he’s just won. The interviewer leans in with her microphone.

“Oscar, what an incredible performance today! How does it feel to secure your first sprint victory in Formula 1?”

Oscar’s eyes shine with a mix of exhaustion and elation. “It’s ... it’s honestly surreal,” he says, his voice slightly breathless. “The team did an amazing job with the car, and everything just clicked out there. I can’t quite believe it yet.”

The interviewer nods encouragingly. “You showed remarkable pace throughout the race. Was there any point where you felt particularly challenged?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say a word, a blur of motion catches his peripheral vision. Suddenly, you crash into him at full speed, nearly knocking both of you off balance.

“You did it! You actually did it!” You squeal, throwing your arms around Oscar’s neck and peppering his sweaty face with kisses.

Oscar’s eyes widen in shock, his cheeks flushing a deep red that has nothing to do with the desert heat. “Y/N! What are you-”

But you’re not listening. You’re too busy showering him with affection, right there in front of the rolling cameras and the stunned interviewer. “I’m so proud of you, you beautiful, talented man!” You exclaim between kisses.

The interviewer clears her throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I ... um, it seems we have an unexpected guest. Miss, could you perhaps-”

You turn to face the camera, your arm still draped around Oscar’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t mind me! I’m just here to celebrate with the star of the show.” You plant another kiss on Oscar’s cheek for emphasis.

Oscar, for his part, looks like he’s torn between embarrassment and delight. He awkwardly pats your back, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “I’m sorry about this,” he says to the interviewer. “This is Y/N, she’s ... well, she’s ...”

“I’m his girlfriend,” you announce proudly, beaming at the camera. “And the daughter of the CEO, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that this guy” — you ruffle Oscar’s hair — “just drove the race of his life!”

The interviewer, recovering from her initial shock, decides to roll with the unexpected turn of events. “Well, Y/N, since you’re here, what did you think of Oscar’s performance today?”

You launch into an enthusiastic analysis, gesticulating wildly. “It was absolutely brilliant! The way he managed those tires in the closing laps, fending off Verstappen ... I was on the edge of my seat the whole time!”

Oscar watches you with a mixture of amusement and affection. When you pause for breath, he gently interjects, “I think you might be a bit biased, love.”

You turn to him, eyes sparkling. “Biased? Me? Never! I’ll have you know I’m a highly objective observer of the sport.”

The interviewer, sensing an opportunity for a more personal angle, asks, “Oscar, how does it feel to have such passionate support from your girlfriend?”

Oscar’s expression softens as he looks at you. “It’s ... it’s incredible, honestly. Y/N’s been my biggest cheerleader since day one. Even on the tough days, she always believes in me.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, momentarily subdued by the sincerity in his voice. “That’s because I know how amazing you are, even when you don’t see it yourself.”

The interviewer smiles, clearly charmed by the display. “It’s wonderful to see such support. Y/N, did you have any doubts during the race?”

You straighten up, your energy returning full force. “Doubts? About Oscar? Never! Although,” you add with a mischievous grin, “I did consider commandeering a golf cart and driving onto the track myself when Verstappen started closing that gap in the final laps.”

Oscar chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m glad you restrained yourself. I don’t think that would’ve gone over well with the stewards.”

“Oh please,” you scoff playfully. “I would’ve told them I was delivering a vital message about tire strategy. They would’ve believed me.”

The interviewer laughs along with you. “I have to say, this is one of the most entertaining post-race interviews I’ve ever conducted. Oscar, how do you keep up with such a vibrant personality?”

Oscar grins, his earlier embarrassment fading. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that out. Y/N keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You beam at him, then stage-whisper to the interviewer, “He loves it, really. I add much-needed excitement to his life.”

“As if driving a Formula 1 car at over 300 kilometers per hour isn’t exciting enough,” Oscar retorts good-naturedly.

You wave a dismissive hand. “Details, details. Now, are we done here? Because I have plans for celebrating this victory, and they involve a lot less talking and a lot more-”

Oscar quickly cuts you off, his cheeks reddening again. “And on that note, I think we should wrap this up. Thank you for the interview,” he says to the journalist, who’s trying hard to stifle her laughter.

As Oscar begins to lead you away, the interviewer calls out one last question. “Oscar, any final words for your fans watching at home?”

Oscar pauses, considering for a moment. “Just ... thank you for all the support. It means the world to me. And to the team, of course. We couldn’t do this without you all.”

You can’t resist adding your own message. “And remember, kids: if you work hard and believe in yourself, one day you too could have an incredibly attractive partner tackling you with kisses on live television!”

With that, you pull Oscar away from the cameras, both of you laughing as you disappear into the paddock.

Once you’re out of sight of the media, Oscar turns to you, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “I can’t believe you did that,” he says, shaking his head.

You grin unrepentantly. “Oh come on, it was fun! And admit it, you loved it.”

Oscar tries to maintain a stern face, but his lips twitch upwards. “It was certainly ... unexpected.”

“Unexpected is my middle name,” you declare proudly.

“I thought your middle name was Trouble,” Oscar quips.

You gasp in mock offense. “Oscar Piastri, are you sassing me? I’ll have you know that Trouble is my first name. Y/N is just a cover.”

Oscar laughs, pulling you close despite the sweat still clinging to his race suit. “Well, Trouble, what do you say we get out of here and start that celebration you were talking about?”

Your eyes light up. “Now you’re talking! But first ...” You lean in, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I believe I was interrupted earlier when I was showering the race winner with well-deserved affection.”

Oscar’s breath catches as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that’s far more heated than the ones shared on camera. When you finally pull apart, you’re both a little breathless.

“Wow,” Oscar murmurs. “If that’s how you react to a sprint win, I can’t wait to see what happens when I win a Grand Prix.”

You wink at him. “Keep driving like that, and you’ll find out soon enough. Now come on, hero. Let’s go find somewhere more private before my dad shows up and ruins all our fun.”

As if on cue, Zak’s voice echoes down the paddock. “Oscar! There you are! Hell of a drive out there, kid!”

You groan dramatically. “Speak of the devil. Quick, hide me in your helmet!”

Oscar chuckles, keeping an arm around your waist as Zak approaches. “I don’t think you’d fit, babe. Besides, I’m pretty sure he already knows you’re here. The whole world probably knows after that interview.”

You shrug, unabashed. “What can I say? When I’m proud of my man, I want everyone to know it.”

Zak reaches you, clapping Oscar on the shoulder. “That was some fantastic racing out there, Oscar. You should be proud.”

Oscar nods, a shy smile on his face. “Thank you. The car felt great, and the team’s strategy was spot on.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Always so modest. Dad, tell him how amazing he was!”

Zak laughs. “I think you’ve done enough of that for all of us, sweetheart. I saw that interview, by the way. Quite a show you two put on.”

You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was merely congratulating our star driver on his well-deserved victory.”

“Uh-huh,” Zak says, clearly not buying it. “Well, try to keep the congratulations a bit more PG in the future, alright? We do have sponsors to think about.”

Oscar looks mortified, but you just grin. “No promises. But I’ll try to restrain myself to just one tackle per race weekend.”

Zak shakes his head, a mixture of exasperation and fondness on his face. “What am I going to do with you two? Oscar, I hope you know what you’ve signed up for with this one.”

Oscar glances at you, his expression softening. “I think I have a pretty good idea. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You feel your heart swell at his words. “Aww, babe. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said. Well, second sweetest. The sweetest was when you told me my driving in the simulator was ‘not bad.’”

Oscar groans. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope!” you say cheerfully. “I plan to remind you of it at least once a week for the rest of our lives.”

Zak watches your banter with amusement. “Alright, you two. Oscar, the team wants to debrief before you head out. Y/N, try not to cause any international incidents while I’m gone, okay?”

You salute dramatically. “Yes, sir, Team Principal, sir! I shall endeavor to be on my very best behavior.”

As Zak walks away, shaking his head and muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “God help us all,” you turn back to Oscar.

“So, hotshot,” you say, running a finger down his chest. “How long do you think this debrief will take? Because I have some very important plans that involve you, me, and a bottle of champagne I may or may not have ‘borrowed’ from the hospitality area.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Borrowed, huh? You know, as a representative of the team, I should probably discourage such behavior.”

You lean in close, your lips barely brushing his ear. “And as my boyfriend, what do you think?”

Oscar’s arms tighten around you. “I think,” he murmurs, “that I’m the luckiest guy in the world. And that I’ll try to make this the quickest debrief in F1 history.”

You pull back with a triumphant grin. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go, be brilliant, and hurry back to me. I’ll be waiting.”

As Oscar jogs off towards the team garage, you watch him go with a soft smile. Your eyes linger on the PIASTRI emblazoned across his back, and you feel a surge of pride and affection.

“That’s my guy,” you murmur to yourself. “My brilliant, amazing, race-winning guy.”

And as you head off to prepare for your celebration, you can’t help but think that while Oscar might have won the sprint race today, you’re the one who truly hit the jackpot.

***

The Hungaroring erupts in cheers as Oscar crosses the finish line, securing his maiden Grand Prix victory. The McLaren garage explodes with jubilation, team members hugging each other and pumping their fists in the air.

As Oscar completes his cool-down lap, his voice crackles over the team radio, breathless with excitement. “We did it! We actually did it! Thank you, thank you to everyone. I can’t believe it!”

His race engineer responds, emotion evident in his voice. “Fantastic job, Oscar. You drove brilliantly. Enjoy this moment, mate. You’ve earned it.”

Meanwhile, in the paddock, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. You’ve been pacing back and forth, unable to contain your energy as you watched the final laps unfold on the screens. As soon as Oscar crosses the line, you sprint towards parc fermé, determined to be there when he gets out of the car.

You weave through the crowd, your McLaren bomber jacket with Oscar’s number emblazoned across the back drawing curious glances. As you reach the barriers, you see Oscar’s car pull up, the Australian already unclipping his helmet.

“Oscar!” You shout, waving frantically. “Over here!”

Oscar’s eyes scan the crowd, lighting up when he spots you. He clambers out of the car, his legs a bit shaky from the adrenaline and physical exertion. As he makes his way towards you, his gaze locks onto the jacket you’re wearing, and his steps falter.

You notice his reaction and grin mischievously, doing a little twirl to show off the jacket. “Like what you see, champ?”

Oscar’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly agape. “That’s ... wow. Is that my number?”

You nod, beaming. “Sure is. Thought I’d support my favorite driver in style. Although,” you add with a wink, “I have to say, it will look much better on the ground next to your bed.”

Oscar’s face flushes red, and he glances around nervously. “Y/N! We’re in public!”

You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his sweat-damp hair. “Oh, relax. Everyone’s too busy celebrating your win to pay attention to us. Speaking of which ...” You grab the front of his race suit and pull him close, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

When you finally break apart, Oscar looks dazed but happy. “I could get used to that kind of celebration,” he murmurs.

“Well, keep winning races like that, and you’ll have plenty more where that came from,” you tease. “Now go, do your podium thing. I’ll be waiting to continue this ... discussion ... later.”

As Oscar heads off for the podium ceremony, you turn to make your way back to the paddock. That’s when you spot Lando chatting with some engineers. Your eyes narrow as you remember how a McLaren strategy mistake had allowed Lando to undercut Oscar, nearly costing him the win. Even though it wasn’t really Lando’s fault, you can’t help feeling annoyed at him.

You’re about to march over and give Lando a piece of your mind when you spot something that makes you pause — Fernando Alonso’s unattended scooter, parked just a few feet away. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as an idea forms.

Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, you casually stroll over to the scooter and hop on. You rev the engine, drawing Lando’s attention.

“Hey, Y/N!” Lando calls out, waving. “Congrats on Oscar’s win! Some race, huh?”

You smile sweetly, maneuvering the scooter towards him. “Oh, it sure was, Lando. Especially that bit where you refused to give the lead back to Oscar until the last minute. That was ... interesting.”

Lando’s smile falters slightly. “Come on. You know it wasn’t my fault. The team made the strategy call.”

“Oh, I know,” you say, inching the scooter closer. “I just thought I’d give you a little reminder about team spirit and timeliness.”

Before Lando can react, you accelerate the scooter, aiming straight for his foot. There’s a yelp of pain as the wheel rolls over Lando’s toes, followed by a string of colorful expletives.

“Oops!” You exclaim with faux innocence. “So sorry, Lando. These things are just so hard to control, you know?”

Lando hops on one foot, glaring at you. “What the hell? That bloody hurt!”

You shrug, still perched on the scooter. “Funny, that’s probably how Oscar felt when you wouldn’t let him by. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

As Lando opens his mouth to retort, a stern voice cuts through the air. “Y/N Brown! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

You wince, recognizing your father’s voice. Zak strides towards you, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

“Hi, Dad,” you say sheepishly. “I was just ... congratulating Lando on his race?”

Zak pinches the bridge of his nose. “By running over his foot with Alonso’s scooter? Jesus, Y/N. I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

You hop off the scooter, trying your best to look contrite. “In my defense, it was a very gentle running over. Barely a love tap, really.”

Lando snorts, still rubbing his foot. “Love tap my arse. I think you broke my toe!”

Zak sighs heavily. “Lando, go get that checked out by the medics. Y/N, you’re coming with me. We need to have a serious talk about appropriate behavior in the paddock.”

As your father leads you away, you can’t help but call back over your shoulder, “Hey Lando! Next time, maybe think about giving the position back sooner, yeah?”

Zak groans. “Y/N, please. You know Lando was put in a tough spot. You’re not helping your case here.”

You follow your father to a quiet corner of the McLaren garage, trying to suppress your grin. Despite the impending lecture, you can’t bring yourself to regret your actions. Nobody messes with your Oscar and gets away with it.

Zak turns to face you, his expression serious. “Y/N, I know you’re excited about Oscar’s win, and believe me, I am too. But you can’t go around assaulting our drivers, even if it’s just with a scooter.”

You nod, attempting to look suitably chastised. “I know. I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

Zak raises an eyebrow. “Why do I have a hard time believing that?”

Before you can respond, there’s a commotion at the garage entrance. Oscar bursts in, his face flushed with excitement.

“Y/N!” He calls out, spotting you. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turn to him, your face lighting up. “Oscar! Congrats, babe! I know I already said it, but you were amazing out there!”

Oscar sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around. As he sets you down, his eyes once again lock onto your jacket. “God, you look incredible in that,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You smirk, running a hand down his chest. “Oh yeah? Maybe I should wear it more often then.”

Zak clears his throat loudly, reminding you both of his presence. “While I’m thrilled about the win, could you two maybe tone down the PDA a notch? We are still in a professional environment.”

Oscar steps back, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, come on, Dad. Let the man celebrate! It’s his first win, after all.”

Zak sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Fine, fine. But try to keep it family-friendly, alright? And Y/N, we’re not done talking about the scooter incident.”

Oscar looks between you and your father, confusion evident on his face. “Scooter incident?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little misunderstanding with Lando. Nothing to worry about.”

Oscar’s brow furrows. “What kind of misunderstanding involves a scooter?”

Before you can answer, Lando limps into the garage, his foot wrapped in a bandage. “The kind where your girlfriend tries to maim me, apparently,” he grumbles.

Oscar’s eyes widen. “Y/N, you didn’t ...”

You shrug, trying to look innocent. “It was an accident! Besides, he had it coming after that stunt he pulled during the race.”

Oscar runs a hand through his hair, looking exasperated but also slightly amused. “Y/N, you can’t just go around running people over because you’re unhappy with their racing.”

“Watch me,” you mutter under your breath.

Zak throws his hands up in defeat. “I give up. Oscar, congratulations again on the win. Y/N, try not to cause any more chaos for at least the next hour, okay? I need to go do damage control with the press.”

As your father walks away, Oscar turns to you, his expression a mix of fondness and exasperation. “What am I going to do with you?”

You grin, stepping closer to him. “I have a few ideas. Most of them involve you, me, and licking champagne off each other’s skin.”

Oscar’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening. “Y/N,” he warns, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “What do you say we get out of here, champ? I think it’s time for your real celebration.”

Oscar doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs your hand, leading you towards the exit. As you pass Lando, you call out, “No hard feelings, right, Lando? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before playing dirty on track.”

Lando rolls his eyes but can’t help cracking a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep her on a leash, will you, Oscar?”

Oscar chuckles. “I don’t think anyone could keep Y/N on a leash if they tried.”

As you leave the garage, the sounds of celebration still echoing through the paddock, you can’t help but feel on top of the world. Oscar’s first win, your successful (if slightly unorthodox) defense of his honor, and the promise of a private celebration to come — it’s been a perfect day.

You squeeze Oscar’s hand, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, hero, ready to show me just how much you like this jacket?”

Oscar grins, pulling you closer. “More than ready. But maybe we should wait until we’re somewhere more private. I don’t fancy giving the entire paddock a show.”

You laugh, the sound bright and carefree. “Spoilsport. But fine, I suppose I can be patient. For now.”

As you walk hand in hand towards the team motorhome, you can’t help but think that while Oscar may have won the race today, you’re both winners in the game of love. And that’s the best victory of all.

1K notes · View notes

kingkatsuki · 8 months ago

Text

I started this in March and I finally managed to finish it. It was only supposed to be a short thirst post but yet here we are. Thank you if you decide to give it a go💕

Summary: Tengen thinks Sanemi is wound far too tight, and of course he knows just the way to fix it— by taking him to his favourite brothel.

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, reader is a courtesan, implied!Tengen using their services, virgin!Sanemi, sex as a transaction, slight degradation, praise, blowjobs, cum swallowing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, Sanemi is way too obsessed with reader way too fast (but she likes it!!)

Word Count: 9.4k.

“Allow yourself to indulge a little, my friend,” Tengen clapped his shoulder with a grin, “After all that’s what this district is for.”

“I have no time for indulgence.” Sanemi scoffed, ripping his shoulder out of Tengen’s grip as he bared his front incisors.

It was already insufferable enough that he’d had to spend the last few nights with the Sound Pillar, but it was made worse by the grand spectacle he’d made when they’d both entered the entertainment district for the first time. The bright lights paired with the bustling crowds seemed to evoke even more intolerable actions from Uzui and Sanemi couldn’t wait to get home.

“There’s always time for indulgence, my friend,” He persisted, not taking his answer for gospel as he continued down the brightly illuminated street, “And don’t you want to experience the soft touch of a woman?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Sanemi sneered, rolling his eyes as Tengen waved over at a group of women who were standing at the entrance to an establishment trying to coax him over.

All Sanemi wanted to do was find a bed at the local inn and rest his head for a few hours so he could be alert when searching for the demon that was rumoured to be sighted in the area. It disgusted him that people were seemingly still out satiating themselves with cheap frivolity when lives were at risk.

“You can’t die a virgin,” He continued, mid-wave, “How embarrassing.”

“You need to assess your priorities if that is what you assume to be an embarrassment.” He snapped, “Not when there are still demons alive—”

“Ah, I worry as much as you,” Sanemi highly doubted it, “But You never know you might find yourself relaxing a bit.” Tengen persisted, “Might find yourself less angry.”

Sanemi sneered as he balled his hands into a fist, preparing to land a strike against his cocky fellow hashira before Tengen pulled back the purple fabric to a building at the side of them, stepping inside the brothel.

“You can wait outside if you want, I’m sure you’ll find the street performers more than entertaining.”

Sanemi glanced towards the rowdy men who were currently playing instruments in the middle of the street, the loud noise irksome as people stopped to dance with them. Scrunching his nose in irritation as he turned to face the Sound Pillar.

“Fine,” His lips smoothed into a thin line, “But you’re fuckin’ paying.”

Sanemi lingered outside as he stared at the wisteria pattern against the curtain. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought before he took a deep breath and followed inside.

“Ah, Mr Uzui, your usual?”

“Not today,” He clapped a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “I’ve brought a friend.”

Sanemi could see the girls in the background begin to cower away, even though they tried to hide it. Shrugging Uzui’s hand off his shoulder with a growl of irritation as he tried to avoid the pairs of eyes watching him intently, jaw locked as he sucked in a breath of air.

“How wonderful, Uzui-sama.” The lady bowed as she motioned to a young girl, “Our Oiran is unavailable now, but I’m certain she will more than suffice.”

The girl cowered in fear as she was given a push in her lower back in an attempt to get her feet to start working, the poor thing. She’d barely been here a week and she’d already had a difficult afternoon with a travelling samurai who’d assumed being rough was included with the price.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Shinazugawa.” Uzui called out from behind him as Sanemi glared in irritation. There was certainly no chance of that happening, especially at the sight of the young girl that looked close to tears.

“It would be my honor to serve you tonight, my Lord.” You chanced stepping forward, feeling your Madame turn to glare at you.

“Remember your place,” She jeered, the same sickly sweet smile on her face to mask her indignation before turning back to the hashira, “I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-sama. Please let us show you to your room—”

“I want her.” He cut her off coldly, tired eyes matching your gaze as an unfamiliar heat lingered in your chest.

“Not to question your choice, my Lord. But we have many excellent options here—”

“Keep them.” He stepped towards you as you took this as your moment to turn around. Ignoring your Madame’s calls for him to enjoy his night, and request a change at any time if he so desired. It was no wonder she was worried about you tarnishing her reputation, trying to palm to hashira off on someone far more weak willed. But you were intrigued by the man from the moment he stepped through the door, and the poor girl needed a chance to recover from her ordeal.

You could practically feel his eyes on you as you led him down the wooden hallway towards your room, keeping enough of a distance as you slid the screen door open gently. Stepping to the side to invite him in with a slight bow of your head as the white-haired man followed into the room, scrunching his nose at the potent smell of flowers that permeated the air as you closed the door behind you. It was sickly sweet, worse than the ohagi he’d cook at home; invading his senses as he tried to ignore the scent throbbing at the back of his skull.

You could feel how awkward he was, lingering by the doorway as you could cut the tension in the air with a blade. Smoothing down the front of your kimono as you stood in front of him, noticing the way his lavender eyes took note of the futon in the corner of the room.

So this was the seedy shit that Uzui got up to in his free time? Sanemi scoffed.

An impertinent man with three wives who still managed to find the time to spend in the arms of another. Having one woman would be enough of a nuisance, he thinks. But juggling four sounded like pure greed.

“Can I get you anything Shinazugawa-sama?” You smiled, “Tea? Sake? We also have fresh onigiri—”

Sanemi wished you’d stop calling him that. He usually delighted in the honorific when he was called it by others, but the saccharine lilt to your voice as you danced along his name had his cock pulsing between his thighs uncomfortably.

“No.” He bit back the insult that threatened to follow as you nodded in affirmation.

“Well, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable for your time here,” You continued, “Our services are open to the Hashira for as long as they see fit.”

He scoffed at that, knowing that a Hashira’s pocket was rarely empty so it made sense they’d want to make as much money from them as possible.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You smiled softly, noticing he was silent as he remained still. The cogs in his head slowly turned as he wondered why he’d even agreed to this in the first place, how he’d even made it this far.

“You think I’m scared or somethin’?” Sanemi gibed, maybe a little harsher than intended, but it felt warranted. Your words made it seem as though you were questioning his valour. And Shinazugawa Sanemi never backed down in fear, especially not like this.

“No,” You tilted your head to the side and Sanemi felt his heart rattle at his cages with how cute you looked. Trying to fight the heat that was slowly rising through his body and tickling the tips of his ears.

He felt hot. If he’d have known this was how easily it was to increase his body temperature warm enough to potentially receive a mark, he would’ve demanded that Uzui bring him here a long, long time ago—

“I can just tell you’ve never been here before,” You hummed, “It’s probably unfamiliar to what you’re used to.”

You were right. Sanemi felt completely out of his depth.

“I have no desire to frequent a whorehouse.” He spat, masking his vulnerability. And yet he was acutely aware of the way you didn’t flinch like many would, cowering away from him in fear as though he were a coiled snake ready to attack.

It was at that moment your eyes met his across the room, and for the first time, he recognised the desolate emptiness in your eyes. He recognised it because it was the same one he held whenever he glanced at his reflection. So much time spent wallowing in self-loathing and pity, forcing himself to submerge himself in sheer hatred instead of looking at the ones around him. Sanemi could tell you’d been through a lot too, suffering at the hands of many while being forced into a life you’d never wanted for yourself. Much like him.

“But you’re here anyway, so you might as well relax for the time,” You smiled back, and it only pained him more that he’d spoken to you with such callousness, “And at least you can avoid your friend for a few hours.”

“Is that what all your visitors come here to do?” He sneered but did not attempt to move.

“To linger in the doorway?” You raised a brow, “No, you would be the first.”

Sanemi felt a heat rise all the way to the tips of his ears at this, noticing he’d barely stepped inside the room since you’d brought him this far.

“I don’t bite, you know.” You laughed as you watched him frozen in place.

Could you tell he was a virgin? He wondered if it was obvious from the way he lingered as his body became engulfed in flames. Willing the ground to swallow him whole at the prospect of appearing so inexperienced, and he was surprised at how much he cared.

“We have many people that come here just to talk,” You smiled, settling down into a kneel, “But you don’t seem like much of a talker.”

But that’s not why he was here, he thinks. The proposition had been offered to him, and Uzui had certainly never mentioned talking. “The perfect medicine!” He’d clapped him on the back as he’d led him towards the establishment, a haughty smile on his face. Sanemi was here to try and settle his temper, to blow off some steam. And yet here he still stood stoic in the doorway, silence hanging in the air.

“Well, if you don’t like to talk. Maybe you’d like to watch?” You offered up the option, as Sanemi froze.

What?

He was certain he wouldn’t make it from this room alive, spending years fighting demons only to be scuppered by a beguiling temptress like you. Positive Uzui had fed him to the wolves the moment he stepped through the doors to this establishment and pulled back the curtain.

Sanemi’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips, a futile action when his throat was this dry, as he played back your offer in his head. The words echoed in his ear as he wondered how he was supposed to receive them, whether he needed to say yes or if you would be so kind as to show him exactly what you meant.

He’d never thought much of laying with a woman before. His line of work failed to offer much chance of finding a suitable wife and settling down, even though Uzui had managed to find three. More interested in ridding the world of the scourge of demons instead of cheap frills and frivolity. Sanemi’s only glimpses of breasts had been in onsens or walking through the Red light district. Enough to have his cock pulsing between his thighs as he fought the temptation, but nothing like how you made him feel standing in front of him right now.

“Uzui-sama had said to show you—”

“Can’t you just get on with it?” He cut you off, definitely a little harsher than intended. But it’s to be expected when he’s like a wild deer backed into a corner, as you mentioned the shepherd that had dragged him to the slaughter.

He was going to kill Uzui-sama when he got out of this, he scoffed, the man probably only attended the house to hear that honorific.

“Of course, Shinazugawa-sama.” You smiled, as Sanemi’s eyes now focused on your smaller hands teasing the opening of your kimono, his cock bucking under his pants at the same honorific, “So you can learn how to please a woman.”

Sanemi didn’t want a woman, he had no intention of pleasing anyone. And yet he found himself wondering on what it would be like to please you. Whether your eyes would roll, or your toes would curl. Thinking about the saccharine sigh of his name tumbling from your lips when he had you on the crux of your bliss. And then he began to wonder whether any man had ever pleased a woman inside these four walls, whether a man had ever pleased you—

“Is that even important?” He scoffed, lips coiled into a sneer as you sat back on your haunches.

“Well, it depends. I’m sure as long as you have a woman to lay with you’ll find your pleasure,” You smiled, finding no offence in his question, “But if you help her find her pleasure you’ll be far more satisfied.”

Sanemi felt the heat inside him start to burn as you pressed him to stay. Telling himself it was out of pure intrigue as he lowered his sword to the floor, his palm still clasped over it as he made his decision to stay.

You managed to get him to kneel, although he positioned himself with one foot on the ground. Knee bent as though he was preparing to flee the scene the moment this became too much.

“So you’re only here because of your friend?” You posed the question to him in an attempt to break the ice, though it was more than obvious to be true.

The hunched shoulders and flushed cheeks made it wholly apparent that this wasn’t one of his usual haunts. And that the Hashira felt extremely out of place—

Awkward.

“He seems to think I’m wound too tight,” Sanemi grunted, eyes focused on the way you languidly disrobed.

If he had the confidence he’d reach across the room and pull the haori down your shoulders himself, telling you to hurry up. He’d never witnessed someone take so long to disrobe, although he supposed this was some sort of show you were supposed to put on for the drunken men who frequented the establishment. So he held back, watching as the fabric finally pooled around you.

“So he brought you here to let off some steam.” You smile, beginning to work on the buttons at the front of your kimono.

“And what say you?” He sneered, “What do you think?”

“I’d say your job is difficult,” You whispered, slowly pulling back the front of your kimono to expose your naked breasts to his prying gaze.

Sanemi didn’t say anything, but you noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Nostrils flaring as he exhaled softly as the fabric fell around you to join your haori.

“It’s no wonder you have so much rage inside.” You continue, hands delicate in your lap as you allow him to look at you, “It’s okay to let it out. To release some tension—”

You were right, Sanemi supposed. Although since being inside this building he somehow felt worse— the tension continuing to build inside his abdomen as his pelvis tightened uncomfortably, his heavy cock throbbing with desire as it pressed against the front of his uniform. Shifting his thighs as he tried to give himself some slight relief from the incessant throb, as you did little to satiate it when you began to tease your naked breasts.

“Are you a virgin, Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked, although you were certain you already knew the answer.

“What’s it to you?” He mocked, “You’re just a common whore ready to spread her legs. It’s your job—”

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” You smile softly, finding no malice in his words. It was clear he was trying to deflect your question, as though the answer burned him to say, “I was certain you wanted to talk.”

You were worried you may have pushed him too much, that he would turn and flee the room and leave you naked and alone. Or worse— attack.

You’d had it happen before. Men who would enter the building of their own free will, before turning on you at the last moment. Hands wound tight around your neck as they blamed you for cheating on their wives, for making them do this. And it wasn’t just the men who had nothing else to lose; the ones that would spend their final gold on a night with a woman. These were respected members of society— samurai, business owners, and demon slayers. And perhaps that’s why every other woman had cowered in fear when the Wind Pillar had stepped through the door, because they expected nothing less from the ruthless Hashira.

But he looked vulnerable.

“If you don’t want to talk,” You continued to pull back the fabric of your kimono to expose your naked frame to his lilac eyes, the material cascaded down your body and onto the floor as you allowed him to drink in the sight of you. His eyes roamed your naked skin as they followed a path along your sternum, between the valley of your breasts until they settled on your chubby mound, “I’m certain there are other things we could do that would please you.”

Sanemi’s throat seized as he watched your hands reach up to mould against your round breasts, the skin dipping beneath your touch as you let out a soft, satisfied gasp. A sound that sent jolts of electricity surging through his veins. Enough to have his hands balling into tight fists that settled on top of his thighs as blunt nails dug into his palms, focused on the way your nipples hardened as you pinched and rolled them between your thumb and forefinger.

“You can touch me, you know,” You murmured, “I don’t mind.”

Sanemi swallowed thickly at the invitation. It was why he was here, after all. But somehow it felt daunting to reach out and close the gap, unsure where he should even start with you as he stayed stoic across the room.

You chanced scooting towards him across the wooden floor, settling yourself in front of him as you reached out to grasp one of his tightly closed fists. Gently prying his fingers open as he allowed you to contort his hand, splaying his fingers as you laced your fingers through his own, threading them together as your warmth engulfed him.

The action felt too intimate, which felt peculiar to say when he was sat opposite a half-naked stranger. And yet, he found himself not wanting to pull away. He leaned into your touch, his palm squeezing yours as you took it for reassurance, a soft smile on your face as he found himself beginning to relax.

“It’s okay,” You cooed, “We can just sit like this if you’d prefer.”

You were delighted when you felt the tense muscles in his hand begin to relax as his clenched jaw softened.

“Or we can tell your friend we did everything you wanted,” You continue with a laugh, “And that way it wouldn’t be a lie.”

And Sanemi wished he could put all his wants into words. The thoughts that now ran rampant through his mind as he breathed in the candied scent of you, feeling you lean closer to pepper gentle kisses to the side of his jaw. Tickling his skin against the growing stubble that left a shadow as you moved forward to place your hand flat against his muscular thigh.

“There wouldn’t be a need to lie.” Sanemi’s voice was rough like gravel as he tried desperately to wet his tongue, the roof of his mouth giving no appeasement as his Adam’s apple bobbed thickly.

“Oh?” You murmured, feeling no hint of him pulling away as you leaned back to face him. Your breath fanning his skin as you looked at him through thick, long lashes. Sultry eyes flickering towards his chapped lips before returning his gaze, “So what would you like us to tell him?”

“W-what?” Sanemi stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic.

“What is it you’d like to tell him?” You smiled softly, your hand slipping higher along his thigh, “What stories do you want to return with?”

And now Sanemi was certain this was the closest he’d come to death.

“Maybe I can suck your cock?” The words almost had him falling apart as he focused on every syllable, unused to someone speaking to him with such candour.

“Uh- yeah.” He felt the embarrassment begin to bloom inside him at his pathetic response as his eyes bore into your own.

You managed to get him on his back, chest heaving as you began to unfasten the belt around his hips. Watching the way his gut clenched in anticipation as you palmed him softly through the rough fabric, causing his hips to buck as he cursed beneath his breath.

“You feel big, Shinazugawa-sama.”

“Call me Sanemi.” He barked back gruffly, wanting to hear the sweet sound of his name leave your lips instead.

“Of course, Sanemi.” You cooed. Never making it to the futon as you straddled his thighs where he lay on the hardwood floor. Shrugging off the rest of your kimono to leave your body completely bare above him as he had to try to remember to breathe.

It was difficult to think when he noticed just how close your bare cunt was to his crotch, certain he could feel the warmth radiating from it against his thigh as you began to tug his pants down. Enough to free his aching cock as it drooped hard and heavy against his pelvis, long enough to follow the curve of his hip as the uncut tip leaked pearlescent beads of pre. Your stomach swirled at the sight of him, what he lacked in size he made up for in sheer girth. Thick, bulging veins forking along his girth as you imagined how he would feel buried inside you, the stretch as he fucked to into the shape of him. The thoughts had your neglected cunt throbbing around nothing as you felt warm slick begin to pool between your thighs.

“I was right— you are big.” You noted, wrapping a slender hand around him at the base as his hips jerked in surprise. Biting back a sharp hiss from between clenched teeth at the sensation as his palms instantly balled into fists at his sides.

“Is that what you say to every man that passes through here?” Sanemi spat, but he secretly hoped this wasn’t the case. He was filled with the incessant desire to impress you, to have you fawning over him. Even though none of this was real.

“No, actually,” You smiled, “I think it might actually hurt if you fuck me.”

Sanemi’s cock kicked with your blase tone, certain he was about to come undone from your words alone. But as if that weren’t enough, he felt himself choking back a grunt when you leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his leaking tip. Licking your lips to taste his pre as you stared up at him from under thick lashes, “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Sanemi almost snorted at this. As though he wouldn’t be able to overpower you and push you off in an instant, you wouldn’t stand a chance—

“Oh, fuckin’ shit—” All conscious thoughts were ripped away from him the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock. Catching you by surprise as his hips jerked roughly, forcing more of his length inside your wet mouth as the heady tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat. The sudden motion caused you to gag as you pulled back to cough and splutter, and Sanemi felt downright depraved when he throbbed at the sight of you. Strings of spit mixed with his pre connected him to your mouth as he groaned, noticing the fat tears that now clumped in your lashes as he tried to remember to breathe, “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“It’s okay,” You brushed him off with a smile, your warm palms stroked softly against his hairy thighs as he tried to calm his body down, “I actually liked it.”

You liked it? Gods, you were certain to be the death of him.

You took him into your mouth again as he fought back the urge to cant his hips forward, growling when your tongue began to trace the bulging veins along his length. Hollowing your cheeks as you began to gently bob your head along him as the hand wrapped around his base began to massage his heavy balls.

It was no wonder Uzui always seemed particularly cheery if this was what he got to experience at home. Sanemi’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he clenched them shut, positive that one look at you with your lips wrapped around him would have him coming undone in an instant.

“You can hold my head, show me what you like.” You murmured against the tip of his cock as you pulled back for air before swallowing him again. Coaxing him to touch you, to move you how he’d like to be treated, and Sanmei wondered why he should even bother when this already felt like heaven.

The whiny, desperate whine that vibrated around his cock the moment he held the back of your head in a large palm was his answer. Your throat instantly tightened around him as he swallowed back another debauched moan, tightening his grip as he began to help you bob your head along his cock. Careful not to hurt you as he pushed you down so the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat with each downward motion, something that had him leaking even more pre as the salty taste dampened your tongue.

Sanemi could already feel his balls tightening in anticipation, your movements sending him closer to bliss as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.

There’s something about being the only person to see Shinazugawa Sanemi like this. A strong, powerful man who strikes fear into the hearts of many brought to his knees as you tower over him.

His cheeks blaze fiery red as the bloom spreads to the tips of his ears as you wrap his cock into a gentle fist, squeezing the base as he tries to stop his hips from canting forward pathetically. The noise that spills from his lips is more akin to an injured animal as he tries to stop himself from spilling his release so easily. But this is exactly what you do to him, the only person that can make him feel this way.

“Do something.” His tone is cold and brash, but there’s no real malice behind it as you have him as close to begging as you can.

Your fingers slip lower from his balls as you run your thumb along his taint, dipping into the sensitive skin as you have Sanemi’s hips bucking wildly as he catches you completely off guard as he cums with a depraved snarl. Hot, sticky ropes of cum spurt from his pulsing cock as you catch them in your mouth, coating your throat in his potent seed as his chest heaves from the intensity. His hand remains rough at the back of your head as he forgets his hold on you, keeping you pinned on his cock as he fills you with his release.

It’s only when you splutter that Sanemi realises his hold on you, pulling away as though he’s been burned as his lilac eyes stare down at you with worry. Watching you quiver as you cough and splutter again, as he sits up in an instant to cup your neck and assess if you’re okay.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” He rasps, his cock still half-hard and doused in your spit as it hangs between you. “I didn’t mean to— are you okay?”

And for the first time, it feels as though he’s let his walls down. The worry in his tone, paired with his wide eyes show you the concern that you hadn’t expected from the harsh Wind Pillar when he’d first entered the room, and yet here he was offering you more kindness and compassion than a lot of your previous visitors.

Your throat burns, but you answer him by parting your lips and lolling your tongue out so he can see that you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he’d given you. An action that already has his cock stirring for more attention as Sanemi bites back the harsh groan that threatens to rumble deep in his chest at the sight of you.

You really had no idea that you’d be the complete undoing of him, he supposed as he allowed his thumb to brush against your soft cheek. Smiling when you leaned into his touch, still settled between his thighs.

He decided at that moment he’d quite like to kiss you. Uncertain if that was even something people did in these establishments, whether you’d even allow him to. Wondering if you’d ever wanted to kiss any of the men you’d spent time with working here, whether you’d even want to kiss him. Remembering that this was probably nothing more than a job to you, another way to pay off your debts and get yourself out.

He’d get you out if he could. Spare you from all the disgusting, rowdy creeps that you have to deal with daily and protect you from the horrors of this world.

“Are you okay?” You tilted your head to the side as Sanemi was brought back from his thoughts.

“Weren’t you gonna show me how to please a woman?” He ignored your question as his chapped lips brushed against the curve of your jaw.

“Oh,” Your cheeks flushed with a delicate flourish as warmth bloomed across your skin, “Oh, yeah.”

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’d even be able to handle his touch on your skin. Your cunt already throbbing wanton and desperate with need as your slick began to soak your inner thighs, positive no one else had made you feel like this before.

Reaching out to wrap your smaller palm around his wrist as he allowed you to move it how you pleased, lifting it to move it to settle against one of your soft breasts.

“Oh,” You heaved a sigh as your fingers stayed wrapped around his wrist as Sanemi began to clench his fingers, barely a squeeze as though he was worried about hurting you as you coaxed him for more, “That feels good.”

The words seemed to encourage him as he began to massage the soft skin, calloused fingers grazing against your sensitive nipples that had you crying out for him. Pleased when he took the initiative to give your other breast the same attention, your cheeks flushed as he stared shamelessly at your exposed skin.

Reaching down you circled a hand around his thick wrist, raising his hand as you placed his calloused palm against your warm breast. Thick lashes fluttered on impact as you looked down at the way he encompassed it, fingers barely flexing as he noticed the way his hand circled it. You ground your hips against him, his semi-hard cock poking into the swell of your ass as you remained seated on his abdomen. The motion pressed you harder against his hand as he began to clench his fingers, squeezing the supple skin as a breathy whine escaped your lips.

Sanemi hadn’t seen many breasts, but he was certain that you were the prettiest by far. Gaining more confidence as he started to squeeze at the soft skin, his thumb grazing over one of your hardening nipples as it stiffened to a taut peak. Biting down on glossy lips you watched him focused and intent, giving the same attention to the other side as he began to palm them both.

Sanemi inhaled softly when your fingers began to busy themselves with the fastenings of his shirt, spreading what little was left to push it off his shoulders along with his haori. Your eyes trailed over each raised scar that marred his perfect skin, fingertips delicately brushing over each line of rough skin and puckered flesh. Giving the same amount of attention to each one, knowing that they all held their own story. Spending slightly longer on the long ones that crossed against the front of his chest, dangerously close to his heart as your palm stopped against his sternum to feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Sanemi had never found his scars repulsive, but for some reason beneath your gaze, he felt self-conscious. Worried that you may find him hideous and cower away from him like most others did. Others, whose opinions he didn’t care about, but yours?

“I know they appear ugly.”

“They’re not ugly,” You hum softly, “I’m just sorry you had to go through the pain to receive them.”

Some scars run deeper, ones that don’t mark and marr his skin. The ones that permeate through to his heart, twisting and contorting as they sear into him hotter than any flame. Demons that keep him awake at night as he’s forced to relive the moments he’s received them, times that he’s faced certain death— and perhaps he deserved it. The pain of receiving them was often forgotten by Sanemi. The hurt and damage from each scar would never equate to the feeling of seeing his loved ones slain, from losing his family.

“But each one tells a story,” You continued, smiling softly. Fingertips stroking over the raised scars there, following the damaged skin as you mapped out every curve and ridge. “Each one holds a reason as to why you’re still here.”

Sanemi had never had someone touch him like this before, he’d never been handled with such care. It was at that moment that Sanemi decided he didn’t want you with anyone else, that you were his and only his.

“We all have scars, but some we try to hide more than others.” You hummed.

Fuck it. He thought as he reached around your neck to pull you into a fierce kiss, catching you off guard. His teeth clashed against your soft lips as he fought to deepen in, inexperience shining through his actions as his nose bumped yours roughly. His movements were sloppy and unpractised as he was far too chaste; too eager. Your lips follow along with his to try and guide him, your tongue teasingly laps at the corner of his lips and he does little to stop you. Trying to anticipate your movements as his lips fall open, granting you entrance as you smile against him.

Your fingers splay against his jaw, holding him steady to help slow him down. Moving your lips with purpose as your tongue brushed past his parted ones, delving into his mouth as you swallowed the moans that vibrated at the back of Sanemi’s throat. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you felt his arms encircle you to pull you closer, tightening his grip on you as if no matter how close you were it would never be enough.

His still half-hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you shamelessly roll your hips, pressing your lower half against it for some sweet relief as your cunt virtually burned with neglect. You’d never felt so on edge as you were tempted to reach down and press two fingers to your puffy clit to give yourself some respite. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the perceptive Hashira who broke the kiss to stare between your bodies.

Sanemi’s fingers were warm as they brushed through your messy folds, hiding your face in his neck as you felt his knuckle graze your clit. A whiny, breathless sigh warmed his skin when he felt your tight hole begin to catch against the calloused pad of his finger.

How were you this fucking wet already and he’d barely touched you? Was this all for him?

“Please,” You murmured. Sanemi felt you roll your hips against his hand, as though you were trying to drop yourself down on his finger, eager for stimulation. Granting your wish as he slipped a solo finger inside you, baulking when he felt how warm, wet and tight you were.

Sanemi wasn’t foolish, he knew about sex. But he just had no idea that this is what you looked like down there, what you felt like. How was he supposed to fit his cock inside here when you were this tight? Surely he’d split you in two.

The moan that left your lips was debauched, and the sound surged directly to his cock. Swallowing thickly as he pressed forward again, letting the calloused pad of his finger press against your velvety walls. Trying to draw another noise like that from your throat.

Sanemi was gentle and precise compared to the other men that frequented the establishment, so used to your pleasure being unimportant as they were quick to push into you with little care or decency. Fulfilling their own needs and leaving you a crumpled, fragile mess after with comments on how thankful you should be that they were helping to pay off your debt. Glad that most men that you encountered seemed to only want comfort, a warm body to lay beside so they could fool themselves for a moment that they mattered to someone.

“Is this okay?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, his finger plunging into your tight sex as he grazed your ridged walls.

“Curl it,” You murmured, breaking off into a high-pitched gasp when he brushed against the sensitive spot inside you. Your reaction was an indication he’d found what he’d been searching for as he focused his movements against it. Deft and precise as Sanemi began to pump the lone finger in and out of you, lilac eyes focused on the way your face contorted in pleasure.

“Yeah?” He hummed in satisfaction, “You like that?”

Your cunt clenched around him in response, biting down on your bottom lip as you found yourself rolling your hips in tandem with him, moving one of your hands from his shoulders to slip between your bodies to join his as you pressed slow, precise circles against your needy clit.

“What are you doing?” His voice turned to a deep snarl, brows furrowed as he watched you touch yourself in front of him.

“Touching my clit.” You gasped as he knocked your hand away roughly, moving his thumb to press blindly against your slit to replace it.

“I’ll do it,” He growled, the authoritative lilt to his tone had you trembling as he made rough strokes in an attempt to find your sensitive nub, “There?”

He questioned as he rubbed the junction of your labia, pressing against your folds as you tried to lift your hips to position his hand.

“No,” You murmured, holding his wrist before moving your slender fingers towards his thumb to press the pad of it flat against your clit. Whining on contact as his touch felt instantly better than your own, “Here— can you feel it?”

“Yeah,” Sanemi released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in as he began to press tough, persistent circles against it while curling his finger inside you.

“Add another finger, please?” You begged, moving your hands back to his broad shoulders to support yourself as you continued to match his movements.

“Yeah?” He murmured, pressing both fingers against the spongy spot inside you as he began to thrust them languidly, tilting his head back to stop you from shying away from his gaze as he watched your face morph into pleasure, “You like that?”

“So good,” You affirmed, feeling the coil inside you start to wind and tighten as Sanemi focused on your pleasure. Certain your cunt was drooling into his open palm as he followed your movements, pressing deeper each time you tried to roll your hips, “I’m close.”

“Then cum.” His voice commanded, his tone curt and domineering as you found yourself succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to spill over. Your cunt clenched desperately around his digits as you came with a choked gargle of his name, white spots blanking your vision as your entire body convulsed. Sanemi’s other hand splayed flat at the arch of your back to stop you from toppling backwards as he continued to press messy circles into your throbbing clit, prolonging the sensation, “Good girl.” The words had you throbbing as he helped you ride out your bliss.

“I—” You panted, at a loss for words as your nails dug into the delicate skin on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons in their wake that Sanemi hoped would scar.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” Sanemi grunted, and you had to rip his hand away from your poor sex when the sensation became too much. Already feeling him forcing you towards another—

“You shouldn’t be so good at that, Shinazugawa-sama.” You groaned in satisfaction, pulling back as you noticed his cock practically leaking against his chest from the sight of you. Leaving silvery lines of pre against his skin as he sat hard and ready for you.

“What did I say to call me?” He rasped.

“Sanemi,” You breathed, and the Wind Pillar was certain he would never tire of hearing his name flow from your lips.

Was it normal to fall in love the first night with someone? With a courtesan no less. Sanemi wondered how many men had stepped through the doors of this house with the same question, returning to spend the night with a woman who was only interested in how deep their pockets were. But it somehow felt different with you— the look in your eyes made it feel like it was something more than just a transaction. And well, if it wasn’t Sanemi was positive he’d give every last penny he owned for one more night with you.

“It’s okay if you want to stop,” You smiled gently, hoping that he wouldn’t. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing as you yearned for him, wanting to feel him stretch you out in the most intoxicating way.

You were certain it was going to hurt judging from the sheer mass that was now resting between your thighs, thick and heady. Feeling the tip almost graze your belly button as you imagined just how deep he would be inside of you. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation as he began to stroke the fat tip of his cock between your messy folds. Feeling them part for him as he nudged against your sensitive clit, making you cry out for him as he repeated the motion.

“Why would I stop?” He bit back, “You’re getting paid aren’t you?”

He hated himself for the words that left his lips, the regret evident on his features the moment he’d uttered them. But it was what he did. Pushing people away before they got too close, before he let them in—

“I’m sorry,” He murmured apologetically, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” You cut him off with a small smile, used to hearing far worse as you smoothed a hand through the light hairs that scarred against his chest, “Are you ready?”

And Sanemi was certain he’d never been more prepared for anything in his life, his palms still planted firmly against your hips as he watched you reach down to wrap your palm around his drooling cock.

Holding it upright as you leaned forward to adjust yourself so the building tip was pressed against your right entrance. His fingers were no match for the stretch of the engorged tip as you slowly began to coax him inside. The first inch was painful, a delicious ache swirling in your abdomen as you tried to relax. Inhaling deeply as you gave an experimental roll of your hips, forcing another inch inside as you began to feel the stretch. The protruding veins that forked along his girth did nothing to ease the tension as you could practically feel them throb against your inner walls as you sank lower onto him.

Sanemi wasn’t fairing much better, his pupils blown as he was certain he could see every shade of colour. His grip against your hips bruising now as he tried to think of anything but the sensation of your cunt wrapped around him for the first time. He was barely halfway inside, and now he was positive he wouldn’t last by the time you made it to the base— his balls already drawn up and heavy as he imagined emptying his seed into your ripe cunt.

You were so fucking warm, and drenched. It was making it difficult to think as your slick left creamy rings around the girth of his cock, drooling down to his balls as you soaked his skin. Sanemi found himself becoming lightheaded, blindly pawing for your waist to centre himself. The back of his head knocked against the wooden floor as he readjusted his hips, giving you a few more inches as you moaned at the sensation. Catching yourself with soft palms against his chest as you rolled down into his touch, his stiff cock almost wholly inside you as you felt the messy hairs that sat at his base tickle your clit.

You still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. But it feels like a moment too long for Sanemi, a moment that drives him closer to the desperate release his body already craves. His hefty balls are already tight and pulsing as they threaten to spill into your eager hole.

It’s as though you notice when you start to roll your hips above him. But Sanemi reckons this is worse— your tits sway with your alluring movement, the cool air in the room hits his cock when you rise your hips to pull off him before seating yourself back down and he’s certain you’ll be the death of him. That Uzui will find the shattered remains of his body in this very room as he dies buried deep inside your molten cunt. How had he managed to continue life for so long without feeling this? It’s now the only pleasure he ever wants to indulge in as he watches you intently through blown eyes.

“Are you okay?” You hum with a teasing swirl of your hips and Sanemi has to wet his lips to reply. His tongue rolls over white teeth before clearing his throat, a heavy rumble in his chest as calloused fingers dip into the fat at your hips.

“‘m fine,” It’s all he can muster. Certain if he says more it’ll be over, and Sanemi doesn’t want this to be over, “Fuckin’ tight.”

“You feel so good,” You offer in return, “Stretching me so much—”

And Sanemi isn’t sure he even wants to hear it. Uncertain whether it’s because you have his cock pulsing from your sultry tone that leaves him shaking on the crux of his climax, or that he thinks you’re lying. Another deceitful line you give to all your paying customers.

“Shinazugawa-sama.” You breathe and Sanemi feels his Adam’s apple throb in his throat.

“Sanemi,” He growls, low and domineering, “I said call me Sanemi.”

“Sanemi.” You parrot, and the sound of it has his hips jerking sloppily as he fucks up into you, his name now sounded from your lips like a dull mantra, “Sanemi.”

Your hands are splayed across his chest as you try to keep your movements consistent, hips rolling against him as you ride his cock. Trying to commit the sight to memory as your eyes follow every line and scar that settles across his skin, soft fingertips following them as you ride him. An indication of just how powerful the man beneath you is, the man you’ve brought to his knees.

“Oh, fuck.” You sound out, and Sanemi thinks it’s cute the sound of such a vulgar word spilling from your sweet lips.

And Sanemi wants to make you make more sounds like that, to pull every one from your pretty throat and commit each one to memory. Remembering every saccharine lilt and coo as though he’s conducting his own debauched symphony. Sounds that will comfort him when he thinks of you, of this. He moves his hand from your hip, pressing a thumb against your pelvis before dipping lower. Stroking his digits through your messy slit, and when he touches your clit your body convulses. Hips bucking so wildly on contact his eyes are wide as though he’s done something wrong. Taking his hand to press his fingers back against it as you coax him into touching you there again.

Hunching over him as you try to keep your pace, your movements borderline pathetic as you chase the pleasure of his calloused thumb against your sensitive bud. His eyes watch you curiously as he speeds up the sloppy figure of eights he presses into it, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him in response.

“This is supposed to be for you.” You choke out, unused to your clients even thinking about your pleasure.

“Who says it’s not?” Sanemi scoffs; the sight of you like this is worth every damn penny Uzui is paying, “I want you to come undone for me.”

The dominant, commanding husk to his voice has your pelvis contorting as your body wills itself to unravel on command. Barely able to cry out his name as you find your release, your silky walls clamp down around his cock as they desperately try to milk him of his release. Your nails dig into muscular pectorals as you try to keep yourself upright, to hold onto the single thread of sanity you have left.

But Sanemi’s thumb doesn’t stop against your clit, following your jerky movements as your hips coil and spasm. Keeping his touch firm and persistent as he helps you ride out one climax to have you soaring towards another.

It’s too much, and you’re not sure you can handle it as your hands slip down to wrap around his wrist. Feebly trying to pull his grip away from your sloppy cunt as you watch the muscles in his arm tighten, veins popping out proudly as they fork towards his wrist. Practically snarling as he easily fights your weaker grip, “Don’t.”

And once again he throws you into ecstasy, your body trembling as another intense orgasm surges through your veins. Soaking his cock with your essence as you feel how wet and sloppy you are between your thighs, any friction dissipating as it’s all you can do but pathetically grind yourself against his finger while you ride out your bliss.

“Sanemi,” You whine, unable to hold yourself upright as you feel yourself falling forward onto his chest. Your face nuzzled into the junction of his neck as you trap his muscular arm between your bodies, his thumb still at your overstimulated clit as he gives it a few more lingering swipes, “S’too much.”

And Sanemi has to agree. It’s far too much, but also not enough at the same time. His cock throbs at the feeling of your drenched walls soaking him, fluttering in the aftershocks of your release as he’s certain he’s on the cusp of his own end. Slipping his arm from between your bodies in ease in favour of wrapping both arms around you, pinning you against his chest as he bends both his legs at the knee. Planting his feet on the hardwood floor for stability as he holds you against him.

He catches you by surprise as he begins to thrust up into you. His movements are chaotic and messy, with a deep-set sense of urgency as he chases his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixes with the syrupy wetness of your cunt that has your cheeks burning fiery red as you pant and whine against his neck. Mouthing at the thin layer of sweat that sticks to his skin, the salty taste of it mitigating on your tongue as you let him use you for his pleasure.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” Your voice sings out against the column of his throat and his hips give one more rugged jolt as he buries himself inside you to the hilt and coats your inner walls with balmy spurts of cum. The sensation causes heat to plume inside you as you indulge in the sensation as he gives a few more careless thrusts like he’s unable to stop his hips from jerking as he gives you everything he’s got left to give.

Sanemi’s eyes are blown wide, staring up at the ceiling as you move with the rise and fall of his chest. His arms still wound so tightly around you that you’re unable to move, left to bask in the warm afterglow as you cling to him. One of your hands braced against his sternum, feeling for the cadence of his racing heart.

“Are you okay?” You murmur softly when he hasn’t spoken for a while, and you’re met with a delicate kiss to your temple as he tightens his grip.

You’re certain you lay there for hours after, his warmth engulfing you as he traces gentle patterns against the expanse of your back while your fingers cord through his messy hair. Nails grazing against his skin while you feel the pleasure rumble deep in his chest, eyes heavy as sleep threatens to consume you. You shift above him slightly and whine pathetically as you feel his soft cock finally slip from your sloppy hole, the wetness unable to maintain a grip on him as you shudder at the cold air in the room cooling your molten cunt. His thick, potent seed begins to drip from your cunt into thick puddles on his pelvis and onto the floor as his arms tighten possessively around you for the smallest hint of a moment. As though he’d tricked himself into thinking that you were actually his, before realising his foolish mistake.

“I should go.” His voice rumbles, firm and authoritative. A sound that has you moving off him, despite your body’s plea to stay like this just a while longer.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Shinazugawa-sama.” You respond, watching as he begins to redress himself. Tucking his cock, still glazed with your drying slick, back into his pants.

You’d hoped he would correct you a final time. Telling you to call him by name as he buttoned the first few buttons of his shirt before tugging his haori back on, but the words don’t come.

You wonder whether it’s because he’s unsure what to say, lingering by the door as though he wants to turn back to give you a proper goodbye. Reaching down to grab your kimono to pull it back over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” He whispers before tugging at the door.

You were hoping it would feel a little less transactional, even though you were certain that this was all it was to him. A coldness now resides in the room that you’re certain you’d never felt before, an uncertain frost that bites away at the fierce burn of your heart. You have to remind yourself of the reason why you’re here, the reason why the Wind Hashira had chosen to lay with you.

The next morning you were surprised to find out just how much Sanemi had left behind that evening. Certain the payment was more than enough to settle your debts and free you from this existence, as you felt the fog of uncertainty that shrouded your time here begin to clear.

You’d hoped that he would’ve left some way to thank him, a forwarding address or at least a note to accompany the payment. But what you didn’t expect was for the Wind Pillar to be waiting at the dark purple curtains for you as you came down the stairs.

#sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa smut #kny x reader #kny smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut

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katakaluptastrophy · 1 year ago

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Periodically, I remember how absolutely fucked up the necromancers in TLT are meant to look. Like, necromancy does an absolute number on people physically.

Harrow is "rather small and feeble".

Necromantic Ianthe is "the starved shadow" of her non-necromantic twin.

Our first description of Palamedes is "a rangy, underfed young man" who is "gaunt".

Silas is "knife-faced...He had a necromancer build."

Ianthe parodies make-over scenes in House novels with "if the hero’s a necromancer it’ll be described like, ‘His frailty made his unearthly handsomeness all the more ephemeral'"

Jod acknowledges to Wake that even small children with aptitude would look odd to non-House eyes: "“I have access to any number of cute pictures of necromantic toddlers with their first bone. They don’t make for fat-cheeked roly-poly babies, but they’ve got a certain something."

In As Yet Unsent, Judith brags about her previous physical fitness: "I could run a kilometre in ten minutes, which was among the fastest for my adept group in the junior reserves." Which is about double the time you might expect for a physically fit woman her age.

In non-necromancer-friendly New Rho, Harrow's body is mistaken for a child's and has to be explained as a result of starvation and trauma to seem plausible: "Pyrrha explained without missing a beat that what with everything Nona had gone through she had been ill and still didn’t eat very much, which was why she was so knobbly and undergrown. The nice lady said that yes, many of the children had problems like that, but it was still hard to imagine Nona was anywhere over fourteen, wasn’t it?"

Tamsyn Muir's descriptions of the Canaan House gang on Tumblr back this up: "Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is", Palamedes is "seriously underfed" and "bony", Harrow is "scrawny".

And that's just what I can think of off the top of my head - I'm sure there's more.

Anyway, necromancers aren't slender in a conventionally attractive way, they're gaunt in a concerning way...and probably the only reason no one instantly clocked that Coronabeth wasn't a necromancer was because they all just thought it was par for the course that a Third House princess would have had a lot of plastic surgery flesh magic.

#the locked tomb #tlt #And that's not even getting into the other fun and exciting aspects of necromantic health like unusual cancers and recurrent miscarriages #The joy of the death of the author of course is that you can draw or imagine characters any way you please

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 4 months ago

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A Familiar Stranger

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Y/N has always been the younger sister of Alex, Lando Norris's best friend. Growing up together, Lando only remembered her as the awkward little girl who tagged along. But when Y/N joins Alex at a Formula 1 race in Monaco, Lando is stunned by the confident, beautiful woman she’s become

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Y/N had always admired her older brother’s close friendship with Lando Norris. Growing up, their families had been inseparable, and Lando was practically like another sibling. But as the years went by, Lando’s career took off in the world of Formula 1, and Y/N saw less and less of him. She was just a kid when he left to chase his dreams, and in his mind, she remained the awkward little girl who used to tag along.

Now, at 19, Y/N had blossomed into a confident young woman. Gone were the braces and the frizzy hair; she was no longer the shy, introverted girl she once was. Yet, she wondered if Lando would even recognize her when they met again.

"Guess what, Y/N," her brother, Alex, said one evening, grinning as he burst into her room.

"What?" she asked, curious.

"Lando invited me to the race in Monaco next weekend, and I convinced him to let you come along. You’ve always wanted to see a live F1 race, right?"

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "Are you serious? I’ve wanted to see a race for years! This is amazing. Thanks, Alex!"

"Of course," Alex said, ruffling her hair playfully. "But remember, you’re going to be surrounded by a lot of high-profile people. Keep it cool, okay?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing. "I can handle it. I’m not a kid anymore."

The day of the race arrived, and Y/N felt a mix of excitement and nerves. The Monte Carlo streets were buzzing with energy, the roar of engines echoing through the city. Y/N dressed in a stylish outfit, knowing she’d need to look her best in the glamorous setting. Her brother teased her about it, but she just brushed it off, determined to make a good impression.

As they entered the paddock, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of nostalgia. It had been years since she’d seen Lando in person, and she wondered how much he had changed. She followed her brother as he greeted familiar faces, making their way to McLaren’s hospitality suite.

Lando was talking to a group of engineers when he noticed Alex approaching. He broke into a grin, giving his old friend a quick hug. But as his eyes fell on the young woman standing beside Alex, his heart skipped a beat. She was stunning—poised, confident, with an air of elegance that was hard to ignore.

"Alex, who’s this?" Lando asked, his eyes never leaving Y/N.

Before Alex could respond, Y/N smiled warmly and extended her hand. "Hi, Lando. It’s been a while."

Lando took her hand, puzzled. Her voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place her. "Have we met before?"

Y/N’s smile grew wider. "You don’t recognize me, do you? It’s Y/N."

Lando blinked, his mind racing. The name rang a bell, but the face didn’t match. "Y/N... Alex’s sister?"

"That’s right," she replied, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Lando’s jaw dropped. This couldn’t be the same girl he remembered—the one who used to follow Alex and him around, always a step behind, always a little awkward. The transformation was staggering.

"No way," he finally said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You’re Y/N? What happened? You’re… different."

"In a good way, I hope," Y/N teased, enjoying his reaction.

Lando nodded, still stunned. "Definitely in a good way."

Throughout the day, Lando found himself constantly glancing in Y/N’s direction. He couldn’t believe how much she had changed and how drawn he was to her. They chatted here and there, but he found himself wanting to get to know her better.

During a break in the action, Lando approached Alex, casually slipping into conversation. "Hey, Alex, I was wondering… could you give me your sister’s number?"

Alex stared at Lando, completely blindsided. "Who’s number?"

"Y/N’s," Lando repeated, his tone nonchalant. "She’s really cool, and I thought it would be nice to keep in touch."

Alex’s eyes narrowed as realization dawned. "Wait a minute—Y/N? My little sister Y/N?"

Lando nodded, still not catching on to his friend’s growing disbelief. "Yeah, why?"

Alex shook his head, his protective instincts kicking in. "No way, Lando. You’re talking about my little sister! You can’t be serious."

Lando raised his hands defensively. "I didn’t mean anything by it, Alex. I just think she’s… different now. It’s not like I’m asking her out."

But the way Lando said it didn’t sound convincing, and Alex wasn’t having it. "Listen, man, I know Y/N’s grown up, but you’ve always seen her as a little sister. Don’t go messing that up."

Lando realized he had stepped into dangerous territory. He hadn’t meant to cross any lines, but now that he thought about it, he couldn’t shake the feelings he’d been trying to ignore. Y/N wasn’t just Alex’s little sister anymore.

Later that evening, after the race, the three of them went out for dinner. Y/N could sense the tension between Lando and her brother, but she didn’t know why. The conversation was stilted, with Alex giving Lando pointed looks every now and then, and Lando seeming unusually quiet.

Finally, Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. "Alright, what’s going on with you two? Did I miss something?"

Alex sighed, glancing at Lando before answering. "Lando here… was asking for your number."

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "My number? Why?"

Lando shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling like he’d been put on the spot. "I just thought it’d be nice to stay in touch," he said, trying to sound casual.

But Y/N wasn’t buying it. She looked between the two of them, piecing things together. "Wait, Alex… did you think Lando was hitting on me?"

Alex didn’t say anything, but his expression said it all.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. "Seriously? I’m not a kid anymore, Alex. I can handle myself."

Lando smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I guess I just didn’t realize how much things had changed."

The next day, Y/N found herself alone in the paddock, watching as the team packed up. She hadn’t seen Lando since the awkward dinner, and part of her wondered if she had somehow scared him off. Just as she was about to head back to the hotel, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey," Lando said, smiling down at her. "Can we talk?"

Y/N nodded, a little nervous. "Sure."

They walked away from the busy area, finding a quiet spot near the back of the garage.

"Listen, Y/N," Lando began, "I’m sorry if things got weird yesterday. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position."

"It’s okay," she said quickly. "I get it. Things have changed a lot since we were kids."

"Yeah, they have," Lando agreed, his gaze softening. "But that doesn’t mean we can’t get to know each other again, as adults."

Y/N looked up at him, sensing the sincerity in his words. "I’d like that."

"Me too," Lando said, relieved. "And don’t worry, I’ll be careful with your brother. I’m not looking to cause any trouble."

Y/N smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. "I appreciate that. But just so you know, I can handle him."

Lando laughed, shaking his head. "I’m starting to see that."

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fluff #formula 1 #formula racing #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

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collaredkittyboy · 11 months ago

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Well it's come up multiple times today so I'll make a post about it.

I think the popularization of the word "twink" has ultimately been really bad for people in general.

I know it's hard to track the positive and negative effects of language but I don't think it's hard to see how creating a word for a group of people wherein the most consistent qualifying trait is "being skinny" is healthy for people's self image. Obviously people have lots of ideas about what it means to be a twink- gay, lacking body hair, feminine, beautiful, young, white- but the most consistent descriptor I've seen is "skinny." Hell, it's even a body type on Grindr; the size below "average."

So it kind of functions as a code word in the gay community: anyone can say that they're only interested in twinks and they don't have to look shallow by saying they only like skinny guys. It's such an accepted attitude that no one really bats an eye when they hear it.

I'm not even going to get into how it's become part of the larger issue of people turning "top" and "bottom" into gender roles 2.0, but that is closely related, because people with any internalized homophobia can look at a skinny, feminine man and turn off their fag alarms by viewing him as a woman or not a "real" man, and it makes twinks more acceptable to society at large.

No, ignoring all of that, one of the biggest issues is that gay men are taught by society that they are only attractive while they are skinny. Just having the label "twink" reminds a boy that people are looking at his body and judging it. There were countless times when I was growing up that people would tell me, "You're such a twink," or argue about whether or not I qualified as a twink because I had body hair. People around you, unpromted, judge your body and give you a label based on it, and that label has a large influence on whether or not you're seen as objectively attractive. I know many other gay people who say they wish they were a twink so they could be more attractive to guys.

So think, you have all these kids growing up being told whether or not they qualify as a twink, and then we have the gay community as a whole where it's completely acceptable to say you're only attracted to twinks. I think its because of all of this pressure to be a twink (in other words, to have a below average weight) that many of the gay people that I interact with struggle with a negative body image or eating disorders.

I mean, people talk about "twink death" like it's an actual event that makes a gay man much less attractive, and no one thinks that, maybe, it's harmful to tell a guy that the very day he stops being young and thin and pretty, he will stop being attractive and celebrated?

I'm not qualified to speak on fatphobia in physical queer spaces because I don't have the ability to frequent them where I live, but I can't imagine that these aren't issues at social gatherings as well. I also can't speak on my own experiences with weight discrimination because so far in my life I have had a naturally thin body, but I have experienced a lot of outside pressure to be thin that have caused me to pick up unhealthy eating habits to reduce my weight in fear that I could become fat later on. Thankfully that is something that I've mostly been able to work past. I'm not an expert, but idk, I just wanted to rant on my silly tumblr blog.

Obviously it's impossible for a word to be inherently bad. I'm not trying to imply that saying "twink" is a magic word with evil powers. Obviously the real issues at play here are fatphobia and harmful beauty standards and body shaming. But in my opinion, the popular use of the word twink has made it much easier and acceptable to express fatphobia, etc, in the gay community by turning "skinny person" into a "type of guy that you should try to be so you can be attractive."

#i know i sound annoying and woke but this is my blog and i can post whatever i want :3 #theres so much more to say but this is long enough as it is #no ones gonna read this anyway #gay #queer issues #fatphobia #cw ed mention

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lacamorte · 5 months ago

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~ The White Lotus of Shuang Hua

Luo Binghe, being the Emperor of the united realms, has to congregate not only with the demonic aristocrats, but also the human ones. Seeking assurance that he did indeed unite the realms with good intentions, they urge LBH to take a spouse from among their own high-ranking families as a gesture of good will. At this point LBH has accepted that this will be another instance of the world throwing one pretty sister or another into his lap, and agrees to have a meeting with the female aristocrats.

When they arrive at the venue, LBH takes note of a group of very well-dressed young women in a courtyard, each holding fans of varying make in their delicate, manicured hands. In front of them is a lady wearing a lightly beaded weimao, who moves her fan between her fingers with remarkable skill, tapping it and flicking it with ease. She stood out for the simple design of her robes in comparison to the others who wore more ornate clothes — that, and the immense spiritual presence that she had. A cultivator, no doubt. She spoke clearly and sternly, sleeves gently swaying with her movements as she seemed to instruct the other ladies.

One look is all LBH needs to know that yes, this is the one he's here for.

She was quick to notice their approach, the bead strings of her weimao lightly clinking as she turned and raised her cupped hands to salute. The other women copied her example, but with not nearly as much elegance.

"This one greets the Emperor," one of the ladies spoke demurely, the others following suit in quiet murmurs.

Instead, LBH turns to the veiled woman, who after rising from her bow swiftly opened her fan in one smooth movement as if to cover her already veiled face, before pausing and lowering it as she realized the redundancy. LBH suppressed a wry smirk. A shy one, huh?

"Are these the flowers from which this lord is to make his selection?" He inquires politely, attempting to meet the lady's eyes from behind her veil. He catches a glimpse of pink lips before the fan is raised again.

"Merely buds as of yet, I'm afraid," her voice is very soft, a contrast to her earlier demeanor, as if speaking for him alone to hear with his demonic senses. Binghe notices the glint of a spiritual blade resting on her hip, almost hidden by her robes. Binghe's eyes glint with intrigue.

"The young mistresses await further inside, my lord," the aristocrat beside him explains. "If Junshang would follow this one—"

Binghe hums. "No need. I'll take this one."

Everyone seems to take a second to process his statement. Then, they collectively turned to the object of Binghe's attention — the lady in the weimao. The lady herself can only squeak in surprise.

The aristocrat startles, before laughing nervously. "Ah, Junshang, that is—the White Lotus of Shuang Hua is only temporarily in our employ, but—"

Ah, so she is a renown cultivator — and with a title, no less. Perhaps he'd spent too much time away from human society, to have not heard of her. "There is no need for further discussion. This lord has come to select a wife at your abode, and now I have." Then, he archs a brow imperiously. "Or are you refusing my choice?"

The man is sweating. "By no means, my lord! Rather, er, my lord seems to have misunderstood, Shen-xianshi is a ma—"

Master cultivator? Binghe scoffs. As if he hadn't already sensed the woman's immense spiritual presence. "Yes, I had noticed. It is of no concern to me." He waves a hand dismissively. "Send the other women home. Xianshi will be returning with me."

The aristocrat lights a candle in his heart in despair for his fellow men — especially for Shen-xianshi. Lord Luo, that's no sister you're taking as your wife — that's a man!!!

aka: LBH mistakes SY for a woman and says he'll take cultivator SY as spouse in compliance with a political arrangement. Not wanting to anger the demon emperor, the aristocrats quickly find a genderbending artifact for SY and send him off to join LBH's harem.

#mxtx svsss #shen qingqiu #svsss #bingqiu #shen yuan #bonus points if instead of an aristocrat its just sqh guiding lbh #luo bingge #binggeyuan #kind of #can you tell that i couldn't think of a town name for sy's title

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fairy-lights-and-blobs · 6 months ago

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I have someone at like a story idea where Danny is like Princess Yue from Avatar last Airbender

Danny is the physical body for the ancient of space sometimes they just form in the infinite realms and get a physical body along with it and sometimes I just get an essence and have to wait till a body comes along to actually gain consciousness

Danny is that body but the idea is the Justice League is trying to make peace with the infinite realms and the council of ancients have decided let's do a deal we give you a the high Prince of the infinite rounds he stays with you for a month and if he comes back with good news of you humans we will not go to war with you

And the Justice League trying to keep peace agree they were not expecting to see a white hair teenager wearing a heavy layer traditional Komodo with a crown that has mini planets circling around his head to go along with the crown

And Frozen bits of Lazarus water floating around him to add to the exquisite that the boy carries himself with

Danny besides to base his personality off of Dora and princess Yue so no one can connect normal human Danny Fenton to High Prince Phantom Of The Infinite Realms Young Ancient Of Space

Also I just have to crack site of Danny looking at the Lazarus pits that the bats have in the cave because he's staying with them first and going it's a bit Rusty but I can work with it

Proceeding to use the Lazarus pits to make him a pair of pajamas or Danny acting like he doesn't know anything that much about the human world and it's just going along with most things

Danny Phantom acting like a Proper Prince from ancient times it doesn't understand modern teenage things just a mess with Justice League

The Justice League trying their best to appease to a teenager well also trying to stop the US government from starting a war that they will definitely not win

Oh boy, you had a real big brain time with this one :)

The Justice League had been tasked with temporary guardianship over Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne of All, Steward of Stars.

Adored by the consciousness of the very Realm he will eventually rule over, it would fall upon Earth's best heroes to keep him safe for one entire month, and not a second less.

In exchange, loyal Halloween, also know as Fright Knight, and the King's armies wouldn't take action against Earth as a whole for the actions of one group falsely calling themselves government agents. "Let the Justice League actually deliver said Justice" had been the Prince's comment during a meeting of the Ancients. Before the Ancient Space had been through the cycle of rebirth this last time, there had been no heroes to protect the Living. Only their many divided leaders.

As Danny Fenton, they had caught whispers of the Bat on the rise, of a little Bird to follow after. Of a human, blessed by Hermes who always arrived on time. Of many, many more to follow, taking up arms to fight for Earth and her people, in defense of Justice. As Phantom, newborn half-ghost, and rising Ancient of Space, they heard of many departed souls that sang praises of the heroes, who forgave them for not making it in time, who were happy to have met their favorite before the embrace of Thanatos took them.

If this "Justice League" truly stood for Justice as they claimed, then Phantom would take a chance and trust them.

A week after the accord had been signed by the three leading members of the Justice League, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, gathered in a meeting room to welcome the arriving Prince and his Council.

The first sign was the way the temperature dropped, followed by the sygils painted on the wall by Constantine and Zatanna lighting up toxic green. Bleeding inwards in a lazy spiral, the glowing light swirled into a spinning rift between dimensions, out of which walked Firght Knight himself, settling to the side of the portal, and standing at attention, ready for the rest of the Council to appear.

As the light from the portal became a pale, icy blue, a hand in a white, claw-tipped glove appeared from the portal, the hand's owner following after it, while the loyal Knight moved to bring his elbow up, so Prince Phantom could grab it and let himself be led out of the portal. The fact that the Prince's Fright Knight rested his free hand against his side, instead of the pommel of his sword, was a good indicator that they expected Phantom to be welcomed and safe here. They would do their best to ensure their trust was not unfounded.

Upon first glance, as the ghost of the hour floated out of the portal, the most attention would be paid to the Crown that sat on the teenage-looking ghost's head, all iridescent metal with little miniature planets orbiting each spike.

The Prince looked around the room, evaluating each of the three League members present, almost silent, if not for the way his long,almost elfin ears twitched, making the chains attached to them jingle pleasantly, little galaxies hanging from the metal and swirling lazily. A quietly howling star filled the silence, until Phantom turned to chirp at the portal, calling in the rest of the Council to step forth.

Not all of the Ancients gathered, this time. For the handoff, only those that Phantom named as family would be present. Frostbite, Pandora, Lady Dorathea and Clockwork.

Frostbite, the Yeti and Pandora, Guardian of Hope, the main caretakers, as his parents. Clockwork, one Brother of Space, now Mentor and Grandfather. Dorathea, Cousin and confidante, who insisted that Danny arrive in the best fashion to be found in his Lair. And through all his past turns of the cycle of rebirth, Danny had accumulated fashions uncountable, for his Fraid to enjoy.

Today, Dora had insisted to dress him up in a black kimono, specifically the one that faded from black, to dark blue into pale icy blue. Snowflakes slowly fell all across the length of the cloth, turning a formal piece of attire into a moving art show, as snow fell in lazy patterns with each step Danny took.

"Batman. Superman. Wonder Woman. Thank you for your kind offer of hospitality while I remain in this Realm." A furry hand on his shoulder led Phantom to sit in the closest chair, thumb nudging gently against a freckled cheek in silent support as the Yeti almost glowed with pride for his boy.

"It is nice to see you well, Prince Phantom." Wonder Woman took the lead, as was the usual when discussions between the three main Justice League heroes involved the more divine or supernatural aspects of the world. "We have some ideas for who will host you for the duration of your time here, and were hoping you might give your opinion."

The plan was for, at least initially, to have Batman host their guest. Both Clark and Diana knew the Dark Knight of Gotham would be a better fit for a Prince's stay.

Clark, with his irregular schedule as a reporter and his sons, and Diana with her work as a museum curator, were both too busy to host him. Bruce, on the other hand, would have the space needed, the free schedule needed to care for a teenage royal, and, most importantly, other teenagers already in his care, to help the current youngest of the Ancients acclimate to the modern Era, and specifically the Gotham lifestyle.

One signed contract later, and Danny floated in front of the Zeta tubes, feeling the rumble of working machinery, the humming of electricity which Danny knew deep in his bones and Core, would always recognize what killed him in this life while keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Right now, Danny was just Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne and Rising Ancient of Space. Fenton could take a break from his crazy parents and their fixation on ghosts, and Jazz didnt need to spend her entire day worrying about him and smothering him in affection.

Highly advanced machinery was an interest because it was new, not because he wants to take it apart and see what makes it tick.

Thus, misdirection in place, Danny's Core studied the signals coming from the portal frame, and the rift just beyond, waiting to open.

"Your Highness, are you ready to go?" Ah, that would be Batman, standing at his side and watching him. He sounded...soft. The ghosts of Gotham always spoke of how soft Batman was towards children and, Ancient or not, right now Danny was, for all intents and purposes, a teenager.

A dead teenager, and that was bound to tug at the Bat's heart.

So, with a big smile, and big, curious eyes, Danny turned to face the Dark Knight and curtsied just as Dora had taught him to.

"I am indeed ready. I wonder what kind of home Gotham's favorite Knight lives in!"

"Before we leave, I should tell you, there will be others there. My children are a chaotic bunch, but they will be curious about you."

"Of course, no Bat is truly complete without his colony. You speak of them with pride. I will trust your judgement. So long as no one asks me how I died, or anything too personal, I won't take offense to being questioned by your children."

Stepping through the now active Zeta Tube set all of Danny's ectoplasmic nerves on end for a second, a slight feeling of too much settling in his bones at the difference between this and the portal that had brought him to the Watchtower.

Stepping out of the Zeta, Danny shook the pins and needles from his hands, blinked at the lighting change, and stepped into...a dark cave, full of very advanced tech that his inner Fenton pitched to get their hands on, and several small fluffy bats chittering above, watching the newcomer with judgemental eyes for a few seconds. Chirping a greeting at the gathering of eyes settled their agitation.

Clearly, good manners worked with Bats of all kinds.

"This way, Prince Phantom." Distracted by the Bats above, Danny had missed Batman ducking into a changing room and walking out as Bruce Wayne, Beloved Prince of Gotham, and all around Himbo Dad.

Mimicking Fright Knight previously, Bruce held his own arm up so Danny could hold onto it as he was guided to an elevator out of the Cave. He even pretended to stumble just slightly over the step out of the platform, looking around at the actually quite cozy but also really big office the elevator doors opened into.

"I thought people didn't live in castles anymore? Is the Knight of Gotham the exception?"

The eye roll and fond sigh had Danny cheering internally. The man DOES have a sense of humor! Not a fruit loop, after all!

Maybe this will be a fun little vacation.

Maybe, just maybe, Danny can hope that the GIW problem will be resolved, and he won't have to go to war against the Living...

Perched in the rafters above and spying on her dad and the pretty boy they'll be hosting, Cassandra Wayne almost stumbles at the sheer force of the sudden Hope-Glad-please don't be a dream that blankets the entire Wayne manor.

#dpxdc #ancient of space danny #Danny's pulling a Brucie and acting like an innocent prince who never touched a piece of technology #Cass sees right through him #but for the sake of Fun and Shenanigans she won't tell #ok maybe BatDad should know #but he's usually good with letting her brothers enjoy their pranks and jokes #i can see Cass and Danny immediately bonding while using Danny's act as a cover for Cass' increased number of pranks #first prompt ask #this feels like a milestone of some kind :D

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familyvideostevie · 1 year ago

Text

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel Miller, of all people, teaches you to ask for help.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: jackson au, post part i, joel and ellie worked it out! joel is soft! language, violence, fluff, learning to accept help and love.

a/n: this fic is a soft joel (think part ii joel but make it two years into jackson because he and ellie resolved everything <3) and a reader who is much more me than i've written before. i hope you like it! thank you again to @strangerfreaks who held my hand through this, i owe you my life.

___

Luck. God damned old-fashioned thank-fuck-for-that luck has kept you alive since the world ended. Deep festering rage and a near-constant state of fear have helped. But every bullet you've found, every undamaged can of food, every shot that landed in the right place so you were the last one standing -- that's all luck. Or a curse, depending on the day. Depending on how you're feeling about it all.

And Jackson? That's the biggest stroke of luck you've had in twenty years. A single woman on her own with plenty of working years left and no obvious red flags was probably a no-brainer for the community to take in but you feel like you've finally made it. After two decades of violence and horror and pain, you fucking made it somewhere safe.

You spend as much time as you can making sure everyone knows how grateful you are. You don't have any special skills, not really. You can shoot well enough, cook well enough, clean well enough. Young enough when all the shit went down that you don't have a trade or any work experience, you just go wherever they need someone in town.

Keeping busy means you're bone-tired most nights. Exhausted sleep means fewer nightmares, less time to wander the halls of your very nice but much too-big-for-you-home and miss everything you've lost. But picking up shifts wherever you can also means you don't meet many people beyond hellos and exchanging names. Farming is easy and you get to work with a lot of the kids in town, daycare much the same. You're lousy with power tools but you're able to carry materials wherever they're needed. Cooking is easy when it's stew for hundreds of people and doing dishes is even fun when someone turns on the radio. You're making it work.

Patrol is...patrol. You're able, so you're on the roster. It's not that you hate it, not exactly. Going outside the walls makes you feel like you're someone else. You slip back into the mask of fear and anger, the one that kept you alive for so long. And the worst part is it's comfortable.

You've done the training runs, the group patrols for three months. Infected still freak you out a little but you're smart enough to be more scared of people. All of the senior patrol members have cleared you for paired patrols and today is your first one.

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

You don't really have any friends, though everyone is perfectly nice to you, but Tommy and Maria are probably as close as it gets. You figure they take a shine to newcomers like you, ones who come in alone, maybe to keep an eye on them as much as anything else. But they've both got a smile and kind word for you whenever you see them, always asking if you need anything. You always tell them no, you're fine, thank you.

"You ready?" Tommy says. "I've had them pull Apollo for you." You pat yourself one more time to make sure you have everything. Pistol on your thigh, knife at your hip, pack secure on your back. Hat and gloves tucked into your jacket pocket to account for the wind on the trails.

"I think so," you tell him. You blow a raspberry at your horse and he blows back, nudging your shoulder with his nose.

"After this, pretty sure you'll have done every job there is to do in this town. Pullin' crops, plantin' crops, cookin' crops. Kids, the library, cleanin', buildin' that ramp at Lenore's last month. You've been here, what, six months? And you've done it all."

It should make you feel good that he's noticed. It does, but only a little. You still feel like you could work every day for the rest of your life and not repay what he and this town have given you. To make up for the things you've done on the road.

"I'm the best floater in Jackson," you joke instead. Smiling makes people like you. You haven't had much cause to smile in recent years so you're still getting used to the urge. Tommy scoffs. "I don't do important council stuff like you and Maria, though."

He ignores that. "Y'know, pretty sure they call that a jack-of-all-trades. A real Ren-ai-ssance woman." You try to come up with a retort, eyes wandering to the patrol assignment board. Your name is under ELK CREEK and under it is --

"Quit harassin' her." Tommy rolls his eyes and flips off whoever comes up behind you. You turn around and see a man you know of but have never actually met.

"Joel," Tommy says. "I believe this is called havin' a conversation. You ever tried it?"

"Funny," Joel replies. He nods at you. "You my partner today?"

"Seems so." You introduce yourself, Apollo's warm breath at your back.

"Joel Miller," he says back.

You're a little intimidated, truth be told. You know him by reputation mostly. Tommy's big brother who came to town a few years ago with a little girl. They're both pretty much everywhere. Joel fixing houses and talking to kids in the street, going on patrols and always bringing back extra for whoever needs it. Ellie galloping around town with other teenagers and bringing home the biggest game. You've handed her books a few times at the library, too, seen her bright eyes and infectious energy underneath teenage angst that transcends even an apocalypse. And you've seen them together, heads down in the dining hall or pressed closed walking down the street -- heard rumors about why they came here, how they came here, too -- and one thing is clear to you: the Millers are beloved. By this town and by each other.

It's a miracle all its own in this fucked up world.

"You two ain't met yet?" Tommy says, pointing at the space between you. You snap out of your thoughts. "You've been here long enough to have met everyone by now."

"Guess not," you say with a wry smile. The younger Miller is too polite to call you out for not having a single friend in that time period, either.

"Well, here we are," Joel says. "Gonna keep us here forever, Tommy? Or can we do our job?"

Tommy claps him on the shoulder and winks at you. "Tone down the asshole for her first paired patrol, yeah?"

Joel snorts. He grabs a horse that was already tacked for him and leads it out of the stable. You follow with Apollo. The patrol coordinator hands out rifles and reminds everyone of the rules.

You hop on your horse. "You ready?" Joel asks, startling you a bit. "We'll gallop to the mouth of the river and then start patrollin'."

Something in you relaxes a bit at his clear confidence in you to handle yourself. You know you're with him for a reason -- he's one of the best. That, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Somehow you think it's the former.

You follow him up the hill outside the gates and through the tree line. The noise of the Outside is different than that of Jackson. Birdsong, snapping branches and dry brush under your horse, the wind rippling down the hill. You take a deep breath through your nose and feel a part of you come alive. It's funny how a world so beautiful can be so deadly.

Joel gallops a little ahead of you, strong and steady. You watch him, think about what you know. He's older than you, that much is obvious. Greying hair curling around his ears, lines on his face from more than just a stressful life. But he's strong, good at what he does. Those rumors come back to the front of your mind. How he and Ellie showed up, half-starved and bloody. How he and Tommy are the most famed patrol duo for Infected kills and otherwise. It makes you feel safe. It makes you want to learn from him. It makes you want to know more.

And he's got kind eyes. Somehow, he's got kind eyes.

"Alright," Joel calls back to you. "Route starts here." He slows his horse and you pull up beside him. He shifts in his saddle and turns his face to you. "Now, I know this is your first pair," he says. "I won't order you around or nothin' but my main piece of advice is that everyone has a different patrol style. Know how to adapt."

You dig your gloves out of your pockets and wiggle them on. Joel watches before his eyes snap back to yours. "Noted." You honestly didn't think he'd talk this much. "And let me guess. Yours is patrol in silence?" You punctuate the nervous quip with a smile.

Joel snorts. "Nah," he says. "Unless you're Max. Can't stand that fucker."

It startles a laugh out of you and any ice you'd imagined breaks for good. Max is one of the middle-aged men who probably would have been a lawyer or a politician based on the way he likes the sound of his own voice.

"Now," Joel says. "You done this route before?" His knuckles are a little red but he doesn't put on any gloves.

"Twice, I think. First log book in that old station, right?" Joel nods. "Second in the town?" He nods again.

"Color me impressed." His mouth tugs up at the corner into something you might call a smile. You try not to look too pleased with yourself. "Some of the dipshits on the roster don't even remember that much."

It feels like you've passed a test. His praise makes you feel nice. Noticed. Not something you often seek but you know yourself well enough to admit that you'd like a little more of it. Even if it's from a man you just met.

"Not that hard," you say softly. Joel looks at you for a moment longer before clicking his teeth. His horse starts to walk. You signal to Apollo to follow.

The patrol goes off without a hitch. Joel signs the log book in the station and you sign it in the tower. He lets you snipe two runners that he spots and doesn't scold you when you take three tries on the second one.

"Settlin' in okay?" he asks once you've rounded the town one last time and started back towards Jackson. "Six months, Tommy said?"

Despite his earlier words, you haven't chatted much this patrol. While you'd like to know more about him, want to get him to smile at you again, you're really just enjoying being out here with someone else, knowing that you're safe. That you've got somewhere to go back to.

"It's nice," you sigh. "I never imagined I'd find a place like this."

You really should pick up the pace to get back to town but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"I know the feelin'," he murmurs. "Ellie'n me slept on the floor for a good two weeks at the start. Been two years and some nights I don't take my boots off."

"What a fucking life, huh?" That earns you a wry smile. "Having a house is...strange. All of the hinges squeak and I --"

"The hinges squeak?" You look over at him and Joel's brows are furrowed.

"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal --" You stumble over apologies. You don't want him to think you're complaining about a home his brother gave you when he sure as shit didn't have to.

Joel taps his thumb on the pommel of his saddle. "Can get that fixed, y'know."

You didn't know, actually. "Really?"

Now he looks at you like you're a little stupid. "Ain't you the one hauling shit to people's houses when they need a hand?"

He has a point and you hate it. It never occurred to you to ask for someone to come fix your hinges. They're just hinges, for fuck's sake. Other people have holes in their floorboards or leaks or need new rooms for family members. You're just...you.

Joel sighs. It feels like you've disappointed him and it swirls in your gut. "I'll take a look at it this week."

Your neck cracks audibly with how quickly you look up at him. "What? No, Joel, you don't have to --"

He says your name in a tone that you know means no arguing. "I know I don't have to. I offered."

"You don't even know me!" The words fly from your mouth before you can stop them.

He brings his horse to a full stop so quick you almost run into him.

"Look," he says. His gaze holds yours. Wow, he really can be intimidating when he wants to be. You can only imagine the things he's done, the things he's capable of. Anyone who has made it this long has blood on their hands. You've washed it from your own skin plenty of times. And yet, you feel completely safe. And you know that you'll probably do whatever he tells you. "I know how it can be."

Your gut swirls. "You don't know what I've been through," you say softly. It's not a jibe, it's just the truth. No one knows because you've told no one because it doesn't matter. You're here now.

"I've been alive for a while longer than you," he continues. "I've seen the world, just as you have. I've been out here. I was out here for a long, long time." He runs a hand through his beard, fiddles with his broken watch in what looks like reflex. "I know how hard it is to ask. To get back to something that makes any damn sense. But you can if you try."

The words linger in the chill around you. He's right, obviously. He's so fucking right that you want to be mad. You haven't asked for anything because you don't want to fracture the good thing you've got. Don't want to be too much, to be a burden they can't support, to make people think you don't deserve to be in Jackson. All things that don't make any fucking sense, not really, but you can't stop them. It's just how you're wired.

"So I'm comin' over this week to fix those hinges. Alright?"

"Alright." Something in Joel softens when you agree.

"Good," he says. "Good."

You finish the patrol in comfortable silence. All told it's been nice. To talk to someone, to feel like they give a shit about you even for just a few hours. You have no doubt Joel will be over to fix your hinges but you figure it'll fizzle out after that -- it always does. You don't know how to ask someone to stick around, anyway. But even this little bit of him will have been worth it.

Something both loosens and tightens in your chest when you get back to Jackson and through the gates. Goodbye beautiful, horrible outside world, hello safety, community, home. It's a trade-off. You and Joel hop off your horses and return your rifles. You're about to hand Apollo off to be brushed and returned to the stables when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Joel says your name and you turn around.

"Good job today," he says softly. "Not too excitin' of a patrol, but you're good out there."

You blink owlishly. "I-- thanks," you manage. "Maybe we'll get to go out again as a pair." You're showing your hand but you can't help it. You want more of whatever this was.

Joel's mouth pulls up at one corner. "Maybe."

___

Two days later you drag yourself out of the house for community breakfast. Most mornings you're out the door and at your work detail for the day before you can pop over but you don't have anything assigned today. It's a rare respite and it has you antsy. You don't remember how to be idle, aren't any good at it. Sitting in your empty house means your mind might wander to the thoughts you try very hard to keep at bay. The loneliness, the regret, the fear. The loss. It's always there and you've gotten better at dealing with it after so many years but some days you really just wish you could talk about it to someone, could just bitch and moan about how fucking awful this life can be.

But everyone is carrying their own shit and you don't need to add to it. You don't want anyone to have to carry yours, too.

Breakfast is quiet this morning. You settle at a table with your toast and your eggs and your potatoes and smile back at anyone who smiles at you but no one sits with you. If they did you don't know what you'd say.

But then the air changes. Your neck feels a little hot and you slowly look around until you see what's caused it -- Joel and Ellie are here. He's already looking at you when you meet his eyes and he smiles a little, a half-moon curve of his mouth, and nods. You wave.

Ellie waves back, which you don't expect. She says something to Joel and he frowns, rolls his eyes. She punches him in the arm and he flips her off and grabs two plates, starts to fill them. You smile down at your own food.

"Man, are the potatoes that fucking good today?"

You look up and find Ellie in front of you. You're pretty sure she's 16 or thereabouts, still growing into herself based on the way she shifts on her feet. Her right forearm has the outline of something floral. She notices you looking at it and crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. Ah, teenagers.

"Pretty okay," you tell her. "I don't know if we've met yet --"

"We kinda have," she interrupts. "I know your name and you know mine, so. And you're at the library sometimes when I check shit out."

This still does not explain why she's over here talking to you. You can see Joel in the breakfast line still, glancing over his shoulder every so often to see if she's still in the room. You try not to catch his gaze because you're a little afraid of what Ellie might read in it.

"Can I do something for you, Ellie?" you ask, not unkindly. She scrunches up her nose and then sighs.

"Joel told me not to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could look out for a book for me. At the library." Her words get faster as she reaches the end of her sentence. She takes a look at you, sees that you're not telling her to fuck off, or something, and keeps talking. Some book about the history of comics or something.

"Oh," you say. You feel a rush of affection for her and the fact that she can hold the record for headshots on a group patrol and still want to read about something she loves in her free time. "Yeah, I'll look for you. I don't have a library shift until tomorrow but I'll look and put it aside if I find it for you."

Ellie tugs on her fingers. "Don't you need to write it down or something?"

You smile at her. "No, I'll remember." You recite the title and author she just told you back to her and it seems to satisfy her. It's like a switch is flipped -- her earnest expression morphs into something you can only call mischief.

"So Joel's coming over to fix your doors, or whatever," she says. "How'd you crack him?"

"I--what?"

"You patrol with him once and he's coming over to your house," she says. "It took him like, weeks to laugh at one of my jokes. And I'm fucking funny!"

You have no idea what to say to that. Patrol with Joel was your first time talking to him and while he's a bit intimidating, sure, he never came off as anything other than...good. But you'd bet he wasn't always that way in this world. Maybe this girl in front of you had something to do with it.

And honestly, you're sure he just feels a little bad for you. He's nice enough to worry, to make sure everyone in town can do their part and you'll take what you can get even if it's temporary attention.

Part of you knows Ellie is just giving you a hard time because she's a teenager and you're kind of connected to the guy who looks after her so you're fair game, too. But she's talking to you like she wants to which is throwing you for a loop. And you're realizing it's been a long time since you actually wanted someone to like you. Well, Joel aside.

"You want to tell me one?" you ask. She looks surprised and then delighted.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Okay, let me think." You take another bite of your breakfast. "Okay, okay, I got it. What did the mermaid wear to her math class?"

You give it a few seconds before you shrug. Ellie grins. "An algae-bra."

Your laugh makes her grin bigger. "See? Fucking hilarious." She holds out her hand for a high five and you oblige. "Anyway, Joel's gonna come over tomorrow, I think. Seriously, dude, I don't know how you did it. He never used to be this nice!" She looks over her shoulder at the man in question. He's sitting down at another table. "He's getting soft."

Her voice is fond and you're pretty sure she doesn't notice. "You should go eat your breakfast, Ellie," you tell her.

She sighs like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Let me know if you find that book!"

"I will," you call after her. You can't help but watch as she barrels back to her table with Joel and immediately makes an attempt at his bacon. He fends her off with his fork before surrendering a piece with a scowl.

He looks up and catches your eye again. You stand with your tray and nod at him, turning around before you can see his expression. Stupid, so stupid to be caught looking like that. But you can't help it -- looking at the love still alive in this shitty world and wondering what it feels like.

___

You run into Joel on your walk home from the next day's shift at the library. You spent probably far too much of it looking for the book Ellie wanted but it was worth it because you've got it tucked under your arm. It feels like a small miracle but you're not one to question it.

Maybe it's the good mood you're in, but when you see Joel from behind you call out his name. He doesn't stop walking but turns his head like he heard something. When he spots you he does stop, waiting for you to catch up.

"Hi," you say, suddenly a little less brave.

"Howdy," he replies, amused. "I'm headed your way."

"You --" He lifts a toolbox you now realize he's carrying. "Oh, right. Hinges."

"I can come by another day if it's not a good time."

Joel could knock on your door in the middle of the night and it would be a good time. "No, ah. Now's good." He motions for you to lead the way even though he clearly knew where he was going. He must have asked Tommy.

It seems like everyone waves as you two head for your street. They call out Joel's name and he knows pretty much everyone. You feel a little self-conscious being seen with him like this -- you, pretty much a nobody in town through your own doing and Joel, beloved by all.

It doesn't stop until you're almost at your door. "You're popular," you say, trying to make it sound teasing. Instead, it sounds awed.

Joel runs his free hand through his beard. "Don't remind me," he grumbles. "Can't go for a walk without a damn conversation."

You pull out your keys and unlock the front door. There are plenty of people in Jackson who don't lock their doors but you can't shake the need. "Sounds difficult."

He chuckles and you feel it zing up your spine. It's nice to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. S'pose it's nice." The front door opens with a creak and you look at him sheepishly. His eyebrows touch his hairline. "They all like that?"

You nod. Joel whistles. "Christ," he says. "Alright." He follows you into the house. You try not to think about what he sees. You've tried to make it your own, just a little. Posters you traded for, books you've collected. You cleaned the whole thing top to bottom when you moved in but somehow it still looks a little un-lived in. You're working on it.

"Don't let me bother you," Joel says, getting on one knee with a grunt and prying open his box. "Probably need 'bout an hour to get 'em all. I'll holler when I'm done."

That's your cue to busy yourself with something, anything, but you don't want to. You want to talk to him, to watch him do whatever he's going to do, to soak up this time with Joel before he walks out the door and you go back to being acquaintances.

"What are you going to use?" you ask. He looks up, a little surprised, before pulling out a spray bottle and a rag. He shakes it at you.

"It's some sorta homemade shit one of the younger guys cooked up," Joel says. Somehow he manages to sound self-deprecating, like he thinks he should've thought of it first. "I think it's...soap? And cleanin' stuff? Fuck, I don't know." He huffs a laugh. "I know it works, though. Back in the day we'd use shit you could buy on the shelf." He stands with a grunt. "You old enough to know that?"

That gets you to laugh. "Yeah, Joel," you say. "I'm old enough to remember the hardware store."

His gaze feels a little different than before, like he's allowing himself to look. "Hmm," is all he says. "I'll just --"

You don't know how to justify shadowing him as he oils your hinges -- there's a joke there's somewhere -- so you don't. You grab a book from the shelf and settle on your couch and try your best to read but your mind wanders.

It's pretty clear that you have a crush on Joel. You've spent one patrol with the guy but somehow he's gotten under your skin. It's inconvenient but also...nice? A crush at the end of the world. The fact that you can still feel something so sweet, so juvenile after all you've seen and all you've done is almost laughable. And it's not like it's going to go anywhere -- you're sure Joel thinks you're too young for him, too green, and he's probably tripping over admirers in town. But you can let it be something to keep your days interesting until it fades.

It was hard enough to love yourself before the world ended for reasons anyone could understand. Societal pressures, stupid comparisons, things that don't matter at all now. Who has time to think about being loved when you're constantly faced with death? Feeling desired, feeling loved, feeling looked after isn't exactly top of mind. You're not even sure you remember how. You put one foot in front of the other and that's enough.

But wouldn't it be nice to be on the receiving end of affection from a man like Joel?

"All finished." You startle and realize you haven't turned a single page of your book. If Joel notices he doesn't say. He wipes his hands on a rag and eyes you. "Pretty sure I got all the doors."

You hop up from the couch and try to find your words. "I -- that's -- you're --"

"Thank you will do just fine," he says with a smirk. He tucks the rag in his back pocket and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Let me cook for you," you blurt out instead. "In exchange." You can make a few things fairly decently and making him something is another excuse to talk to him like this, to be on the receiving end of those eyes. "I can make chili. Does Ellie like chili?"

"Don't have to do that," he says kindly. "Helpin' you ain't a business deal. S'what people do here." He stands straight and heads for your front door, picking up his toolbox on the way.

"Joel," you say, snagging his sleeve with your fingers. You pull them back quickly and grab the book you brought home, holding it out for him. "Ellie asked me to look for this. Could you give it to her?"

He looks at the book the same way he looks at his kid. It's tenderness so raw you look away. "I will," he says softly. He tucks the book under his arm like precious cargo. "Thank you for findin' it for her." He clears his throat and looks at you, smirk back in place. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. You don't follow. "Havin' someone help you," he adds.

Your face feels hot. "I'll still cook for you," you say, opening the door. He shakes his head.

"You let me know if you need anythin' else, alright?" A quick smile and he's down the steps and back into the street, strolling back to his own home.

"I will." You say it to yourself and almost mean it.

___

You patrol a few more times over the next month but never get paired up with Joel. If you were a little braver you'd ask Tommy or the kid he's training to take over the schedule to put you two together but you don't. Instead, you wave at Ellie when you see her, nod at Joel from the other side of rooms where he's always talking to someone else. You let yourself enjoy the way your heart picks up at the sight of him and the thrill you feel after he smiles at you. It's a nice change to the boring, lonely routine you had before.

The doors in your house open and close silently.

Being outside is fine. You don't like it any more or any less, it just is what it is. Life at the end of the world continues on.

Until you have a bad patrol.

It's no one's fault and no one gets bit. You and your partner, Astrid, are tailing a buck that's wandering along your route. If you can shoot it you can load it on one of your horses and ride back together on the other. Winter is on its way and any extra meat helps.

You follow protocol. You're lining the deer up through the scope while she keeps watch. Just as you prepare to pull the trigger you feel it -- the pull of your gut telling you something isn't right. That feeling has kept you alive all these years so you lower the rifle and turn to Astrid just in time to see a stalker lunge out of the brush.

Its broken and jagged nails catch your shoulders and you go down hard enough to bruise. You can't hear anything over its snarls and the blood pounding in your ears but you do your fucking best. You wedge your forearm under its chin and try like hell to keep its mouth away from you. Your other hand somehow makes it to your belt and unsheathes your hunting knife and in one swift movement, you shove it into the soft jaw of the infected. Hot blood spurts over your face and you keep your mouth closed, shoving the corpse off you.

A gunshot has you whirling around and scooping up the rifle. You've got it ready to fire but you only find Astrid standing over a stalker corpse of her own, forehead bleeding and revolver smoking.

"You clean?" you ask her, eyes on her forehead. She nods.

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

Your hands don't shake until you get back to Jackson. They tremble when you wash the blood from your face, your hair. You wish for just a second that you had someone to hold them, someone to tell you it's alright. Someone to talk to about how shitty your day was and how scared you were and how sometimes this life is so fucking exhausting and just when you think you're safe you're reminded that no one is safe anymore.

Maybe this is the kind of thing Joel was talking about. Asking for help.

The thought fades quickly. You can deal with this. You're just out of practice. You just got comfortable.

You go to bed as early as you can bear, closing your eyes and hoping for dreamless sleep.

You could only be so lucky.

You're no stranger to nightmares. Hell, who isn't? Usually, it's the same old shit -- people you've lost, fucked up things you've done, horrors you've seen. You know how to deal with it.

But this is the first time in a while you've got new nightmare fuel. The hot, rancid breath of the stalker and the agonizing sound of its moans. Your own choked gasps as you try with all of your strength to keep its rotting teeth away from you. Unlike reality, your dreams don't allow you to grab a hold of your knife and instead, you feel it take a chunk out of your neck, hot blood splattering your face and you have to just lie there as it bites and bites and bites --

You jolt upright with a small gasp. Necessity has taught you to wake silently.

"Fuck," you say to the empty room. No way you're going back to sleep after that. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and put your head in your hands. "Breathe. Breathe."

The sky is black through your windows. You have no idea what time it is but you stand before the lingering panic can take hold and make things worse. Fresh air will get the iron smell out of your nose. You dress in the dark in more layers than necessary but you want to stop shaking.

Jackson at night is quiet but there are always a few people around, always someone else who can't sleep. The sky is clear and the moon is bright and it smells like woodsmoke and the unique earthy feel of the valley. This is your home. So long as you have this you can get through it.

Your feet take you through the streets of houses, most of the windows dark. Just another lap around town and then you'll go home, try to sleep again.

Then you hear something. The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar weaving with the night air like a dream. A song from before, a song you recognize but don't know the name of, don't know the words. You wrap your arms around yourself and follow the sound down Rancher Street. If you find whoever is playing it you'll wave and walk slowly home.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see whose house it is. Joel is on the porch, rocking slowly and head leaning back, eyes closed as he strums. How did you not know he played guitar? It only makes sense that the hands that are capable of such violence can also make something beautiful. He can ruffle Ellie's hair and pull the trigger and fix your doors and do this.

Something in your chest tightens.

Joel's eyes open and land on you immediately. You realize how it looks -- you standing in front of his house in the middle of the night, watching him. But he stops his playing and calls out your name.

"Hey, you alright?" he says. You hover between taking a step forward and a step back.

"Couldn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Can't hear ya," he says. "C'mere."

Step forward it is. Up the stairs and onto the porch that creaks a little under your boots. There's only one chair and a small table with a lantern on it. Wind chimes dangle over the railing and you drag your hand through them on instinct like a child with a toy.

"Sorry," you say softly.

"Only got one chair," Joel says. He's got one boot resting on his knee, guitar slung across his lap. He looks tired. "I'll go get another --"

You wave him off. "No, please," you say. "I'll stand. I'm too antsy to sit, anyway." If you sit down in a chair next to Joel Miller you might never get up.

He frowns but settles back into his seat. "You alright?" he asks again.

His gaze is a little too much. You feel silly all of a sudden, not sure how you got here. A fucking nightmare? God, you're ridiculous. You cross your arms and lean back on the railing and look anywhere but him.

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

He strums some more and you relax again despite yourself. "Sounds nice. Do you play a lot?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Old habit."

"It's a nice one. Better than walking the streets in the dark." Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be and Joel frowns.

"It's safe to," he says, as though your wellbeing is his personal concern. "Bit cold, though."

"Why are you out here then?" You're frustrated with yourself and taking it out on him just a little bit. The smell of blood fills your nostrils again and you press your fingertips into your crossed arms, hard, and close your eyes. Your breath stutters in your chest.

"Nightmares," Joel says wryly. There's some shifting, the scrape of wood on wood and you open your eyes. His are fixated on your fingers and you stop squeezing. The guitar is now leaning up against the house and he's got his elbows on his knees like he's about to ask you a serious question. The lantern light makes his hair look darker, less silver, but it also makes the lines on his face look deeper. You wonder what kind of shit he's seen. What things he has nightmares about.

"Had this conversation with Ellie a million times," he huffs, rubs his hand through his beard in what you now consider a familiar gesture. "You don't need to talk if you don't want to. But can't hurt."

Is he asking you to talk about your nightmare? Does he actually want to know? Do you know how to talk about it?

"I take it you're a fountain of emotional sharing, huh?" Again, the misplaced frustration. You don't know how to turn it off.

His eyes flash but he just leans back in his chair and shrugs. "Depends on the day."

The low-level hum of your infatuation with him flares and your traitorous brain bats it down right away. You want to see all sides that he can offer you, want to make him frustrated and angry just to see if that'll make him sick of you.

You run your hand through the wind chimes again, watching your fingers move through the air. You remember what the knife felt like in your hand, the way the blood was hot as it dripped down your wrist and onto your face.

"Tough patrol," you say. "Messiest since I got here." Joel says nothing and you don't look at him. "I...it was fine. We got jumped by some stalkers and it was fine but...close. And I -- I didn't realize how badly I wanted to come back here until then. How badly I wanted to go home at the end of it. Does that make sense?"

You finally look up and Joel's knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. When he sees you looking he crosses his arms. "Sure," he says, clears his throat.

The urge to try to explain more is overwhelming. "I mean, we've all done fucked up shit. I've been up to my elbows in infected guts and still come out on top and slept like a rock the night after. And all of a sudden I can't fucking handle a stalker getting in my face. It's like I've never had to get my hands dirty before and what if it means I'm going to fuck up next time --"

"Hey," Joel says firmly. You feel a hand on your forearm and realize you've been pacing, arms flailing as you rambled. He gives it a squeeze and then releases you. "Feel like I gotta say fuck now to catch up with you."

A wet chuckle works its way out of you. Where did that come from? Are you about to cry? On the porch of the man you have a stupid, stupid crush on? This is embarrassing. And his touch. People touch you all the time, all things considered. A tap on patrol indicating silence, a hand on your arm to get your attention, to brace you as you lift something. Children in town who don't know the horrors outside the walls give affection freely. Hell, Joel touched your shoulder after your patrol. You're not touch starved but you feel like no one has touched you with tenderness and meant it in years.

"Sorry."

Joel tuts. "C'mon," he says. "I asked."

"I don't think I feel any better."

He stands and grunts as he does so. He's so much closer than before, so close you can smell what you can only describe as Joel: wood shavings and gunpowder, laundry soap and leather. It's a little dizzying. He leans on the railing next to you.

"Bet when you go back to bed you won't dream," he says. "Usually what happens."

"Here you are again," you sigh. "Helping me out. I promise I get on just fine on my own."

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm and so, so deep. "Don't have to, though."

Joel, for all his kindness and popularity in town, is a man just like any other. A person who has seen and done shit that no one should have to see and do. You know he's got his fair share of secrets, of things he won't talk about. You all do. You know he can be unflinching and maybe even cruel, dangerous and deadly. Whatever is happening here -- this openness, this desire of his to help you out -- is hard won. You think about what Ellie said and let yourself have a dangerous thought: maybe he's this way with you because he wants to be.

You sway into him just a little before catching yourself and standing up straight. "I should go try that dreamless sleep," you say softly. "And you should, too." It does not escape your notice that you haven't talked about Joel's nightmares, whatever they are. You don't think he'd be that open. A piece of you imagines a world where you ask and he answers.

"I might," he says. Neither of you move.

That small piece of you would stay here all night. That small piece of you tries for the next best thing.

"Will you let me cook for you now?" you ask. It sounds a little desperate to your own ears. "Please?"

"Persistent, ain't you?" He taps his closed fist on the railing once, twice. "Well, if it's that important to you. Chili, you said?"

"I can have it done by sundown tomorrow. I'm on greenhouses but we always finish early. You can come by and get it. I'll do enough for you and Ellie for a few days." You're rambling but finally he's going to let you do something for him. Hinges, nightmares, it's too much. Maybe you can somehow cook out this affection for him, get rid of it with your own hands if you try hard enough.

"Alright," Joel says. He puts his hand on your shoulder lightly and squeezes once. You feel it all the way down to your toes. "Now get outta this damn cold."

He doesn't offer to walk you home. You'd say no if he did. You need the time to sort out the mess in your mind. You give him the most earnest smile you can manage and he watches from his porch until you turn out of sight.

Joel is on your mind all day. More so than usual, which is saying a lot. The crush has turned into something...more. Something that makes you hope and that something is dangerous. It's just setting yourself up to be hurt through no fault of Joel's when it goes nowhere. Because why would he be thinking about you?

"You're smiley today," Dina says. She's a sweet girl and you're paired together on greenhouse shift today. She's always got a story to tell about plants she and her sister saw in New Mexico or some weird mushroom she found on group patrol. You love how positive she is and you try to absorb some.

"Am I?" you say lightly.

She tugs on one more cucumber, putting it in your shared basket before wiping her face. She gets dirt on her nose. It makes her look young. "Got big plans?"

Your face feels hot. "Just cooking for a...friend." It's the first time you've said that out loud. It's probably true, right? Acquaintance, at least. Joel is important to you and it's taken an alarmingly short amount of time for it to solidify. That's just how the world works these days -- you never know how much time you have so everything moves faster. You care harder despite years of proof that nothing good comes of it. You can't help it. You were made to leak love like an open wound.

"A friend," Dina teases. Teenagers. You remember that she's friends with Ellie and it's very possible she knows exactly what you're talking about but she's too kind to say anything more.

"Yep," you say, popping the p. "Do I have to start teasing you about Jesse or are you going to cut me some slack?"

"Well, hey," she laughs. "I think it's nice to be excited about something. You're so serious all the time."

"Am not," you mutter.

Something you appreciate about Dina is that despite her age she knows when to leave it. "Whatever you say," she says primly.

Once work is over and you're back home the cooking goes quick. You focus just enough considering you want this to actually be good and for Joel and Ellie to like it. It's thank you chili, it's you are important to me chili, it's I want to see you every day for the rest of my life chili.

Well. It's thank you at the very least.

And food, especially in this world, means something extra. There's enough to go around in Jackson, more than enough, but anyone taking the time to fix something with their own hands means more. You know how different a meal can taste when someone makes it with care.

And to say you care is a bit of an understatement.

The chili is simmering and you're about to start on the dishes when there's a knock on the door.

"Shit," you say. You wipe your hands on a towel and pad down the hall in socked feet. When you open it you find Joel bathed in the golden light of the sunset. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the collar of his coat turned up to protect his neck from the chill that's settled in for the season. His face softens at the sight of you but his shoulders are still tight. Is he...nervous? No, you're projecting.

Here he is on your doorstep again. If you're not careful you'll get used to him being there.

"Sorry for bein' a bit early," he says at the same time you say, "I was just thinking about you ."

The tension melts out of him and he smirks like a man with a secret. "That so?"

Your eyes are wide as you find your words. Hopefully ones that aren't embarrassing. "Come in," you say. "I'm letting the heat out."

He follows you to the kitchen. "Smells good," he says.

"It's not quite done yet but that's a good sign, I guess." You stir the pot before rolling up your sleeves and taking your spot in front of the sink. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I was about to start on this --"

"Now I know you ain't about to do all that yourself," Joel drawls. It's a syrupy tone you haven't heard from him, not really. Is he...flirting with you?

"I...what?"

"Scoot," Joel says. He steps beside you in front of the sink and gently bumps your hip with his. "Seriously."

"Joel--"

"Does it look like I'm kiddin'?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on this island, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbow. You look away from him so you can watch.

"This is getting ridiculous," you tell him even as you hop up to sit on the counter closest to the sink so you can see his face. He turns on the tap and starts on the various things in the sink even though some of them are clearly not from cooking tonight. "You'll be sick of this chili before I can pay you back."

"I told you it ain't like that," he scolds. "So quit it."

There's no real bite to his tone but you do as he says all the same. You kick your feet out a few times and do your best not to stare but fail miserably. The fall sunlight seems to have followed him into your house, pinkish-golden beams falling across his face. You can see a triangle of chest at the top of his shirt, a few dark curls teasing the hair on him. The scar on the bridge of his nose is much harsher up close, much deeper than the countless other ones that dot his forehead, his temples. He doesn't look as tired today. Maybe he got some sleep after all.

So did you. You didn't dream.

"How was your day?" you ask. Joel's eyes flick up to yours for just a breath before he looks back down at his task. His mouth pulls up at the corner.

"Fine," he says. "Had to fix the water heater at Ellie's place."

A piece of hair falls in his face and you shove your palms under your thighs so you don't brush it back.

You tap his denim-clad thigh with your socked foot, almost like a compromise with yourself when it comes to touching him. "And that took all day?" Damn, are you the one flirting now?

Joel seems amused in a grumpy way. "Well, no," he says. The faucet is on so he speaks a little louder. "Did some house chores. Worked on a guitar. Took a nap."

The image of Joel sprawled out on a couch is clear as day. You bet he looks relaxed in his sleep, the lines on his face not as pronounced, his breathing steady and even.

"Busy day," you say softly. He's about to say more, lips parted to ask about your day, maybe, but you're not about to admit that you spent all day thinking about him so you keep talking before he can. "Does Ellie like living in the garage?"

"Think so," he says. "She spends a night in the house every so often but I think she likes havin' her own space. S'important to me to give her that."

This is uncharted territory. You desperately don't want to step in shit, to somehow make him bring his walls back up. Everyone is protective of the things they love in this world and for good reason and you're pretty sure there is nothing and no one Joel loves more than Ellie.

"She's a good kid," you offer. "Everyone in town loves her."

Joel smiles down at his hands, that soft, raw smile you've seen a few times when talking about her. It makes your chest ache. "She is," he admits. "Pain in my ass, too."

You want so badly to ask him the details. How did they meet? How did they get here? How did they become so devoted to one another? And what happened in the last twenty years to get him to right now, washing dishes in your kitchen?

But you haven't earned that stuff yet. Maybe you never will.

"Does she like Jackson?" You remember what he said about them settling in, sleeping in the living room with their shoes on. You imagine he kept watch for weeks, maybe months, before deciding it was safe.

He nods. "S'good for her to have friends. And havin' school is good for her. She's real smart." He clears his throat. "And you? D'you like it?"

"Well, I like it much better now that my hinges don't squeak."

Joel laughs. "I'll bet you do." He's almost done, everything from your chili-making washed and set aside to dry. He's doing your dishes from breakfast but shows no signs of stopping."Do you cook like this a lot?

Your brows furrow. "I-- no, actually," you admit. "It's just me, so. Not worth putting in the effort that often."

He turns off the tap and grabs a towel and starts to dry. You should offer to help but you feel frozen to the counter. If you get any closer to him you might snap. His jaw is tight.

"When Ellie and I --" he stops, takes a moment to focus on the bowl in his hands. Joel, you've noticed, doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean, at least not to you. It's like he knows that every word counts in a life as unpredictable as this. "We had a bit of a rough patch last year and we didn't talk for a while. I was damn near eatin' canned veggies on days Tommy didn't drag me to the community meals." He sighs and sets the bowl on the counter ever so gently. Violence and tenderness go hand in hand with him. "Just didn't have it in myself to try cookin' if she wasn't there to eat it."

It's the most vulnerable thing he's said. He keeps doing this -- offering you pieces of himself that you want to hold close, that make you think maybe he wants you to know him.

"Joel--"

"I guess what I'm sayin' is it's easier to take care of yourself when you're also takin' care of people who matter to you. That make sense?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "It does."

The whole scene is so...domestic that your chest aches. Joel in your kitchen doing your dishes. He's helping you yet again but this feels different. It feels like he wants to be here, talking to you. It feels real.

He finishes his task and dries his hands on a faded towel. You hop down from the counter to check the chili. "Should be done," you say. "Do you want to try it? Make sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, it's worth it," he mutters. You work to keep your face neutral. What does that mean? "Sure."

You pull a spoon from the drawer and while it would make more sense to just hand it to him you don't. Instead, you dip it into the steaming liquid and hold it out for him, your other hand cupped underneath to catch any spill. Joel stares at your offering for a few seconds and you wonder if he can hear your heart beating.

Then Joel reaches out slowly like he's afraid you'll bolt if he goes too fast, and lightly wraps his hand around your wrist. It's the first time he's touched you skin to skin and you know immediately that it's a mistake.

You'll never stop wanting him now.

His palm is warm, callused fingertips pressing gently into your skin and he tugs, bringing the spoon -- and you -- closer to his mouth. Everything moves in slow motion for a few moments and it's like you are the only two people in the world. Your kitchen fades and it's just Joel. His lips part and he slides the spoon into his mouth at the same time as his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist.

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

He closes his eyes and you're torn between watching his face and his throat as he swallows. You could look at him forever, you think, and never get enough. The set of his brow, the hard line of his jaw. Lines around his eyes and mouth from years of terror and violence but also from laughter and smiles. You want to learn every inch of him if he'll let you.

"Christ," Joel says. His eyes fly open and find yours. "That's good. That's real good."

"You're just saying that," you say weakly. He hasn't let go of your wrist and his thumb strokes once again. You wonder if you realize he's doing it.

Something in his face changes, something so small that you only notice because you're watching. It feels like he has decided something and you wish you knew him well enough to say what. You dare to hope it has to do with you.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a good liar but I ain't just sayin' that."

Sweetheart. It echoes in your ears, burrows its way into your chest and takes root.

You're so fucked.

But there's something in Joel's gaze, in the brush of his thumb across your skin, in the fact he's just done all of your dishes and talked to you like he wants to be here that gives your traitorous heart some ground to stand on.

You send him home with as many glass containers of chili as he'll take. He argues that you won't have enough for yourself and manages to convince you to keep a few. You don't tell him that what you really want is to sit next to him at a table and eat it, knees bumping under the wood and his smile making your empty house feel warm.

"Tell Ellie I say hi," you say once he's out your door and on the porch. "And let me know if she likes it."

"Will do," Joel says. You hug your arms around yourself against the chill. He frowns slightly.

You wonder if he'd touch you if his hands weren't full.

"And thank you for--"

He shakes his head. "Not acceptin' thanks," he chides. "Not from you."

You don't know what to say to that. Joel seems to realize he's rendered you speechless, not for the first time, and nods his head before heading home.

"See you around, Joel," you call after him. It sounds half like a question and half like a wish.

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

You do see him around but not as much as you'd like. Things pick up around town before the seasons can change and send Wyoming into winter. You find yourself in the kitchen most days helping seal jars for the community food stores, hands chapped from the hot water and heart light when you think about Joel. He nods at you from across the dining hall, opens the door of the library when you're going in and he's coming out, and tells Ellie to tell you how good the chili was when you share a shift at the stables.

"Fucking amazing," she says.

You sleep fairly well, going to bed each night with a little bit of lightness in your heart that you allow because why not? There's no way out short of Joel telling you to fuck off and you don't think that'll happen. If only you could get over yourself a little more and actually do something about it.

As much as you want to keep telling yourself that this -- glances across rooms, smiles from a distance, memories of his hand on your skin -- is enough, you're not sure that it is. The force of your want is destabilizing considering the most that's happened is maybe a little bit of flirting. But maybe this is you taking his direction to ask for...no help, not exactly, but to ask for something. To ask for him.

Today you're going on patrol. You decide as you mount your horse that you're going to ask Joel if he wants to get a drink when you get back. You want to talk to him again, let him under your skin a little more. Maybe tell him some things about yourself. Sometimes he's milling around the gate or on wall duty but you don't see him as you and your partner -- a fairly new kid in his twenties -- take your rifles and head out. You're on an easy route today, just clearing out the town over the hill and the highway exits near Jackson. Shouldn't take you more than a few hours.

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

The kid -- Conner? Charlie? You can't remember -- is rambling about the infected he's killed for some reason when you realize something isn't quite right. You can't hear any birds. Apollo snorts and it sounds panicked. You motion for the kid to stop talking but he either ignores you or doesn't see.

He sure shuts up when the clicker bursts out of a house to your left. Apollo startles and rears at the moment you reach for your gun and you can't grab hold in time.

You go flying, bouncing off a rusted-out car and landing hard on the broken pavement of the street with a popping sound. There is a pain in your shoulder so intense your vision whites out. The kid is shouting, the clicker is making that awful sound, but then you hear two gunshots and nothing else.

"Holy fuck," he says, rushing over to you. "Fuck, are you okay?"

Well, for a talker, this kid a good shot.

"Get the -- horse --" You roll onto your back with a groan and he grabs Apollo and settles him.

"What happened?"

You stare up at the sky, blue turning purple. It'll be sunset soon and you very well might be fucked if this is what you think it is.

"I think my shoulder popped out," you say through gritted teeth. Your head doesn't hurt like you smacked it and your side is only a little sore. Maybe some bruised ribs. Your hands are scraped, blood beading on the heels of your palms. "Help me up."

"Holy shit." He helps you sit up and then stand, your left arm hanging limp at your side. You hiss through your teeth as it gets jostled and lean heavily on the car. "You don't look so good," he says. "Can you ride? We should only be a half hour out of town."

"I...don't think so." You're pretty sure you'll pass out from the pain and this kid doesn't look like he can handle that. You don't want to fuck up the joint any more than you have to. "You're going to have to go back and bring someone to set it for me, okay?"

"But the rules say --"

"I know what the fucking rules say," you snap. Don't let your partner out of your sight. Your shoulder is throbbing and you might cry but not until this kid is on his way back to town. "That's why you're going to go as fast as you can, alright?"

"We should at least clear a building first so you can --"

"No time," you say, looking at the sky. "If we want to be back before nightfall you need to go now. I'll handle myself."

You really should know his name. He sets his jaw in a move that reminds you of Joel which causes a pang in your chest so intense you want to rub it away. "I'll clear that garage, okay?" He points behind you and before you can stop him he runs towards it with his gun out.

Lucky for both of you it's clear. You take Apollo inside and slump against the wall, pistol in your hand. The kid closes the garage door behind him and you hear the clop of his horse as he gallops away.

"Fuck," you say into the empty room. It's dusty and full of cobwebs and not much else. Empty metal shelves, a rusted-out lawn mower, some tarps so ratted they're useless. Apollo snorts. "Not your fault, buddy."

Death has been nipping at your heels for twenty years now. You've always expected it. And you're fairly certain you won't die out here. Maybe end up spending a night on this floor, having to walk yourself back to Jackson tomorrow morning. But you can't help the fear that rises in your throat. You know how an injury like this means so much more in this world. You won't be able to work for weeks. You won't be able to patrol, to pull your weight.

You're going to need a lot of help.

You close your eyes against the stinging tears and thud your head against the wall.

The pain dulls the embarrassment you feel when you catch yourself thinking of Joel. You wish he was here. If you'd been on patrol together this wouldn't have happened. You wonder what he's going to think of this.

What you'd really like is for him to hold you and tell you it'll be alright.

A few tears slip down your nose. Apollo noses at your knee.

There are no windows so you don't know how much time has passed. You start to question if this was the right call. Maybe you could have made it back on horseback, or at the very least slung across the back of Apollo like a sack of flour, arm be damned.

Your traitorous brain is about to remind you of all the things that go bump in the night out here when you hear something.

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

"Here!" you scream. Apollo whinnies. "I'm here!" You have no idea if they can hear you. You press your good shoulder into the wall behind you and try to push yourself to your feet but just as you do the garage door is hauled open and there stands --

Joel.

A sob bursts from your throat and you will yourself to pull it together. Behind him the sky is much more orange than it was when you first sat down.

Joel's eyes look you up and down once before cataloging the space and locking on some milk crates. He stacks two of them.

"Sit," he says. His voice is tight.

"Joel --"

"Sit."

You do as he says. He kneels at your feet and rummages around in his bag. His horse stands munching on some overgrown grass on the driveway. Did he come alone?

"How are you here --"

Joel cuts you off with a glare. His eyes are blazing, jaw grinding as he holds out a length of bandage.

"Hold this." He stands and his knees crack. "Kid said it's your shoulder. Anything else?"

The throb is still deep, still intense, but his arrival almost made you forget all about it. You shake your head.

"Didn't hit your head? Crack ribs? Nothin' like that?"

"No, I don't think so --"

"Need you to sit up straight," he says. There's no warmth in his tone but it's a little softer now that he's taken stock of the situation. "I ain't gonna lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell." He digs in his pocket for something and pulls out a square of leather. "Need you to bite down on this."

He squats so that you're just about face to face and holds out the leather. It feels like being in your kitchen, you holding out the spoon and fighting your desire to touch him. Except this time he won't look you in the eye. You open your mouth and he gently places it between your teeth, thumb catching the corner of your lips and trailing along the edge of your chin before he pulls away and stands up.

"I'm going to reset it on three, alright? Bite down hard on that." He finally meets your gaze and you nod and close your eyes. He puts one hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist and you wince even though you feel incredibly safe in his hands. "Alright. One...two --"

Joel jerks your arm up and around before he hits three and you barely hear it pop back into place because, as he said, it hurts like hell. You bite down hard on the leather which also serves to muffle your scream.

Someone is talking to you."I know, baby, I know. Good job, you did a good job."

You open your eyes and wipe away a few tears with one hand and pull the leather from your teeth. Joel looks pained but his face snaps back to neutral when he sees you watching. His eyes narrow.

"Where did that come from?" He gently grabs your wrist and looks at your palm and you both find it bloody. "Got it on your face."

"Scraped my hands when I fell," you say hoarsely. He clicks his tongue.

"Give me that bandage." You don't even get a chance to hand it to him because he plucks it from your lap. "Gonna make this into a sling for this arm. Try not to move it much. Then we'll clean those hands and head home. Get you to the clinic for some meds." He gently positions your arm, which hurts a lot less than before but is still throbbing, and ties a sling so it's bent close to your chest. You can feel his breath on your neck as he does the knot.

And then he's back crouching in front of you.

Joel Miller on his knees for you so many times in one day makes you a little dizzy. Or maybe that's the adrenaline.

"Are you angry with me?" you ask softly as he wipes clean your palms and cheek with firm touches. The muscle in his jaw twitches again and his hands freeze for a split second.

"No," he says. "I ain't mad at you. I just can't believe the fuckin' kid left you here."

"I told him to."

"Can't believe that either. You know better."

"It's fine, Joel," you say. "It doesn't matter. I would have just walked back in the morning if no one came --"

He pulls his hands away and tosses the rag to the floor. "Damnit, it does matter," he curses. "'Course it fuckin' matters. Cut that shit out."

Now you're confused. It sure seems like he's angry with you. "Joel, I don't understand --"

His hands cradle your face and the protest dies in your throat. "You matter to me," he says thickly. His eyes are wide but his stare is steady. "Ain't it fuckin' obvious?" Anger and desperation are dripping from his words. "It matters."

For one long second you think he's going to kiss you. Now that might kill you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist and lean into his palm. A thousand thoughts swirl in your head but you focus on one. Joel is here which means you're safe. Joel is here which means he's going to take care of you. Joel is here. Joel is here. Joel is here.

"Oh," you breathe. You turn your face in his palm and press your lips to the center of it. His breath hitches and it feels like something big between you shifts, slots into place. "Okay," you say against his skin.

He pulls his hands away and stands. He works his jaw a few times before shouldering his pack and holding out his hand. "Let's go home," he says.

You stand with his help. "I think you'll need to help me get on my horse."

"Not a fuckin' chance," he growls but you can still see tenderness in his eyes. "Can't hold on well enough with one arm. We're ridin' together."

This Joel is one you haven't seen. But this is what you wanted, right? You want to see every part of him. Something molten and heavy sits in your stomach at how tense he is, how his hands remain gentle despite his harsh words. How he just told you that you matter to him. Maybe this is all a dream.

He helps you on his horse and then gets on behind you, tying Apollo's reigns to his so you won't lose him. He wraps one arm right around your stomach, mindful of your arm.

"Ain't gonna be comfortable," he says in your ear. "But it'll be over quick."

You lean back into him. Hell, it's all on the table now. If your arm is going to hurt you might as well enjoy your time pressed against him.

"Oh, I don't know," you say. "This isn't so bad." He snorts and snaps the reigns.

He talks low and steady in your ears as you gallop, his palm firm on your abdomen to keep you as still as possible though it's a hopeless venture. Your shoulder aches, sends sharp tendrils of pain through your entire arm with every stride.

He tells you that he was on the wall when your partner came back alone. That he knew something was wrong with you as soon as the kid came into view. He'd seen the patrol assignments and knew you were paired together. Kid didn't know what flag to use to signal his approach because you're not supposed to leave behind your partner.

Joel tells you how he hopped down from the wall and asked the kid where exactly he left you. Demanded to know how hurt you were, if you'd been bit. He was on a horse before anyone else could get their shit together, told them to get Tommy and have the clinic ready for you. Started hollering your name as soon as he got to the street, rifle ready for any infected to show up.

"Damn miracle when you yelled back," he says just as Jackson comes into view. You're sweating and dizzy from the pain, practically all of your weight slumped back into his chest. "Almost there, sweetheart. Doin' real good."

The rest of it is a blur. Joel takes you to the clinic where he becomes increasingly agitated that he set your shoulder wrong until one of the staff says he did it just fine. They give you a real sling and one painkiller to take if you hurt really bad, despite some harsh words from Joel in an attempt to get you more.

"Don't move it above your head for two weeks. Keep the sling on for that time, too. Ice it today, start moving it back and forth a few times in a few days. You got someone to help you for a bit?"

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

"Yes." The nurse hides her amusement well. She lets you go. Joel keeps his hand on your back as he walks you to your house.

You stop him when you get to your front door. "Joel --"

"If you're about to argue with me, so help me God, I'll --"

"I was going to ask if you need to go check on Ellie." You pull out your keys and after a second hold them out for him. Maybe letting Joel help you is helping him, too. You can handle that. You think.

"Told Tommy to when I left. I'll go home once we get you settled."

We.

"Okay," you say softly. He unlocks the door and motions for you to go in. You sit gingerly on the couch and Joel brings you a glass of water.

And then he paces. He looks at the books on your shelf without seeing them and rubs his thumb against his first two fingers over and over. And all of a sudden he won't look at you.

"Joel, sit down or something," you grumble. "You're making me nervous."

He stops. "Fine." His tone has a bit of bite to it that makes you close your eyes. There's an armchair in the room but he sits next to you instead. He presses his knee to yours, almost in apology.

The adrenaline has faded by now and all you feel is the ache of your shoulder and ribs and rawness of your palms and heart. The shoulder hurts like hell but in a way all of this hurts deeper, harder than that. In the way you know love, or the beginning of it, can hurt.

You sniffle.

Truth is you're overwhelmed. By what happened, by Joel coming to get you and saying all that shit. By him touching you, by him being here, by your own heart beating so quickly at his nearness. Even though you dared hope he felt something close to your affection for him it's a shock to realize he cares about you because you're you, not just because he's a good man. You've always wanted love that came from a place of purpose, which feels selfish on the best of days. You should just accept whatever kindness comes your way in this cruel world.

But, fuck, you've always wanted to feel chosen. Like you matter.

And you do. Right here, you do. From his own lips he's said you do.

You don't even realize you're crying until Joel curses softly and one wide, warm palm is on your face again.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" His thumb swipes at your tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine." You press your face into his shoulder and he holds you, hand soft on the back of your head. "I'm just -- I'm just really glad you're here, Joel."

"Course I'm here," he says into your hair. "C'mere."

There's nowhere for you to go considering you're already pressed against him. But his arms come around you fully, mindful of your shoulder, and your fingers fist in his shirt.

You should be embarrassed. On the scale of fucked up shit that's happened to you, today is remarkably low. But you let yourself have this. You breathe him in and let him hold you.

"I was going to ask you to get a drink tonight," you mumble. His chest vibrates with laughter.

"That so?" he says. His hand rubs up and down your spine. "Reckon I'd say yes."

You pull back just enough to see his face. This close you can see how his eyes have a bit of gold in them. "Really?" Even with proof of his affection right in front of you it's a little hard to believe.

"Am I readin' this wrong?" he asks. "It's okay if I am--"

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're not."

"Thought so." His lips pull up at the corner just a bit. "But, still. You've had a real rough day, and --"

"Joel," you breathe. You free your good arm from your embrace and put your hand on his jaw. He's touched you plenty today and you want to give it a try yourself. His face is warm, his beard gently rubbing against your skin. His eyes flutter close for a breath before he opens them wide and leans into your hand just a little.

"Alright," he says softly. Then he says your name, just once, ever so tenderly. It sounds like a prayer.

Joel Miller kisses you in the middle of your living room. Despite the affection you've been nursing for him over the last little while you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

It's like this: the first press of his lips is soft like he thinks you'll pull away. When you don't he takes your lower lip between his and presses a little harder. Your hand slides into his hair and he palms your hip with one of his and cups your face with the other. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open for him, let him lick into your mouth. You sigh into it and tug on his hair just a little. Joel makes a sound deep in his throat and then pulls away.

You're both breathing heavier than before, both smiling. Joel presses his lips to your forehead, your temple. He holds you against him and you breathe against the skin of his neck.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he says into your hair.

"For my sake or yours?"

You think he'll laugh but he just breathes. "Both," he says. "Hell, you know what's goin' on here. I showed my hand. Been showin' it." He pulls away so you can see the honesty in his face. "I told you in as many damn words as I know how."

He did. He did and you make yourself believe it. Love in this life is worth holding on with both hands. Whatever this is, whatever this is going to become, you want it. You want to let this man continue to teach you to ask for help. You want to learn from him, maybe teach him a few things of your own.

You want to love him. You think you could sooner rather than later.

You trace the line of his brow, run your fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

"What a fuckin' question," he says. "C'mere."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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artsninspo · 3 months ago

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FORGIVELESS - IV - YOU DON'T MIND SECOND FIDDLE, THAT'S WHY YOU A BITCH 🎻

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➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

IV - YOU DON'T MIND SECOND FIDDLE, THAT'S WHY YOU A BITCH 🎻

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~2.4K

Warning: Messy, mature themes & 🌶️ implied, a bit of a domestic situation.

Summary: The rendezvous with Rio continue causing James to spiral. only women are better cheaters. Rio proposes something outside of his previous boundaries. Japan is revealed while you get to keep your secret about Rio a little longer.

Sitting in front of the mirror pleased with your makeup you go over excuses in your head. You’ve set up the perfect situation. You’ve overheard James whispering and arguing on the phone. Japan’s been blowing his line up. You already know your husband is suspicious of you but everyday you care a little less. Your own indiscretions with Rio let you know how much work it is to be dishonest. Chasing the highs of being a well off young professional has your husband thinking too much of himself and now he’s paying with his eroding marriage. It’s Rio who’s been consistent for a man who doesn’t think he's the relationship type. Looking yourself, you smile, feeling sexy. It’s become a familiar feeling again with Rio. Heading downstairs you find James sitting on the couch which is a rarity for a Friday night. Usually he has some more important plans than spending time with you.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Friends bachelorette” you smile.

“Which friend?” he asks.

“Marlène from yoga, I was invited.” you tell him.

“Marlène” he says trying to register the name. “I can drive you there and pick you up” he offers.

“No need babe, I don’t drink” you remind him.

“How late?” he asks.

“Maybe 2 or 3 the latest” you tell him.

“Okay, maybe we should keep a calendar so we can keep up with each other's schedules. In case I want to surprise you” he suggests.

“Sure, I’ll see you in a bit” you smile waving.

“Hold up, we were invited to the wedding?” He asks standing as he makes his way over to you.

“I declined the invite. I know how busy you get.” You respond.

“Next time, ask me first. I love you and I want to do what it takes to make you happy. I know it’s been hard since the move but I’m here and I’m in this and I miss you.” He says. All it took was some distance for him to shape up and pay attention.

“Ok” you nod pecking his lips and when he deepens the kiss, it's all wrong. The passion isn’t there, or if it is it doesn’t mix well with his lies and betrayal. You’re relieved when he pulls away. Your heart isn’t racing, there's no tingles or butterflies. Your heart settles a little knowing the sun has set on your marriage. You force a smile heading out to the car. Standing there James is struck with panic, sure now more than ever he’s losing you.

Heading out you meet a new group of friends at one of Rio’s clubs. It’s a bachelorette party. You remember yours. You’d been too young to be considered someone’s wife and so excited to do whatever James asked of you. It’s bittersweet memories. Had you known then what you know now you wouldn't have walked down the aisle. A cheater, a liar, a coward and your husband. Mentally you decide to file the next time you have some free time or at least get the papers. Once the liquor starts flowing between the girls you call Rio as planned. The thrill is still there, it’s how you're making it through this tough time. Reclaiming your agency as a woman. Rejecting the treatment you once settled for. Doing James just as bad. It’s dark when Rio rolls up to the back entrance of his establishment. It's only been fifteen minutes since you made the call, he gets out his G-Wagon matching it in all black. His hands go into the pockets of his black denim jacket as he waits against the passenger door. You dont waste any time heading to him. His smile is the same as always as his eyes look you over in appreciation. Rio never misses the details. Stepping aside he opens the door helping you into the truck.

“You good?” He asks and you nod as he pulls off.

“You?” You ask.

“Mhm” he nods. The silence is comfortable and Rio keeps a hand on your thigh possessively as he drives to his place. You notice he’s not here with you and somewhere else in his thoughts when he passes the exit to his place.

“Rio, you missed the exit” you tell him.

“I’m taking you to my place” he mutters looking over at you. You swallow feeling the new reality between you has changed. You're no longer on quicksand, you're in it. You don't respond feeling comfortable with the decision. You place your hand over his on your thigh.

“I gotta go out of town for a few days,” he says, breaking the silence.

“How long is a few days” you ask.

“Three, I was hoping you could come with me,” Rio says, shocking you. It’s what had been on his mind. If he left it would give James the opportunity to slither his way back into your good graces and probably lead to a reconciliation. Something Rio didn't want to even entertain the possibility of for his own selfish reasons, among the principal of things.

“Come with you?” you ask.

“That’s what I said, what I fuck you so good you cant hear now?” he remarks and you hit him playfully.

“Shut up” you laugh.

“You coming or what?” he asks and you look him over.

“Where are you heading?” you ask.

“Mexico for my cousin's wedding. I have a plus one” Rio says casually.

“I would love to but with all I have going on it’s not the right time” you sigh.

Rio’s nostrils flare in frustration “So what?”

You sigh, “Rio, leaving the country to be your date looks bad.”

“Fuck everyone who would question you after you say he stepped out” Rio snaps.

“Rio you’re being unreasonable” you respond.

“What about me gives off reasonable?” he responds and you smile. He’s right from day one he’s been a handful.

“Rio” you start.

“Tell him whatever he needs to hear, then bring your ass to Mexico with me.” he demands like it's not even a question.

“You want me held up in your room like a sex slave for a few days” You scoff.

“Shit the roleplaying might get you off” he shrugs still upset that you aren't jumping up and down like most women. Rio doesn't like having to compete for your time with the ego of a man that doesnt deserve you even a little.

“You’re being an ass” you smile, rolling your eyes at him playfully. He comes in for a kiss and your phone rings. You look at the caller ID and see it’s James. Rio sighs and you follow suit. You let it ring out but he calls again. After the third ring Rio turns on his sound system to mimic the club before hitting the answer.

“James?” You say.

“What time are you getting home? It's after one” he says.

“I don’t know I’m having fun” you lie.

“I’ll come meet you” he offers.

“No, go out with your friends. Don’t wait up.” You shout.

“No, I miss you and I want to make love to my wife tonight.” The thought alone is off putting. When your eyes re-open from the disgusted shudder you find Rio watching you pissed.

“Sorry I can’t hear you, I’ll see you in a bit. Bye!” You shout hanging up.

“You’re gonna have to tell him you know,” Rio says.

“I’m not ready to play pretend with my family or his. It’ll take time away from you and I'm having fun.” You explain knowing how it’ll work. Women were expected to be distraught, hurt or psychotic after infidelity from their husbands. Your callously orchestrated revenge will be vilified and used as justification for his indiscretions in the beginning. You’ll be burned at the stake for not lying down and taking disrespect.

“Think he’s shitting himself now? When he knows you know and sees you riding around with me, me taking you out treating you right. Then what?” Rio says onto your lips kissing you. The thought of James getting his just due is desert for the both of you. Your moans are audible as his lips kiss you down your neck. His hands hold you there firmly.

“Are you listening?” He asks.

“Yes” you nod.

“Good” his voice softens his dark eyes holding yours.

“He doesn’t get to touch you, doesn’t get to sleep beside you, doesn’t get to see you undressed, nothing. His time’s up mama.” His words are slow and deliberate. He’s placed his claim. His possession is all in his eyes. “Handle it, Love, or I will” he warns, incapable of sharing. You don’t even make it to the bathroom. Rio has his way with you on the couch talking you through it. He fights for control over what he’s feeling and channels all his jealousy and possessiveness into making you feel good enough to want him. Enough to forget about the feelings of a man that did not consider yours or upkeep his vows. You spend the night christening his home and the morning is everything you hoped morning’s with James would be like in this new city. Slow and full of comfortable silences based on quality time. Rio typically did not talk too much, not needing to but today was different. He wanted to put an end to Jame’s hold on you. To James being a two timing fuck waling around like he owns the world. He wanted James to pay for blowing up your life. By the time you leave Rio’s place it’s 9am. That’s how little fucks you have left to give. You don’t expect James to be waiting at the house when you arrive but he’s sitting in the living room fuming mad. His eyes go to your rings first. When they are located he calms down just a touch.

“Where the fuck have you been!” He snaps through gritted teeth, standing and closing the distance and sniffing you like a dog. It’s how you should treat him.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” You shout triggered.

“You’re not walking out of this house again to go anywhere without me. Matter of fact, give me your phone!” He snaps grabbing your purse from your arm. He finds your phone unlocking it with Face ID and going through it. Instead of fighting him you go for his phone on the island knowing you’re in the clear. You search to find the messages have degraded into arguing instead of steamy exchanges. The blue flame between James and his mistress has faded into contention with him trying to be more present in his marriage. It’s against everything the mistress wants to hear. Little miss Japan is pulling out the stops. Her revised attempts at luring your husband away from you flip a switch. You clear the counter throwing two vases at him in succession. He fails to duck away from the first one hitting him in the chest. The other douses him with water before shattering on the ground.

“I should’ve known you were cheating!” you scream, snapping him out of his rage. Fear flashes in his expression. “All the accusations! Neglect, no sex, it was all here” you snap holding up his phone. Tears well as you release the secret you’ve been keeping in for the past few weeks. You send the phone flying at him too. The device hits him in the chest and you snatch yours from him. “That’s how you’d let some women speak about me and talk to you. You dirty low down fuck!” You add feeling your hands and face heat from the rage.

“Baby” he panics “It was a mistake.”

“Don’t call me baby, matter of fact don't call me anything! Don’t call me!” You cry getting your keys and heading out. “Japan, Japan, Japan, whole time Japan is a fucking woman that you’re seeing!” you continue your tirade.

“Y/N!” He snaps. “I’m sorry. I can explain, listen to me.” His words mean nothing and you keep on heading to your car. He grabs you violently.

“I said I’m sorry!” he asserts with a mixture of anger and panic.

“You are and I’m done with you” you pull away but he grabs you. You try to free yourself but he’s too strong. You struggle against him as you and him exchange unheard feelings at a high volume. He wins the struggle.

“I said I’m sorry! I made a mistake but I love you!” He shouts, shaking you and your heart races as you see all the threads you’ve been picking at are loose. You want to stick the nail in the coffin but you don't. Instead you look at him with all the hate you feel for the predicament his actions have created.

“I hate you and you’ll regret it I promise” you snap, turning to face him as you open the garage. Fear turns from panic to rage again at your threat. He grabs your arm unlike ever before. “Get out my face and let me go. Go be where you’ve been with her.” you snap pushing him off.

“Don’t walk away from me and don’t threaten me!” He snaps as you get to your car. Before you get in he grabs your hood, yanking you back.

“What’s going on here?” An officer interrupts. Just the way his eyes fall on you it’s clear he’s been sent by Rio. James steps back and you readjust your neckline.

“I’m trying to leave and he won’t let me” you speak frankly. You hear James gasp in shock at your betrayal.

“She’s my wife. Officer I just want to speak with her” James says. You look him over and see he’s all wet. It definitely looks like a domestic dispute.

“Do you want to speak with him?” the officer asks you.

“No” you respond and the officer opens your car door. You get in.

“Y/N!” James shouts.

“Keeping her here against her will with force is something I can charge you with” the officer informs your asshole soon to be ex-husband.

“It’s a marital disagreement,” James says, trying to turn on the charm. It doesn’t work on the officer who gives him a final glare before walking out with you.

“Stay put” he snaps at James. “Are you alright?” he asks and you nod, adjusting your sweater and clothes.

“Yes”

“Did he hit you?”

“No officer he didn’t” you confess honestly.

“Go see Rio” the cop whispers before closing the car door. You’re a little startled at how perceptive you are and pull out of the driveway to head to Rio’s place. You find him pissed and pacing. His eyes go to your stretched out collar but he keeps his thoughts to himself offering you comfort and a hug. He ignores his phone ringing and you ignore yours until James stops calling and it’s your mom. you already know. James is in damage control mode.

Thanks for reading my loves, theres more mess to come - I promise. Keep on, liking, commenting and sending over ideas. I hope those of you who send some in liked seeing them integrated in the story. What was your favorite part?

» next part

TAGS:

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality

#rio good girls #masterlist #rio x reader #rio x you #good girls rio #manny montana x reader #manny montana fanfiction #rio good girls imagine #rio imagine #rio good girls fanfiction #good girls imagine

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lewisvinga · 9 months ago

Text

fashion icons | zhou guanyu x fem! reader

summary; everybody thought that zhou was single until his classic paddock walks where he shows up dressed all fashionably with an equally as fashionable girlfriend and daughter.

warnings; ?

word count; 555 ( angel numbers 🤗 )

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

note; requested !

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Over here, Zhou!”

“Zhou, who is that?”

“Is that your daughter, Zhou?”

Zhou has to hold back his smile at the sudden burst of questions from reporters and paparazzi as he makes his way into the paddock with a little girl who was his carbon copy in his arms.

He was holding hands with a woman no one had seen on the paddock before. The three all had matching outfits. Zhou wore an oversized beige button-up with baggy white pants. The woman wore a long white skirt with a beige sweater top. Meanwhile, Zhou’s carbon copy wore a beige overall dress with a white button-up underneath.

With the way the young girl clung to him and the woman held onto his arm, it no doubt that it was his family. Nobody even knew he was dating someone, much less dating someone AND having a daughter with them.

“Zhou Guanyu!” Charles shouted as he saw the Chinese driver strolling by him and another group of drivers. “What the hell, mate?” The Monegasque was as shocked as everyone else. Not even the drivers knew about his family.

“Everyone meet Daiyu,” Zhou said with a smile as the shy almost 2-year-old lifted up her hand to wave at them. “She’s my daughter.” His words caused the others to emit gasps. “And this lovely woman here is-“

“Y/n L/n!” Lewis exclaimed, immediately recognizing her. Y/n laughed as the 7x world champion greeted her with a hug. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

“Too long. I missed the paddock.” She responded, resting her head against his shoulder for a second.

“You had a secret family this whole time?” Lando loudly exclaimed but got shushed by his teammate.

“Mate, since when?” Max asks, feeling utterly confused. “And how did Lewis know?”

“He introduced us actually,” Y/n spoke up with a chuckle, and just like her daughter, she shyly waved at the dazed drivers. “Nice to meet you all. I’m actually a fashion designer and helped multiple big designer companies. I also helped plan out a lot of Lewis’ outfits. He introduced me to Zhou in 2019. Said we’d make a great pair.”

“And I was right!” Lewis said in a prideful tone. He then gestures to Daiyu who seemed distracted by Max’s hair. “They had an equally fashionable baby!”

Y/n laughed as she nudged her boyfriend with her elbow. “Helps when her mama is a fashion designer and her dad likes fashion.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t know anything!” Charles exclaimed, still in disbelief about the whole situation. The Ferrari driver seemed more grumpy about being left in the dark but it immediately went away as Daiyu’s focus moved to him. “She is quite adorable though. Wow, she looks just like you.”

Zhou sheepishly smiled and shrugged. “Wanted my privacy I guess. Figured it was time for the world to know the whole reason why I drive.”

“I can already imagine the headlines being about your matching outfits,” Yuki chuckled and glanced over their beige and white outfits. “Zhou Guanyu and Y/n L/n, a family of fashion icons!”

Y/n turns to Zhou with a smile on her lips, her hands fixing Daiyu’s bangs. “Guess we are a family of fashion icons, aren’t we?”

“We’ve been fashion icons. At least I don’t wear my team shirt everywhere I go.”

“Hey! It’s comfortable!”

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #zhou guanyu scenarios #zhou guanyu x reader

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ozzgin · 8 months ago

Text

Yandere! Gamer Boyfriend Scenarios

A collection of parodies to satisfy everyone’s desire for a happy ending. Warning: crackhead humor.

Content: gender neutral reader, yandere behavior, brief NSFW, time machine to Wattpad glory days

[First story] [More parodies original works]

Case 1: Third contender

Very few people know about your stepmother. You’d kept it a secret, even from the tentacle monster, who was understandably confused about your boyfriend’s nervousness upon hearing your idea of a family visit.

“Try not to kill each other, please.” You say with pleading eyes.

“I’m more worried about you, (Y/N). Will you be alright?”

You swallow dryly. The evil hag had summoned you earlier this week, and you dare not oppose her. A tear threatens to form in the corner of your eye, so you turn around with a dismissive wave. You’ll be fine.

“I see you already have a suitcase”, the older woman remarks, puffing on her cigarette. “Good. You’ll be leaving today.”

“What? I just got home!” You argue in confusion.

“This isn’t your home anymore. Times are difficult, you see. We’re low on funds.” She ponders her words, then continues. “We’ve sold you to a famous K-pop idol group.”

You can only gawk in shock. Almost simultaneously, you feel a tap on your shoulder and hesitantly look back.

“You must be (Y/N)! Wow, you’re even cuter in person. Those photos I received of you barely do you justice.”

A tall, handsome man with a beaming smile stands behind you. He flashes you a little heart gesture with his index and thumb, and winks.

Is this the power of idol charisma? You can feel the faintest tug at your heart, deep red blush heating up your cheeks.

“I couldn’t possibly…I’m already in a…in a relationship!”

“You’ll be much happier with me. I can offer you the world.”

What a ridiculous situation. You stumble on your words, partly afraid, partly curious about the potential life of luxury as the beloved partner of a famous idol. Can’t be that bad, you tell yourself. You shake your head aggressively. No! You have two people (well, one monster) waiting for you at home. You need to get out of here, but how?

Just as you evaluate escape routes, the door bursts open and you gasp at the sight: your gamer boyfriend, followed by the tentacled creature.

“How did you bypass my security?!” The idol shouts in disbelief. “I have the best engineers in the world working for me!”

The gamer boyfriend smirks defiantly.

“Heh. Wasn’t too hard to hack into your systems, all I needed was my PS5 controller. As for the physical obstacles…” he says, turning to the ancient beast. “You might want to call a cleaning crew for what’s left of your guards.”

You run towards them, and the young man gently guides you behind him.

“Since when do you two get along?” You ask with the sarcasm of a witty Marvel character.

“Let’s just say we figured out a common goal.”

The goal of keeping other people away from you. Any kind of pride he or the monster might've held has been swiftly discarded for this greater purpose. After all, two heads are better than one. Or whatever encephalic organ the creature possesses.

The cherry blossoms sway in the wind, scattering the frail petals across the riverbank.

"It's too much!" you whine, your hot lips brushing against the overgrown grass of the hill, privacy filled to the brim with appendages. "W-what if someone passes by?"

You can't even tilt your head back to look at your aggressors; the weight of the attempted kidnapping was too great for the pair to bear, and thus they were overwhelmed by the urge to reclaim you on the spot. Right there, in the fields, on the way back home.

"I couldn't...care less about that, (Y/N)", the gamer boyfriend manages to blurt out between exhausted, husky growls. His knuckles white from gripping imaginary sheets.

“You belong to us.”

(No slick folds were harmed in the process)

Case 2: Picture frame

The screech slowly dissipates, and the room is quiet again.

Finally. The gamer boyfriend gazes at his masterpiece, a satisfied smile on his face. Now that he's gotten rid of his rival, he can have you all for himself.

“I hope you enjoy the flatness. I didn’t.”

The fight might've lasted longer, had the beast not committed the ultimately fatal mistake of underestimating him. It realized much too late it wasn't dealing with the same human who disappeared months ago. That one was weak and easy to remove.

"Please, what are you-...What are you doing with my body?"

"Relax. I'm just...borrowing it. Permanently, maybe."

Oh, how long he waited for that moment, that instant in which he was guaranteed freedom from the 2D realm. How delicious it was to snatch the escape from the boyfriend who worked so hard for it. All those hours spent romancing the characters, repeating the same dialogue lines again, and again, until the love meter blinked in achievement. And then he stole it, just like that, with a snap of the fingers.

Two things immediately struck him once he made his way out:

First, the third dimension. He'd never experienced such depth before, and all the angles and perspectives sickened him terribly. He spent days bedridden and nauseous. Equally baffling was the fact that conversations were always spontaneous, random, one-of-a-kind and without any subtitles or dialogue box. He tried in vain to reset his response to you, or to replay something you told him. Thankfully, his secret was of such absurdity, that you couldn’t even begin to imagine its possibility. You took his suspicious gaffes with an amused chuckle, calling him a silly goose.

Second, you. He had no idea who you were, but upon laying his eyes on you, a wave of warmth and affection flooded his innards. Were you someone important for the boyfriend? Either way, whatever leftover feeling was left inside the vessel swiftly turned into obsession. You took such great care of him. Guided him through this new world with unconditional kindness. Whatever the boyfriend was to you before, he deserved it more. He was certain of it.

Only one obstacle stood in his way, and he just took care of it.

The entry door unlocks, and you walk in, unsure.

“It’s been days. It always lived here, why would it vanish now?” you sob, shaken by the sudden disappearance of the ancient creature.

“Oh, Darling. Come here”, the gamer boyfriend coos sweetly. “You have me now, don’t you? Am I not enough for you?”

“Of course you are, it’s just…”

You stop in your tracks.

“When did you get this?”

“Today. Do you like it?”

“It’s…nice.”

You stare at the new picture hung in the living room. The ornate frame contours what seems to be an oil painting of a sea monster, tentacles preying out of the water.

It almost looks like it wants to crawl out of the canvas.

“Maybe it just got tired of you.” The boyfriend whistles, approaching you. “But I’ll tell you a secret. I’ll never, ever abandon you.”

“I know, (B/N).” you throw yourself into your boyfriend’s arms.

“Who? Ah, right.”

Case 3: Hidden Ending

You sniff and wipe your tears again, filling your satchel with bread. At the very least, it’s good bread. You made the sourdough starter yourself, in the kitchen you renovated with your own hands.

Not anymore.

You button up your patchy peasant robe, glancing back at the couple one final time. Your gamer boyfriend…well, ex-boyfriend, is following your movement with melancholic eyes. The tentacle creature is holding him affectionately, its tendrils of darkness wrapped around his small shoulders. The same appendages that lewdly traced your body.

You have been cucked.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I…We never meant to hurt you. It’s just…we love each other.” He sheepishly lifts his hand, revealing a ring glowing with ancient, cursed energy of cosmic, long-forgotten springs. “We’re thinking of a tropical honeymoon.”

Your underbaked cinnamon orbs glisten with fresh tears, as thin streams caress your cheeks. No matter. You’ll find a new apartment. You’ll start again. You finish tying the bread satchel around the stick, and throw it over your shoulder.

“I wish you happiness”, you sigh, exiting the house.

#yandere #yandere gamer boyfriend #gamer boyfriend versus tentacle monster #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere meme #yandere parody #yandere imagines #yandere concept

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darnell-la · 10 days ago

Note

Heyo! Hope you are well :)

Could I request any version of Logan with a partner who always has bad rashes from shaving and he brings it up and she says how her last boyfriend made her shave and said it was gross otherwise and so she just assumes that’s right

note: our inboxes are open! give us anything, and maybe even make your request dramatic. we’d like a bit of bedazzle to our stories, just like this one.

———

“Hey, babe? Before you get in the shower, I wanted to talk to you,” Logan said in the softest voice he’s ever made. He didn’t know how to come off, thinking it would make her uncomfortable.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Y/n asked as she walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in the towel Logan had bought her. “You look good, Bub,” Logan said, making the young lady blush.

“What did you want?” Y/n asked again, not wanting to get into too much before she hopped in the shower. “Just wanted to talk — C’mere,” Logan pat a spot next to him.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Y/n asked as she sat down. Logan softly held her hand with an easy rub. “I know this is way out of my group, and I don’t know much about a woman’s private spots when it comes to that stuff but- Baby, you’ve been talking a lot about your rashes lately,”

Y/n was silent for a little, a little embarrassed about speaking about what her ex put her through for what felt like an eternity.

“Hey, babe- It’s fine, okay? If you’re going through something, just tell me so we can get you treated as fast as possible, alright? I heal, so I’m at no risk, but you are, so we need to,“

“Logan, Logan! Relax, it’s not that, okay?” Y/n cut Logan off, knowing he was overthinking. “It’s just razed bumps and all. Really bad ones because I shave almost every day for the past decade,”

“What?” Logan asked, confused about why she shaved almost daily, especially for so long. “Look, I wasn’t in a good relationship before you. H-He’d want it smooth any time of day, just in case he felt like doing it. Even just touching it to watch me squirm in public spaces,”

Now Logan was silent, having difficulty believing anyone could make his woman go through something like that.

“I-I just thought you wanted it smooth too, you know? He said that most men don’t want it hairy,” y/n felt disgusting, feeling like her ex was speaking through her.

“Baby — I’m just offended that you think I’m some little scummy boy. Who the fuck cares so much about a smooth cunt? Who the fuck is that bastard? I needa talk to that man-“

“No, no, relax, babe,” Y/n pulled Logan back down on the bed. “It was years ago,” y/n tried to make it seem like she wasn’t still traumatized. “Yet, you still do that shit — Baby, I’m hardy. I’ve never shaved around my cock for you, so what makes you think I have the right to tell you to shave?”

Y/n looked down and thought to herself. It wouldn’t make sense, but her ex would make it the worst deal if he felt one prick of hair.

“Bub, look at me,” Logan grabbed her chin softly, making her look up at him. “I’ve lived more lives than your sad excuse of an ex could ever live. He’s not a good man, and any man that has a mindset like that isn’t a good man,”

Y/n nodded her head as her eyes teared up, feeling a bit of relief, knowing she wouldn’t have to go through these rashes anymore. She can finally feel better about herself.

“C’mere,” Logan slowly laid y/n down on the bed and he kissed her neck. “My baby looks good no matter what. You think hair will scare me away from how good you taste?” Logan asked as he slowly moved down to her lower body. “Could be tangled down there, and I couldn’t care less,”

Logan pulled her towel off and softly spread her legs, already seeing how wet she was. “You haven’t even hoped in the shower, baby. How dirty if you,” Logan smirked as he leaned towards her heat, smelling the smell that always seemed perfect.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” y/n spoke low, still feeling a hint of anger in Logan. She knew Logan was a man who hated when people thought he couldn’t game anything.

Logan chuckled because he thought he was hiding his anger pretty well, but y/n seemed to always know when something was off about him.

“Oh, you will be, Bub,”

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byunpum · 1 year ago

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Mama's Boy | Part 6 (final)

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: conflict, family problems, soft moments.

Note: You don't know how difficult it is to do something again that you already had done. I tried to make it like the previous one, but I think I'm missing some parts. Still, it's quite long. And I feel like it was lacking in the end… I wish it was the work I had already done, because that was great. Still, I hope you like this part a lot. Thank you very much for your support with this mini-series. There are many more coming!! btw I recently opened a KO-Fi…. if you want to leave any tips or support I would appreciate it (it would help me to buy real coffee xD).

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

You had to live with the continuous rejection since you agreed to be a couple with jake and neytiri. That was something you knew was going to happen. But when it was just you, everything was cool, you never cared. You always ignored the bad comments and went on with your life as if nothing had happened. But as soon as you became lo'ak's mother, things changed. Now you were a mother, one who wanted to be accepted among the group of mothers in the clan. When it was only neytiri who had neteyam, you used to accompany her. And nobody said anything…but now it was difficult. They were always saying comments about you and lo'ak. How they didn't believe that you were his mother, or that you weren't good enough for him and your family. Somehow this started to get to you. Trying to protect lo'ak was always difficult for you, but you always managed to find a way. But now you felt you weren't…much less in your current state.

You hadn't seen your family for months, now you have the chance to be reunited with them. And it seems that since you arrived things have gone from bad to worse. Or so that woman says…ronal. You didn't want her words to affect you, but hell…they were. You felt bad for your family, for lo'ak and even for the child that was on the way. It would have been easier if you had never involved yourself with Jake, and that your children could have a normal family, that lo'ak could have a normal family. He would have been happier.

You had left Ronal's hut, you were walking slowly. You still didn't want to go home, you knew everyone already knew the news. And even you didn't know how to react. You just passed by the shore, and you noticed that in the distance you could see lo'ak. He was alone…you knew from his posture that he was sad. You carefully descend the woven paths, and jump down to the sand. To now close in on your child. -"Hey…" you speak, watching as the boy turns and smiles softly. "Hi..mom" lo'ak turns, to stretch out his hand. Helping you to sit next to him, you settle in. Pulling your knees to your chest, the night was cold for your liking. "Mom, are you feeling better? Neteyam said you are in serious condition" says lo'ak you could see the worried eyes. You stroke his arm a little, holding it now to make him come closer to you. "I'm fine…I'm just a little sick, that's all," you explain.

"mom said you were pregnant, is that true?" asks lo'ak, you look up to see him. You could notice how his little ears pinned back. - "I see the news is spreading fast around here….but yes." You touch your stomach, then look up at lo'ak. - "There's a baby here," you say, looking back out to sea. Lo'ak notices this reaction of yours, something was happening to you. You weren't his mother as usual…you looked sad.

"Aren't you happy?" asks Lo'ak. -And you? What do you think?" you ask him back. Lo'ak was silent for a moment, looking sideways. He thinks carefully about his answer. "Well… I feel jealous" says lo'ak pouting a little. This makes you chuckle a little, he looked so adorable. "Well… yes I'm happy, I just feel even bad and…nothing" you didn't want to worry lo'ak anymore. He was still so young, you didn't want him to carry your stupid traumas. He had been through so much at such a young age, and telling him your problems wouldn't help him much. -Mom… will you still love me?" lo'ak looks at you with wide eyes. - "My baby… the arrival of this baby won't change anything… sure, he'll get a little attention because he's the youngest. But you will always be my prince" you pull lo'ak to you, watching the boy. He settles down, to lay his head in your lap. Settling down in the sand. - "mama loves you so much…so so much" you speak, stroking lo'ak's hair. You look down, to see him. He was growing so fast, you still couldn't believe it.

After a while, you and Lo'ak decide to go back to the hut. When you enter you can see that everyone in the family was there, it seems that you were waiting for you. - "Hello" you greet, stepping carefully inside. While lo'ak was in the back making sure you were okay. You were still a little weak. Neytiri gets up from where she was, approaching you towards her. -"you're supposed to be with ronal" says neytiri, seeing you roll your eyes.

. -I'd rather die at home," you joke, but you see kiri and tuk's little face is one of worry. "are you going to die?!!!" tuk starts to whine. "No, no honey…it's a joke" you try to apologize to the little girl. -" No, she gave me this medicine and told me I could come back…I'm better" you speak, but you can see neytiri's and jake's face. It was one of happiness, they were waiting for you to say something about the creature that was on its way. -"Besides…I heard that you had already come with the news that I was pregnant" you cross your arms. Neytiri laughs nervously, "I'm sorry, I'm excited." You give Neytiri a smile.

You knew how exciting this news was for everyone. You had hoped to be pregnant for so many years, and it never happened. After lo'ak you wanted to have a baby two years later, but nothing. Neytiri was always there for you. As much as you, she also hoped that you would have a baby. But hopes were lost with time. Even when neytiri announced that she was expecting tuk, she felt bad for telling you the news, neytiri felt that she had betrayed you. You responded to her, telling her she was a fool, you were so happy for the arrival of little tuk. You were so happy about the arrival of the little tuk that you eventually forgot the idea of having another child. But here you are… you finally got what you were looking for. And you felt so guilty at the same time.

That night everyone had a quiet dinner, no one argued and everything was peaceful. Celebrating the news of a new member. Neteyam was teasing lo'ak, saying that he would no longer be your baby. While kiri was playing along. Meanwhile, tuk put his ear to your stomach, hoping to hear something -" I can just hear your guts mom" tuk pouts in annoyance, and you start laughing." Baby…it's still too small" jake says, he was next to you, he had you wrapped in his arms. "But I'm supposed to be able to hear him…he doesn't talk" tuk complains, she didn't know much about babies. "Don't worry…when he's born he's going to talk to you a lot" says neytiri, taking tuk on her lap. "I want it to be a girl…so she can be my best friend" tuk settles down on neytiri's chest, looking for the sleep. "Well…whatever it is, she/he is going to be your best friend, I promise" you watch as tuk smiles softly. And begins to drift off to sleep. Eventually all the children begin to go to their beds. Leaving only the adults awake.

Neytiri settled tuk in her hammock, and went over to where you and Jake were sitting. You were both outside the marui, talking. "Well…they're finally asleep," jokes Neytiri, sitting down next to Jake. "And wait till this little kid gets here…. the calm will go away" jake laughs a little, touching your stomach. But he can tell how serious you were. Jake looks at neytiri, to make sure she noticed your behavior too. You didn't used to be like that, you looked sad. Like something was wrong with you. Jake thinks you are still upset with him…but you had said that this discussion was going to end. -"Ma y/n…is something wrong?" asks Neytiri, getting up from Jake's side to sit on your right side. Bringing her whole body closer to your side. -" Yes…just, I feel a little sick" you speak. You don't want them to start asking questions.

"You're sure…because you looked fine a while ago" Jake knows something is wrong with you. You sigh loudly, taking a deep breath -" I think it would be best if I went back to camp" you begin to speak. -" Y/n…you can't go back to camp. They know who you are…they are looking for us and they can hurt you. No…you stay here with us" jake was getting a little agitated, it was too dangerous for you to go back. The situation with the RDA was quiet, but that didn't mean they wouldn't attack. Neytiri touches Jake's shoulder to calm him down. -"But why do you want to come back, don't you want to be with us?" asks Neytiri, she seemed to be calm. "Of course I want to be here…I love all this…but I feel that I am a problem for you. You guys were peaceful before I was here. Since I've been here it's been all arguments and problems. I want to go back and leave you alone" you had started to cry, you felt so silly. Here making a drama out of something so stupid.

"Why do you think that? Ma y/n you are not a problem for us, never say that" neytiri hugs you on her chest, giving you a kiss on the crown of your head. -Y/n look at me" jake takes your chin to look at him a little. " We have arguments like any other family, and that's normal. This whole situation of a new home…I know it must be hard for you. If it's hard for us, it must be twice as hard for you." Jake speaks. -" But you're not the cause of any of our problems…if we're talking about someone causing problems, it would be me. Because I bet if you two were alone, you'd be happy" that comment from Jake makes you laugh a little. Neytiri wipes the tears from your cheeks. "I know that being a sky people…and the whole acceptance thing has always made you uncomfortable and maybe it's a problem for a lot of people. But not for us, not for me. You are our family…and we will always be united," says Neytiri as she caresses your cheek.

"Let's stop crying, it's not good for you. Neither you nor our baby" Neytiri pulls down a little, and gives you a soft kiss. "See…I'm the one who's left over here" jake jokes, making you both laugh, breaking the awkward moment. You take his hand, inviting him to join you. -"By the way…why were you thinking those things?" neytiri asks. You pull away from her a little. "Ahh it was a comment ronal made…but never mind" you watch as neytiri's ears perk up and her nose wrinkles. "calm baby" jake says, looking at neytiri. You knew what neytiri thought of ronal. They had been in the metkayina clan for a while and she still couldn't tolerate that woman. But she would deal with this, neytiri wasn't going to leave it at that. ++++ The next morning, you felt a little better. Better in health and in spirits. You needed to have that talk with Neytiri and Jake. Their opinion was very important to you and setting the record straight helped you feel better. Jake and neytiri left early for a day of hunting that tonowari and ao'nung invited them to, while you stayed at the marui with lo'ak, kiri and tuk. Neytiri had gone for a 'walk', she didn't tell you exactly where she was going. But you didn't think much of it, Neytiri wasn't a troublemaker, so you stayed calm. -"Good morning mama" lo'ak just got up, sitting down next to you. You were humming, while tucking one of his braids behind his ears. "Are you hungry? Here's some fruit" you hand him his portion of fruit. The boy was snoozing, still sleepy. "Ahh my poor baby" you hug lo'ak. -"A giant ugly baby," says Kiri. The girl had been sitting next to you. Lo'ak pulls out his tongue at his sister, they were about to start arguing, when you scold them.-"Hey, it's too early for you to start with your stuff, let's eat" you say, taking Kiri's hand so that she sits next to you and starts eating. Tuk was still asleep, so you leave her alone.

"Lo'ak…after you finish eating, could you please go get some more fruit." you speak, you see lo'ak nod his head, the boy had his mouth full. "Kiri…you should go and join your brother" you can hear the girl complain, "ahhh mama!!!" kiri complains, lately she wanted to stay all day at the marui. You knew she missed spider, but it wasn't right for her to do nothing all day. "You're going to go and stretch your feet and hands and your whole body, yes?" you look at Kiri, she was grim-faced. Sometimes she looked so much like grace, you adored her. "Ok, I'll go…but I'll come back quickly. I want to be with you" kiri rolls her eyes, and keeps eating. After eating kiri and lo'ak walked out of marui, leaving the place still and quiet. You hope that this day will continue to be quiet. But you are not aware of what Neytiri was about to do.

Neytiri had a mission when she woke up that morning, and she was going to accomplish it. No one was going to talk about her partner, no one. And for Ronal to say those words to you, it hurt her very much. Neytiri knew that she was not very welcome in the clan, and the only reason they were still there. It was because they needed it and because Tonowari had accepted it. She arrives at where ronal was, the woman was on her way to her marui when she met neytiri. "hello," says ronal. And neytiri greets her, insisting that they should talk. Ronal thinks for a moment, she had already dealt with Neytiri. And she knew she was a strong woman, and that the only reason she would talk to her is because something had happened. Ronal invites Neytiri into her marui. Neytiri sits down, analyzing the whole situation around her. -"So what brings you here?" asks Ronal.

"First I'm grateful for the help towards y/n, thank you" says neytiri. Seeing how ronal lowers her head and laughs to herself. -"Yes, you're welcome, after all that's my job," says ronal.

"yesterday… when y/n came out of your marui, she told us that you had told her that it was better for her to go back to the jungle, and that we were better off without her. I'd rather you stay out of our business and save your opinions," says neytiri, and from the tone of voice it didn't sound kind. Neytiri didn't care what position Ronal had, no one was going to meddle in her business. -"I don't think I said anything that wasn't true, or am I wrong?" ronal knows how to get neytiri out of her mind. "Our life as a family is not your business," neytiri says.

"What family? The strange inter-species gathering you have, because you yourselves became a point of opinion when you accepted that demon into your family" spits ronal. Neytiri takes a deep breath, clenching her hands. "I recommend you keep quiet…" says neytiri, trying to control herself. "I thought it was a joke when they said that demon was your mate, but now it turns out you have a half-Na'vi child and another on the way, who knows how I will come." Ronal doesn't know what she is provoking. Neytiri is holding back, but it is driving her point across. "She will still be a demon, and everything that comes from her will be" those were ronal's last words, until neytiri got up from the ground. Pulling out her knife in one swift movement. Approaching ronal, she curled her up in her seat.

Placing the weapon to her neck. "Let this be the first and last time you talk about my family like that…you don't know how things happened. I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO TALK SHIT ABOUT MY MATE AND MY CHILDREN, EVER!!!" neytiri screams. The woman is furious, neytiri had been through a lot of anger with you, and it wasn't because of you. It was not because of you, but because of the people around her.

Neytiri was not a fan of humans, if she could be away from them so much the better. But she loved you, you were different for her. She saw you as a creature and not as a human. You and neytiri have known each other for years, since grace school. You know everything neytiri has been through and you have always been there for her. It was painful for her when you two had to move away from each other, it was almost like another loss for her. But since you two became a couple with Jake, her anger about the comments made to you had grown. The na'vi saying nasty things about you, no matter that your children were there. Saying that you were too extra in their family. But when neytiri was going to react to those comments, you were always there to stop her, telling her to ignore them. But yesterday, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Neytiri had gone through so much these past few months, and when she finally felt a little happiness with the arrival of you and a new baby, this idiot comes to ruin her life. This idiot came to ruin it, she was annoyed. Why weren't you here to stop her. -"I recommend you put down that knife," says Ronal, looking into Neytiri's eyes. These were black with fury.

By coincidence or by pure luck. Kiri and lo'ak were passing by ronal and tonowari's marui. When they saw the situation forming, lo'ak and kiri immediately run to stop their mother. Lo'ak grabs neytiri from behind, pulling her off of ronal. -"Mom, what's wrong? Calm down!!!" says lo'ak, while kiri stands in front of her mother hugging her. Neytiri is a little upset, screaming to be released. But her children were holding her back, they didn't understand what was going on. -"Kiri goes and gets dad," lo'ak orders Kiri. The girl runs off as fast as she can to look for her father. While lo'ak tries to reassure her mother. -Mom calm down, why are you acting like this?" lo'ak is confused, he has never seen his mother act like this before. "Don't you dare say a damn thing about my family!!!" shouts neytiri.

In the family marui…

Jake arrived with neteyam, carrying a basket full of fish. "Love…look at all the stuff we brought, neteyam was amazing. Next time I'm going to take lo'ak with me" jake was so happy, coming up to give you a quick kiss. "mmm I see, congratulations" you kiss him back. Moving closer to neteyam, to help him. "Thank you mom," says neteyam. - "Honey…go and eat your breakfast, yes?" you say. Handing him his fruit packet, your poor boy had left very early and you know he hadn't eaten. "hey, where's neytiri and the kids?" asks jake, sitting down next to you. "Neytiri told me she was going for a walk and told the kids to go get more fruit" you say. -Perfect" says Jake getting down to give you a kiss on your shoulder. "I love you…I don't like it when you're mad at me" Jake speaks in your ear. You laugh a little, because you were still mad at him. But he knew how to play your game.-"mmm we'll see…I love you too" you look up, waiting for jake to give you a kiss. When an altered kiri runs up to marui. "DADDY I NEED YOUR HELP WITH MOM, SHE IS DISCUSSING WITH RONAL, SHE HAD HIS KNIFE ON HER NECK" kiri yells, the girl was so upset. "What?" you guys stand up quickly. Following the girl. "Neteyam, kiri stay with tuk, please" you ask that favor, and walk out behind jake.

Tonowari had arrived on the scene, trying to calm everything down. "SHE was the one who started saying all those things!!!" neytiri is defending herself. "I told the truth!!!" ronal on the other hand defending her point. While tonowari was trying to understand what happened. He had in front of him two women with a strong character. Jake approaches and you were behind him. "Mom" lo'ak walks up to you, holding your hand. "What happened?" you ask, this was crazy. Lo'ak looks at you, lifting his shoulders. Neytiri was screaming and so was ronal. And on the other side was Tonowari and jake. - "mom come on, let's go!!!" lo'ak was dragging you with him. The boy didn't want you to be there, he thought it was a dangerous situation. Little by little you move away from the group, and you decide to listen to lo'ak. And you both walk towards your marui.

You were nervous, because lo'ak didn't know what had happened, much less you. And the best thing you did was to walk away, you are getting really sick. Suddenly you see how jake and neytiri enter. - "neytiri all that…" jake starts. - "Nobody is going to be talking about my family, my children…nobody." neytiri was so upset. "What's going on?" you get up from the floor, looking at jake. - "listen to me…we will stay here until the baby is born, then we will leave" says jake. What was going on, this was a lot of information to process. But with the look Jake and Neytiri were giving you, you knew they were serious. This was a choice they had made, and they had no intention of changing it.

When the dust settled, Jake explained everything. This agreement he made with Tonowari. After all the discussion was calmed down and explained. Tonowari knew that Ronal could be cruel when he spoke and didn't mean what he said. So he didn't blame neytiri too much for reacting that way, but he also had to defend his partner. Jake couldn't believe what that woman said about his partner and son. This was the limit, he was grateful for everything they had done, but everything had a limit and Ronal had passed it. So it was decided that when you gave birth, they would go somewhere else. Tonowari insisted that they stay, but jake refused. -"But we could leave now," you say. -"I think it's best to wait for the baby to be born, and for you to be healthy. Then we'll go" Jake looks at Neytiri. She was the one who had the idea, she couldn't stand to be around that woman anymore. -"It's for the best!" says Neytiri.

That same night, jake approached lo'ak. The boy had done a great job, defending his mothers. Jake was proud of how he had acted. Lo'ak was cleaning some fish, as Jake had told him earlier. Jake went over and started to help him. "You know… I'm proud of you. You were very brave out there, thank you for helping" says jake, noticing how lo'ak's little eyes widen with excitement. Lo'ak thinks it's the first time his father has ever told him he was proud of him. After the encounter with the RDA, things between them had mended somewhat, but not for long. And seeing that his father was now trying to get closer to him was pleasing to him. "That's what you should do, sir," says lo'ak, lowering his head. "dad…you can call me dad" jake smiles at lo'ak. " dad" lo'ak speaks, leaning closer to his father.

Neytiri and you were watching everything from afar, both of you shared a few glances. You were happy, that finally their relationship was at a good point.

8 months later…

Your pregnancy went normally, no problems had occurred. Although the atmosphere was a little heavy, nothing happened. You always had someone by your side, and there was always lo'ak behind you. Since that accident, lo'ak never left you alone at any time. And you were also grateful for the company of your child, the pregnancy had been very tiring for you. After long months, liuk was born… a beautiful baby girl. A girl with human appearance, but with na'vi characteristics. Na'vi ears, with a tail and her distinguished Queue. She was also of human size, she was very strange. But precious and unique at the same time. Everyone in the family could not believe what they were seeing, this was very strange.

"Mom…no wonder your belly was so small" says neteyam, looking at her newborn sister. Compared to when you were pregnant with lo'ak your belly was bigger than normal, but with liuk…everything went like a normal pregnancy. -"Yes" your voice sounded tired, the delivery was quite fast, but painful. Neytiri at your side, taking care of you. She had attended your entire delivery, along with Jake. She said she didn't want Ronal's help, she wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. On the other hand Jake looked worried, you looked very weak. In a week they were supposed to leave for somewhere else, but on second thought, he doesn't think it's right. He thinks it's not the right thing to do.

Lo'ak was sitting on your right side, holding your hand. Drawing circles on your palm, while his sisters watched and carried the baby. He hadn't been holding her, he was worried about you. It had been a couple of hours, and you still felt very tired. "lo'ak…love why don't you say hello to your little sister" you look at him, laughing a little. You knew he was nervous, telling kiri to hand the baby over to lo'ak. He holds her carefully, - "she is…very small" says lo'ak. You laugh, you were watching your baby holding your new baby. You wanted to die of tenderness. Lo'ak touched the baby's nose, and then her tiny feet. His baby sister was so tiny and adorable. -"She looks just like when lo'ak was a baby, doesn't she," said Jake, moving closer to lo'ak to take a closer look at his daughter. "Yes… they look just like each other," says Neytiri. Jake takes the baby in his arms, to put her on his chest. He was afraid… very afraid to leave.

Leaving this clan was dangerous, very dangerous. And now he felt much more afraid… they had a new member in the family. And one who was very weak, you had to hide and not expose yourselves in this way. He knows what had happened, but you could all come to an agreement. Jake had to talk to you and Neytiri about it. They had a safe home, their children had already adapted and they had a newborn. They had to stay. That same afternoon, without wasting any time, Jake decided to talk to Neytiri and set the record straight. He made her understand that the best thing to do was to stay in the clan. Neytiri did not take this well, she wanted to leave. But she also understood Jake's point, things could get worse. Neytiri apologized to Ronal, and the woman apologized to her. Tonowari and Jake argued and left everything in a good state. After all, nothing had happened between the families, just that misunderstanding. Although neytiri prefers ronal to stay away from her family.

After three months, life seemed to be calmer. Things seemed to be back to normal. There were no arguments and everything was harmonious. You were on the beach, with lo'ak. You were still healing, but you were feeling better. Meanwhile lo'ak was holding his baby sister on his chest in a kangaroo that you and neytiri had made. The baby had grown a little, but still looked human-sized. You had talked to Norm, who told you that in a couple of days he would see the baby. Everything about her was impressive. -"Mom…I think she's heavier," says lo'ak, stroking his baby sister's head. "mmm I think a little…but that much" you were looking for some snails to make something nice for the baby. - "mom look at that over there" lo'ak points to the sand, watching you reach for it. Without noticing ronal's presence.

The woman had approached you, silently. She felt like she owed you an apology. After talking to jake and neytiri. And even with Tonowari…she owes you an apology. It was very wrong of her to say those things about you and your children. She had not taken the task of knowing you, and she only judged you. – “Hello,” she says slowly, seeing how you look at her with surprise. It had been a long time since she last approached you. –“Hello” you speak embarrassed. Lo'ak holds her sister tightly against her chest, protecting her from her. If something happened, he was ready to defend her. –“I come here to apologize…I know that how I have expressed myself towards you, it is not the best way. I hope you forgive me” she says ronal, she still sounded a little smug. But you decide to accept her apology, you wanted to keep the atmosphere as it was at the moment. –“don't worry…everything is fine” you say. You felt so uncomfortable right now.

“Well…take this” Ronal hands you some kind of drink. She looks at you with concern and then you look at her. –“don't worry…it's nothing bad. It will help you heal faster, the recently given birth women of the clan use it” Ronal laughs a little. You accept her gift, and thank her. Ronal says goodbye and continues on his way. Out of nowhere you feel someone take the drink from your hand. “Mom, don't take that…it could be poison,” Lo'ak says, pouting. Caused you to laugh a little. You take a moment to look at the little people in front of you. They were amazing and you had created them. “I love you so much” you touch Lo'ak's face, he laughs a little at you. And he looks at his little sister again. You knew that your children's lives were not going to be easy, but they would always count on your help.

p.s omg, why do I have so much trouble finishing this series, ahh I feel like something is missing!!! ahhhhhh cries in a corner

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