#I love my depressed middle-aged men
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I have yet to break my now four year streak of the mountain goats being my top artist of the year. Yes I AM getting emails from Spotify begging me to go to therapy.
#I love my depressed middle-aged men#what’s new#although chappel roan was my three top songs#because there was a period during the summer where I just listened to her on repeat non stop#cause how could u not#I’m pretty sure this is like the fourth year in a row that sondhiem has also been in my top artists#he’s number two this year#and a cast album for one of his musicals is number five#so technically its sondhiem TWICE#with the mountain goats first#and Adriane Lenker and chapel roan sandwiched in between
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Henry before and after everything happened to him :((( my guy really got it rough huh
#henry im sorry but youre hot when you're depressed#and im a LESBIAN so that is really sayin something#I always draw his 'happy' self warm and his depressed jaded self cool#idk#i gotta draw him more often cuz i wub him :(#fnaf#fnaf meme#five nights at freddy's#my art#henry emily#alcohol tw#i love sad middle aged men#full disclosure i totally headcanon that he drank alcohol before Everything(tm) but this was so fuckin funny dude
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obsessed with how everyone is immediately in love with cloud
#hes so edgy lmao teenage me wouldve loved this guy#as it is my tastes are more clive aligned now i just Cannot with edgy teens#here for existentially depressed middle aged men tho#somebody shut me up
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༆THE LAST WOMAN ON EARTH ☢︎︎- ➪enhypen ot7 x fem reader
SYNOPSIS: Moving to South Korea at just 20 years old to study medicine was something that made you extremely proud. You had so many plans for the future, but it seems that fate doesn't want the same for you. Overnight, a virus that affects only women spreads throughout the world, causing all the women in the world to die in a matter of weeks. You were the only one left standing, the problem? Nobody knew, only you. As time passed, you managed to survive this post-apocalyptic world, where you had to hide from men because if someone knew that a woman still existed, everything would go to hell for you. You didn't expect seven strangers to break into your house in the middle of the night and you didn't expect what was going to happen next either.
Word count: 4360
Pairing: enhypen! x fem!reader
Genre: Suspense, death, dystopian, post-apocalyptic world, angst, too much drama, slow burn, smut as the chapters go by (mdni), fluff, Possessiveness, jealousy, fights, toxicity, lots of love (I know, it sounds contradictory) enhypen are complete losers for the reader in the best way, strangers to lovers and other things that may happen later
Warnings!⚠️: Death, loss of loved ones, use of weapons, depression and anxiety problems, mentions of suicide, survival, vulgar and sometimes offensive language, graphic descriptions of traumatic events. If you are sensitive, don't read it for your own good. Rader is a little mean to the boys in this chap, but she's just defending herself! everyone is of legal age!! Heeseung is 26, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon are 25, Sunoo is 23, Jungwon is 22 and Ni-ki is 21.
Status: ongoing (16-01-2025 -)
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction, everything came out of my head, the personality of the characters are not real and do not represent them in real life in any way, any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. Everyone is of legal age in this universe. English is not my first language so you will probably find spelling mistakes.
Hii beautiful people!! I'm finally back with the second chap of this story! It took me longer than the first one, sorry for the delay! hope you enjoy it a lot! You would help me a lot by liking, reblogging and commenting! Without further ado, thank you very much and enjoy!
CHAPTER I: "Disaster"
CHAPTER II: "Loneliness"
more under the cut ☟︎︎︎
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... that sound definitely wasn't the rain....
Your senses were sharpened to the maximum again, your hand gripping your weapon tightly and securing it close to your body. Your heart and breathing seemed to be in a race to see which one was faster, but you could be sure that your heart was the winner, as you could literally feel it pounding in your ears. Your throat suddenly felt tight and dry, nerves and anxiety on edge, you tried to swallow to moisten it, but your attempts were futile. You could feel tears stinging your eyes from the desperation you felt.
"Holy shit..." your voice was barely a whisper as you tried to process what was happening. You tried to calm yourself and sharpen your hearing so you knew how many men you were up against. Your room suddenly seemed suffocating and tiny, you felt the bubbling of a panic attack in your chest, you felt like you were going to die, your mind kept telling you that your minutes were numbered. You started to shake as one shudder after another went through your body like lightning, it was desperate and terrifying. You quietly climbed down from your bed and approached the door of your room on tiptoe. You wanted to listen better, because despite your fear, dying was not an option, not after surviving for so long. Breathing shakily, you leaned your ear against the door of your room, trying to catch a sound. Fuck, you had no idea what to do, fear made your legs shake slightly.
Meanwhile, on the second floor, the intruders were breathing heavily and panting, a sign that they had been running. Their clothes were soaked from the heavy storm outside, so the floor was filled with small puddles of water and some mud "Fuck, that was close..." one of them said, trying to catch his breath, putting a hand on his chest, feeling the strong beating of his heart as he leaned against the front door, holding it shut.
How stupid you were. In the midst of crying for your mother, you'd forgotten the most important thing: securing the fucking front door of your house.
"It was all Jake and Ni-ki's fault, we almost got caught by the police!" another voice shouted, pointing at the named ones who looked at him with a mixture of indignation and disbelief, while the first boy who had spoken looked at him with wide eyes, signaling him to shut up.
"Excuse me? no no, no way, it's not our fault, no one forced you to come with us Jay..." another of the voices said with a distinctive accent, his words tinged with contempt "And try not to scream, the police might still be around.." Jay frowned and approached this one with indignant steps "Don't be an idiot Jake, we can't let you go off alone in the middle of the night, you know crime has risen too much in the last few years, there's a reason the government declared a curfew after midnight, fuck..." his voice sounded frustrated as he looked at him seriously. "'You're a grown man, you should have a little more conscience, you both could have been killed..." he said this time with more seriousness and concern, scolding him firmly in a whisper. The weight of his words hung in the air.
Definitely none of them wanted to die, let alone go to jail, Jay was right, they couldn't just leave in the middle of the night and put themselves in danger and worry the rest of the group. It was a miracle they had found this house, a few more minutes and the police would have caught them.
"Well, sorry, it was my idea Jay Hyung..." another deeper voice said as he scratched his neck a little embarrassed and looked at the elder "Anyway, we're all fine," he said this time with a little cheeky but guilty smile trying to break the tense moment.
A sigh was heard, followed by another clear voice. "It's okay Ni-ki, make sure you don't do it again please..." he asked firmly but at the same time calmly as he looked at the one named and also at Jake who nodded silently, feeling a little guilty, he had quite a bit of leadership in his voice. Ni-ki nodded, "Okay, Jungwon Hyung..." Ni-ki's deep voice hung in the cold air of the house as Jungwon sighed again.
The house was silent for a few seconds as the boys looked around and surveyed the place, ignoring the fact that they were freezing to death from the water that had fallen on them in the middle of winter. And it had occurred to Ni-ki that it would be fun to leave (escape) from where they lived at three in the morning, Jake saw him trying to leave and joined him on the pretext that he "couldn't let him go alone because it was too dangerous", which brought them all here.
Ni-ki was the youngest of the group, which of course made him the most rebellious, and someone like that always needed an accomplice, which was Jake most of the time, which led to both of them getting into trouble quite often.
"It's a nice house...strange that it's abandoned..." another voice, different from the others, a little softer, broke the silence, praising the architecture of the place, your place. And it was true, it was a huge house, with a modern vintage style. Another of the boys nodded in agreement as he shook his head a little, trying to get the water out of his hair, "Yeah, Sunoo's right...it's pretty nice for being abandoned..." The words hung heavy in the air as the boys looked at each other, seemingly searching for answers, there seemed to be an immediate understanding between them as the named one nodded and the seven began to explore the living room, their steps cautious in the new suspicion that someone already lived in the house. Even though it seemed empty, they had to make sure they were out of danger.
On the second floor, you had managed to identify seven voices from your room, where you were still trying to calm down. So they were being chased by the police for breaking the curfew, tsk...men. Your breathing was still fast, but as you listened to their conversations, you managed to calm down a bit, knowing that because of their actions, it wouldn't be very difficult to deal with them.......
or so you thought
You could hear them walking around your living room and decided that you needed to listen more closely, their voices were a little muffled by the distance. You were about to open your bedroom door slightly, but what sounded like something falling to the floor startled you slightly as your free hand instinctively grabbed the doorknob, as if holding on to it would somehow protect you from them.
"Shit..." cursed the voice of one of the guys whose name you hadn't heard yet, furrowing his brow slightly "Pfff...what an idiot, Heeseung Hyung..." Ni-ki said, letting out a laugh as he sneered at the older one, watching as he crashed into a nearby shelf, causing a ceramic jug to fall and shatter into several pieces on the floor.
Heeseung turned his head to look at Ni-ki with narrowed eyes, "Aish...hey, what a brat...i can't see..." mild annoyance ran through his dramatic voice as he defended himself and pointed at Ni-ki who was still laughing. The other five boys chuckled a little at the amusing situation between the oldest and the youngest of the group. They got along so well, you could hear a certain camaraderie in their voices, as if they had known each other forever "I mean, ....Ni-ki isn't wrong..." the other boy, whose name you didn't know yet, remarked with a slight sideways smile that showed his fangs a little longer than usual, a cute, not-so-usual attraction.
Heeseung looked at him without any amusement on his face, judging him with his eyes. They had this habit of teasing him, not that he really minded, but he was tired, hungry and soaking wet, not in a good mood "Really, Sunghoon, you too?" he shook his head in disapproval as Sunghoon shrugged his shoulders without saying anything else and let out a small chuckle. He was really stressed out too and fuck, the current situation had affected him a lot, he hadn't had pussy in over four fucking years and he fucked so often that he was really going crazy.
Not that he was a pervert (or maybe yes), but he excused himself by saying that "fucking relieved his stress and made him perform better in his daily life"
But he had never experienced falling in love, only one-night stands, just like the other guys. The hope that he could have pussy faded deeper and deeper in the back of his mind, and he resigned himself to settling for his own hand. But he refused to accept that idea, he still had some hope. He didn't just want to fuck, he wanted a woman he could love and who would love him, he wanted to be a good love and he also had a dream of being a father, something that obviously seemed unattainable for Heeseung, in fact it seemed unattainable for the seven men.
They really wanted to fall in love...
In fact, they were all stressed about the lack of pussy.... Even Jungwon and Ni-ki, who were still virgins and had never been able to bury their sad cocks in real pussy, were sexually frustrated. But for Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon and Sunoo, the feeling of being trapped inside a pussy was like nothing else in the world and now they could only remember and even imagine because fuck, four years without sex, it was like being a virgin all over again.
But come on, their hearts needed to be stimulated as much as their cocks.
Jungwon cautiously approached the now non-existent jar on the ground, bowing slightly and examining it, "If someone was here, they would have heard us by now..." he mused with a calm expression. He straightened as he turned to look at the other boys, they were like his family, he had known them for many years and loved them like his brothers.
The only thing that illuminated the living room at the moment was the light from the occasional thunder light that came through the window like a horror movie. It was a huge place, enough for everyone to be comfortable "I think we can either spend the night here or keep the place, after all, the one we had was getting too small for the seven of us..." he looked at them, waiting for a sign of denial, but they all seemed to agree.
It wasn't a bad idea, after all. They were in the middle of the forest, far away from the city, where there was more crime by the way, and the place seemed quite cozy. Besides, if Jungwon said so, it was because it had to be. He always made sure that everyone felt comfortable, even though they often fought like siblings, which was sometimes funny, Jungwon always prioritized everyone's well-being.
"Well, we should look for the bathroom, clothes and blankets, I'm freezing...we could take a bath..." Sunoo spoke for the second time, articulating each of his words with his hands. The boys nodded. A hot shower sounded great after running through the forest in the rain, so much that their legs felt tired.
"Good idea, we should split up, go through the rest of the house and look for the things we need..." fuck no, if they went through the rest of the house they would definitely find you and that couldn't happen, they couldn't find you, so you had no choice but to find them before it was too late.
Sunghoon's voice was full of determination as he explained his idea to the others, who immediately agreed. But before they could take action, you beat them to it for your own good.
"I wouldn't do that if i were you..." Your voice finally echoed through the living room with newfound certainty, causing a sudden hush to fall over the place. Your gun was pressed against the large back of one of the seven boys, who was now undeniably tense, you could tell by the way the muscles in his back were contracting under his clothes. He was tall, blond, and seemed to have well-defined biceps.....
"No, idiot, this is not the time to think about biceps, concentrate" You mentally scolded yourself.
Instinctively, he raised both hands to let you know that he was not going to attack you. His hands were shaking slightly and he was completely stiff as he felt the cold metal of your gun against his back, which, in addition to your distinctly feminine voice, sent shivers down his spine.
From your vantage point, you could see the faces of the other six boys, pale and still as if they had seen a ghost. And no wonder, they must be more confused and shocked than ever. The torrential rain that pounded against the windows and roof was the only thing that filled the deadly silence. It was the first time you had seen people in years, your heart was beating fast in your chest and you couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement...
or perhaps a mixture of both.
After what seemed like an eternity, one of them tried to move forward, his hair was a deep red, but quickly there was an instant click in your head as you pulled the safety off your gun, making him flinch in place, your survival instinct was at its peak "Take another fucking step and I'll blow your friend's head off..." your voice was cold as was the expression on your face, your breathing rapid, matching that of the guys in front of you who seemed more nervous than you.
Your eyes were still slightly red from crying earlier, and even though you were scared shitless inside, you didn't want to let it show, you didn't want them to notice your weakness. This time you leaned your gun against the back of the blond boy's neck, indicating that you meant business.
Fuck, they couldn't let something go unnoticed, something they thought didn't exist anymore and that they would never see again in their lives, suddenly the reality they lived in took a 180 degree turn when you appeared, you were a woman, fuck, you clearly were, and you stood in front of them and threatened to blow Sunghoon's head off with one shot. It all seemed like a lie, the last four years of their lives began to have an unbearable weight on their backs when they saw you. They began to think they were hallucinating and had to blink several times to process the information. Even so, their throats felt dry and their eyes couldn't take their eyes off you. Sunghoon began to feel impatient, yes, he was scared, but he also wanted to see you, so he gathered all his courage to speak
"M-Miss...we don't want to hurt you..." you idiot, he mentally cursed himself for stuttering slightly and scrunched up his face in an expression that clearly said 'I screwed up', he who never hesitated in front of any woman had just done it with you, which left his ego a little bruised, but he didn't care.
You clenched your jaw as you heard him speak, pressing the gun harder against his head, making him tense up even more, if that was possible, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...really, we don't mean any har-..."
Pathetic, he begged pathetically, but a mixture of fear and emotion controlled him at that moment, he couldn't control it.
"Shut up...you talk too much for someone who is being targeted..." your voice was cutting and harsh, making it clear that there was no room for discussion in your words, making Sunghoon shut up immediately as he nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly.
You had to find a way to control the situation, no matter what. You grabbed the boy's soaked shirt from behind and pushed him down, "Get on your knees..." you ordered firmly and he obeyed immediately, kneeling on the ground, you don't have many options when you have a gun pointed at you, making it so that everyone could see you better now. You didn't mean to be so rude, but you couldn't trust them, not yet, "You too, idiots, what are you waiting for?"
Yes, maybe you were too harsh, but you had to guarantee your survival first and foremost.
With the seven men now kneeling on the floor in front of you, you sighed and thought about what to do next. You weren't going to kill them, you weren't that kind of person, even if it gave them a free hand to hurt you, you just weren't that kind of person. But letting them go wasn't an option either, what were you going to do, stay with them? you didn't know them, the most you knew was their names and from the way they looked, they were all around your age.
"Are you really a woman?" the voice of one of them broke through your cloud of thoughts. Oh God, you didn't think they were that stupid, he really just asked you that?
You raised your eyes to look at the boy who had spoken, your brow was clearly furrowed, he had some blue strands in his black hair "Jay, shut up for God's sake," Heeseung spoke softly, clearly scolding him, really, he couldn't believe his friend had asked that. But he didn't blame him, he was just as or even more stunned than Jay by your presence, which made him move slightly in his place, not wanting to alert you, he really couldn't believe his eyes either, actually none of them could.
While you thought intently without saying a word, your gun still rested on Sunghoon's head. You bit your lower lip, trying to think of a quick solution, but damn, this was clearly going to take a long time. A sigh left your lips, you were sleepy, your body was aching and your head was going a mile a second, which made your mental situation difficult as well as putting your thoughts in order. In addition, you couldn't see much because there was no light and everyone's eyes were on you, which inevitably made you a little nervous.
Meanwhile, the boys' minds were no better off than yours, still trying to process that you actually exist and are not a figment of their imagination.
Hell, they even wanted, no, they had to be in Sunghoon's place. Just knowing that you were a woman got them going, but what about your assertive dominance? The way you had brought Sunghoon, who was probably one of the strongest in the group, to his knees with a simple command from your lips was fucking attractive.
The tension in the air was thick, not only because they were threatened at gunpoint, but also because there was an undeniable sexual attraction and tension between you and them. It was impossible to control, something instantaneous that left them with their breath caught in their throats and their cocks already half hardened in their pants, including Sunghoon himself. They didn't want to look like dogs in heat or perverts, they didn't want to scare you and make you think badly of them, but it was something that was simply out of their hands.
The cold they had felt from being soaked earlier vanished at a ridiculous speed and was replaced by warmth. Their faces were slightly flushed and now that they knew you were real, they couldn't help but imagine a lot of situations in their twisted minds, but damn, besides being hard, you were beautiful, a temptation at a glance that made them clench their thighs as their erections went wild.
Sunghoon, who was closest to you, was the most affected, he could even smell your scent, so soft and delicate, the scent of a woman. He stopped himself from inhaling your precious scent with all his might, forgetting that the tip of a gun was pressed against his head.
Jungwon cleared his throat, trying to find his voice in your presence, which was quite strong, "Miss, please..don't hurt us... we can just go and..." a dry laugh came out of your throat as you looked at him with narrowed eyes, cutting off his words, "Sure, I'll let you go so you can shout that you found a woman all over Seoul..." Your words were clearly sarcastic, rejecting his suggestion outright, making Jungwon quickly shake his head in an attempt to contradict you, but your gaze was enough to make him stop trying.
"Then you'll have to let us stay here..." the rational sense of Heeseung had left his head when he dared to say those words with a tone of boldness and obviousness as he looked at you with slightly half-closed eyelids, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
It infuriated you, how could he be so arrogant when you could literally kill him at any moment? You looked at him as you let go of Sunghoon and approached him with quickened steps. You grabbed his jaw with one of your hands and roughly lifted his face to look into his eyes while resting your gun on his forehead. Your eyes betrayed your anger, but he seemed too relaxed for his own good, "You better shut the fuck up, because if you don't..." the asshole didn't let you finish as he blatantly interrupted you, "If I don't, what?..." he dared you, not only with his voice, but also with his eyes.
How fucking dare he?
"You're not going to kill us..." he said, his fucking grin getting bigger and bigger, "if you wanted to, we'd all be dead by now from the moment you walked into this room, precious..."
Oh fuck, he couldn't be that fucking arrogant, but he was right, you wouldn't kill them and you hated that he could read you so easily without even knowing you.
You clenched your jaw, wanting to break his ridiculously attractive face, because that was one little detail you hadn't been able to overlook, they were all fucking attractive, but you couldn't afford to think about that when your top priority had to be keeping yourself safe.
You clenched his jaw with your hand, your fingers digging lightly into his skin, causing a small sigh to leave his lips, "You're right, i may not want to kill you...but I'll blow your fucking balls off if you keep spitting shit..." this time he didn't dare interrupt you, instead he seemed to be lost in limbo. His gaze was fixed on your lips as you spoke each word with furious determination....
Fuck, you had fire in you
The formula was simple: danger equals adrenaline, adrenaline equals thrill, and thrill equals arousal. There was no other way to explain why they enjoyed danger so much.
The others were waiting for the scene to unfold in front of them.
So you weren't going to kill them. A relief settled in their chests when they realized that you weren't a bad person, you were just defensive, which was completely normal when seven intruders enter your house in the middle of the night. Jungwon had quickly understood and realized that Heeseung had been the first to notice, that's why he dared to talk to you like that. Now the group was less tense, they trusted their oldest member, they knew that Heeseung wouldn't risk doing something he wasn't completely sure about.
"All right, no need for anyone to get hurt, miss..." Jungwon interrupted what seemed to be a dueling stare between Heeseung and you, his words a little more confident now that Heeseung had taken it upon himself to break through the layer of harsher tension, but still he was being cautious.
Your eyes didn't leave Heeseung's and you didn't take the gun away from his head either, but his words echoed in your head and honestly, you didn't have much of a choice. Curiosity bubbled in your chest, you wondered what to do, you had been alone too long, you remembered nights when you couldn't sleep because you were so scared. Maybe letting them stay was your best option, you knew you were the last woman on earth, you were sure that if you asked them to do something, they would do it without hesitation and maybe they could protect you. Bring you out of your state of loneliness, which seemed to grow with time.
The boys' knees were starting to hurt from kneeling for so long, but the tense situation in the living room was too tense for any of them to try to make a move. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen, including you.
A sigh escaped your lips when you realized that you would have no choice but to let them stay here, but if that was going to happen, it would be under your own rules. You didn't want to be alone anymore, which didn't mean that you were going to blindly trust them overnight, because trust was a luxury you could pay dearly for if you decided to put all your cards on the table.
You let go of Heeseung's face and slowly lowered your gun, your gaze, still quite hard, shifting from him to the other guys as you took your time to study their expressions.
"Alright..I'll let you all stay..." you finally declared and your words were an immediate comfort to the seven men in front of you, but before any of them could say anything you continued "But..." you fell silent for a few seconds, letting the anticipation fill the air "if any of you do anything stupid, i swear...
i will kill you..."
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CHAPTER III: "Trust Issues"
taglist 🫶🏻: @strxwbloody @ch4c0nnenh4 @aussie-boys-wife @deobitifull @engeneheree @suhwife @elairah @merwdusa @d-dilemma @liafterhours @btxtenha @wonenonly @cara9065 @otterluver05 @imnotsaika @immelissaaa
#enha x reader#enhypen fic#enhypen au#enhypen ot7#enhypen x femreader#heeseung#jay#jake#sunghoon#sunoo#jungwon#ni ki#survival#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#niki x reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enha#enhypen fanfiction#smut#fluff#angst#enhypen smut#switch!enhypen#switch!reader
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No special reason but I felt like drawing Sam Manson. I woke up with this mental image in my head and wanted to draw it. I wanted to try to capture the vibe of sitting at the back of the bleachers and trying to tune out another mandatory pep rally while writing or drawing in your journal. Trying to capture the look of the 2000s emo kid crowd. As I inch closer to 30 I find myself increasingly nostalgic for the comforting familiar aesthetics of being an edgy introverted art kid in the noughties. I gave her a more realistic body, making her slightly chubby and frumpy looking like most teenagers who are still growing and filling out and learning how to dress themselves.
Looking back on Danny Phantom as an adult, I can't help feeling frustrated by Sam's character's missed potential. I remember loving her as a kid because she was one of the few characters I could see some aspect of myself in. That being said, she was written by very out-of-touch middle-aged men who clearly didn't understand the things the subculture Sam represented actually cared about.
If I were to rewrite Danny Phantom I'd call her a vegan because that's an actual real label that means something. I'd probably call her an anarchist. I'd have her say insightful things about the politics she claims to care about instead of making all her dialogue shallow and performative. Even if sometimes her politics were still naive or half-formed because she's young. I'd make her a queer ally instead of threatening to blackmail her male friends with a picture of them cuddling. I'd make her home life a struggle. Either make her family more toxic or just give her a struggling working-class family or maybe both. Most goth/emo kids I knew growing up had good reason to be depressed, disaffected, and rebellious. We were going through shit. Genuine real problems the adults around us didn't care about.
It would be really nice to see Sam written by someone who actually knows what it's like to be an edgy goth teen girl from her generation.
#sam manson#danny phantom#redesign#contemplative#kind of meditating on my own high school nostalgia and what these aesthetics meant to me at that time
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✨Saving What Was Lost Part 3: You Trust Me?✨
Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader
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Series Masterlist
A/N: I’m so excited to bring you the next chapter! This has been one of my favorite series to write, and I have so much more in store for these two! Joel is so so soft for reader 🥹 Happy reading! I love nothing more than to read your comments on what you thought, so please consider leaving me comments and reblogs 💕
Chapter Summary: You’ve got so many reasons not to trust another man again in your life, but Joel seems to give you ten for why you should trust him. One of them being calming a panic attack in the middle of a parking lot.
Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI
Word Count: 9.7k
Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, mentions of an acoustic guitar, panic attacks at the store
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
The long days seem to dwindle by with your heart still lodged deep in your throat. It doesn’t seem to matter that the calming rain patters on your foggy window, doesn’t matter that fall used to be your favorite season. You feel hollow, torn apart piece by piece with every second that brushes past your icy skin.
You feel broken. You are broken. And you’re not sure anything will ever fix that.
Every day you find something new that’s too hard to manage to get your body to do. Brushing your teeth, getting yourself dressed, making yourself eat when all you can stomach is the empty feeling inside you. You’re just so tired of fighting, so very exhausted of trying to just get by. But your body screams at you to fight.
Fight for yourself. Win. Get out of bed, eat, make an effort to survive. So, you do. You try because that’s all you hear ringing in the back of your mind. You have to keep going. Don’t let Angela or any of the ones that dragged you down keep you from thriving.
Live.
Today is like all the other days you fight to not let your depression win. Except today marks two weeks that you’ve been here. Two weeks that you’ve survived. And as much as you feel like giving up every second of every day, you always seem to find one tiny reason to get out of bed. Joel seems to be that reason.
Joel… and his warm cups of coffee. The kind that he douses in creamer and sugar and caramel just for you. Because that’s how you like it. And it never fails. Every single morning your cup is there just waiting for you, including Joel’s warm smile and soft brown eyes…
That’s your reason for getting out of bed. Joel.
You discovered that Joel reported you as found to the police department a few days ago. You should feel relieved that he did that, but it didn’t matter. There was no one looking for you, so it didn’t make a damn bit of a difference. No one was coming to get you… Nobody even tried reaching out which makes you feel that much worse.
You battle with yourself, wrestling your way to slide on a pair of black leggings, along with a long cashmere sweater that falls clear down your thighs. You fight to comb the knots from your hair, clenching your teeth with every painful drag of the brush.
Fight. Win. Don’t let them control you.
Flexing your trembling hands, you squeeze a generous amount of spearmint toothpaste onto your purple toothbrush and jam it into your mouth, scraping it back and forth until you don’t taste the bitter aftertaste of almost two years in captivity.
Your fingers tremble beneath you with every slide of the toothbrush, every clinking noise against your teeth making you gag at the memories of you being left alone with disgusting men in a tiny bathroom against your will. It’s too much, this is too much. So you rinse your mouth and scamper out of the bathroom, closing the door until you can’t feel the goosebumps rising on your skin anymore.
You’re safe. They’re not here. You’re free. But you don’t feel free because those painful memories are alive in your mind, painting vivid pictures that make you instantly want to vomit and recoil into bed. But you don’t let the monsters take you back down into the darkness. You flee to sunlight and hope. You make your way to something that makes you feel lighter, where you can breathe easier, to something that gives you hope.
And that something is Joel.
You smell the fresh coffee brew in the air, inhaling the rich scent as if you can already taste it. When you turn the corner you see Joel’s broad back to you, busy with the coffee machine and the daily newspaper, his large hand brushing past the blur of small-print words.
Instead of stopping to say good morning to him, you decide to venture down the hall. You haven’t been brave enough to really take in the house and explore, but now? Maybe you could try.
The sunlight shines through the open glass windows, making the photographs and hanging art glitter like specks of gold surrounding the black frames. Your eyes skim the family photographs, taking in Joel’s big smile in each of them. One is of him and Tommy, arms clasped around each other’s backs with a little girl standing in front of them, who you suppose is Sarah. Her dark curls spiral to her shoulders while she wraps an arm around her dad.
They look so happy, like a normal family who has never been broken. You wish yours looked like that. But again, it never was. You were always surrounded by screaming parents, right on the brink of a divorce while you’d stay tucked in your room with your hands covering your ears, praying for the noise to just stop.
But it stopped alright. It stopped the moment they crashed their car on top of a mountain and left you to fend for yourself at your uncle’s house. An uncle that never loved you. An uncle that abandoned Washington the moment you moved out at just eighteen-years-old. And then he did too…
You keep moving, holding your composure and tears in. Even though you feel like collapsing right in this spot, right under Joel’s family picture. A family that was still together to this day while yours was nonexistent.
You wish you still had a family, but you never really did in the first place. Did you? No. Mom was always too busy with looking perfect, constantly obsessing with lessening her wrinkles and getting plastic surgery. And dad? Well, he was always too busy working at the law firm and hooking up with his assistant behind mom’s back. You were always left to fend for yourself, so now isn’t any different than it’s ever been.
You’re alone. You’ve always been alone, always just survived. Ever since you were little, that’s all you’ve known — how to be independent and just make it. So what’s different now? Now you just have to swim through the trauma and hope you don’t drown in the process. Because this right now is too much to handle, even for you.
It’s too fucking much.
Choking down the held back tears, you make your way down the long hallway, your body moving on autopilot just to escape the visions that blur into muted noise. The pristine white walls clash against the polished floors, painting you a picture of hope. Something you’ve never really had before.
Keep fighting. Live. Make a change. Break the cycle.
Holding on to new hope, you keep going until you turn the corner and find a large, open room that makes you audibly gasp. All memories of broken families and internal fears are suddenly forgotten, pushed aside to take in this glorious sight.
Holy shit.
Towering mahogany bookshelves sit stacked against the white walls, the cascading windows letting in enough sunlight to reflect off the broken-in spines of each book. Two plush ivory oversized chairs sit in the corner of the room, one opposite the other. An electric fireplace sits idle against one of the bookshelves, draped in vines from the tropical plant that splays atop the bookshelf nearest the fireplace.
This room is… magical. Exactly what you needed. An escape from reality. An escape from your mind.
You trace lines against the smooth covers of the various books, feeling the cracked spines and intricate cursive letters on some of the older books. There’s genres of everything you could ever imagine. Starting from ancient history and going all the way to popular fictional books that you’d see on New York’s best seller’s lists. This room has everything.
You could get lost in here.
Forgetting where you are, your hand snaps back when you hear a deep chuckle behind you. “Thought I heard you come down this mornin’. See you found one of my favorite rooms.”
When you turn around, you see him smiling over at you, the glow of the sun making his brown eyes sparkle an almond brown honey color. If you’re being honest with yourself, it makes you feel a little lighter because his eyes are so warm.
He’s warm.
“These are all yours?” you ask with a gasp as your finger continues to trail against the golden spine of an old history book.
“All mine. Well, a lot of ‘em I got for Sarah. You see, she’s a bit of a bookworm, and she might’ve got me into the classics. So, now I’m jus’ as bad as her,” he laughs as he leans against the bright wall, his smile light and easy like the relaxed state he’s in now.
“This place, it’s incredible,” you breathe out, continuing to skim over the spotless shelves, your fingertips clashing with leather and the feel of worn pages. It smells like freedom and escape, someplace where you could stay buried for days.
He runs his fingers through his slicked back curls, bicep flexing against his dark blue flannel, an easy smile hanging on his lips. This might be the most relaxed you’ve seen him since you came here. He looks almost… happy the way he’s looking at you all light and carefree, like he’s enjoying the view. Like he’s happy that you’ve found something else you lost.
“You like it?” he asks, his eyes caramel pools that you could almost sink into.
“I love it,” you reply enthusiastically, your voice almost unrecognizable.
A warm smile spreads on his mouth, making his brown eyes sparkle that much more in the dewy sunlight. “Then it’s yours, sweetheart. Borrow anything you want, read what you want.”
“Really?” you ask with a raised brow, sliding a book back into its place on the second shelf.
“Really,” he nods with a smile.
“Joel, thank you. This is… this is perfect.”
“Jus’ glad I found someone I can share my books with again.”
You stay just like that for the next minute — Joel on the other end of the room, looking back at you with the warmest smile you’ve ever seen. It makes your heart flutter, makes you want to smile back, but you just give him a tight-lipped smile and look back at the cream rug covering the floor, suddenly too shaky to say anything else.
Your eyes snap to something hidden in the corner of the room, a ray of sunlight hitting at just the right angle to make out something you missed entirely when you walked in. You guess you were too enamored by the books to notice the acoustic guitar sitting neatly on a stand right by the sheer curtain hanging over the window.
“Is this yours?” you ask, pointing to the acoustic guitar.
“Oh. Yeah, s’mine.” His eyes fall to the dark wood, the body glossy and sleek as it shines against the draped curtain. A splash of sunlight makes it shimmer for just a moment, until rain clouds cover the sun and cast the guitar back in shadows.
“You play guitar?” you question curiously as he takes a long, slow stride across the room.
“I used to. A long time ago.”
You watch him make his way over to the guitar. It’s like he’s tiptoeing across glass, careful in his steps to not trip and cut his tanned skin up. That’s how it seems when he hesitantly reaches out to glide his fingertips down the tight strings, skimming his thumb meticulously against the smooth surface of the polished neck as if he’s memorizing every single particle of the instrument. Like he’s reliving something he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world to see.
He’s quiet as he analyzes the guitar, almost like he’s reliving memories that only he can see. Were they good or bad ones? Judging by his wary stance and slow movements, you wonder if maybe they’re fragile memories.
“Used to?” you ask quietly, careful not to disturb whatever storm’s blowing through his mind.
“‘S’right. Haven’t played in quite some time,” he answers defeatedly as his thumb tracks along the outline of a carved moth. He lingers there for a moment, pinching his eyebrows together as if he’s trying to fight off whatever images are haunting his mind.
He looks… sad. Looks as if that guitar holds years of painful memories.
“Why’d you stop?” you push, afraid you’ve just struck a nerve by the way his back muscles tense and his jaw clenches up.
His hand wraps around the neck of the guitar, veins bulging in his neck as his eyes grow a shade darker. In the flit of sunshine that creeps through the window, you see a glimmer that looks a lot like a held back tear in the center of his right eye. That in itself sends a shot of pain through your chest.
He clears his throat and takes a step back, just enough to where he can only graze the edge of the guitar. His dark brown eyes are in a faraway place when he replies hesitantly. “It jus’—it… I guess it’s got a few memories attached to it that makes it hard to play now.”
When he drops his hand to his side and looks up at you, you see a man who’s hurting deep inside. You can see it in his weathered stare, in the dark circles beneath his sad brown eyes, in the way his bottom lip twitches each time his gaze falls on that acoustic guitar.
There’s something he lost, too. You just don’t know what.
Before the room gets too stifling and stuffy, he shakes off his frown and nods toward the hallway. “C’mon, I’ve got your coffee waitin’ on the counter for you. Don’t want it to get cold now.”
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
He gives you a tight-lipped smile and exits the room, leaving you all alone once again. You find yourself looking back at the guitar, your eyes feeling heavy as you stare at the little moth ingrained into the smooth wood. There’s just something about it that makes your stomach drop.
This guitar was special to him, maybe it still is. You just wonder what can make a big, strong man like him crumble. You don’t want to see him turn to dust like you; you’ve got enough pain for the both of you. He doesn’t deserve pain. He’s too… good. And while he doesn’t technically wear his heart on his sleeve, you can see he keeps the pain hidden behind a mask.
Maybe one day he’ll show you his scars, too.
When you make your way back to the kitchen, your warm cup of coffee is sitting right there on the quartz island, the steam billowing out as if he just poured it. As you slip into your chair, you notice his shoulders are more relaxed and the weathered stare he had back in that room is nearly gone. Whether he put on a mask or tucked his feelings deep inside his pockets to where you can’t see, you still notice the dark lines that edge beneath his brown eyes.
Something hurt him, and it still haunts him to this day.
Slowly taking a sip of the sugary drink, your eyes snap up to him when you hear the deep timbre of his voice. “Used up the rest of the caramel this mornin’.”
You swallow the coffee down your throat and shift forward on the barstool. “Already?”
He chuckles and nods his head your way. “Apparently someone who’s got a sweet tooth used it all. Can’t imagine who that was.” He winks at you, and you can feel the bright blush stain your cheeks the wider his smile gets.
Clearing your throat, you push a lock of hair behind your ear and try to stop the red tint from spreading any further. “Looks like you found the culprit.”
“Looks like it,” he smiles, his lips tugging at his tanned skin, making a deep dimple press into the middle of his cheek. You can’t help yourself, so you give him a shy smile back in return. It seems to make his brown eyes sparkle that much brighter as he stares at you.
You take a few more sips of the caramel drink, enjoying every single drop like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Joel sets down his glass cup and bites his bottom lip, chewing nervously as he glances over at you. “I need to go pick up some things at the grocery store today. Shouldn’t take long at all, but I was wonderin’ if you wanted to come along with me?”
You choke on a sip of coffee and struggle to find your words. You haven’t been out in the real world in a very long time. You don’t even know how to even interact, nonetheless see strangers passing by you.
Tapping your nails nervously against the glass cup, you fight to get the words out. “Oh. You… want me to go to the store with you?”
“Only if you want. Figured you’d wanna pick some things out.”
“Umm. Okay. Sure. I can go with you,” you breathe out nervously, pushing all your fears down as you swallow back the answer you really wanted to say.
“Alright. Well, how’s ‘bout you finish up breakfast, and we can go after you get ready?” His thumb brushes over the curve of his coffee cup, and your eyes track his movements as he slowly brings the edge to his lips.
And then you’re swallowing back fears again and dropping your eyes to the floor, awaiting the panic that’ll surely flood your system when you get to the store.
You can do this. Fight the fear.
Biting the bullet, you look up and give him a slight nod. “Okay, after breakfast.”
Joel grins and turns back to the refrigerator, away from your now wide eyes. You’re suddenly regretting your choice, but you have to go through with it. You have to be brave. For yourself.
You can do this.
Light rain patters on the passenger window, sending water droplets splashing along the side mirror. It’s only sprinkling, but the thunder in the near distance makes it seem like it might pour down at any second.
The engine hums as the wheels roll on the pavement, green trees blurring as Joel drives along the long, straight road. An old country song seeps through the speakers as Joel’s thumb taps along to the catchy tune. It’s oddly peaceful, driving with him in his truck. It almost makes you forget the nerves crawling up your spine.
“Does it always rain this much in Texas? I thought it was supposed to be like a desert here,” you ask, your eyes tracking the sea of trees outside your window.
“Usually is. Hell, we’re usually in a drought. But for some reason, we’ve been gettin’ a record amount this year. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he says as he continues driving through the mist.
“That’s strange.” You trace the condensation on the window and draw little lines, hoping you’ll forget you’re about to go out in public.
“You must’ve brought some rain from Washington.” He smiles over at you and continues tapping his thumb along to the rhythm of the upbeat song.
“Guess I did,” you laugh under your breath as you finish off your window art of a blooming flower.
The music goes silent as Joel turns down the radio with the pad of his index finger. When you turn to look at him with questions in your eyes, he clears his throat and looks warily over at you. “Do you… do you miss it?”
“Miss what?” you whisper, letting your fingers pull against the edge of your warm sweater.
“Washington,” he responds back, eyes flicking between you and the road ahead.
You take a moment to envision the forest green trees, the frigid air by the edge of the sea, the cliffsides you used to hang over to stare into the deep blue ocean. And that’s when you feel a sharp pain jab inside your chest. “Sometimes… I miss the waterfalls, the salty breeze of the ocean, the beautiful nature. I’ve never seen a state as gorgeous as Washington. And how green it is? Yeah, I guess I do miss it…”
The front of the truck grows quiet as Joel takes in your answer. His palm rakes against his dark beard slowly, brushing across his mouth like he’s thinking really hard about your answer. And just when you think he’ll drop the conversation, he says something that leaves you speechless.
“I’ll take you back.”
Your eyes blow wide as you repeat the sentence in your head. I’ll take you back. Why would he do that…
“What?” you ask, jaw dropped like you just got slapped in the face.
He gives you a small smile and looks over at you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “When you’re ready, that is. And only if you want to go back. I could help you get your feet back on the ground, find you a nice place where you’ll be comfortable. If that’s what you want.”
You stare at him dumbstruck, your words lodged deep in your throat with every second that ticks by. He’ll take you back. But why would he do that for you? Why would he do what no one else would? Why does he care what happens to you…
“Joel, that’s—that’s too much. I can’t ask you to do that,” you protest, shaking your head like what he just said is impossible.
He shakes his head, making a sandy lock of hair fall against the side of his forehead. “It’s not too much, and I’d do it in a heartbeat. S’no trouble,” he says adamantly, like he won’t hear anything else about it. It’s settled for him.
“Thank you…” you whisper out, your voice barely audible above the hum of the engine.
He arches an eyebrow and looks over at you, tugging his lips into an easy smile. “Ya know, gonna have to get you your own car, too.”
“Joel,” you warn through clenched teeth. He is not getting you a car. Absolutely no way.
“What?” he shrugs. “You can’t get around without a car.”
You shake your head unbelievably and open your mouth wide. “I can’t pay for a car.”
“‘M not askin’ you to. I’ve got money.”
And again, you can’t believe how insistent and easy-going he’s taking this. “Joel. I can’t ask you for a car. Absolutely not. And besides, I’m not ready to drive yet.”
He flashes you a smile and gives you a nod of encouragement. “S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get there in time. And when you do, you’ll have a car.”
You lick your bottom lip, frustrated slightly that he’s being so kind to you. No one has ever been this nice in your entire life. Not even your parents… Why is he treating you like you’re important? You’ve never been important. So why does he act like you’re the only thing that currently matters?
“There’s no stopping you, is there?” you give up, your back flush to the warm seat as you stare into deep brown eyes that belong to the kindest man you’ve ever met.
He thinks you’re important.
“Not a chance,” he chuckles, his airy laugh floating through the cabin of the truck, striking another nerve in your heart.
He’s so kind, more than that. He genuinely wants you to thrive, to live. That takes a little weight off your heavy chest.
It’s quiet for a moment, only the light wind and patter of raindrops taking up the space. But then he shifts uncomfortably and flicks his wandering eyes back over at you. There’s a deep crease between his thick eyebrows, and that look has you back on the edge of your seat. “Can I ask you somethin’?” he asks delicately.
You swallow back nerves and nod your head in response. “Umm, okay. Sure.”
“What, umm. What happened to your parents, if you don’t mind me askin’?”
The question makes you tilt a little off your axis, throws you off just enough to where your right hand is discreetly clenched so tight around the side of the seat that you swear it turns pale white. You weren’t prepared for that question. You’re never prepared. But, you might as well just spill it. What else do you have to lose?
“They—they died when I was fifteen… Crashed their car on the side of a mountain, and they ended up rolling off the edge. On the very same day they were driving to get a divorce…”
His eyes blow wide for a second and in the next he’s dragging a heavy hand over his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart. ‘M so sorry. That’s… traumatic.”
You can’t help but to puff out a pathetic laugh from that. Your life has been nothing but traumatic; you just learn to live through it.
You silently nod and continue on. “After I found out, the judge decided I’d go live with my uncle. An uncle who barely talked to me. He didn’t even want me there, but I had no other options. So, I left as soon as I turned eighteen and moved into a dorm when I went to college.”
“Is he still…”
“He moved out of Washington as soon as I left. Last I heard, he died from a heart attack. So I’ve just kinda been on my own since I was eighteen. But really, I’ve been alone for much longer than that.”
The inside of the truck goes completely silent, except the quiet hum of the purring engine. You don’t exactly like talking about your family drama and your awful past, but it’s easier when you already feel dead inside. Maybe if you talk enough Joel will decide to drop you off on the side of the street and leave you with a good luck wave.
He wouldn’t do that, though. That’s just your unhinged mind spiraling like your entire life is.
“That’s… fuck. No one should ever be put through that. What you did, what you had to do. M’so sorry.”
You shrug it off and act like you’re just fine, but really you just don’t want to cry. You don’t want to show him how weak and pathetic you truly are. You used to be stronger than this…
Holding in a sob, you play it off like it’s nothing. “It’s alright. I mean, I’ve been through a lot worse since then. I guess I’m good at being alone…”
It gets quiet again, only light breathing and shifting uncomfortably in your seat, trying to hide the pain that’s serenading through your body. Joel’s eyes keep flicking over to you, a pained expression masking his tanned face. He’s clenching his jaw, running his fingers through his dark locks, fisting the steering wheel until his knuckles are white.
His head turns to you when he’s stopped at a red light, and his eyes turn a lighter honey color, and those soft eyes nearly shatter you in your seat. “You don’t have to be. Alone. You don’t have to be alone anymore...”
You swallow back the tears building in your eyes while your mouth drops open in awe. Before you even get the chance to say anything, he’s stepping on the gas and looking back into the fog of the rainy day.
You don’t have to be alone anymore.
The rest of the ride is silent as you contemplate his words and their meaning. You don’t have to be alone. He means you don’t have to be alone because he’s here now. He won’t let you be alone. Joel is the one person who isn't giving up on you.
He’s so patient, so generous, so good. He’s too good for you but here he is, wading through the rough waters to make sure your head’s above the waves. He won’t let you drown. Not today, maybe not ever…
After a few more minutes, the truck is abruptly stopping, and Joel is cutting the engine. Your head lurches up, and you stare vacantly at the semi-busy parking lot.
The parking lot…
It looks just like the one you got taken from… Rows of parked cars sit along the damp cement, empty carts are scattered ahead in the little blue cart holder, people rush to and from the store back to their cars. And then you see a man exit his white Sedan with a black baseball cap backwards on his head. The sight has you flinching, your nails digging into the leather of the seat when he turns his head and looks directly at you. It’s only for a second, but you feel those black pits searing into your skull just like that day they took you…
“Well, here we are. A little more crowded than I thought it’d be for a Wednesday afternoon. We can jus’—.”Joel’s hand clasps the side of the driver’s door as he steps out, looking back at you with worried brown eyes. “Hey, you okay?”
It’s like your voice is lurched deep in your throat as water consumes your entire vocal cords. You can’t swallow, can’t speak, can barely even blink as you watch the shady man cross the road, taking one look back at you until he disappears behind the clear sliding doors of the store. And it still feels like he’s watching you, planning his next move to where he can get you alone.
You remember that day all over again, just like it was yesterday. And now, all you can think of to do is panic.
“N… no. I—.” You can’t even finish your sentence, only able to throw your seatbelt off and claw at the door handle, feeling like you’re suffocating on thick air that nearly strangles you to death.
You need to flee, run until your lungs collapse, but you have nowhere to go.
Tears well in your eyes as you fight to push out the images of the day you were taken, but they only push back harder, igniting your memories into fresh ones. You’re hyperventilating, holding your chest so tightly that you feel your heart skyrocket as you shake in your seat while your feet are planted on the wet cement of the parking lot.
Joel hurries around the side of the truck and throws your door open, trying his best to calm you down. “Hey, hey. It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe for me.”
“Joel… I…”
“Breathe,” he coaxes in a soothing bravado voice. He kneels down in front of you to where he’s looking right up at you, and he’s got those soft brown eyes — the ones that always seem to calm you down. And when you have enough courage to lift your eyes, there they are. Warm, brown, soft, soothing. He’s soothing.
“That’s it. Take a nice deep breath for me. Jus’ like that. Attagirl,” he praises, keeping his honey-colored eyes right on you.
“I—I was…” you start but like always, you can’t finish.
You’re pathetic.
“S’alright, sweetheart. M’right here. Jus’ breathe for me. And when you’re ready, tell me what’s wrong.” His hand brushes past your feet, close enough to touch your exposed ankle, but he never does. Because he knows better. He knows it’ll just set off a string of catastrophic events that’ll only lead you into a deeper black hole than you already are.
But yet, you can’t help but want it. Because you feel how warm he is. Just like that night he carried you to the bathroom. You remember how warm and comforting you felt with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, remember his woodsy cologne drowning out your fight or flight panic, remember how gentle he was with you…
You slowly lift your eyes up and push away the screaming voices in your mind. They seem to come to a jarring halt when you meet those soft brown eyes and a face you swear has an angelic glow about it. His fingers flex against the floorboard, just enough to where you can feel the warmth from his tanned skin, and just that motion causes your heart to still for just a beat.
Warm. He’s so warm.
After a few more seconds of steady breaths and his heavy gaze honing in on you, you get enough courage to shakily let your words out. “I was—I was taken in a parking lot just like this. In the middle of the day. And I—I guess I wasn’t quite ready to see another one.”
He falls silent, and his face drops like he’s just seen a ghost. His eyes glaze over as a heavy hand rakes down his clipped beard, slowly dragging it over his lips as he takes in your words. “Oh. Christ, m’so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t even think ‘bout that before I brought you here. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
Shaking your head back and forth, you swallow and grimace. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t—I didn’t think I’d freak out. But then the memories hit me and I—I… it’s my fault. It’s all my—.”
He leans into the side of the truck, careful not to touch you, but still close enough to where you can almost taste his woodsy breath. “Shh. Don’t for a second think of apologizin’, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. Not one fuckin’ bit of it.”
He looks at you so intensely, so cautiously that you can clearly see the amber flecks that swirl under the cloudy skies, his jaw flexing back and forth as he searches for more to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything. You feel what he’s feeling. Regret, rage, sorrow. He wishes it never happened to you.
You take a shaky breath and glance up behind him, right as an older couple with two kids clinging to their arms passes peacefully by. A car door slams shut across the way, and it makes you jump in place, remembering that very moment you were corralled into a black van as the door slammed shut behind you, warning you that you were trapped.
As you cringe in your seat and feel your knuckles go white, you whisper, “I’m scared, Joel. I can’t—I can’t...”
“Hey. Can you look up at me?” he asks gently, slightly brushing the pad of his thumb against the side of your shoe. When you look up with watery eyes, he gives you an encouraging nod. “There ya go.”
Your body is trembling with every swift movement and every screeching halt of tires in the parking lot. You start to drift back into a panic, but Joel sees right through you and pulls you right back out with his chocolate brown eyes.
“Keep your eyes on me. Right on me. That’s it. Such a brave girl,” he coos; his voice sounding like a melodic tune that vanishes all your dark thoughts from wrapping their tangled vines completely around your stirred mind.
As you continue to stare at those beautiful caramel eyes, you get lost in the sound of his Southern drawl. “I want you to focus on one thing. It can be anything. A scent, a color, whatever brings you comfort. And I want you to focus on that one thing until your mind starts to quiet down.”
You look around the truck, searching the fresh leather, letting your eyes wander to a nearby green tree, focusing on some drifting stormy clouds that cover the sun. But none of that makes you feel good or even remotely calm, so you let your eyes wander to the rugged, Southern gentleman who’s kneeling right in front of you, begging with those soft brown eyes for you to get even just a semblance of a second of peace.
Warm. He’s so warm.
You get lost in his cinnamon, woodsy scent, fade into his coffee-colored eyes and feel like you’re crashing right into him. You can’t seem to stop staring, almost like you’re under a lovesick spell, but really it’s just your body telling you he is what brings you comfort. Joel Miller, the man who saved you from your impending doom.
So, that’s what you focus on. Him and his warm brown eyes.
“Okay,” you finally whisper out, never dropping your eyes from his.
He looks at you a second and tilts his head, making sure he heard you right. “You got it?”
“Mhm,” you hum back.
A faint smile appears on his mouth and then his hand is skimming the brim of the floor, close enough for you to feel the electricity from his touch zapping your leggings. But still, he doesn’t dare touch you. He’d never do it without your permission. You know this now.
“Now, close your eyes and picture that one thing that’s gonna drown out everything else,” he says through the light rain pattering on the tips of his broad shoulders, right onto his soft blue flannel.
“Joel…” you reply back leery.
“You trust me?” he asks with knit together eyebrows.
You chew your bottom lip for a second before you answer, throwing the question back and forth between your brain. “I—yes.”
He gives you a smile and nods. “Close ‘em for me then. Jus’ for a second.” You do exactly as he says.
When your eyes are fully shut, his Southern drawl floats through your ears. “Focus on my voice, sweetheart. Focus on how still it is; make your heart that same rhythm. Slow it down, jus’ like my words.”
You focus on every breath he breathes, every sound of the shift of his shoulders, every whisk of the wind sweeping through his tousled curls. For this moment, every single other restless sound outside the truck is silent. For the first time, all you hear is him.
You center your mind on him and him alone. And when that whiff of cedar trees and mahogany swirl all around you, you relax and breathe him in like he’s the last thing you’ll ever smell.
“Now, open your eyes,” he says after you lose track of time.
You slowly lift your eyelids and look out beneath your lashes as those bright brown eyes send you into a cloud of serenity. And in that moment, you really do feel like you’re home.
“There ya go, nice and slow. Feel that? Things are a bit quieter now,” he says gently, giving you a soft smile that makes you choke back tears.
Nodding, you reply, “Yeah, it actually is quieter.”
It’s quiet for a beat as you sit there, your palms on your thighs, fingers digging into your leggings, but his presence right in front of you is oddly calming. Just like taking a deep breath of Washington air in the mountains. You swear you almost smell those pine trees like you’re there, but it’s Joel you smell.
“You feel a little better?” he asks, scratching his fingers down his greying scruff, brown eyes flicking up at you like you’re the most important thing in the room.
“Yes,” you nod, still trying to wrap your mind around how quickly Joel was able to calm you down.
“See? Knew you could do it.” His smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and it makes you give him a shy smile in return.
When’s the last time someone was able to get you to smile? You can’t even remember.
“I did it because you helped me,” you confirm, wanting to make sure he knows he was the reason you had the courage to break through your panic attack.
“That’s right, sweetheart. I helped you, but you were the one that broke the panic attack. You’re so very brave, and I hope you know that.”
You’re so brave. He called you brave.
The way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat. All soft and gentle and warm. You’ve never been around a man like Joel. Never once knew how good a man could be. But Joel, he’s like an angel sent from Heaven’s gates just for you. Or so it seems.
You swore to never trust a man again, but you can trust him.
“Now, you think you can make it in the store?” He tilts his head in the direction of the sliding doors, just as a young couple walks in with an empty grocery basket.
Gulping some courage down, you nod. “I—I think so.”
“Attagirl. Now, c’mon.” He holds the door open for you and calls your name softly, giving you that jolt you need to exit the truck. “It’s alright. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya. Not while I’m here.”
“You promise?” you ask when your feet hit the concrete, your voice shaky like you don’t quite believe him, but you do.
“Promise,” he nods, his crow’s feet pulling at the corners of his bright eyes. It’s enough to get your legs moving.
“Okay,” you whisper.
You follow closely on his heels, your fingertips grazing the bottom of his flannel, close enough to grab on if you need to. Your heart is galloping a thousand miles an hour with every step you take, but his woodsy scent is just enough to quiet down the yelling in your head.
When you get to the edge of the sliding doors, you freeze when they open to a busy grocery store. The loud noises of rustling bags and screeching wheels of carts is enough to make you want to run the opposite way.
Joel must sense your worry because he brushes his arm next to yours and looks down at you with knitted eyebrows. “S’alright. I’m gonna be right by your side every step of the way. You can do this.”
You can do this.
Looking up into his syrupy brown eyes gives you that little bit of strength to get you moving again. And when he grabs a shopping cart and beckons you to follow him, you do.
“Thanks for believing in me, Joel,” you say graciously.
“Always.”
You keep right by his side, the fluorescent lights feeling like spotlights shining down on you. It’s like every single person shifts their eyes toward you, faces distorted and smiling like they’re laughing at your fear. The music that filters out of the speakers makes your ears ring. Children run rampant around a restless mother, a tall man with a backwards baseball cap reaches across a barrel full of pineapples, and it’s as if he’s reaching for your wrist.
Without thinking, you grab on to the end of Joel’s flannel and tug it toward you, digging your fingers into the soft cotton as if it’s a safety blanket. The smell of fresh firewood and green grass envelops your senses and for the moment, everything becomes a little more still.
“You keep tuggin’ on my flannel and you’re gonna pull it right off,” Joel chuckles, giving you a small smile as he looks back at you.
“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, dropping your fingers as if you just upset him.
“Don’t gotta apologize. You jus’ hang on if that’s what you need right now.”
You slowly reach back up and flex your fingers around the blue material, peeking up hesitantly beneath your lashes.
“Your flannel, it smells like the forest. Reminds me of the mountains in Washington. It umm… it calms me down.”
“Well then, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Those pools of honey liquid melt you on the spot; his warm smile takes the edge of fear off your chest for just that moment. And when that whiff of autumn from his white t-shirt floats through the air, it’s like he saved you all over again.
He drops his hands from the shopping cart and starts unbuttoning his flannel, carefully shrugging it off his broad shoulders as you stare blankly up at him. And then, he’s holding out the faded blue material to you.
“No, I can’t. I’m fine. I—.” You take a step back and press a palm his way.
“Here, put it on,” he insists, stretching his arm until you have no option but to take it.
“Are you sure?” you squeak out, unsure of yourself.
“Mhm. Want you to feel safe. And if this makes you feel a little calmer, want you to wear it.”
Hesitating, you carefully pluck it from his reach and end up sliding your hand against the back of his, feeling a tingle of a spark from his worn, calloused skin.
“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper above the monotone music playing over the store speakers.
“Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.” He nods his head toward the produce section and smiles. “C’mon.”
You stay right beside him, almost flush to his hip with every wavering stride you take, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. No, he just keeps his brown eyes flickering over to you every minute that ticks by, encouraging you with that kind smile of his, telling you with the curve of his lips that you’re doing so well. You can almost hear that Southern drawl sliding off his tongue.
I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Doin’ so good. Look at you, bein’ the bravest girl I know.
Even though he’s not verbally saying those things at this second, you can tell he’s thinking it with the way his doe eyes soften every time they look your way. You can tell by how warm and kind his essence is, how his smile seems to send a flicker of sunshine your way even behind a thick wall of grey clouds.
He’s just… safe. You feel so safe around him, and that’s something you’ve never felt in your entire life. You’ve never been safe. But with him, you just might be.
The clicking of heels and the stare of curious eyes makes you physically cringe and tense your shoulders, thinking one of them will snatch you away yet again. You keep your mind busy by counting the threads of Joel’s blue flannel, training your eyes on his slicked back tan curls, meticulously staring at every single strand that’s wrapped in a silver glow. It seems to help, gives the impression that maybe you can do this. And you are.
At times when he strays too far, you reach for him unintentionally. It’s like your hand is magnetized to the feel of his cotton shirt, your fingers curling into the thick material. And again, he doesn’t seem to mind, only smiles and goes on with gathering groceries.
He doesn’t forget the caramel, doesn’t forget to grab a few bottles of vanilla creamer and extra sugar. In fact, those were the things he went for first.
He doesn’t forget things. Doesn’t forget what you wanted. And that in itself proves something. What, you’re not sure. But it proves he cares, that you do know.
You follow him to the produce section and watch him shift his focus on picking the best meat, promising to get the best steak for dinner. You haven’t had steak in years, and you don’t doubt for one second that Joel can cook a mean one.
Averting your eyes from his pensive stare and flexed jaw, your gaze wanders over to the cereal aisle, and you suddenly have the biggest craving for a box of Cocoa Pebbles.
Saliva gathers in your mouth as you think of how sugary and good and delightful a mouthful of chocolatey goodness would taste right now. Without thinking, you pull on the end of his shirt, stretching the material mindlessly as your brain transfixes on the mountain of sugar just a few feet away. It’d be so easy to go grab a box, but your feet won’t move, your words won’t form because you’re terrified to be alone for even a second in a grocery store of all places.
With one more slight tug on the edge of his t-shirt, he turns with a soft expression and questions, “What is it, sweetheart?” No anger or hint of annoyance in his Southern drawl, just pure warmth.
Your voice stays silent, your immense stare fixed on that aisle of sugar and thousands of calories you’d happily inhale. You’re sure your frail body would thank you, even if it was just junk. Joel’s eyes trace over yours, following to where yours end, and then a small chuckle leaves his lips. “You wanna go grab some?”
“Yeah.”
“Go on then. Why don’t you go pick some out?” He nods to the empty aisle, encouraging you on. But you stand there like your feet are cemented to the shiny floor, and you have no intention of moving.
Fear pulses through your blood, and anxiety is trickling down your spine. Joel takes a step forward and drawls in a low but soothing voice, “S’okay. I’ll be right here watchin’. You can do it, sweetheart.”
You look up and see warm pools of honey staring down at you and a smile that makes your knees feel weak. He’s so fucking soft with you.
Nodding, you take a step forward and then another, dragging your feet toward the aisle of boxes of sugary goodness. The further you get away from him, the more anxious you get.
What if someone takes you, gets too close to your liking, grabs your arm and drags you away? Looking back toward Joel, he gives you a small nod, telling you it’s okay. You’re okay.
Turning back to your task at hand, you start scanning the shelves, your appetite suddenly stimulated as you scavenge for what you’re looking for. Saliva is coating the back of your tongue, your stomach rumbling. There’s too many choices, too many kinds you want.
When you finally spot a box of Cocoa Pebbles, you see two more kinds you want. Lucky Charms and Cinnamon Toast Crunch sit right next to each other, calling your name for you to take them. Gritting your teeth together, you make a choice. You want all three, so you dip into your impulses and grab them all up. Hopefully Joel doesn’t mind.
A middle-aged man passes you in the row, and your muscles tighten around you, making you squish the boxes together in your arms. You focus on deep breaths, telling yourself he’s not going to hurt you. Not every man is out to get you, but it certainly feels like that now. Maybe one day you’ll be able to break the cycle of thinking that.
Quickly passing the stranger, you prance up to Joel, all three cereal boxes shoved together in your arms, just like you’re a kid in a candy store. You hear him chuckling before you lift your eyes up to him, and then he lets out a belly-aching laugh.
“Look at you with three boxes. You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t ya?”
You feel your cheeks grow warm as you set the boxes down in the cart. Nervous laughter filters out of your mouth. “I couldn’t quite decide what I wanted. I can put some back if…”
“No. I’m jus’ teasin’, sweetheart. You get as many kinds as you want. Ain’t got a limit with me.” His wide grin and crow’s feet makes a small smile tug at the corner of your lips.
“Thanks,” you say shyly. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had any cereal, or really any kind of sugar. So, this is different. I’m not used to any of this.”
Understanding hits his brown eyes and his jaw clenches as something tosses through his mind. “Well, we’re jus’ gonna have to change that, ain’t we?”
Pursing your lips, you nod. “Call me a work in progress.”
He gives you a soft smile and wraps a large hand around the cart. “You’re doin’ jus’ fine, sweetheart. Makin’ plenty of progress jus’ by steppin’ foot in this store today. Proud of you.”
He’s proud of you.
“I wouldn’t have even made it into the store if it wasn’t for you…”
He takes a long look at you and just stands there for a few seconds, searching for the right words to say. “It was all you, sweetheart. You jus’ needed a little push in the right direction and someone to be there for you.”
“Thank you for being there when I needed someone, Joel…” you whisper, your eyes a little misty with emotions running rampant through your body.
It looks like he wants to reach out, but he just grips the handle of the shopping cart tighter and tips his head. “‘Course, sweetheart. Whenever you need me.”
Whenever you need me. The words get stuck on repeat in your brain as you follow him through the rest of the grocery store. You think you’d follow him anywhere.
When you’re all checked out and the bagged groceries are sitting inside the cart, you realize Joel’s flannel is still wrapped around you. You don’t want to take it off necessarily. It smells like him, and it’s so warm and cozy and basically drenched in forest air. But, it’s not yours. You slowly start to shed the warm layer, but he stops you before you can get it past your elbows.
“Keep it, sweetheart.” He presses a palm out, pausing you in your tracks.
“Don’t you want it back?” you ask with knitted brows.
“Nah, you go ahead and keep it,” he answers. Before you can walk out the door, he turns and smiles warmly at you. “Besides, it looks better on you.” And then he continues on, like he didn’t just give you a compliment.
It looks better on you.
You hug the blue flannel back against your body, breathing in the very essence of him that seems to calm every single nerve in your body.
He gave you his flannel.
Once the groceries are all packed away in the back of the truck and both you and Joel are buckled up, he turns to you before driving out of the parking lot. “So, you wanna go get ice cream?”
“Ice cream?”
“Mhm. Ice cream,” he confirms.
“Whatever for?” you giggle.
“Don’t you like ice cream?” he inquires, flicking his brown eyes over your way.
“Well, yes. But…”
“I think brave girls deserve ice cream. Don’t you?”
You study him, looking for any sign of lies in the crow’s feet that pull tightly around the edges of his chocolate brown eyes, but you find none. He isn’t messing with you or your mind; he’s being completely sincere when he uses the word brave. “You think I’m a brave girl?”
“The bravest.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling like golden orbs under the grey skies, and it just confirms how warm he is.
You gawk at him, your lips parting as you just stare and stare at him. He thinks you’re brave, and he wants to take you for ice cream? Who even is this man?
“What?” He catches you staring and probably wonders why you’re just marveling over him. He must not realize you’re completely mesmerized by every single thing he does.
No one’s ever treated you so human. Like you’re important and matter. Joel sees you. He really sees you. Your layers and all. Just like transparent glass.
“You just surprise me, that's all,” you answer hesitantly, eyes still focused on his tanned skin and wrinkles that line like maps across his face. Something you could trace easily. “You’re not exactly what I expected, I guess.”
“And what’d you expect?” He quirks an eyebrow up as the engine hums under your seat, his eyes making their way back to your face.
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d be so… kind.”
He curls his lips into a sideways smile while he taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel, eyes still focused directly on you. “I try my best, sweetheart.”
“You don’t even have to. You just are. Just like that first night I saw you sitting there across the room. Your eyes seemed so… kind.”
Everything seems to quiet down for a moment, only the sound of your heart, the slow motion of the tires hitting the wet pavement, the thick tension coursing through the air, and Joel’s clear brown eyes that are smothering your insides. They speak louder than tidal waves, those deep brown irises. And right now, they’re making your heart clench in your chest.
He clears his throat and then the tension dissipates. “So, how ‘bout that ice cream?” He wraps his large palm around the steering wheel and smiles over, making you mirror one right back to him.
“I’d love some ice cream.”
“Attagirl. Let’s go get you sugared up, then.” As he pulls out of the shopping center and drives down the smooth road, you giggle silently and watch the trickles of raindrops drip down the side of the passenger window.
“Have you ever tried espresso ice cream?” you ask, shifting your weight so you can see the question roll over his brown eyes.
“As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”
“I think you’d like it,” you chirp.
He turns his head and looks at you, pulling his lips into a smirk. “Reckon I would. That what you recommend?”
“Mhm,” you hum. “Since you like coffee so much, might be your new favorite flavor.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Well, looks like that’s what I’m gonna have to get. Let’s see what other recommendations you have for me.”
As you lean against the window, you place the back of your hand over your mouth to cover the blush that's building in your cheeks. Who knew this is where you’d be in the middle of Wednesday afternoon this time of year? In a truck, wearing Joel’s flannel, getting ice cream, being free of your captors… And all you can smell is the fresh woodsy scent of him surrounding you.
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#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller angst#healing fic
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We all need someone.
Pairing: Jackson!Joel x afab!reader
Words count: 3919
Rating: +18, NSFW
Warnings/Tags: flour is safe in this one (LOL), smut, fluff, angst, Joel POV, Joel's thought inserts in italics, no use of y/n, reader is described having hair, breast and vagina, no other detail is given on her appearance, Soft!Joel, Older!Joel, age gap (20 years, but the age of both is not specified so it could be 20/40 as well as 30/50 and so on 😉), swearing, kissing, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (do better than these two irl, please), breeding kink (I don’t even know why this happened but here we are LOL), cream pie, cum eating, mention of Sarah and Tess (they’re both gone, I’m sorry 💔), Joel thinks about his past relationship with Tess, mention of Ellie (of course she's alive and well but doesn't speak to Joel), a lot of mixed feelings, some of them sad and kinda depressing, pet names (honey, baby, kitten), they says I love you for the first time.
This has been sitting incomplete in my folds for quite some time, I finished it these days and I hope you understand something about how deeply I love Joel, nothing ever seems enough to describe how I feel. I will continue to try anyway.
English is not my first language, I have no beta and I hope there are no mistakes but if there are please forgive me.
As always, thanks if you will take the time to read this ❤️
Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️
Joel is old. He can’t deny that no more.
Life wasn’t gentle at all with him and he can see clearly all the signs of it on his face and body.
His mirror reflects the image of someone tired, overwhelmed, just too worn out to feel an inch of youth somewhere in him.
Grey in his hair and beard, pain in his joints, hands calloused and ruined by the cold, back that gives him nightmare, weak knees, wrinkles… his entire self is failing on him.
He doesn’t even understand how he got someone like you.
Beautiful. Sweet. A body that could make world turns and the most amazing face he ever saw.
You don’t see you that way, obviously.
You don’t notice how men in Jackson look at you.
And you don’t even care because you only see him.
He can’t believe how lucky he is.
The most angelic creature set her eyes on him, barely a shell of a man.
He drop his gaze from the bathroom mirror sighing and returns to bed.
Near you.
______________________________
The day he met you for the first time he immediately felt the need to keep you safe running wild in his veins.
You were like a deer in front of flashing lights, scared, bewildered, confused.
And he was there, his hands itching with the urge to touch you, warmth radiating in his chest, his cock twitching into his pants.
You looked like a painting despite your dirty clothes and your lack of shower.
But then again, how could you deal with such things in the middle of nowhere, alone and hungry while struggling to survive.
You deserve the prettiest things.
Whatever he could find during patrol he brought it home to you. Wild flowers that he found in the wood, dresses, one time a brooch left in a drawer in an abandoned house, another time a nice scarf to keep you warm.
Nothing could match your inner beauty and your grace but seeing your bright smile is what keeps him alive right now.
“You don’t need to do that, Joel”
Sure he needs to do it, you’re a vision and he’s just an old man.
He vouched for you.
They were skeptical, you could have been a thief or a rat for some larger group.
You refused to talk about your past, which was why everyone was suspicious.
Joel knew.
He saw pain and loss in your eyes despite your stoic demeanor.
The grumpy, loner, unfriendly man that has always struggled to open up to anyone promised to keep an eye on you in front of the whole community.
And that’s why you ended staying in his house.
He got plenty of space anyway so it didn’t bother him, that’s what he said.
You scratched that little wound in him, that little scar that he thought he was keeping under control.
No matter how tough you tried to be, he could see the fear in your eyes, he could read it clearly in your emaciated face, in your frown and the involuntary twitch of your lower lip.
We all need someone.
He failed to admit that he needed you too, at first.
His battered heart had been out of order, had been crushed to pulp for Sarah, had bled for Tess, had died when Ellie stopped speaking to him.
He tried to be distant and coldly polite like he was with everyone else but you were right there, reminding him that beauty still existed in a fucked up world.
And after all, his heart was still working. It had been kicked but it was still pumping blood through his veins.
The day after you entered his house he woke up to noises coming from the kitchen and thought for a moment that the others were not mistaken. He grunted as he got up thinking he would find his supplies raided and you gone. He almost didn’t have the courage to come and check on you but then he heard a loud metallic thud and ran into the kitchen.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you said as soon as he appeared in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m making breakfast… except I dropped a pan. Sorry.”
His gaze shifted to the table where he saw pancakes and hot coffee. “I thought you wanted some bacon, so I washed the pan to prepare it and it slipped out of my hands while I was soaping it up and the handle broke”
He breathed a sigh of relief as you looked at him guilty . “It's okay, I'll find another one and anyway maple syrup is fine”
Your eyes widened as if he had told you he owned a gold nugget.
“Do you have maple syrup?!” you squeaked and he laughed “sure”
You sat down at the table and you doused your pancakes in syrup. “Hey, take it easy, we don’t have supplies for an army.” he couldn't resist teasing you. Your gaze immediately dropped "oh shit, sorry, I should have thought about it but I don't know how long it's been since I last ate it“
He burst into the loudest laugh anyone had made him utter in months. “Don't worry, help yourself“.
_______________________________
You ended up in his bed during a freezing night, snow storm raging outside, the wind howling and banging against the shutters.
You knocked on his door timidly. Just once.
He was awake, wrapped in his sheets, under a duvet, eyes wide as he begged for a way to sleep.
“Who is it?” A stupid question, there were only the two of you in that house.
“It's me…I…I can't sleep” your voice was muffled by the closed door but it ringed in his ears anyway.
He sighed and replied “Come in”
“Sorry,” you said as you entered, “did I… wake you up?”
She came to me just because I’m right here in the same house.
“No, I can't sleep." and seeing your uncertain steps on the parquet floor he gently urged you "come on, sit here" and he patted the empty side of the bed.
She'll sit here for a while and then go back to her room, he lied to himself.
You sat down, wrapped in too-small pajamas that showed too much of your ankles and wrists, the best you could find in the pile of clothes stored in Jackson's warehouse.
The buttons struggled in the front to contain your breasts.
Lying like that, he could see the outline of your tit from a gap between one buttonhole and the other.
“Why can't you sleep? Is it the storm?” He shifted his gaze to the wall in front of him, focusing on a stupid painting of a horse that someone had hung there who knows when.
“Yes, and also…I keep thinking about a nightmare I had last night, I’m afraid to dream about it again”
That night you opened up to him, you told him about how your parents died, how you managed to escape with some friends and how in the end, you were the only one still alive.
You didn't even know how, at some point you had lost hope. You dragged yourself day by day, a walking dead waiting for the end. You thought you would die in less than a week and instead you had survived another two months before he found you.
__________________________
Joel wished he had the strength to send you back to your room, close his eyes and sleep, without getting involved but everything you had said to him continued to echo in his head. You were finally vulnerable, eyes shining with tears that you were holding back. He felt it again, the need to keep you safe.
He wanted to kiss you.
He reached out to touch your hand. “You’re cold”
You shook your head “No, I’m fine”
You were lovely.
I have to stop, he thought.
“Get under the duvet if you want”
“No really, Joel, thanks but there's no need.”
Why do you have such a sweet voice?
“I don’t want you to get sick.” He immediately regretted saying it, did he sound like his grandmother now? It was tragic. And his pathetic attempt to get you into his bed was even worse.
You laughed. Your silvery laughter pierced his chest, leaving him baffled and needy.
“You know we don’t get sick from the cold, right?”
You were amused and you were teasing him.
“I know,” he replied dryly, pouting. Inside, he was a mess. “However, exposing yourself to the cold contributes to lowering your immune defenses and viruses and bacteria can have a party at your expense”
You laughed even more “Okay, okay. God, when you say these things you sound just like-”
Not your father. Please, don’t say that I sound like someone that could be your parent.
Instinctively he covered your mouth with his hand and you jumped as his big paw suddenly landed on your mouth.
“Damn Joel! Your hands are too big to do that all of a sudden,” you said to him with wide, scared eyes and he felt horribly guilty. He hadn’t thought about it, his head wasn’t thinking anything, but surprising you like that could awaken traumas in you, who knows what cruel and desperate people you had met out there.
You held his hand tightly in yours after you pulled him away from your mouth. You needed two hands to hold it. You were so small. Yet you were capable to do it, you were tougher than you thought.
He quickly apologized and tried to pull it away but you were still holding it.
“It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it”
You were blossoming in front of him, a completely different person than the one he saved in the wood, newfound lightness in your eyes, your body finally relaxed as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, the discomfort you showed at the beginning had completely disappeared.
Stop it, she’s too young, she’s 20 years younger than you.
Then you did something he didn't expect. You brought his hand back to your mouth, leaving feather kisses on his calloused fingers.
“These hands make me feel safe, you know? I don’t want that to change. They are the hands that saved me.” you added in a whisper between kisses and there…Joel’s moral code collapsed.
All his good intentions swept away by your lips.
He shouldn't have, but his body was no longer responding to his brain.
He sat on the bed, slowly taking you in his arms.
In your eyes he saw his own need. He no longer cared what others would say, he only felt the unbearable desire to have you that was throbbing in his temples.
You kissed him first. While he was still looking for a way you simply placed your mouth on his and kidnapped him in an instant.
You were so soft against him.
Your lips trembled with uncontrollable desire against his, demanding and needy.
“Joel…” you breathed on his skin “save me. Save me again”
He couldn’t say no, even though he felt overwhelmed and exhausted and he should just find a way to stay away from you so he wouldn’t drag you into a relationship that was wrong.
Maybe it’s not, he thought. If it makes me feel this good and if she wants it so much, maybe it’s right.
Maybe that's why I found her.
When you grazed his lips he just opened it letting you in.
You moved feverishly, clasping your hands behind his neck, your tits rubbing against his chest and your tongue caressing the roof of his mouth and then seeking out his as if it were a matter of life or death.
That night Joel laid down his weapons. He was the one who was defenseless before you.
______________________________
“Hey” you coo in your little bird voice “where were you?”
“I was in the bathroom”
“Mmmmm come here, I'm cold” you wrap your leg around his waist and press yourself against his chest.
Six months have passed since the night he kissed you, what you wanted had become his priority, even if you didn't ask for anything. At least not anything material. Just to have him by your side.
He lies down on the bed on his side and you press your head to his chest “you're always so warm”
Your left leg is wrapped over his thigh, your body blends so well with his, it feels like you've always belonged there.
He could spend every day of his life like this, lying in bed with you in his arms.
You’re making out for what it feels like hours, your kisses going from chaste and tender to demanding and needy, getting sloppier and deeper.
Your hips grind against his, seeking friction, asking for attention.
The lack of oxygen is starting to have the better of Joel, his mind is fuzzy and all he can think about is you whining and panting in his mouth, filling up the quiet room with your labored breath.
Your voice is a litany echoing in his ears, a prayer made of sighs and moans “Joel, please”
“I'm here, sweetie, tell me what you want” he softly urges.
“I want…I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me until I’m boneless . Please” you plead
“Such a hungry little thing” he smiles before leaving a bite where your neck and shoulder joints met.
“I still have to wrap my head around the fact that you want this wrinkled old cock so much” he mumbles
Your voice is deep and husky as you continue to rock frantically on his leg and you slap him on the shoulder protesting “It’s not old. it’s thick and hot and perfect and my pussy needs it.”
He chuckles, surprised that you still have an attitude after all the grinding and making out.
“She wants it that bad, huh?” He whispers and you purr “yeah. She needs all of you, please”
“Oh baby, she’s weeping all over my leg, how can i resist” he smiles as he kisses you again sucking gently on your lower lip and then moving on your neck, licking over your pulse point.
He makes you lie down on the bed, gently crushing you with his body.
As he continues on his path paved with kisses and little bites he growls “Spread your legs for me, honey, let me feel you”
He lowers a hand, your soaked cotton panties sticky and messy under his touch. “Mmm how did she get so wet every single time”
“It’s because of you… she feels so empty right now”
“Damn, you’re so pretty when you’re begging for my old cock”
Your voice almost sounds like a cry, eagerness all over your face, your hands fisting his bed t-shirt so tight your knuckles are pale.
He’s intoxicated with the way you desperately demand to be full of him.
“Fuck me, Joel, fuck me hard”
Nothing exists anymore except your quivering body beneath him as he keeps hovering his fingers over your cunt and tasting your skin.
He doesn't even have the patience to take off your panties, he tears it, a large hole opens up on the front.
You whine loudly, a mixture of surprise and hunger.
He pulls down his boxers and let slide his cock over your clit wetting it, shivering at the sensation of your warm juices coating his shaft.
He usually licks you first, makes sure you have at least a couple of orgasms from his mouth before he enters you but he can’t wait. Not today.
He never really felt in control with you, he let you invade every cell of his body without even thinking about it.
Between him and Tess there was something left unsaid.
She had never asked him to feel what she felt, and he had no intention of bringing up the subject.
Tess was like him, bold because no one had to notice how deeply wounded she was, a woman of few words, she inspired respect and fear in others even more than he did.
They had bonded out of necessity and then discovered they were more similar than they thought.
He loved Tess but couldn't put it into words, he followed her around like a guard dog barking at anyone who threatened her.
It was the only way for him to show how much he cared, he couldn't make a relationship official when he was still trying to heal from losing Sarah.
When you stepped into his life he was even more hurt but he was still someone born to protect and the quiet coexistence with you had unleashed something in him that he couldn't oppose.
Before he could realize it, you were already beating hard in the center of his heart and it was as if the words were elbowing their way out of his chest.
He has to do it now, sink into you before it's too late, before time passes inexorably without leaving him anything to hold in his hands.
He puts the tip in.
Your glassy eyes are locked in his, overflowing with lust.
He slides another inch into you, your muscles clench around his cock and another moan escape your lips.
He has to hold on to all the willpower he has left not to shoot a load inside you right away.
He's slamming into you, trying to keep his mouth in check for once but yours is running wildly, he's never heard you like this.
“Holy fuck it’s so good just- fuck - just split me in two”
“God, baby, that dirty mouth of yours is going to drive me crazy”
“I can’t stop - nnnngh - the way you make me feel - fuck - it’s unreal”
When he reaches your soft spot you’re a bundle of whines “oh God oh fuck it feels so good”
He feels sweat beading on his forehead, his breath short, his strength faltering, it’s like fighting against his own body and it’s a fight he’s not willing to lose.
His lips latch onto your nipple, he tries to breathe deeply through his nose, so maybe you won't hear the rattle that crackles in his throat.
“Fuck. Yes, suck it, Joel. God, your mouth is so damn perfect” He doesn’t have a clue why you’re so wild today but he feels like drunk on you.
And he feels vulnerable, even with your nipple gently trapped between his teeth.
He sinks more, his balls slamming against your ass, so deep into you.
He hasn't shed a tear since he lost Sarah, he thought he had cried them all, but he looks at you like this now, disheveled, raw and longing beneath his body and he feels them stinging at the corners of his eyes for a totally different reason.
Happiness.
He is like snow, hard, cold, inhospitable and you are like the sun that melts him, inviting, comforting, warm.
His love for you is undeniable. Indisputable. It boils in his veins, it cracks his breath and makes his bones weaker. He never felt so much painful need of belonging to someone before in a romantic way.
His old body is aching but at the same time he feels like he has just gained a new sense of being alive in this wrecked world.
You're like a little beast writhing beneath him, clinging to his back, your nails scratching him and your mouth drinking from his skin, his neck, while your pussy sucks him in, taking everything he has.
Your hair is plastered to your forehead, scattered on the pillow beneath you, his hypnotized eyes don't miss a change in expression on your face transfigured by desire.
He has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
His cock pulses inside you, wrapped in your hot, tight, dripping pussy. “God, you’re always so perfect for me,” he sighs. His chest grinds against you, his heartbeat now in his throat.
Your skin is salty, smells like the rose shower gel he brought you last week. He smelled it and your face came alive before his eyes as if you were there. Tommy had to shake him by the shoulder to try to wake him from the trance he had fallen into.
You're always too much for his old, broken heart.
“Come inside me, Joel,” you beg.
“Are you sure?” he murmurs, dazed.
“YES. Please Joel, I want you to fill me up, I want to feel every drop of you, I want—fuck—I want your seed all the way inside my cunt, I want to feel it dripping on my skin”
You've never let him cum inside you before, he's marked your tits, your tummy, your back, once your face by mistake while you were milking him with your hand.
Never your cunt.
Your legs wrapped around his waist push him against you.
“Please, my pussy is yours only, yours only, feed her” your strangled sobs and your begging send him over the edge, he can’t hold back any longer.
Your clouded eyes are locked on his, sending shivers all over his body.
He does what you ask, exploding inside you in long spurts of sperm, painting your walls that tighten around his length as if they wanted to nestle him inside you forever.
His hand moves down to your clit, rubbing it frantically "come baby, come for me" and you cry out your orgasm almost instantly, your hips rolling against his, your breasts bouncing with your ragged breathing.
He pulls out of you and smiles, looking down, long white, slimy streaks sliding lazily out of you. You smile back, bringing a hand between your thighs.
You bring a finger to your mouth, as if you had never tasted it before, you spread it on your lower lip and then lick your finger clean “what does it taste like?” he asks without even thinking.
“Try it” you suggest offering your finger to him “lick”.
Joel sticks out his tongue uncertainly, darting it slightly, he pauses for a moment and then gives a more decisive lick “It’s salty. It tastes like…moss?” “Yes. It’s good” you tell him softly.
Good is not the word he would use but you seem convinced, so he doesn't comment further.
He takes you in his arms as you calm down, you bury your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.
He kisses your hair, then your forehead and thinks that if you didn't exist he would have already given up everything, his entire life.
"Kitten" he drawl and you hum in response “Yes, Joel?”
The words had been jostling in his throat for a week but he'd kept pushing them back.
Having these feelings at his age, with everything he had been through, is terrifying.
Yet he could no longer lie to himself.
You crawled into his soul so easily.
He belongs to you. For all the days he has left. He wants nothing more from life.
“I love you”
It's the first time he's said it to you.
You look up, your doe eyes surprised and sparkling in the morning dawn that faintly enters through the window.
You are speechless for a moment, joy radiating across your face. Your mouth curves into the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.
“I love you too”
Your fingers tickle the nape of his neck and bury themselves in his hair as he kisses you.
“I love you, Joel” you repeat through the dance of your lips “I love you”
#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel tlou#joel miller x afab!reader#pedro pascal#fanfic#pedro pascal characters#breeding k1nk#soft joel miller#joel miller x you#pedro pascal fandom
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Prologue | Denial
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Summary: Being an artist was your life purpose and you figured it out at a very young age. No one was surprised when you quickly made a name of yourself among the art communities around the world. Everything was going according to your life’s plan, until you were diagnosed with a life changing condition - Parkinson's disease. Since that day everything started to slowly collapse for you. Looking for an escaping, moving to a small, forgotten from the world sea coast town was the only solution you could think off. Buying an old beach house, which was screaming for renovation, was the greatest escape - until you met your annoying next door neighbour and his dog. A neighbour who had his own issues and demons to deal with but somewhere between the pain and the obstacles life has thrown to both of you, you found comfort in each other. All because he had the right colour of blue paint for your staircase banister.
Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)
Description: Modern AU | Early 40s retired Captan!Ace and Artist!Reader
WARNINGS: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP, major age gap between Reader and Ace (!sixteen years!), 18+ only, angst, hurt/no comfort, family trauma, emotional distress, !mentions of Parkinson's disease!, mentions of depression, mentions of death/lost of a loved one, slight hints of abusive relationship
Word Count: 3,4K
story masterlist | main masterlist | next chapter ->
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NOTE: It's finally out. Thank you everyone for your patience ♡ I want to warn you all in advance that this story will take a little longer for its chapters to be uploaded as a lot of the topics take a lot of research. This is a story which I believe will turn out very beautiful and sensual but also very emotional, so please keep this and mind and if you don't feel comfortable reading about disabilities and major age gap - I don't recommend reading it ♡ The prologue is just a little introduction to what has happened to Ace and Reader before they cross paths, as I intentionally kept Ace's part shorter than hers (+ his happened 3 and a half years prior to Reader's exhibition). Something super important please keep in mind that - yes, this is a ModernAU, but the time period is early 2000's so the use of social media and ect. aren't a thing in the story. Again pay special attention to the warnings as I don't want anyone to get triggered. Thank you and enjoy ♡ !english is not my first language so if you see any mistakes let me know!
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Nothing but darkness could be seen in the vast sea, until lightings flashes and thunderclaps across the night sky and its horizon. Dark clouds obscure the moon and the stars as hurricane storm has taken the big cargo ship hostage. The massive ship has no other choice but to take the hits of the waves, which are looming over them embodied with all nature’s wrath. Stuck in the middle of the storm, the crew has no other choice but to do everything in their power to get out of it. With each ferocious wave attack the ship is getting more and more damaged. Located on the top deck of the ship, the windows which provide an unobstructed view of the water in all directions of the wheelhouse are trembling as another wave crashes into them. The whole lower deck is covered in sea water as the angry from the storm sea is trying to overpower the ship.
“Captain, what course should we keep?” The helmsman of the ship loudly calls to the tall black-haired man in charge, which is standing next to navigational officer, while trying to get in contact with the nearest port or a marine pilot.
“It’s pointless, Ace. There is no signal at all.” Says the navigational officer. Frowning his dark thin brows the captain curses under his breath.
“Keep the course straight.” The captain tells the helmsman while looking out of the window watching waves taking over the container on the ship. “Okay, men. This isn’t my first storm at sea nor is it yours.” His deep stern voice fills up the space. “Put the fear aside and hold still as this storm doesn’t seem to want to calm down anytime soon.” He turns to his crew as he straightens his posture and taking look at each of his men eyes, which are full of fear. “We all have been prepared for such situations, we all have been through storms, so this will be another one to add to the list, right?” Everyone nods in unison to their captain. He nods back and turns again to face the inky void in front of him. “I will get you all home, I promise.” He whispers to himself.
****
“Okay, so the catering company will be there at three thirty pm, so they can arrange the tables and drinks the way you have instructed me to tell them, and then the first and most important guests are arriving at six pm sharp, as you have promised them a detailed explanation about how you have crated you pieces, and then… (Y/N) are you listening to me?” Your assistant, Nami, a tall young woman in her late twenties, is now looking at you in disbelief. Shaking your head as you have zoomed out for a thousand times today, you give her a questionable look. “(Y/N) you are starting to worry me. You are so easily distracted nowadays.” She scoffs at you. “Please, listen – it is important for you! This is your first biggest exhibition, and you are not even paying attention to me when I talk to you.”
She is right, you aren’t paying any attention to her. Recently this has become like an impossible task for you. The feeling of fatigue has taken over you for some time now and hearing Nami nagging you about your upcoming big night tonight is only adding to your stress.
“I know Nami. I’m sorry, I’m just feeling extremely tired.” You say while looking for a place to sit in the gallery. Your walk and posture are hunched and slowed a bit, something you have noticed recently, but you blame it on all the stress and working hours preparing the exhibition.
Tonight is your big night. You are having your first ever big exhibition in one of the most famous galleries in the country, the Gagosian Gallery. This is your dream coming to life. Six months ago, you received the call that the gallery wants to exhibit your paintings, and for such a young and upcoming artist like yourself, this is once in a million opportunity.
You have been an artis since you can remember. Your mother used to tell you that since you were a baby, you were always mesmerised by colours and the moment you were big enough to hold a paint brush properly you never let it go from that day on. From private art lessons as a child, to art school as a teen and then to one of the most prestige universities for fine arts in your early twenties – you have been an artis your whole life. You can not imagine life without a paint brush in your hands, and you don’t want to.
Nami’s high heels can be heard loudly around the gallery as she is running after you. Your assistant is the short-tempered type, but that is why you hire her in a first place. She is as demanding and as much of a perfectionist as you are. You know that with her next to you, every demand you have for the exhibition will be followed and fulfilled. Siting on one of the sofas in the middle of the gallery, you observe one of Andy Warhol’s famous dollar sign paintings hanged right in front of you.
“Hey, Nami.” You interrupt her and whatever she is talking about. “Can you believe it? My paintings are in the next room, and they are in the same gallery as one of Andy Warhol’s pieces. I feel like a rockstar, right now.” Your chest fills with pride and a big grin spread across your face.
Taking a seat next to you, Nami sighs loudly as her head hangs low. You are quite the demanding boss and sometimes it is a pain in the ass for a person to work for or with you, but you are an artist. A unique one on top of it and very talented. Nami has a previous experience as an artist’s assistant which were nothing compared to you, in both talent and skills. No matter what how hard it is to work with you sometimes, you are still the best boss she has ever had.
“(Y/N), why don’t you get home and come back here around four pm? In the meantime, I will handle everything here.” She pats you on the back and with tired eyes you look at her and nod. You need some rest before your big night, and you are not turning this offer down.
“If there is something important let me know immediately.” And with this you make your way home.
****
Walking into your spacious apartment you sigh once you take off your shoes. Calling out for your fiancé to check if he is home, you get no response back. Going straight to the bathroom you take a nice hot shower before you put some comfortable cloths and drift to sleep.
It isn’t a long nap as you wake up not even two hours later and you look at the clock next to your bedside table. It is just one pm. Lifting your hand to massage your temples you can see and feel it trembling. This has been happening a lot lately, but you blame it on stress. It has been like this for the past year now, every time you are stressed your hands just tremble and that is it.
But recently the tremor in your hands and the stiffness in your body is bothering you. That is why a week ago, you went to check with your doctor. You wanted to make sure that everything with you is okay, especially your hands, but you won’t be getting any results until the beginning of next week.
Getting up from bed you make your way to the kitchen as you feel your stomach ramble. Walking into the specious kitchen you see your fiancé’s back facing you as he is talking on the phone. Sneaking behind him, you wrap your arms around his torsos and kiss the back of his shoulder. He looks at you over it and points you with his eyes to leave him alone as he is on the phone. Continuing with his business call you just let go of him not wanting to irritate him even more. Opening the fridge, you find it empty as always. You never learn how to cook so you and your fiancé – Doflamingo, usually go out and eat somewhere or order take away. Reaching for the portable phone on the kitchen island you dial the Thai place close to you to order some food.
The food arrives after twenty minutes but Doflamingois still on his phone. You decide not to wait for him as soon you need to start getting ready for your big night. Not even finishing the whole box of Thai noddles, you leave it on the side and go to the bathroom ready to glam yourself.
You have just finished doing your hair when Doflamingoenters the bathroom. He comes and hugs you as he wraps his arms around your middle.
“Did you talk on the phone until now?” You are observing him in the mirror.
“It is an important client, baby.” He response as he starts kissing your neck and runs his hands down to your hips.
“I don’t have time for this I should be in the gallery in an hour.” You are quick to push his hands away as you are a starting to get anxious for the upcoming night. Doflamingo just rolls his eyes at you and instead of following you, he just walks back to the living room. Walking out of the bathroom, you enter your bedroom going straight to the big walk-in closet. Taking off your clothes you grab the long silk silver metallic dress hanged in one of the hangers. Putting it on with the matching silver high heels you are ready to go.
Looking for Doflamingoaround your apartment you see him sitting on the sofa with the remote in his hands.
“Doffy, I’m going now. Be on time, please.” You say to him, with a little hope that he will turn around a look at you, make you a compliment or something for all the effort you have put, but no. Doflamingo is Doflamingo– if it isn’t a football game or an important business call, which would grant him at least a few thousand or hundred of thousands dollars, he doesn’t really care to pay much attention. As he says, ‘everything is an investment’ and sometimes you wonder if you are seen as one as well.
“Yea, yea I will be there.” He replies, his eyes not moving from the screen where the last football match he has recorded plays. With a bit of hurt and disappointment you turn around and go to call for a taxi.
****
The night so far is going great. The first meeting with your special guests has gone smoothly and now a lot of your friends, colleagues and fellow artist have come along to observe and admire your exhibition. As you are talking with some fellow artist you spot your big sister – Rebecca, and excuse yourself.
“Becca.” You call out and she turns. Her face lights up when she sees you and with a quick run she comes and hugs you.
“My little sister, you made it.” She squeaks with excitement as you are tightly wrapped in her arms. “Mom and dad would have been so proud of you.” Tears build up in Rebeca’s eyes, while you just swallowed hard.
Your father has died when you were only two years old, so you don’t have a single memory of him. Everything you know about him is from your mother and sister, which is ten years older than you. Her and your mother have been your biggest supporters, but sadly for both of you, you have lost your beloved mom two years ago. It was unexpected and so sudden which caused a big distress and sorrow on you two. Both of you took it very hard, especially Rebecca and because of it you tired to be the stronger one. You have barely cried or talked about it, keeping it all for yourself, but it could have been sense and seen in your paintings from back then.
You wish your mother was here today on your big day, but life has taken her away. Life has taken a lot from you in the past two years, but you shake the thoughts away. Pulling away from Rebecca you smile at her and brush away her tears.
“Thank you, Becca.” You reply and you take a look around. “Where are the kids by the way? Where is Koby?” Your sister has been married for almost a decade now and has two beautiful children with her nice and loving husband Koby. Your nephews – Kyros, who is named after your father and now should be eight years old and the newest member of the family Scarlett, which is named after your mother and it’s only one years old.
“Ky got sick, and Koby had to stay with him home, so I just left Scarlett with them as I don’t think art exhibitions are the best for babies.” She giggles once she sees your frowned brows.
“The younger you teach them culture the better.” You cross your arms across your chest as you shake your head at your sister. “Anyway, kiss them from me and say hello to Koby. And I hope little Ky recovers fast.”
“He will, but anyway where is... Doflamingo...” Your sister clears her throat as she doesn’t like your fiancé at all, and she doesn’t hide it.
“Yes, I have been asking myself the same thing, but he should be here soon.” You give her a reassuring smile, but Rebecca is not only your sister, she is also your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand and she can see the hurt in your eyes from the fact that your fiancé still hasn’t shown for your big night.
“I still don’t understand what you see in this cruel man (Y/N). All he sees is a beautiful young woman who he can show around as a price, he doesn’t see your value or you as a person. You can find so much better than him.” Deep down you know that Rebecca is right, but you don’t want to have this conversation now.
“Stop saying it in a way like he is your age, we have only four years difference.”
“I don’t like him and the fact that soon you will be carrying his name, you don’t look and fit his cruel family Donquixote, it makes me sick to my st-” You are quick to shush her as you see the man in fact coming towards you.
“Hey, Doffy. You finally showed up.” You don’t want to hide the fact that you are pissed at him for being later but also you don’t want to start any scandals with him right now.
“Traffic, sorry baby.” He pulls you closer to him and kisses the top of your head. “Rebecca, pleased to meet you as aways.” He gives her one of his arrogant smiles which makes your sister shiver. Rebecca hates this man.
“Well, I still haven’t seen all of the paintings and rooms in the gallery so if you two excuse me I will get going back to it.” She is quick to excuse herself and but not before she gives you a hug. “Be careful.” Rebecca whispers in your ear before she turns around and goes.
“What took you so long?” You turn to Doflamingo with a frown. “You know this night is important to me.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He says again as he tries to kiss your lips, but you pull away. “I had a more important call than this, okay? But now, I’m here be grateful.” You are so used to this behaviour at this point that you just turn around to go and speak with other people. Of course, he finds a way to ruin your night as aways. Catching you fast he pulls you close to him and with serious tone tells you. “The doctor called and said you must go to the clinic on Monday as your results or whatever you did are done. And cut the attuite.” He warns you once again and grabs your hand locking his fingers with you. You have no choice but to stay by his side till the rest of the night as it just clicks to you – he isn’t here for you, he is here for future partners for his business.
****
Siting in the doctor’s office has you on the edge. From the moment you enter the hospital, and his assistant welcomed you to his office, something doesn’t sit right in your stomach. Your hands are trembling, but again you blame it on stress. Entering the room the grey-haired man takes a sit on his chair and places his hands on his desk. You look at him with expectation in your eyes.
“Hi, Doctor Hiriluk. It is because of stress, right? Nothing that I should worry about.” You get straight to the point.
“Overall, you are healthy.” The doctor starts speaking, but you can sense a ‘but’ in his sentence.
“But...” You raised one eyebrow at him.
“From all the information you have given me last time we saw each other I’m afraid that there is a big possibility that you are...” Taking a deep breath in the doctor looks at you with pain written on his face. “I think that you are in a very early stage of Parkinson’s disease.” The doctor tells you and you are trying to process what you have just heard.
It can’t be. It won’t be. It feels like someone has thrown an ice-cold water at you and you can’t move. ‘No, this can’t be’ you are telling yourself repeatedly in your mind. This can’t be happening to you, not you of all people. This isn’t fair, it’s not fair to anyone, but this isn’t fair. Why now? Why when you are in your prime years? Why when you just start stepping on the steps of success?
Suddenly the room starts to feel small, and oxygen seems to not reach your brain. This can’t be happening. No, you refuse to believe this, there should be some mistake.
“Please, calm down Miss (Y/L/N). I can’t tell for sure, yet. I will give you the contacts of a friend of mine, Dr. Kureha, she is a specialist in neurology and I’m sure she will be able to put a better diagnosis than me.” As he tells you this trying to calm you down, he calls for his assistant to bring you water as he can see that you are almost at the verge of a panic attack. “I can’t be sure even though from what you have told me, you check a lot of the boxes with early symptoms, but this is not my speciality. It is Kureha’s.” His tone is very calming despite the situation.
Taking the glass of water from the assistant you lift it up to your lips and take a sip off it. Lowering the glass and holding it with your hands in your lap you can feel them trembling again. This can’t be it. Doctor. Hiriluk gives you some time to gather your thoughts before you can continue with your conversation.
“Is it there a possibility that you might be wrong?” You ask after some time passes and look up at Dr. Hiriluk.
“It might be, but don’t get your hopes up Miss (Y/L/N).” Dr. Hiriluk takes a deep breath. “That is why I want you to go and speak with Dr. Kureha, she will be able to diagnose you and guides you on how to handle because she is the best neurologist in out there.” Hearing this, all you can do is nod.
Doctor Hiriluk continues to talk, but you can’t focus to listen. Your mind is a mess. If his diagnose is in fact correct, then it means that at some point the only thing which brings you happiness and peace will be taken away from you. Art is everything you have, it is your safe place, it is your escape of the world and the way to express the pain within you. This can’t be. This won’t be. ‘There should be a mistake.’ You think to yourself.
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END NOTE: I hope you enjoy reading the prologue as again it's only a slight introduction of events which will cause the meeting of them two (Ace and Reader). Next chapter will be way longer and it will take place and time where the main story will be happening. Any feedback and comments are welcomed and appreciated as always ♡ Feel free to like and reblog if you enjoyed it and again thank you for reading it ♡
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writing, format & dividers © eand47 artwork @mxhxkxcx ©eand47, do not copy or plagiarise my work.
#portgas d ace#portgas d ace x reader#portgas ace x reader#one piece x y/n#portgas ace x you#one piece x reader#fire fist ace#one piece#one piece ace#ace x you#ace x reader#ace x y/n#portgas d ace x you#portgas d ace x y/n#op x reader#op x you#op x y/n#one piece x you#donquixote doflamingo#doflamingo x reader#doflamingo one piece#rebecca one piece#one piece fanfiction#one piece fandom#one piece series#portgas ace smut#portgas d ace fanfic#portgas d ace fanart#portgas d ace smut#one piece au
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Angel of small death
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Tags demon Chuuya x fem reader, religious symbolism, cruel Chuuya, loss of virginity, drinking and smoking, no protection, light bondage, is this considered monsterfucking, rough sex, degradation, breeding kink, mirror sex, religious guilt yummm, MDNI
Summary Being a virgin at your age isn’t cute anymore, it’s depressing. You decide to go out and do something about it, but there’s something just a little bit off about the man you met.
A/N hehehe for Valentine's Day I wanted to do something a little bit darker. Chuuya being an angel or demon is always on my mind.
Enough is enough. You have to get this over and done with. No more naively waiting for love, it's time. At this point it was getting embarrassing— being a virgin at 20. Since it didn't happen naturally, you have to take matters into your own hands.
It's agonizing listening to your friends talk about all the things they do and experience. The random hookups, the fruitful relationships, the crazy nights spent just having fun. They actually live life. Why can't you have that? Envy and resentment fills your entire body when they treat it as if it's not a big deal. Your head feels like it's about to explode from bottled up dissatisfaction. There's only one solution.
Growing up evangelical, there was still a sense of dread at the thought of going to a bar. It's a place filled with drinking and sex— filled with sin. Even after leaving the faith, lingering guilt dictates your entire life. Having never been to a bar, you don't know what to expect. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you debate whether you should really wear this. Is it too much?
White lace stockings adorn your thighs. Silk fabric hugs your waist— draping elegantly and accentuating all your best assets. You spent hours agonizing over your hair. It leaves your arms shaking, aching from tedious styling. Glitter is dabbed onto the thin skin of your eyelids, lined with dark charcoal and mascara layered over your eyelashes. This is the best you've ever looked, but self doubt is creeping in. Stalking the dark recesses of your mind. Hunting and butchering any confidence you may have.
Pushing down all your apprehension, you grab your jacket and call a cab. Unfortunately, none of your friends are joining you tonight. If they were, maybe it'd be easier to ignore the giant pit of anxiety forming in the bottom of your stomach. Are you really going to do this? There's still time to stop.
You prepared early. The bottle of tequila in your freezer had been left untouched until this moment. Taking it out, you unsteadily pour yourself a shot. Hopefully this helps your panicking heart— beating away rapidly in your ribcage. Alcohol isn't something you have often. As you throw the drink back, your throat constricts and burns despite it being chilled for several hours, heat pooling in your belly. It tastes bitter and disgusting. Your tummy clenches, attempting to send the drink back up— rejecting it completely.
The taxi is waiting outside when you're done. It takes a few minutes before the tequila affects your cognition, so you get in easily, relaxing into the backseat. It's weird. Being alone, all dressed up. Just to go to a sleazy bar. Tugging at the edges of your clothes— discomfort sinks into your bones. Even your own skin feels foreign. Wrong. And the quietude within the car makes your brain whirl.
The cab arrives quickly. There's a thick cloud of smoke fogging your vision, and plaguing your lungs once you walk inside. It's filled with middle aged, unkempt men. Hardly any women are in sight, and the few that are, have a scowl permanently etched onto their foreheads. You take a seat at the bar, away from any people. It's hard to start up a conversation with anyone.
Nervously, you order yourself a martini. You need something strong. It's salty and horribly bitter, but the drink you had previously— and this one— work together to relax the muscles that were so terribly tense before. Sighing, you look around. Everyone is caught up in their own little world. The determination you had before suddenly vanishes and your only wish is to go home. Despite the warmth blazing through your figure, a cold sweat breaks out over your skin. Shivers seem to attack you, leaving you a pile of terrified bones. You shouldn't have come here. Maybe you were just meant to die a virgin. It's fine, you could live with that. Probably.
“You scared?”
A gruff voice speaks up behind you. You whip your head around. The man is ginger with clearly expensive clothing and an intimidating aura. Something about him makes a shiver run down your spine. Your lips pop open dumbly— forming an ‘O’ shape.
The ginger man's gloved hand comes up to grab your chin, dragging you closer and leaning in— quietly observing every little detail of your face. Although the man is not necessarily large, he’s muscular. Well built. It feels as if he’s towering over you. Like goliath standing over you, squashing any chance of escape or survival.
“Relax, I won't bite… unless you like that.”
Ignoring your instincts screaming at you to run, to run back home and never look back, you feel drawn to the strange man. Something keeps you planted in your stool. His cool minty breath wafts into your face— suffocating you. You take a deep breath, but it does nothing to ease the nerves pulsing beneath your sinew and tissue. He smiles at the sight of your unease.
“I'll get you a drink.”
It's not a question. He wraps an arm around your waist and the intoxicating scent of his cologne smothers you and drowns all your senses. You can't move. The man is strangely cold, and from the corner of your eye you swear you can see a shadow that looks like wings. Maybe it's just your imagination. You shake your head, clearing your mind, and suddenly they're gone.
A disorienting ring echoes through your ears while he orders for you. The rest of the encounter is a blur. Drink after drink appears in front of you, and you down them without a second thought. Your initial apprehension is forgotten as the charming man pulls you closer and closer, until you're almost straddling his lap. You don't seem to notice— or mind— how his hands roam down your waist and teasingly play with the hem of your stockings.
“It’s getting kind of crowded… Why don't we go somewhere more private?”
Veins throbbing with a disgusting mix of alcohol and blood rushing through them, you nod without hesitation. A hollow feeling spreads over your chest and ribcage. Sudden guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders. Are you really doing this?
“To yours?”
It's a question of safety. You may be about to sleep with a man you barely know, but under no circumstances should he know where you live. A wide grin spreads over his features. His teeth are blinding and sharp, like fangs.
“Not exactly.”
He wraps his thin fingers around your wrist, helping you up into your feet. The sudden movement has your head spinning and your stomach churning. God, it feels like you're going to throw up. A silent prayer plays in your mind. Part of you regrets ever even thinking of coming here. This goes against everything you've ever believed in. Against every oath you've ever taken.
The devil themselves must be laughing at you now. Wrapping their slender snake-like tail around your throat and squeezing as hard as they can. You can't protest even if you wanted to. Silently, with shaking legs, you let Chuuya— whose name is the only thing you can truly remember from your conversation— lead you out of the bar and into the cold night air.
“Where are we going?”
He doesn't answer. Did he not hear you? The burnt rubber and tar scent of the street follows you everywhere. Your eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. In the shadows, you can faintly make out the silhouette of smiling figures— laughing and mocking you. Alcohol has rendered your legs practically useless as they quiver with every step, the only thing holding your weaker body up is Chuuya’s strong arms.
Your blurred vision watches his handsome stoic appearance. Is it really possible a man like this is interested in you? Streetlights illuminate his face. He almost looks like an angel. Like something to be worshipped. You can finally see his eyes clearly, without the dark veil his hat leaves in the way.
Wheezing, the small amount of air left in your lungs evaporates. They're stunning. Bright, breathtaking blue. Like nothing you had ever seen before.
Your heart almost stops at the sight.
The dark pupil in the middle of his iris is insanely dark. Oddly shaped. Almost elongated. Is that normal? Nothing about him seems real.
Broken, fluorescent neon lights flicker at you— calling out to you, ridiculing you. Every object surrounding you seems to know who you are and what you're up to. You've never done this, and they know. Everyone does. They can tell from the look on your face. You're not meant to be here.
Barely any cars are parked at the motel’s lot. It's completely empty except for a few shady people hanging around and the bored front desk employee. If something were to happen, no one would hear you scream. Maybe that's why he chose this place.
The flight up the stairs to the room feels like a death march. The man's grip does nothing to relieve the nervous, cold thrill that seems to freeze your blood over. If anything he's making it worse. His skin— even through the layers of clothing— feels like ice. Your hairs are standing on end, prickling you painfully.
“Here we are.”
He takes a small key card out of his pocket, quickly unlocking the door and pulling you inside the room.
It's dirty. The walls are covered in what you can only assume is solidified cigarette smoke. It smells faintly of urine and gasoline. Only scarlet sheets and flat pillows are on the bed— no comforter. Mirrors cover the ceiling above the bed and there's red ambient lighting instead of regular bulbs.
Chuuya does not bother locking the room. He opts to lightly urge you deeper into the room, sitting on the bed, helping you onto his lap with your legs on either side of his. Fear grips your heart. It pounds away in your sternum laboriously, struggling to break free of the restraints this man — no— this thing has it in.
“Wait I.. I have to tell you something.”
“Hm?”
Freezing cold gloved hands caress your legs. Goosebumps rise up your thighs and arms. Your hands apprehensively clutch the lapels of his jacket. The blue in his iris has darkened to nearly pitch black— swallowing any radiance into its depths. He's too close. It's oppressive. You're not sure this is something you'll survive. At least, not with your sanity.
“I've never done anything like this…”
“Oh honey…”
Voice dripping with arrogance, a cheap snicker finds its way onto his smug face. He toys with the lace band of your stockings, pulling and then letting the garter strap snap back against your thigh.
“I know. Anyone with eyes can tell.”
Scorching hot shame burns across your face. Your back seems to absorb it all, spreading it through your entire system and dampening your skin with sweat. Chuuya presses your front completely against his, taking off his gloves and revealing his pale, scarred hands. When he grabs your waist again, you tense up. Sharp claws press against your skin, threatening to rip your flesh apart.
What…?
A dumbfounded gasp rips itself from your lungs. Your mind screams at you to run, but your body won't listen. This is payback. Retribution straight from the lord himself for daring to stray from his teachings. You deserve the hell this devil will put you through.
Chuuya can tell you're afraid, but he won't let go so easily. His sharpened talons dig into the fat surrounding your hips.
“No no no… this is what you wanted. You can't leave that soon.”
His rough lips press against the tender skin of your neck, hot tongue dragging over the veins and arteries beneath your skin— flames engulf you as searing, fervent lust takes over your alcohol infused brain. Your mouth goes dry and your fingertips tingle, going numb.
You never realized how much you need this.
Scratches and bite marks will surely cover your entire body by tomorrow, but you don't really pay it much mind. He’s like a ravenous animal, getting a small taste of food for the first time in a millenia. His huge claws shred through the snowy white silk fabric adorning your figure.
“I can't wait. When I see a sweet thing like you, I can't resist.”
Chuuya bites into the supple flesh of your throat harshly with his pointed, needle-like fangs. Your hands rest on his chest, bracing yourself for the sharp pain that washes over your neck. The soft thump of a heart isn't there, just uneasy stillness.
Your bottom lip trembles, futilely trying to hold back the terror and desperate cries of pain asphyxiating you. A low growl rumbles through his chest. He pushes you down onto your back, eyes wide and staring up at him. Chuuya wastes no time in starting to undress. Nimbly, his flexible, clawed fingers undo the tie loosely knotted around his neck. Jagged nails dig into your wrists, holding them above your head and fastening them down with his tie. If you even tried to get out— which you wouldn't dream of doing— he'd overpower you easily. A lowly sinner is reduced to a devotee in the face of temptation.
With your hands out of the way, the thing can finally have his way with you. He pushes the tattered fabric off your frame. A rush of cold air sweeps over your newly exposed skin. It feels weird. Like being put on display to be assessed and lambasted. Your eyes dart around, desperate for any way to fix the predicament you've gotten yourself in, but there's no way out.
Wrists aching and nagging for freedom, your body tenses as Chuuyas talons trace the lump over your esophagus. Threatening to rip your throat out.
“Cute… Are you scared?”
Smirking, he gets a vicious glint in his eyes— It's a bizarre change from his previously lifeless gaze. A snake wraps itself around your neck, trapping any words that threaten to bubble up. He hovers over you and rids himself of all the layers keeping you two apart.
Chuuya’s skin glistens under the cheap motel lights. It looks plastic-y, unnaturally shiny. Your eyes follow the angelic lines of his strong, muscled chest. It left you breathless— lungs wrung dry. Tears well up in your eyes, obscuring your view, but somehow your corneas can make out vague shadows sticking out of his back, right by his shoulder blades.
“Are those-?”
Rough lips cut you off. Your mind is filled in a hazy cloud of exhilaration and thirst. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes— a disgusting combination that you can't help being lured by. You let out a surprised squeak as a forked tongue glides over your bottom lip. Chuuya takes that as an opportunity, taking advantage of your bewilderment, to slip his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. It's like he's trying to devour you whole. As if he wants to possess you.
Without thinking, your hands attempt to reach out for the shadows only to be pulled back over your head by the fabric ensnared around your wrists. He lazily drags his lips away from yours. A shameful, loud smack resonates across the otherwise quiet room. Your eyelids flutter open, immediately noticing the inky black feathers behind him— shiny and strong.
A knot of panic expands in your chest. Little glimpses of memories you thought you'd buried down deep bob back up to the surface. Dreading the eventual Armageddon. Fearing not only for yourself, but your family and friends who could be sent to the deepest circle in hell for the simplest of transgressions. There's a reason for those seemingly arbitrary rules in your congregation. You knew what was at stake, but somehow you managed to convince yourself none of it was real. That it wasn't a big deal if you indulged for once.
“You're staring.”
“A demon...?”
You're speechless. Staring at the spread out wings in front of you, Chuuya sits back up straight, leaning away from you and letting you breathe. They're massive. Large enough to cover you entirely, shielding you from the prying eyes of God. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach and a wave of nausea flushes over you.
“Oh, look at that.”
Chuuya’s voice is lower. Dark and rough— he's enjoying this. His thumb runs over your puffy bottom lip, toying with it. Toying with you. His other hand travels down over your throat, then down to your chest, pinching your nipple meanly, twisting. He relishes in your choked up whine.
“Don't tell me you don't enjoy that, I know it's a lie.”
“I can’t- You're a demon!”
Cackling, he lets go.
“I know, kind of obvious isn't it? Besides… by the way you’re reacting, you clearly like it.”
“But-”
“Shhh. Be quiet.”
Your mouth snaps shut, teeth clanking together bitterly. Leaning down, his lips close around the little nub, fangs attaching themselves onto it and scraping cruelly. A euphoric sensation courses through you, his name tumbling from your lips uncontrollably as your hands clench, arching up into his touch.
“Fuck… C-Chuuya..!”
Tugging harshly, his teeth scrape over your nipple— making your cunt throb. You should not feel this way at the hands of a monster like him. It's wrong.
But it feels so right.
Goosebumps rise up across your skin. Your eyebrows knit together meanwhile his large hands grip onto your waist, claws stinging. Chuuya’s lips pop as he finally lets up, and you finally resign yourself to your fate. Looking up at the ceiling, your body jolts at the sight of his wings reflected on the mirror. They look heavy— held up by his strong back muscles.
His wings sway gently and glitter under the soft red lights, trapping your bodies underneath. Then, Chuuya flips you over onto your tummy— his coarse lips trailing little kisses down your spine. Every time his skin makes contact with yours, little sparks of arousal bounce over your ribs and out to your limbs. His rapid breath tickled you and it was hard to stay still.
Your hands were stretched far above your head, with your elbows and head resting on the cheap, lumpy pillow. He forces your hips up, with your knees planted firmly on the bed and your face embedded in the abrasive cushion below you. Freezing air conditioning chills you to the bone. You're a lab experiment, a scrap of prey— spread open and ready to be dissected.
“Don't move, angel.”
He pushes your back down, forcing it into a painful arch.
“There you go, stay just like that.”
Pointed talons wander past your vertebrae and down to the supple flesh of your ass, leaving dark red scratches etched onto your skin. Your insides are roaring, begging you to fight back. To leave while you can. But your heart wants otherwise. He's so handsome. His smell surrounds you— it's hypnotizing. And although his touch burns, you can't help craving more. He's like a drug you can't get enough of.
Your body easily obeys, trying its hardest to maintain the unpleasant bend in your spine. A strangled cry forces itself past your lips as your legs shake with the effort to hold their own weight up.
“Are you seriously struggling with something so simple?”
Hefty, cold hands land between your shoulder blades, grinding you into the scratchy sheets. A shiver works itself through you. You arduously unclench all your muscles, sucking in lungfuls of sleazy motel air and Chuuya’s heady scent.
“I–I’m trying…”
“It's not enough. Try harder.”
You hear some shuffling behind you, the bed creaks and the heat from Chuuya’s figure is temporarily gone before you feel him looming over you— his thighs pressed against the backs of yours. He leans down, crushing your body underneath his wings encircling you. Nosing at your throat, he presses his hips against your backside, letting you feel how hard he is.
A calloused hand ruthlessly tangles itself in your hair, pulling. His other hand snakes underneath you, leaving behind flashes of heat. You feel feverish as his hand unexpectedly pinches your inner thigh— delighting in the sound you make— before his fingers part your soaked, messy folds. Your form tenses when a finger easily slips in, embarrassing squelching sounds fill the air as he pumps it into you.
The intrusion feels foreign, not good or bad, just different. You let out a sigh of relief, glad that it's not as painful as you feared. Chuuya's thumb gets to work on your clit, rubbing it in tight little circles. Your body moves as if it's been electrocuted, letting out a garbled moan.
“Chuuya…”
“Feels good huh?”
Another finger joins the first, curling against your sweet spot. It doesn't take long for you to be reduced to a puddle of tears and snot— fat globs of salty teardrops soaking the pillow beneath you. Your lower belly aches, an empty craving spreading and shrouding you. An angelic plea falls from your lips, with his name distorted and muffled.
Your weeping only encourages him more— his pace getting faster and rougher. His claws, despite being sharp enough to cut your ribcage open, don't hurt. Your mind is solely focused on the sensation of his flexible fingers inside your dripping cunt. It's not surprising that a demon would be so well versed in matters of depravity.
Just as the pool of heat in your tummy seems like it's going to erupt, when it feels like your figure is floating— ascending to a new heaven, Chuuya’s movements halt. The blood rushes within your ear canal loudly and your tissue is shuddering underneath your skin. It takes everything in you to hold back your sobs. His surprisingly gentle hand cards through your hair, shushing you sweetly.
“Shhh dont cry, angel. I didn't even hurt you, you should've known I wouldn't let you cum that fast. It's, honestly, all on you.”
He stays like that— with his entire mass weighing you down. Carefully, his fingers withdraw and your body fights to keep him in place, squeezing around nothing. You feel too empty. Now that you've had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you can't fathom a world without it.
There's a pulsing lump in your throat from the built up frustration, drawing a shaky sigh from your belly. Your ears barely manage to pick up the noise of his thick, feathery wings flapping and the low growl that vibrates in his chest. Thankfully the stinging in your eyes has finally stopped at this point, but it's not enough for Chuuya. He needs more.
He doesn't make you wait much longer, pushing into the sloppy mess of your pussy. The air is shoved out of your lungs. Your body tightens, denying him entry, floundering. Every cell of your being stings.
“Fuck.. w-wait..”
Chuuyas hips still. One hand comes up to rest on your thigh, leaving a trail of your arousal cooling on the surface of your skin. His thumb traces gentle circles onto the soft flesh of your hips. The hand in your hair tugs at the locks sternly, turning your entire head to face the side wall.
“Watch.”
The back of your neck strains to angle itself the way he wants— it feels like your head is about to snap off. Your eyes drift over to the mirror veiling the wall. You can see everything from here— the flexing of his muscles, how his wings hang low and heavy, the way his stronger body easily molds and manipulates your own. His figure glows under the cheap lighting, the red hair surrounding his face looks like a crimson halo— the former golden glow now tainted by the depravity he surrounds himself with regularly.
“Chuuya please!”
He doesn't wait for you to relax before completely sheathing himself inside of you, groaning when his pelvis crashes with your backside, forcing your walls to make way for him. It's too sudden. Too big. Is he a fucking monster?? The curve of your spine, your knees, and your wrists all sting— pushed to their limits and more. There's no way you can handle more, but Chuuya does not exactly grant you the freedom of choice.
Your scalp tingles as his grip in your hair tightens. His hips start rocking up into you, forcing you to adjust. You choke on your own spit as he savagely pounds against your sweet spot, spearing you open and holding you down.
“Oh God…”
“Don't call him, he's not here, I am.”
The mirrored image is hard to make out through the wave of tears building in your waterline, but you can faintly make out the image of his flushing skin and aggressive movements. You don't even want to look at yourself. The image of you bent to a demon's will is far too humiliating to take.
“Even your God can't help you now.”
Beads of moisture slide between your bodies, sticking your hair to your overheated forehead. Pitchy wails get trapped in the hollow of your chest. Chuuyas defined muscles overextend themselves as they pick up the pace, slamming his cock into your sensitive cunt without faltering. Every nerve ending in your body is lit on fire, frayed and hyper-sensitive. Through the reflection, you swear you see his eyes go fully dark— like black holes, sucking in any life that they can.
“Agh… f-fuck…”
Unconsciously, your hips roll back against him. There's something so delicious about being split open like this. It hurts like hell. Every single muscle, tendon, ligament, and bone in your figure is going to be screaming at you tomorrow. But through the intense torture youre being put through, your neurons can still find bliss in the afterglow.
There is no pleasure without pain. No light without darkness.
“Fucking slut.”
You let out a mortified, wounded cry wail beneath him, squirming. Eyebrows and nose scrunching, your protests come out in distorted groans. Your hands clench, digging your nails into the palm of your hand as your elbows struggle to stabilize themselves. Every time you attempt to get back up, Chuuya speeds up— brutally whacking his hips into the plush tissue of your ass, fucking you dumb.
The choir of salacious noises between the two of you sound inhuman. Your throat feels like it's being torn open with a knife. Your eyes shut tight, toes curling, as your entire body tenses and shudders. Lava seems to form in your lower tummy, boiling you from the inside out.
“This is all you’re good for, isn't it? Say it”
“Nghh N-no!”
Your brain is spinning, obliged to accept the overloading sensations and transgressions Chuuya is committing against you. Every movement in your body is dulled and slowed— it's like your nervous system would rather focus on the vicious slam of his hips into your cunt, than to help you have any form of mobility.
“Fucking say it.”
Your mouth forms the words before you have a chance to deny them.
“That's all I’m g-good for…”
A puddle forms on the dirty motel sheets made of your arousal, sweat, and your melting figure. Chuuyas arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, wings encapsulating both your bodies and hiding the mirror from view. It's almost romantic how sweetly he holds you.
Almost.
“ ‘m gonna fucking breed you. You're mine.”
The puddle of lava in your tummy gets more and more restless— bubbling angrily and threatening to erupt. With one last ruthless thrust into the spongy little spot inside you, the lava surges out, burning everything around it. Your orgasm seems to go on forever, scorching you but also dunking you in arctic waters. Chuuyas hips still against you, releasing hot spurts of cum into you. You can't really think about what that could mean for you in the future.
The apocalypse feels like it has finally come for you. Destroying everything in its way and leaving the earth a blazing wasteland. Only this time, you aren't worthy of salvation. You will be left alone to the mercy of the devil before you. Revolting bile is pushed against your teeth and you're forced to swallow it back.
Remorseful, your body trembles with effort as you attempt to sit up— to get Chuuya out of you and away from you as soon as possible. Only, it's impossible to move. Chuuya’s chuckle is devious and low, sending a chill through your bones.
“Oh no… I'm not done with you yet, angel.”
#bsd chuuya#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs fanfic#bungou stray dogs x reader#chuuya smut#bsd smut#demon Chuuya#fanfic#religious guilt#religious imagery#tw religious themes#mean Chuuya#Demon chuuya x reader#Demon chuuya x you
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Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader, DILF!Crassus Snow
WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, smut, oral (f rec) , p in v, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...
This is the Crassus x Reader ending AKA ending 2.
It's kinda long.
Masterlist
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Ending #2-Crassus
Coriolanus disappeared without a trace. Or at least that's what it felt like. Truth was, a couple of weeks after graduation he boarded a train to 8 as a peacekeeper grunt. Coriolanus received a conscription letter and was shoved off by his father General Crassus Snow.
Against his will.
Without Coriolanus by your side you fell into a depression. Yes, you received letters from him and the occasional phone call, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't physically around, like he's always been, and it hurt.
It hurt so much.
So goddamn much.
You felt so alone…
You thought that you were doing good job of hiding your hurt, your depression and loneliness. But you weren't.
No.
Crassus noticed it right away.
And he tried to swoop in and put a smile on your face by asking about your day or by suggesting you read a certain book in the library, but it never worked. Nothing worked to put a smile on your face.
The only time a faint smile appeared on your face was whenever Crassus handed you a letter from his son while shifting thru the mail after coming home from work. You'd always snatch it from him with a smile on your face. One that never quite reached your eyes.
You cherished Coryo's letters. He always complained about District 8 in them, but he’d also write a few lines about his feelings towards you. Always told you to wait for him; that he'd figure out a way to return to you.
Crassus, as cold and unfeeling of a man as he was, never kept his son's letters from you despite the fact that the middle-aged man wanted you as his next wife. His future First Lady. And why didn't he keep them from you?
Because he wanted to woo you away from his son’s affections. Crassus wanted the knowledge that he pursued you, courted you, and gave you somebody to confide in all the while Coriolanus was sending you letters that were borderline love letters.
Crassus wants you to pick him over his son, not because he made you, but because you want to.
Because you want him.
And having Coriolanus thousands of miles away serving in 8 would definitely help out with you picking the older Snow…
Out of sight, out of mind as they say.
“Petal, a letter for you from my son.” Crassus announces, holding the letter up for you to see as he stands in front of the fireplace shifting thru mail while you sit on the sofa watching CapitolTV.
Grandma'am was out visiting the neighbor, Pluribus, so it was just you and Crassus inside of the penthouse.
“Oh, thank you.” You thinly smile, rising from the sofa to go get your letter from the tall, stoic man that you've come to appreciate since you began living in the Snow's ancestral home.
Crassus knew that now was his chance to snatch you away from his bratty son. That now's the time to woo you. And how does he know?
By the thin, forced line of a smile on your face and the tight tone of your voice when you thank him for his son's letter.
“Y/N, I see how much you're suffering. Perhaps you'd like to talk about it with someone who's been deployed throughout Panem?” Crassus remarked, his voice low and thoughtful as he hands you over the letter.
“I'm fine, Crassus.” You lie, fingers brushing while taking the letter from him. “I don't need to talk about Coryo's deployment in 8, but thank you for the offer.” You assure the man towering over you while looking at the letter you're holding.
“You're not fine, petal.” Crassus tells you in a low, deep, all knowing tone.
It's unsettling since Coriolanus had told you the exact same thing one night before he was shipped off. He told you that you weren't fine; in a similar tone and manner that his father had just used on you right now.
You never noticed it before, but were Coriolanus and Crassus truly mirror images of each other?
“You haven't filled out your University admissions packet, so I surmise that you won't be attending. I also noticed how you sulk around, wasting your life waiting for a ghost.”
The packet was still untouched on his mahogany desk in his study. It was due weeks ago. Now that it's early September and the fall semester's starting soon, well, Crassus knows that it's too late for you to select a major of interest to study. That you won't be attending the University.
That doesn't bother him. In fact, Crassus prefers for you to be home with Grandma'am all day. You're a very beautiful Capitolite girl and in his mind you're better suited as a socialite. He's sure in time you'll get used to staying home and doing lady things all day such as luncheons, shopping, tea parties, etc.
“I-” You began, but your protest died on the tip of your tongue when Crassus cut you off with a blunt, “You can deny it all you want, but you fill your days moping over my son's absence.”
Of course, he saw right thru your facade. Crassus was a very perceptive man, a cunning one as well. He picked up on things that most people would overlook.
“You need to find a hobby to occupy your time; keep your thoughts off of things.” Crassus tells you knowingly. As if he has first hand experience in the matter.
Well, maybe he did.
“A hobby?”
“Yes.” He nods. “My mother has her rose garden; my late wife had her silly little songs and the piano.” The tall platinum blonde explains. He shifts his weight slightly on his feet while suggesting, “So perhaps you can find something as well.”
“Perhaps.” You parrot.
Maybe Crassus is right? Maybe a hobby will help you during Coryo's absence.
Crassus pecks you on the cheek before patting it and telling you, “Go on and read your letter. I'll be in my study reading my own mail.”
Without another word he walked away from you and into the direction of his office, a pile of mail in his hands.
You decided to take Crassus' advice and find a hobby to take your mind off of Coryo's deployment. After thinking about it, you realize that Crassus is right. You need to focus your energy on something else and since you're not in the best mindset to go to University (going to University was Coriolanus' dream; he wanted you to attend with him) a hobby is necessary.
At first you try your hand at gardening. You spent some time with Grandma’am in her rooftop rose garden, but you weren't a natural green thumb like she was. In fact, gardening seems to frustrate you.
Coriolanus was the botanist that thrived under Grandma'am Snow’s gardening lessons. Well, he did when he was still living in the Corso penthouse before he was conscripted into the Peacekeepers.
Anyways….
And since you weren't classically trained on the piano like Crassus' late wife, Demeter, you had only two other options for a hobby. Sewing or baking.
You weren't too handy with needlework and didn't want to bother Tigris with sewing lessons, because you knew that she'd start talking about Coryo. You couldn't handle that. The kind hearted young lady always meant well when she brought up Coryo, but it was a sore topic for you.
So, that left baking as your only hobby option.
But you had an old recipe book of your mother's from her native 12, so at least you had something to work with. You didn't have to bake blind without recipes.
Most of the recipes were for cookies. A couple for cakes, but mostly various cookies. Oh and bread. Lots and lots of bread.
Apparently, District 12 really loves their bread.
And on top of reading your cookbook you've been watching a baking show:
The Great Panem Bake Off
It's a baking competition where the best amateur bakers in all of Panem compete for a title and prize money. You began watching it for baking ideas and ended up writing down the recipes of the goodies that the judges liked.
After a few weeks of reading your mother's old recipe book and watching the baking show on CapitolTV, you decided to bake a batch of classic and simple sugar cookies.
So, one late afternoon while Grandma'am was tending to her magnificent rooftop rose garden you're in the kitchen hard at work baking a large batch of lemon zest and vanilla bean sugar cookies. Thankfully, living in Capitol City, Panem, you're able to procure the ingredients easily for your cookies.
You're so engrossed in making your cookie dough and baking off the tasty treats that your mind doesn't even focus on the missing member of the Snow family. Not once does Coriolanus cross your mind. No, the only thing crossing your mind is measuring out the ingredients and adding them to the bowl; mixing until firm and smooth. You're too busy letting the cookie dough chill and timing it to think about sulking over your best friend.
And when it's time to roll out the sugar cookie dough and cut the cookies out with a cutter, well, you can't even imagine thinking about anything but getting the cookies stamped out and onto the cookie sheet pan. A sheet pan lined with parchment to keep the cookies from burning and sticking (a tip you saw on the baking show).
You're so scared that if you leave the kitchen your batch of cookies will burn, despite having a timer set. So, you sit at the kitchen table reading a book that Crassus had recommended a few weeks back; waiting for the cookies to bake. Between the mouth watering aroma of fresh cookies filling the air and the intriguing plot line of the book you're reading, you're mind's too preoccupied to drift off to a melancholy about Coriolanus being gone.
Infact, it seems that Crassus was right about a hobby keeping your mind busy and off of things you can't change.
His son serving as Private Snow over in 8.
When the timer goes off you put on your floral printed oven mitts, which match your frilly apron, and pull the cookie sheet out of the oven. After setting the pan on the counter, you transfer the sweet treats to a cooling rack before rolling and cutting out another batch of cookies to place onto the sheet pan and back into the oven.
You’re sitting at the kitchen table, reading your book while waiting for the cookies to bake whenever you heard the front door open accompanied by the sound of Crassus' shoes echoing against the marble floor.
Crassus was home and all you could think of was getting his opinion on your cookies. Being a first time baker, you're afraid that they wouldn't be good. Even tho you followed the recipe religiously and everything seemed to turn out, you're still scared that your first foray into baking won't be successful.
So, you set your book down on the table, quickly rise to your feet, and grab a cookie from the cooling rack that's on the counter.
When you rush out of the kitchen, freshly baked cookie in hand, you see Crassus is starting to cross the foyer. He stops when he sees you, nose sniffing at the air, as his icy blue eyes take in the excited smile on your face.
From the smell wafting from the kitchen paired with the frilly floral apron you're wearing, the general concludes that you've taken up baking. He thinks it's good that you found something to occupy your days with.
Crassus is a tall man, even taller than his son, so he towers over you as you stand before him. Before he could make a comment on your new hobby, you grab him by the shirt and yank him down to your eye level- only to shove a freshly baked sugar cookie into his mouth.
“How is it? Do I need to tweek anything?” You ask, watching Crassus try not to choke on a large mouthful of cookie.
The middle-aged man’s large hand comes up to his mouth to pull the cookie out while he chews on the piece that's nearly choking him. You look at him with such innocence and patience while awaiting his verdict on your first attempt at baking cookies. Oh, and how your doe eyes has Crassus' knees buckling.
The cold, hard former soldier can't help, but to feel like a schoolboy again as you watch him chew his large mouthful. Oh, how embarrassing to feel like that over a young pretty girl shoving a sugar cookie into his mouth and looking at him like an angel sent from the heavens while awaiting his judgment on the sweet treat.
For some reason, swallowing down the cookie takes more effort than it should. Perhaps Crassus' throat feels tighter, as if it's closing up on him, because of the near intimate position you're in. Your face is mere inches away from his as he's hunched down into your space with your hand still tightly fisted into his shirt; keeping him in place.
Oh gods, how the man's mind is drifting off to dirty places…
“It's good.” Crassus finally answers after what feels like an eternity, but in reality was only a minute.
“You really think so?” You ask, genuinely surprised, as the icy eyed man in front of you just stares at you as if you hung the moon and stars.
A look he hasn't given anyone in a very, very long time.
“Yes,” He nods. “It's very good, petal.”
You're so happy that Crassus likes your cookie; that your first attempt at baking as your new hobby was successful. Honestly, you were scared that they wouldn't turn out. But it seems that you had nothing to worry about.
Without saying a word, you let go of Crassus' shirt and rush back into the kitchen to check on your latest batch of cookies. Crassus just shakes his head, clutching his briefcase his one hand and his half eaten cookie in the other, as a ghost of a smile slowly appears on his lips.
It seems like your innocence and warmth might be melting the cold Snow.
After the day you shoved a cookie into Crassus' mouth; nearly choking him, he's become your official taste tester for anything that you bake. He doesn't mind, in fact Crassus enjoys your baking. He has quite the sweet tooth even if he denies it.
Grandma'am enjoys when you bake chocolate treats and even Tigris enjoys your baking. She prefers your puddings. The warm hearted girl stops by from time to time to visit Grandma’am and you always give her some baked goods to take home.
All in all, your depression has dissipated and your mind's occupied with baking. You don't feel a heavy dark rain cloud over your head anymore, but instead you feel as if the sun’s shining down on you. You feel so much lighter, as if a weight has been taken off your shoulders.
And over the last few months you've grown closer to Crassus due to your baking. You looked forward to greeting him every evening when he came home with something you baked, asking him to taste it and tell you what he thought. And Crassus would always tell you that your sweet treats were good, great even.
That man loves everything you give him. From cookies to brownies to puddings to cakes to breads, he enjoys them all. Hell, he even has you pack some up for his coworkers at the Ministry of War.
Yes, cold and stern General Crassus Snow brought in baked goods to work to share with his coworkers. Honestly, he did it to brag about your baking skills. To show you off. To claim you as his in a way because women just don't bake for any man, they bake for their man.
And Crassus Snow views himself as your man.
He's been obsessed with making you his for a while; now he's succeeding in doing so.
But you don't mind his obsessive tendencies towards you. In fact, you welcome them because at least you're not lonely with him around.
And talk about being lonely, you found out from Crassus that his son, Coryo, was anything but lonely while off serving in District 8. His contacts told him that Coriolanus had taken up with a local district girl; had been with her for a while too.
Hearing that made you feel incredibly stupid for promising Coriolanus that you'd wait for him. Here you are being true blue to him while Private Snow's out fucking some district whore from 8. You wonder what she has that you don't have. Is she prettier than you? Maybe she's smarter or something? You dunno, but it hurts that he's cheating while you're waiting faithfully for him.
Aside from being hurt, you're pissed as hell. How dare he do this to you! Who the hell does he think he is? You're a proper Capitolite girl, you deserve better than what he's giving you.
Safe to say, you're a bit salty about Coryo's extra curricular activities in District 8 while serving as Private Snow in the Peacekeepers. Fucking bastard…
But at least you have your baking to help you thru it. Baking and Crassus' friendship that is.
But one day while you're baking cookies for the Yule holiday, the phone rings and you answer it only to be met with the one man you really don't want to talk to right now.
Coryo.
He tells you about some Elite Officer's Exam he took and you confronted him about his district whore. He denied it; even told you he loved you and wanted you to join him in 2 as soon as he got settled there- after passing his exams and officially being transferred that is.
And if that wasn't enough to turn your world upside down, a breaking news alert appeared on CapitolTV that would shatter Panem's heart.
It's late at night and Grandma'am’s asleep in her room while you're in the living room watching an old detective noir movie with Crassus. You're on the sofa, body softly nestled into Crassus’ side while his arm’s loosely slung around you, whenever the movie was interrupted by a news break announcing the death of President Ravenstill due to his ill health.
You're shocked to say the least. The very least. A president dying in office without a successor had never happened before in Panem's history. Normally, a president would step down if deathly ill or eldery; an election would be held to name a successor and the incumbent would pass over the baton.
President Ravenstill’s death turned the system upside down and on its head. So much so, that you ask the middle-aged man your sitting on the couch with what's going to happen to Panem now that the president’s dead. The platinum blonde man explained that the Senate would rule Panem with the help of the ministries and the late President Ravenstill’s cabinet.
Crassus also surprised you by announcing that he’s going to enter his name has a presidential candidate under the Old Guard political party. He also made a remark about how when he wins you'll be baking in the grand kitchen of the Presidential Palace. That you'll even be giving the palace bakers some of your recipes.
Everything feels so surreal; your entire day feels like a dream. A winter’s dream that can't be real, but in fact it's real. It's very real.
And to top off your day; mark the night as unbelievable, Crassus placed a hand on your chin only to tip your head to the side and capture your lips with a kiss.
A firm, but passionate kiss that caught you completely off guard.
You weren't expecting him to kiss you, but it only took a few seconds before your brain and body got on the same page and you're responding to his kiss. Your hands wrap around his neck as your lips press together. One of his hands goes to your hip while the other tangles in your hair.
You let out a breathy moan at the feel of his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip; asking silent permission to deepen the kiss. Permission that you granted by slightly parting your mouth just enough for Crassus to slide his tongue inside.
Your kiss with Crassus felt different then all the kisses you shared with Coryo- his son. Coryo's kisses always felt so needy and rushed, but with Crassus they're passionate albeit languid. It's as if the middle-aged man has all the time in the world to explore your mouth with his deeply impassioned kisses; to savor your reaction to his tongue tangling with yours, flicking against your bottom lip teasingly.
The way Crassus' lips firmly sweep over yours over and over again sparks a flaming heat inside of you. A need appears unlike anything you've ever felt before and, unable to stop yourself, you're slightly rolling your hips against him in an attempt to ease the growing ache in your core. And when Crassus breaks the kiss so the two of you can get some much need air into your lungs, you're looking at him wit lust in your doe-eyes.
Crassus can't help, but to flip you onto your back and smirk while slotting himself between your legs that have spread open on their own accord. He runs his knuckles along your cheek, only to hold your hip in his other hand. Crassus’ grip on your hip his strong, but sensual, as his other hand trails down your neck. Your chest heaves up and down as you look up at him, pupils blown wide.
“You feel what you do to me, petal?” Crassus asks, his voice low and thick, as he grinds his large cock, that's straining painfully in his pants, against your aching core.
The action has you soaking your panties. Just the feel of his bulge makes you ache, makes your pussy wetter then it already is. His cock, although trapped in the confines of his slacks, feel so large and heavy against your heated core.
“Crassus, please…” You moan needily.
"Shhh,” Crassus brings a finger up to your lips to shush you. “don’t make a noise, baby.” He dips his head down so his breath is fanning your face and his hand that's on your hip slides under your skirt, his fingertips teasingly sliding up and down your thigh. “We dont want mother to wake up now, would you?" Crassus rhetorically asks, nipping at a sweet spot right below your ear.
“We're really doing this here?” You ask, voice no more than a whisper, against his finger that was still resting against your lips.
Crassus trails his finger down your lower lip, that's bruised from his kisses, over your chin, and down the collum of your neck while telling huskily answering you with a low, “Yes.”
His lips captures yours in another searing kiss, one that shows off his years of experience, as his finger turns into his palm grasping at your breast. You moan into the kiss, your hands burying into his hair and your hips canting up slightly as Crassus toys with the wet patch right in the middle of your panties.
He pulls back from the kiss, only to slyly smirk. “I’m gonna prep you real good for my cock, baby.” Crassus scooted down the length of the couch until his head’s between your spread legs.
Legs that are shaking.
Crassus swiftly bunches your skirt up past your hips before curling his forefingers into the elestatic of your panties. “Lift your hips up for me, petal.” He orders in a low tone that's fire and ice to your ears.
Nodding, you do as you're told- resulting in Crassus pulling your panties off and licking a stripe up your wet cunt. He eases a long finger into your tight pussy while giving your clit a few kitten licks, causing you to wither from his touch.
Crassus' icy eyes hold your gaze as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit expertly. You feel your cheeks grow hot, but you can't make yourself pull your gaze away from his. It's as if his light cerulean eyes have you under a spell. A spell you just can't find it in yourself to break.
Crassus pulls his lips away from your clit with a wet pop. With his eyes still on you, he says, “You're so tight, baby. I'm gonna add another finger, just let me know if it hurts.”, before slipping his middle finger inside of you alongside his pointer finger.
“I'm okay, Crassus. Please, keep going.” You told him, placing a hand in his platinum hair to encourage him to continue eating you out.
“As you wish, petal.” He tells you before going back to teasing your cunt with his skilled tongue while pumping his fingers in and out of your wet, tight hole.
Your breath hitches and you bite back a moan whenever you feel his fingertips curl up against the spongy spot hidden deep inside of you. He grins against your cunt at your reaction to his ministrations.
“Think you can handle a third finger?” Crassus asked, even tho he was planning on squeezing his ring finger into your dripping cunt no matter what your answer is.
He's a very blessed man when it comes to the size of his cock. He's large, both in length and girth, so he wants to stretch you out with his fingers as much as possible. Plus, the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around his fingers is sending all of his blood straight to his hard rock; making it even harder than he thought possible.
“I can handle it, Crassus.” You answer, chest heaving and voice wispy, as you feel a knot tightening in your lower belly.
Crassus wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard, while stuffing you full with three of his long fingers. His ego was soaring as he heard your tiny, strangled moans mixed with the gushing sound your wet cunt made as he fingered you fast and hard while sucking and nipping at your clit. He groaned into your cunt as he felt your hands tightly holding his hair while shoving his face deeper into your cunt.
“Crassus, I'm close.” You tell him, bucking your hips in an attempt to find relief to the feelings quaking inside of you from the feelings of the middle-aged man's skilled fingers stretching you and his tongue swirling around your puffy clit.
Your thighs are shaking around Crassus' head, but he doesn't care. No, not when you're so close to cumming. Hell, he could die with his head crushed by your thighs and he'd die a happy man with your sweet tangy taste on his tongue.
His fingers curl against your g-spot just right at the same time his teeth graze against your clit, sending you over the edge. You cum with a silent scream, bucking your hips wildly.
It was unlike anything you ever felt in your life. You swear, you're seeing stars as you cum.
Crassus groans and laps up everything that you give him. You're messily dripping and all he can do is eagerly lick you clean. Oh, how your taste drives him wild.
He backs away from your cunt, only to look you in the eye while sucking your taste off of his fingers. “Sweetest thing I've ever tasted, baby.” Crassus smirks, his low tone oozing lust. And it has your cheeks flushing and your pussy growing wet- again.
Crassus quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down to his thighs. Your eyes widen as you see the large bulge pressing against his boxers, thanks to the glowing light the TV was casting in the room. You quickly realize, before he even pulls down his boxers, that Crassus’ dick is bigger than Coriolanus’. And that fact makes you both nervous and excited.
Crassus knows that once he enters your cunt he's a goner, that he'll most likely lose control. He's so pent up since his career at the Ministry of War along with his side job as an arms dealer; overlooking his assets in 13 doesn't leave him much time in his schedule to go out and fuck somebody. The gods know that he's always busy doing something.
But between his obsession with you and having your pussy in his grasp, well, he's sure that he's not sleeping a wink tonight. And neither are you.
“Sling your leg over the back of the couch, petal.” Crassus orders while pulling down his boxers; setting his very long and thick cock free to slap up against his stomach. A stomach that's still covered by his shirt. “I need your legs spread wide, as wide as possible, for me.”
“Okay.” You nod, adjusting your legs to spread wide in the way that he wanted them.
“Relax, baby, I'll take good care of you.” Uttered Crassus before pushing his cock into your wet cunt.
You bite your lip and claw at his muscular back as you feel his cock splitting you in two. Yes, you're not a virgin and had a big cock fucking you for a week back in late July/early August, but being stretched by Crassus' cock had you feeling like you're losing your virginity all over again. Clearly, your hole had tightened up after months of not being fucked- resulting in the uncomfortable feeling you're experiencing as the handsome man hovering above you pushes his fat dick into you at a steady pace.
Crassus knows your not a virgin since he didn't meet the resistance of your barrier, so he quickly realizes that you're so painfully tight because you haven't been properly fuck in a long time. Hell, he doubts you've been properly fucked at all considering the last man you most likely fucked wasn't a real man at all, but a green schoolboy.
“You can take it, baby. You took my fingers so well, I know you can take all of my cock?” Crassus praises and encourages you while sinking deeper and deeper into your tight cunt.
And when he's finally balls deep inside of your tight cunt, which is literally stretched to the max, his icy eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out a tiny grunt.
Crassus gives you a couple of minutes to accommodate his size before he's pumping his cock in and out of your pussy at a steady, but deep pace. One of his hands is on your hip while the other’s resting on the thigh of your leg that's strewn over the back of the sofa. Your arms are wrapped around him, hands on his back, as you feel the veins of his cock gliding against your inner walls as he fucks into you- making you mewl.
“Remember, we can't be too loud.” Crassus reminds you, his deep voice a whisper that sending butterflies fluttering deep inside your belly.
“I’m n-not being t-too loud.” You protest, falling over your words and trying not to moan as you feel Crassus' cock hit your g-spot.
Your nails dig into his back and he triumphantly smirks. Oh, yes, you're enjoying this as much, if not more, then he is.
“Keep it that way and I'll reward you by letting you scream on top of your lungs when I fuck you in my room within the next half hour.” Crassus tells you, his husky voice dripping with dominance, as he fucks into you even harder.
You can't believe your ears. Crassus wants to fuck you again- tonight! And in his bed!
Something about that revelation does something to you; has you cumming around his cock while choking back a moan that wants to bubble out.
The feel of your tight cunt clenching around his cock along with the feeling of you creaming it triggers off Crassus' orgasm. He cums, painting your walls white with his seed, while kissing your lips feverishly to keep himself from moaning and grunting too loudly.
Fucking Crassus Snow wasn't just a one time thing. In fact, it was something that occured regularly between the two of you. So much so that you took to sleeping in his bed instead of in your own room.
You doubt that Grandma'am knew what was going on between you and her son. She never brought it up; never gave you odd looks either. In fact, she seems to smile every time she sees Crassus peck you on the cheek before taking off to do something, greeting you, or sending you on your way.
Plus, as time went on, Grandma'am seemed too occupied with Crassus' campaign for the presidency to pick up on anything happening in the penthouse. Whether that be lingering interactions between you and her son or your own building anxiety.
And of course Crassus was too busy with both his campaign and his work at the Ministry of War to notice you growing more anxious. Or at least that's what you thought.
But Crassus is a very observant man and he truly does notice your anxiety. He just thinks it's due to his campaign; that you're nervous about how he'll do in the primary election that's being held in a handful of months to determine the two presidential candidates that’ll go head to head in the main election for the presidency come November.
He has no idea why you're truly anxious.
Coriolanus isn't Private Snow anymore, but he's now Elite Officer Snow since he passed his exams, or at least Crassus told you that's what he heard from his contact. Crassus also told you that his son's most likely going to bring his district whore with him whenever he transfers to 2.
So, of course you're anxious about what to do when it comes to Coryo. Especially since all calls and letters from the younger Snow have ceased. You can't help, but wonder if he truly does want you to join him or if he really did bring a district whore with him.
A district whore he denied having in the first place.
And then there's the subject of Crassus, your lover and Coriolanus' father. You can't help, but wonder if fucking you’s just something he does to relieve stress since you're around. He's so busy with his career and politics that he rarely spends time with you, unless it's in his bedroom.
Yes, yes, he still taste tests your baking, but know he's having you bake for his campaign workers and volunteers that it feels like he's just testing what you bake to make sure that it's edible for his entourage. It doesn't feel like he's genuinely eating your baked goods anymore.
Unlike Coryo, Crassus has never once told you that he loves you. Hasn't even told you that he cares. At least Coryo claims to love you. If Crassus truly felt something for you, wouldn't he vocalize it?
You go on worrying yourself with so many thoughts of Coryo and Crassus until one day you finally receive a letter in the mail from the younger Snow. Crassus gives it to you, like he always does, before pecking you on the cheek and going to his office to do some paperwork for his campaign.
You read Coryo’s letter, only to discover that he's living at the Nut in 2 and wants you to join him. Enclosed in the letter’s a train ticket to District 2- dated for the following morning.
That letter has you reeling as you shove it along with the ticket back into the envelope. You place the letter on the desk in your room, a room you never use anymore.
You're weighing the words you read in the letter as you lay in bed, waiting for Crassus to join you. But when he finally does come to bed, he makes you forget all about the letter. At least he does for a little while as his body's on top of yours, fucking into your tight cunt with fervent vigor.
But as you're basking in the afterglow of your fucking with Crassus, you can't help, but to wonder what the two of you are. And the nagging question has you asking, “What are we? Do you even love me? Or am I just a stress reliever for you?", as you lay pressed into Crassus' side with your hand on his chest.
Your question starles Crassus. He blinks his pale blue eyes and the hand that's resting on your shoulder starts to rub soothing circles into it. He thought that you already knew what the two of you are, but now he knows he thought wrong. Looking down at you, he gives you the honest answer of, “You're not a stress reliever for me, petal. You're so much more than that. You're my second chance of a woman's love; you're my obsession, baby.”
Right there and then his answer soothes the worry in your soul and you decide to stay with him.
Crassus, not one for being overly affectionate since he is, after all a stern man by nature, decides to move past his love confession by changing the subject with, “Well, petal, I did promise to let you be in control of round 2 if I made a noise first.” With a smirk, he takes a hold of your hips and starts to guide you to straddle his waist while remarking, "We better get you on top, huh?”
And as you ride Crassus all thoughts of that letter and the train ticket disappear forever. It's just a piece of junkmail that you'll throw in the trash come morning.
Crassus, not one for giving up control, gives you the illusion that you're in control as he lets you ride in, but in fact stays in complete control of you by guiding your hips at the speed he wants you to go. He even pulls off his dog tags (he's never once taken them off because once a soldier, always a soldier) and puts them over your head; letting you wear them as you ride him. It's a way of marking you as his, having you wear his dog tags while fucking.
And when he grabs them, only to pull you down for a kiss, he nearly loses his mind whenever you tell him, “You're a good boy, Crassus.”, with your lips ghosting against his as you bounce up and down on his cock with ease.
Your words make him realize that you have a dom side; that you're a switch since you always let him be the dom in bed. It does something to him, makes his cock get impossibly harder, knowing that you can be dominant when you want. That you can say words of praise that sound filthy flowing from your lips in a tone that's a bit more sultry and masterful.
All of those sudden revelations had Crassus losing control. And suddenly, he's telling you, “Oh, I'll show you how good of a boy I can be.”, while bucking up into you at an unyielding and brutal pace causing you both to moan and grunt until you cum together.
You threw the letter containing the ticket to District 2 in the trash. You never told Crassus about it either. You didn't feel the need to since you picked him.
Coriolanus waited for you at the train station all day, only for you to stand him up. That made him angry. He was insulted that you didn't listen to him; that you most likely told his father about the plans for you to move to 2- that his father must've stopped you. Hell, Coriolanus felt like an idiot waiting for you only for you to stand him up.
As he walked home alone, Elite Officer Snow realized that his father had won. That General Crassus Snow had taken you from him.
He also thinks that you're a dumb bitch for not listening to him whenever he warned you about his father having a thing for you.
And a few months later, in October before the presidential elections are held, First Lieutenant Coriolanus Snow is invited to his father General Crassus Snow's wedding.
To your wedding.
Coriolanus didn't want to go, but went only because it'd look bad for his Air Force career if he snubbed his father's wedding. All of his superiors thought that General Crassus Snow, the war hero of the rebellion, was one of the best military minds on the planet. So, he was stuck going.
Coriolanus brought his wife, a pretty little thing from the districts, with him. He has her on his arm, all dolled up in a cerulean blue dress. Her hair's up in some simple updo so you notice the faint scars on her back, from where they pop out from her dress, right away.
And that's when you knew you made the right choice in picking Crassus. You remember that Coriolanus once told you a story about how he turned a girl in for thievery and helped her leave the town square once her punishment, a whipping, was done. You remember he told you that story when you confronted him about seeing somebody in District 8. But now you know that First Lieutenant Snow was using his charm to lie to you; that he really did cheat on you.
You suppose that he pulled some strings and sent for his district girl once you failed to show up at the train station in 2. You're glad that he's not alone, that he has his district whore- as Crassus refers to the girl as.
You got stuck sharing one dance with Coriolanus, being his new stepmother and all, and he let you know how he felt about you being Mrs. Crassus Snow during your waltz.
“It should've been me marrying you, not my father, Y/N.” Coriolanus told you, his face a mask of indifference as his baby blue eyes blazed with anger. “I can't believe you let him seduce you; steal you away from me.”
Narrowing your eyes at the man that used to be your best friend, you explain your situation with, “Crassus never seduced me or stole me from you, Coriolanus. We became friends while I was dealing with your absence and one thing led to another.”
“He'll never love you the way that I do, my darling rose.”
“Don't talk to me about loving me, Coriolanus. Not when you're married to some district girl.”
“My wife might be district but at least she's loyal to me, is grateful for everything that I've done for her- unlike you who jumped into bed with my own goddamn father.” Coriolanus darkly hissed before storming off, ending your dance and leaving you on the dance floor.
Crassus just raised a brow and asked you what happened once you left the dance floor and returned to his side at the table on the dias- high up on display in the ballroom since you're the newlyweds.
You just told him that you had Coriolanus didn't approve of each other's spouses and that he stormed off after trying to make his wife seem like a better woman than you. Crassus laughed and told you not to pay too much attention to his bratty son. That he's always been full of piss and vinegar when he couldn't get his way.
Crassus won the presidential election by a landslide. One of the first things he did was intergrade District 13 back into Panem. And since the former sovereign nation was a great source of income for Crassus due to his nuke factories there, District 13 was put on a pedestal. They had rights similar to those in the Capitol while the other 12 districts still had to participate in the games.
Yes, your husband kept the Hunger Games. You think it's because they're so popular, but the truth his your husband finds the way his drunken class project blossomed into a spectacle that the Capitolites adore fascinating. Plus, Crassus was a cold, stern man that was a military genius. The president saw the merits of keeping the districts under control by using the games as a lifelong punishment.
At least your husband did improve some of the living and working conditions in the Districts. He told you that that people needed a little bit of hope to keep from rebelings, but also a firm hand to guide them and keep them in line. Crassus said it was all checks and balances.
And when Dr. Gaul approached President Crassus Snow with an amendment that would have all children born in the districts, including ones born on PK Bases, be legal district citizens and registered for the games, well, your husband approved it.
You wondered how your brother felt about that. If he ever married his girl in 12, where he was serving as an officer in the peacekeepers, or if he had a family. You'd never know those answers since he disowned you after receiving your wedding invite. He was pissed about the situation, said some nasty things, and literally disowned you.
You never thought about Coriolanus and his wife, whether or not they had children. Why would you? Coriolanus never wrote, never had anything to do with you or Crassus being his ego was bruised by your wedding.
Talk about children, Crassus had given you three beautiful children. Two sons and a daughter. Javani, Xanthos, and Mara.
Javani was the oldest and he, to your surprise, favored your late father in looks and temperment. Or at least Crassus told you he did. In fact, your husband always chuckles that the only thing Javani got from him is his platinum hair while everything else is from your family's genes.
Xanthos and Mara are Snows inside and out, from dawn to dusk, tho.
And when Javani is 18 he's selected to be a mentor for the Hunger Games since he's a very intelligent young man and is in the top 24 of his class. But what made his mentorship memorial and unusual was that, by a twist of fate, his assigned tribute was his nephew.
Yes, Javani Snow’s tribute was Cassian Snow, from District 2. Cassian's the first born child of Major Coriolanus Snow and his wife, a district woman you never bothered to learn the name of.
And, it's sad to say, after seeing Coriolanus' son get reaped and assigned to Javani as his tribute to mentor, you know in your heart of hearts that you made the right decision in staying with Crassus; marrying him and becoming First Lady Snow. Because your children are safe from the games.
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#coriolanus snow#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#thg#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coryo snow#tbosas fanfiction#obsessive!coriolanus snow#obsessive!crassus snow#crassus snow x reader#crassus snow#crassus#coryo snow x reader#crassus snow smut#smut#thg smut#tbosas smut#smut fanfiction#peacekeeper!coriolanus snow#thg x reader#tbosas x reader#tbosas fic#crassus snow fic#the hunger games fanfiction#thg fanfiction#callum turner fanfiction#joe rantz#callum turner smut#fanfiction
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Supermarket Romance P3
Modern! Titus x Reader
S: His first conversation has inspired him to try and build greater connections with the people he already speaks to. His therapist is overjoyed with this development advising him that in due time he will see his anxiety dwindle as exposure is the best type of therapy. Titus is motivated and encouraged even, to pursue further socializing with you. Hopefully, this could be the start of a new connection.
W: PTSD episodes, Depression, Anxiety Disorders, Reader is a broke Artist, Titus works as an Analyst for a company, Ableist comments (From Titus and to Titus)
Previous / Next
He didn’t know why he continued to do this to himself. Guilliman had told him to buy a notepad or set reminders on his phone but Titus refused to do so. It got to the point that Guilliman bought him his very own notepad with differently formatted pages so that he could use it for whatever he needed. He once again forgot to take the notepad or write anything down in it as he was browsing the grocery store shelves searching for something he knew he needed but forgot.
His forgetfulness only grew worse with the more he remembered the conversation he had with you a few days back. He couldn’t stop himself from reliving it as it was a weird source of comfort. You didn’t frown at him or make a displeased face. You looked at im, really looked at him, and didn’t think any different about his appearance. Even his doctor at times made faces when talking about his injuries. It made it hard to live in his body at times. But you made it tolerable, at least for the moment.
He mindlessly grabbed whatever was in front of him, not even bothering to read the label or check the price as he continued to relish in the memory before being snapped out of it by his phone buzzing. He pulled it out of his pocket, hoping to see a call from his doctor or Chairon but he was instead met with his boss's name. He frowned at the still-ringing phone but still answered the call reluctantly.
“Hello, Mr. Guilliman.” Titus greeted.
“For the love of everything, Demetrian. Stop calling me 'Mr. Guilliman'. I’m not just your boss, I’m your friend. Reframe from such a habit.” The younger man shouted. It never ceased to surprise Titus just how odd Guilliman was. Their age difference made this even more odd considering that Guilliman was also his superior at the office. It felt awkward to have his boss be younger than him but he guessed he couldn't complain too much as he himself was once a young Lieutenant and Captain who led men and women off all ages. Age didn't matter too much in the military if you had the ability to prove yourself capable of the work being assigned to you.
He assumed this is why Guilliman didn't stay longer in the military and didn't resign his contract. His might and his brain weren't worth being wasted in combat when it could be used for more analytical and important tasks such as leadership in the bureaucratic system they lived in. In a way, Titus was glad the younger man had left. Guilliman looked more relaxed working in an office than working in a tent in the middle of nowhere.
“I will do my best to refrain from addressing you in that way.” Titus complied.
“Good. Now, I have a question for you if you aren’t too busy.” Titus could practically hear the grin that was spreading across his boss's face.
“I’m not.” Titus began to walk down the aisle and into a new one as he spoke on the phone. He readjusted his phone so he could hold it with his other hand instead of the same hand that carried his basket full of groceries.
“I have an event that I want you to attend. I’m having some of my best employees come with me to help push and talk numbers with some big players in the industry that Father is interested in doing business with. This will be over the span of a week but won't be until a few months from now.” Guilliman explained.
“Ok?”
“I wanted to ask if you had anyone or any responsibilities that might interfere with this event.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” Guilliman teased.
“I’m positive.”
“That’s a shame, I was hoping you’d say yes so I could get you an extra ticket for a potential plus one.” Guilliman added. Titus stopped in his tracks, processing what his superior had just said. Plus one? The only person he could think of that Guilliman might be insinuating is you and it made him feel unease.
Titus had mentioned you in passing during their lunch break. They had been speaking on the phone and decided to have lunch together to catch up on what the other was doing outside of work. He had been talking about how he had met someone at the supermarket who had caught his attention because of how they shopped. He didn’t know how to explain to Guilliman that you reminded him of his mother and how she would take great care in reading and observing costs and food contents when buying food. He didn’t know how to explain that he liked that you dressed the way you did, uncaring if some may criticize you for looking poorly in the middle of the day. He thought it was unique and quirky that you gave such a lacking amount of care to what those around you thought of you. It almost helped him feel less judged when he shopped.
Since then, Guilliman had tried getting him to talk more about you or about any of his few friends outside of himself. Guilliman found it interesting to see just how much Titus needed routines and positive reassurances to know he was doing good. This was in stark contrast to the Captain he had known who didn't seek praise and would scream his lungs out at privates and soldiers during drills and combat. A larger-than-life man who lived to serve was now reduced to an anxious mess who needed reinforcement. It was a fall from grace that Guilliman dared not talk about since he knew that his comments would do more damage than good.
All that Guiliman knew was that predictability and transparency helped Titus and that had remained the same even now. Guilliman wasn't complaining, Titus had been more talkative, more communicative, more present. He had found some strength to come into the office for small project events or meetings that could have been done remotely or even on an email debrief. He was seeing great developments in work and he wanted to nurture these new habits since it slowly brought out the man Titus once was.
"I dont know them well enough for that, Roboute." Titus explained.
"The event is 4 months away, ok. Im just saying that if by any chance there is someone in your life that you wish to bring along I'm more than happy to have them come. The more the merrier." Guilliman added. Guilliman said his goodbyes before hanging up without giving Titus time to respond back. Titus, annoyed, put his phone back into his pocket, not paying attention to the path ahead of him as he did.
"Ouch!" Titus snapped his head towards the noise in front of him. He looked down where he felt something crash into him only to find you sitting on the floor, rubbing your forehead.
"Sorry." He apologized. He put his basket down on the floor before grabbing you by the arm and helping you to your feet.
"No, it's ok. It's on me. I wasn't paying attention." You apologized back. You patted your clothes hoping to clean them from any dirt you might have picked up in your fall.
"Thanks for picking me up, Titus." You smiled up at him, hoping that he didn't misinterpret your apology for sarcasm. Titus looked nervous as he watched you. He looked like he was inspecting you for injuries, not that you would have any, but just to make sure.
"No problem, Y/n."
"So what brings you back to the store, Titus? Anything new you're trying?" You asked wanting to be polite.
"I was told by my dietician to try adding more sugars into my diet. I'm... trying to see what is tolerable enough for me to eat." For someone of his stature, you would have assumed he would be louder but he was soft spoken. Clear and precise, calm but soft. It reminded you of the older gentleman living next door to you who would ask you to help him bring his case of water up if you had the time.
"Do you not like sweet?" You asked.
"I've developed a dislike for overly sweet things so I tend to avoid sugar in general." He explained. In reality, his anxiety made sugar act almost like a trigger. Either he could taste it and it was overwhelming or he'd consume it and it made his anxiety spike. He avoided sugary drinks, sweet treats, and even basic foods that have sweetner in it. The ice cream he had bought was the only thing he could tolerate as it wasn't too sweet and the cold numbed the taste.
"Fruit tends to be the easiest way to get sugar into a diet. It's hard not to enjoy them since there's variety." You explained. This seemed to ease Titus a little. His once furrowed brows eased just a little at the suggestion.
"I will try that." The conversation died from there. While you thought there was nothing more to say, Titus was buzzing with questions of his own. Another conversation with you meant more exposure which meant that his therapist would be proud of his progress and he himself will be proud of his progress.
"What about you?" He asked. He looked at your empty basket before returning his gaze to you.
"Me? Oh, I was seeing what I could get for $20. I don't really have the budget right now to experiment with food."
"What can you possibly get with $20?" He questioned. You thought his question was brash but you chalked it up to shock.
"You'd be surprised. It mainly works if you bargain or use coupons. For the most part, I get the ramen packets or rice." You shrugged.
"So you mainly eat...."
"Poorly? Yeah. When your broke you have to eat whatever, so might as well eat something that's not gross."
"Doesn't it leave you in a nutritional deficit?" Titus was trying to wrap his head around how anyone could possibly live off of this diet. Even the MRE's he would get in his service was better than the food you planned on buying. It sounded horrible and his face must have shown it because you laughed before explaining yourself.
"It does, but again, I dont have the money to buy anything other than the things I really need." You smiled up at him again, the corner of your eyes pinching against your cheeks.
"It was nice talking to you, Titus. Hopefully, next time we see each other you can tell me what fruits you liked." You winked at him teasingly.
"Of course. I will make sure to do so." He nodded. You couldn't help it, but you chuckled at him. He was amusing, to say the least. There was no way he was an actual person. He was too formal, too forward, too honest. You kinda felt bad for being able to know so much about this man when you haven't said enough about yourself.
As you walked away Titus sighed. This had been the longest conversation he had with you. This was good! He wondered if he had said too much or not enough. Maybe it was invasive to ask the questions had asked. It was all said and done but he couldn’t help but worry. He shook his head, he wasn’t going to allow doubt to consume him. Not now, not when he had just gained such a positive thing.
When he made it back home he made sure to go about his usual routine with as much urgency as he could. He double checked his locks, took a shower, put away his groceries, and grabbed his laptop from his desk to bring it over to his bed. He laid there, silently waiting for a call to come in. The ticking of his clock unnerved him as he waited. No matter how many times he had done this it still never stopped being stressful. The waiting, the anticipation ate at him as he counted down the seconds.
*bzzzz* *bzzzzzzz*
Titus clicked on the green answer button that appeared on his laptops screen before readjusting the camera and himself.
“Demetrian, what a pleasure it is to see you once more.” An older man with glasses that looked almost comically round, greeted Titus. He smiled, teeth showing as he waved at the man.
“Dr Galeo, it is good to speak with you again.” Titus greeted back.
“You’re looking well. I hope you’ve been following instructions given to you by your physician?”
“I have. There’s no need to be concern.”
“Good, good. I’m that case, let’s talk about your progress shall we? What have your most recent interactions with other people have been?” Galeo ask.
“Positive. I’ve been meaning to tell you abott it my interactions either Y/n, actually.”
“Do tell, Titus.” Proded Galeo.
It was as if the flood gates had open. Titus talked and talked and talked about you and the conversation you had had with each toner. Every moment, every word, every movement you had made was described in detail as he spoke to his therapist. Be couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he just needed to talk to someone about his new friend. Galeo didn’t mind his team kings, if anything, this was the whole reason why he enjoyed his weekly check in with Titus.
When Titus had first started therapy he was closed up. He refused to speak or even write down his thoughts or feelings. It was frustrating as it didn’t seem that the man would open up any time soon and Galeo would have to fire him as a client. So when Galeo proposed Titus begin making small interactions with people in his gym, this seemed to spark a reaction. Titus didn’t take recommendations but orders and a life of service made this even more important for how Galeo was going to treat him. So he began giving Titus orders. Do this, do that, you must complete this. This worked even if it felt like it was degrading to do but it gave Galeo space to work with. Titus began reporting back that he would speak to the kind woman in the front desk at his gym if only to say “hello” and “goodbye”. This began to slowly evolve into him speaking to the new security guard at the gym that had approached Titus asking what his workout routine was. Story after story of the security guard became frequent but what threw Galeo off guard was the story about the person Titus had met at the supermarket.
“They spoke to me, again.” Titus said. His voice was in awe, almost as if he couldn’t believe that a basic human interaction could possibly be directed at him. Galeo knew Titus was deeply insecure but to see him genuinely surprised that something so small such as a greeting or acknowledgment would be directed at him made something in Galeo mourn for his patient.
“And they said that they wanted to hear if I liked anything new that I tried.” Titus finished. Galeo smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgment.
“That’s wonderful Titus. You and your friend seem to be making progress."
"They even gave me their name. Y/n."
"See, and here you were worried about rejection. You're making good progress. This is something to celebrate." Galeo encouraged.
"It feels childish to celebrate something so normal but I truly feel like I've progressed in my treatment, Galeo."
"And I see that progress, Titus. In due time, you will see all of these efforts pay off." Galeo comforted him, hoping that his words held some value to the man.
They spent the rest of their session making idle conversation on things Titus could improve on. Galeo hoped that more social interaction could help Titus see that the world wasn't against him. They ended their session with Galeo tasking Titus with trying to extend this connection with you outside of the supermarket. friendship is good for his health and Titus, unfortunately, has lacked those platonic relationships ever since he left the military. Titus agreed with him and even stated that there had been a few people who had reached out to him but he hasn't had the courage to reach back out of discomfort. Galeo reassures him that all in due time, there's no need to rush but there needs to be an attempt to try. With that, Titus ended the call and began preparing an early dinner for himself. He ate his meal in silence as he thought about the events of today. Would you want to be friends with him? Would you feel comfortable spending time with him outside of the occasional bumping into each other in the supermarket? He made sure to clean his dishes and then take a shower before heading to bed. He lay in his bed contemplating the plans for the next day. He had it off, there was nothing for him to do. Maybe he would be kind to himself and explore the city he lived in.
#titus x reader#demetrian titus x reader#demetrian titus#w40k#wh40k#warhammer 40k#warhammer 40000#ultramarines#demetrian titus warhammer#demetrian titus w40k#titus wh40k#titus w40k#Supermarket Romance W40k
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I’ve had this in my head for awhile
“promiscuous” by Nelly furtado for Toji Fushiguro- smut
Promiscuous
Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader
Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~2.0k
cw: p*rn without plot, smut – PIV sex (doggy), degradation, public sex, nipple play, fingering, sex without a condom, spit play, daddy kink, breeding kink, cream pie
Summary: You’re a waitress working in a ramen shop at the racetrack. There are always the regulars that come in during the odd hours of the day, killing time with a bowl of ramen or takoyaki, waiting to either win or lose. Toji Fushiguro is one in particular that catches your eye. When he continues his losing streak, you decide to cheer him up in the only way you know how.
Author's Note: Thank you for the request for the y2k karaoke party my lovely @batafuraikisu! I love you so so much, you’re always so sweet and so supportive of me! I hope you like this one for your man Toji! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.
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It’s noon on a Tuesday morning. A gun fires off in the distance, signaling the start of the next race. The regulars you’re used to seeing gather around the monitor, watching as the horses they placed their bets on gallop around the track. Ken, one of the cooks behind the counter, rings the bell; a fresh order of chicken karaage is ready to serve. You stack it on a tray, balancing it as you walk to the dining area, waiting for the race to end, knowing everyone’s attention is on the finish line.
When horse number #4 eventually crosses, followed by #1, then #3, most of the men groan, tossing their crumpled tickets into the nearby trashcan. Goro, a retired grandpa you’ve befriended throughout the years, pumps his fist in the air victoriously. “I knew Prince could do it! Wahoo!”
You smile at him, setting the food down at his table. “Congratulations!”
He pats your hand gratefully, snapping his chopsticks in two, popping a piece into his mouth. “Thank you, dear. Please ask Ken to make three more orders for me.” He points his thumb to the others, moping in their seats, some taking long drags of their cigarettes. “Figured these losers could use a little treat.”
Giggling, you respond, “Coming right up.”
On your way back, you notice a familiar figure slumped in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Toji Fushiguro is a new regular from the past few weeks. He’s significantly younger than the others, and also undeniably attractive. Naturally, you take an interest in him. It’s rare to find someone with his muscular stature around here, considering the usual crowd consist of middle-aged men with beer bellies or elderly fellows hunched over from old age. While you never minded these type of men before, it was a pleasant change of scenery to see someone like Fushiguro grace you with his presence.
Behind the counter, you add an order of takoyaki, hoping to lighten up his mood. It’s obvious his horse didn’t win. He’s been this way for the past two weeks, continuously betting on the wrong one, none of his choices even placing. When the food is ready, you pass it out to the depressed men smoking in the corner, who wave at Goro in thanks. The friendly old man joins them, trying to lift their spirits by offering a round of drinks. Everyone in the restaurant is gathered together because misery really does love company. Well, except for Toji.
You approach him consciously, remembering that you’ve only ever exchanged a few words with each other, whenever he would place his order. Silently, you slide the food over to him until he notices it. He peeks at you with one eye open, glancing at the little plate of octopus balls in front of him. “I didn’t order this.”
“It’s on the house,” you say, smiling.
Glaring at you, he responds, “I don’t need your pity.”
Yikes, you think, standing your ground. Not quite backing down just yet, you explain, “It’s not pity. Consider it thanks for always supporting our business. You’re a regular now.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, studying you thoroughly. “So, this isn’t because I’ve been sulking here for the last two weeks, right?”
You shake your head. “Nope. Absolutely not. But if you really don’t want it, I’m sure Goro and the others will happily eat it for you – ”
“I’ll eat it,” he interrupts, pulling it towards him, finally relaxing.
You smirk. “Great. Have a good meal.” Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer before you turn on your heel, leaving.
Just barely do you hear him mutter a quiet, “Thanks.”
~~~
The next day, Toji is back, nodding at you as he walks into the establishment. This is the most he’s acknowledged you personally before, and part of you feels a sense of accomplishment. As if you’re slowly getting through to him.
Throughout the morning, he sits in his usual seat, watching race after race, groaning at the end of each one. He’ll rush out of the shop only to return minutes later with a new ticket in hand. It’s a sad cycle that continues past lunch, still no luck.
Your coworker is serving him today, so you haven’t said a thing, a bit nervous that he might snap at you for “pitying” him again. However, you’ve been exchanging knowing glances here and there; you can tell he’s watching you, and you don’t mind it. Not at all.
After setting down a table full of ramen bowls for a particularly cheery bunch of winners, you brush past him, his hand grabbing your wrist firmly to stop you. “Hey.”
You face him, alarmed and excited at the sudden contact. “Hello,” you say, stepping towards him.
He doesn’t let go, eyes scanning you up and down. You swallow nervously, not quite sure what to do or say. “Do you need something?”
It takes a beat for him to respond but he does, smirking. “I do, actually. I need some pity.”
You crack a smile, teasing, “Oh, so now you want my pity. What do you want? Karaage? Another takoyaki?”
“I’m not really hungry for food right now.” His grip tightens around your wrist, electricity radiating from his touch straight to your chest, sending your heart racing.
Normally, you wouldn’t do this type of thing, but you can’t help yourself: you’re far too curious to let an opportunity like this go to waste. Mouth grazing his ear and as confidently as you can muster, you whisper, “My shift ends in an hour. Think you can be patient until then?”
His grin widens, teeth showing like a predator who has set their sights on its prey. “Sure. I have a feeling this will be worth the wait.”
~~~
As expected, Toji remains seated in the same spot until you’re done. When you start to approach him, he stands up, ready to follow wherever you lead him. You wave goodbye to Ken and your coworker, who stare at the two of you curiously. Ken even yells out your name, asking, “What are you up to?!”
Ignoring the question, you walk briskly down one of the corridors towards the exit. Toji trails just behind you, not speaking. You turn into one of the single vacancy bathrooms you usually use, pulling him inside with you, locking the door with a loud click.
His back is pressed to the door, staring at you, cocky. “Impatient, aren’t we?”
“Shut up,” you say, clutching his collar, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. He chuckles into your mouth, tongue swiping yours, hands arounds your waist. They slide below your ass, squeezing your flesh between his large fingers. You moan, dragging your lips down his neck, sucking on his skin.
His thumbs hook on the waistband of your jeans, tugging you closer to him. The bulge in his sweatpants is throbbing and hard against you as you grind your body on his, eager for more. He hums. “And here I was thinking you’d be nervous around me. Who would have thought you’d be so promiscuous?”
You laugh, your hands gliding under his shirt, fondling his muscular body. “Are you that surprised? I don’t offer pity takoyaki to just anybody.”
“Lucky me,” he smiles, nipping at your bottom lip.
Soon, you’re both stripped naked, clothes tossed hastily onto the floor. He licks his lips as he studies your figure, hands roaming your body, pinching at your nipples all perky and hard with arousal. He flicks his thumbs across them, asking, “You like having your tits played with?”
You nod, watching hazily as he bows down, lips near your breasts. “Good. Feed them to me.”
You obey, squeezing one in your hands, guiding it into his mouth. He puckers his lips around the sensitive teat, sucking until you whine with pleasure. You pull out of him slowly, releasing you with a loud pop. He does the same with the other side, suckling on your nipple until it’s plump and aching with arousal.
“Think you’re wet enough for me?” he growls, reaching for your throbbing clit, flicking it with his fingers. “Bet I can make you wetter.”
“Then do it,” you moan, grinding against his hand. “Fuck me with those fingers.”
His eyes widen, two beefy fingers sliding into your entrance, stretching you out. “Fuck, you’re bad. So ready to get finger fucked by a total stranger. Nasty slut.” He sticks his tongue in your mouth, slobbering all over you as he pumps his digits in and out of your pussy, rubbing his thumb on your clit. After several more strokes, you come for him, gushing around his fingers until they’re coated in your slick.
“Shit,” he swears, letting you ride out your orgasm on his palm, thumb still circling your bud. “It’s real creamy now. Perfect for my cock.” He pulls out, stroking his dick with his wet fingers, spreading his own precum around the tip. “Bend over for me, sweetheart.”
You’re needy and desperate for him to fill you up now, obedient to his every command no matter how crudely he spits it out to you. In this moment, you’re nothing but a cock sleeve for Toji, waiting to be stuffed full. So you follow his orders, bending over with your hands flat against the wall, sticking your ass out for him. He smacks it, watching with mirth as your skin jiggles from his harsh touch. He nestles his cock between your cheeks, grinding it against you. “Goddamn, that’s sexy,” he growls, spitting into his palm, lubricating his shaft with his saliva. “Do you want it?”
“Yes,” you breathe out, anticipating. “Give it to me.”
“Tell daddy exactly what you want,” he coos, slapping your bottom once more, teasing the tip up and down your folds.
“Fuck, I want daddy’s big cock inside me!” you cry out, thrusting yourself onto him, his dick sliding smoothly inside you.
He laughs, gripping your hips tightly as he starts to thrust. “Yeah, you want daddy’s cock pounding this wet pussy, huh? Look at you swallowing me up. Fucking whore.”
The degradation only spurs you to throw your ass back onto him, fucking you deeper and deeper until your knees are wobbly, legs shaky. He rails you harder, spreading your cheeks apart to watch his dick disappear with each plunge. “This pussy was made to be bred. You want my cum inside you? Ask for it. Beg for it.”
“Please daddy! I want your cum!” you plead, unashamed. Really, whatever figurative chokehold this man has on you is outstanding. To have you begging for his seed, desperate to be stuffed with his load, it’s concerning and riveting all at the same time.
“Louder,” he demands. “Let the whole racetrack hear how much you want daddy’s cum.” He reaches around to stimulate your clit, massaging it between his thick fingers.
“Give me all your fucking cum, daddy!” you moan, choking on your own spit, drool trickling out the sides of your mouth. It’s pointless now to deny how fucking cock-drunk you are for him. Useless to save face when you were already so blatant about seducing him from the start. All you can do now is comply and hope that none of your coworkers can hear you screaming from the other side of the wall.
“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear,” he purrs, flicking your bud rapidly. “You’re going to get all this fucking cum.”
He comes as soon as you tighten around him with your second orgasm. He doesn’t stop stimulating your clit until he empties his load inside you. Slowly, he pulls out, marveling at the lewd sight of his cock coated in cum. “Fuck,” he mutters, continuing to gaze at the mess the both of you made.
You gradually come to your senses, carefully picking your clothes up from the floor. When you’re fully dressed, he steps to you, cupping your cheeks in his hands, kissing your forehead. “Are you working tomorrow?”
With a weak smile, you respond, “Yes.”
He grins back, brushing your lips with his thumb. “Good. See you then.”
~~~
The next day, coincidentally, Toji’s horse places first, ending his miraculous losing streak. After collecting his winnings, he waits for you until your shift is done, waving the earnings in his hands, smiling. “Guess I got myself a good luck charm now,” he says, winking at you. “Want to make me a winner again?”
#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji smut#toji x you#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#fushiguro toji#toji x y/n#jjk toji#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#fushiguro toji smut#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#y2k karaoke party#milestone event
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༆THE LAST WOMAN ON EARTH ☢︎︎- ➪enhypen ot7 x fem reader
SYNOPSIS: Moving to South Korea at just 20 years old to study medicine was something that made you extremely proud. You had so many plans for the future, but it seems that fate doesn't want the same for you. Overnight, a virus that affects only women spreads throughout the world, causing all the women in the world to die in a matter of weeks. You were the only one left standing, the problem? Nobody knew, only you. As time passed, you managed to survive this post-apocalyptic world, where you had to hide from men because if someone knew that a woman still existed, everything would go to hell for you. You didn't expect seven strangers to break into your house in the middle of the night and you didn't expect what was going to happen next either.
Word Count: 5.3k
Pairing: enhypen! x fem!reader
Genre: Suspense, death, dystopian, post-apocalyptic world, angst, too much drama, slow burn, smut as the chapters go by (mdni), fluff, Possessiveness, jealousy, fights, toxicity, lots of love (I know, it sounds contradictory) enhypen are complete losers for the reader in the best way, strangers to lovers and other things that may happen later
Warnings!⚠️: Death, loss of loved ones, use of weapons, depression and anxiety problems, mentions of suicide, survival, vulgar and sometimes offensive language, graphic descriptions of traumatic events. If you are sensitive, don't read it for your own good. Everyone is of legal age!! Heeseung is 26, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon are 25, Sunoo is 23, Jungwon is 22 and Ni-ki is 21.
Status: ongoing (16-01-2025 - )
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction, everything came out of my head, the personality of the characters are not real and do not represent them in real life in any way, any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. Everyone is of legal age in this universe. English is not my first language so you will probably find spelling mistakes.
Hi beautiful people!! I'm back with the third chap of this story. It took me almost five days to write it, but here it is finally!! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!! Xoxo, aby..
CHAPTER I: "Disaster"
CHAPTER II: "Loneliness"
CHAPTER III: "Trust Issues"
more under the cut ☟︎︎︎
"I will kill you..."
Fuck, you couldn't have been any clearer with your words. If they made you the slightest bit suspicious, you would blow their heads off. And as much as you had said before that you didn't want to kill them, if they gave you reason even after your warning, you would have no choice.
After that, you had simply thrown some clothes at them, muttering a "take a bath and clean up this mess," pointing to the wet and muddy floor, and then disappeared upstairs.
You had locked yourself in your room (literally) because you had locked the lock with a homemade key that you had made at the beginning of all this when you didn't feel safe even in your room and felt the need to lock it. You had no energy for anything else, and that night you just lay in your bed, hoping to be alive the next day, while you heard little murmurs on the first floor, and also heard the boys walking around, probably cleaning up.
After a few minutes, surprisingly, you managed to fall asleep. ....
----------
The seven men in your house had barely gotten a wink of sleep the night before, they had been able to bathe properly and clean up as you had asked, but the fact of their new reality, living with you, the last remaining woman, had not let them rest properly.
And now it was a whole new reality that they had to adjust to, but damn it, it was so hard knowing that you were sleeping one floor away. They had you so close but so far away at the same time that it was almost impossible to get comfortable enough to sleep because there was something going on in their heads that would not leave them alone....
you
your existence, your presence, even the ghost of your perfume that had lingered in the living room and how you had confronted them so powerfully the night before. It was just you.
The next morning, the smell of cooking woke you from your sleep. Hell, you knew how to cook, but you hadn't smelled anything that tasty in years. That meant only one thing, one of the boys was using your kitchen, and whatever was cooking smelled delicious.
You replaced your pajamas with a pair of jogging pants and a tight, slightly short, long-sleeved t-shirt that revealed the delicate little metal that adorned your belly button. You combed your hair a little, and in the bathroom of your room you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Little things in your daily routine that you were still allowed to do.
You put your gun in your makeshift gun belt and unlocked the door to your room. What you didn't expect when you walked out was to see two of the boys sitting against the wall on either side of your door, asleep. Their expressions were unreadable as you looked at them doubtfully, now that you could see them better in the morning sunlight. Their features were relaxed, a stark contrast to how tense they had been the night before, they were wearing the clothes you had thrown at them, and they really were attractive men, but then again, you couldn't stop and thinking about that now.
With a sigh, you looked at them for a few more seconds before shaking your head and walking down the hall to the stairs. You didn't bother to wake them, figuring that if they slept so much, it was because their bodies needed it. Besides, the tension of the night before and the discovery that there was still a woman alive must have exhausted them.
When you reached the first floor after descending the stairs, you could visualize four more guys, scattered randomly on the couch in your living room, also completely asleep. You remembered two of them, one of them you had pointed the gun at and the other was the arrogant shameless jackass, yes, you remembered him very well and now his cute sleeping face had not a hint of arrogance, being able to fool anyone with that appearance of fake innocence.
Well, maybe you were being a bit dramatic but in your defense he had been a jerk to you.
Rolling your eyes at the memory, the delicious smell of food grew stronger as you walked through the living room. You could hear the small clink of the frying pan and the snap of something frying as you approached the kitchen.
When you finally got there, you could see the missing boy, obviously cooking, he hadn't noticed your presence yet, so you decided to lean against the door frame with your arms crossed and a serious expression on your face.
"Morning..." you finally spoke, your voice devoid of emotion as you watched him jump in surprise, "Shit...you scared me..." he turned to you with his eyes a little wide and a hand on his chest in shock as he tried to calm his slightly accelerated breathing.
You almost laughed at the scene but decided to keep your expression serious as you watched him intently. He looked at you for a second and then quickly looked back to the frying pan where he was cooking scrambled eggs while he cleared his throat, "So you're up already?" you could swear he was pretty nervous from the way his body was tense and the silly question he had asked since you were literally standing in front of him.
This was going to be fun.
"Jay, right?..." you clearly remembered his name because that cheeky idiot had called him that the night before as you shushed him, "yeaah, I'm starting to think you're paid to ask stupid questions..." there was a lot of seriousness in your voice as you deliberately gave him a glare, raising both your eyebrows as you watched him open his mouth to try and answer, but he just couldn't.
You remembered his name
and it sounded so beautiful coming out of your lips and it made Jay's head spin a little. Because he didn't want to look like an idiot in front of you, but your presence only, made it difficult.
You spoke again, meeting his gaze, "May I ask what you are doing in my kitchen?" your eyes had a little gleam of amusement in them now, but your voice was still deadly serious.
Jay looked at you and then at the ladle in his hand that he was using to cook, "w-well...i was making the...breakfast..." he cleared his throat again as you heard him stutter. You nodded as a sound of mock approval passed through your throat, "with my food..." you replied as you shook your head in acknowledgement, pointing to the eggs in the pan.
Your eyes never left his fake calm expression, his body language and voice clearly betraying the nervousness he was trying to hide in your presence.
"Uhu..it's just that I thought you'd all be hungry when you woke up, s-so i thought it would be a good idea to have breakfast ready..." he cursed himself for stuttering so much, damn, instead of a man he looked like a teenager dealing with puberty.
"Ahem..." you let the silence fill the kitchen air with anticipation, you kept looking at him wordlessly and Jay could swear he felt smaller and smaller under your gaze.
And fuck, he literally hadn't done anything wrong, yet your eyes seemed to judge the depths of his soul as the tension was suffocating in the deafening silence, and he hadn't missed the gun you seemed to always carry with you.
You didn't trust them
That was Jay's conclusion and it was obvious, who would in a situation like yours? he couldn't, nor did he have the right to blame you for judging his every move, after all it was basically you against the world.
You, on the other hand, were having quite a bit of fun deliberately making him nervous, curious to see how he would react and how the mere fact of talking to him or making him so nervous would make you wonder if you would have the same effect on the other guys as well.
"You know...I divided the food into portions..." you commented after a few seconds of silence that seemed like an eternity to Jay. At your words, his eyes immediately met yours and he blinked several times, thinking about what to say.
Fuck, he hadn't thought of that, of course, a day ago it was just you, you only had to worry about what you were going to eat, but now with the arrival of the seven of them, the picture as to how long the meal would last was completely different and Jay had overlooked that.
"Next time, ask me before you take my food, even if you have to break down my bedroom door and wake me up, ask me first, is that clear?" your voice was a little more relaxed now, but with the same seriousness as you pulled yourself away from the door frame to move a little closer to the oven where Jay was cooking.
He nodded immediately at your clear command, because yeah, it was a command, no room for argument in your words, "Sure, of course, it won't happen again..." he turned his head to look at you again and was surprised to see you closer than before, swallowing hard as he tried to hold your piercing gaze as he watched you nod at his statement.
"Speaking of my room, who are the two clowns sleeping on my doorstep like they were camping?" your question caught Jay off guard as he stopped cooking for a few seconds and stared at the frying pan, then closed his eyes, frowning and denying in frustration.
Those idiots!
He let out a sigh and then opened his eyes, finally turning off the oven. He slowly turned to you with a flushed face as he seemed to be searching for words to say, "Sorry, I didn't think they mean it when they said they would sleep outside your room..." he licked his lips as he served the scrambled eggs on different plates, "The black haired one is Ni-ki and the gray haired one is Jake..." you finally knew who was who and you laughed inwardly as you saw Jay fighting with himself not to go and wake them both.
"Oh...they thought it would be a good idea to stand guard outside my room..." you said, pressing the buttons even harder as Jay got redder by the second. He ran his hand over his face in frustration, "I'm really sorry...Ni-ki is the youngest of the group and Jake always goes along with his nonsense..." he let out another sigh as he finished his words, apologizing on behalf of his friends.
So Ni-ki and Jake were the reason why everyone was here now. You wondered what had gone through their heads to dare to escape in the middle of the night, not only breaking the curfew and putting themselves in danger, but also being chased by the police.
A few more minutes and they could have caught them, they could have caught you.
The smell of bacon brought you out of your thoughts as for the first time you showed an expression as you watched Jay place it on the plates, next to the scrambled eggs. "You used the bacon Jay, it was saved for special occasions, there were only three packages left and you used them..." your tone was accusatory as your eyes, a little wider than usual, shifted from Jay to the bacon on the plates, repeatedly.
Jay immediately widened his eyes when he heard you and seemed to panic as he realized the implication of your words and began to ramble, "I-I'm so sorry...I had no idea, fuck...I didn't mean it. We can still buy more, I swear I'll replace them and leave everything as it was-..." you cut him off as a few specific words caught your attention.
Uh, buy more? What the fuck did he mean?
"What do you mean, buy more?" your question came out with a mixed tone of annoyance and disbelief "Do you have a job? or money?" your lack of understanding was reflected in every word you said as you looked at Jay for answers.
how could he possibly have a job if only essential services were still running? was he part of any essential services? because if he was, you were screwed. The Essential Services worked with the government, who had offered a billion dollar reward if one of their workers found a woman and gave her to them so they could experience the repopulation of the world with her.
"N-no, I don't have a job…" Jay hurried to speak when he saw your panicked face and how your hand had unconsciously gone to your gun, your expression hardened at his words, you wanted answers and you wanted them now "My father, he was doing very well in business and he left the inheritance to me since i'm an only child..." he clarified the situation quickly but you continued to look at him with narrowed eyes.
"What happened to him, he didn't want to be a millionaire overnight by giving everything to his beloved son?" the sarcasm and annoyance was clear in your voice full of suspicion as you questioned him without measuring your words and that's when Jay's expression changed.
He swallowed as his eyes, now filled with what seemed to be sadness, longing, and frustration, looked at you for a few seconds, only for you to notice that they were filled with...tears...
Oh..
He was going to cry?
"When my mother died from the virus, at the beginning of it all...my father could only hold on to life for a few more months before he decided to give up and go with her...a-and...and...i saw it all..." shit, why did you have to be so loose with your tongue? Jay had lost his parents, who were the only family he had, and not only that, he had to witness his father's suicide, fuck, that must have been really traumatic and fucking painful.
You immediately took your hand away from your gun and looked at him with empathy, you too had lost your whole family, the pain was unbearable and you couldn't imagine his, but, in a way, you shared the same pain, having lost your families...
The boys were all the family he had left
And not just Jay, all seven of them must feel the same way, they had all lost a lot and they recognized each other as the only family they had left. Then in that moment you understood, no matter what big trust issues you had towards them, they were human beings, just like you, they were fragile, just like you, they had lost everything, just like you, and the only thing they were clinging to was the hope that somehow it would get better, they didn't even know where it came from, but they were hoping that all their suffering had not been in vain
just like you
And then, without knowing what to say, you raised one of your hands and placed it gently on one of Jay's shoulders. He took a deep breath as he felt your touch, something that had become immeasurably distant, but that he hadn't realized he was missing until now, the comfort. His eyes, crystallized with unshed tears, looked sideways at your hand on his shoulder before they slid down his cheeks of their own accord, unbidden and silent.
Your heart squeezed at the sight of his crying, at the realization that he allowed himself to be vulnerable in a world where vulnerability killed you "Jay...I...I'm so sorry..." those were the only words your head allowed to leave your lips, but it was enough to express in your now soft and delicate voice that you both shared the same fucking pain.
Jay was overwhelmed for a moment, your words, as simple as they were, brought him a comfort he needed long ago, and that was enough for him to have his arms wrapped around your waist from one moment to the next, pulling your body into an almost trembling embrace that he seemed to need so desperately, an embrace that screamed how much he needed the contact, the affection, the containment and the relief.
For a few seconds your body couldn't react and you were paralyzed. You hadn't had this kind of direct contact in years and it was something that took you and your head by surprise. You felt Jay hide his face in your neck almost instinctively and his tears began to flow more abundantly as he clung to you as if his life depended on it.
It struck you as odd, like, yeah, you understood that the memory of the loss of his family would cause him so much pain, but you had become so used to suppressing your emotions that it was unusual for you to see such a vulnerable and fragile man clinging to you. But after a few seconds of processing the situation, you realized that his crying was not only because he had lost his family, it was also because of the weight that had been on his back all these years, you realized that surely he had also had to suppress what he was feeling, and finding you and being in your arms now was an instant relief and a great weight that he no longer had on his back.
His cry was a liberating one
One that spoke of how much he had endured over time and that he had finally found the relief he had been so desperately waiting for. Then, understanding this, you slowly let your arms wrap around his shoulders, finally returning his embrace as his body visibly relaxed under your gentle touch. Leaving your suspicion behind, you decided to give him a moment of comfort, and decided to listen to the human part of you instead of the rational part.
Heart over brain
Jay couldn't quite process what was going on, he only understood that you had welcomed his distress, that you hadn't taken him away from you, and that he inevitably found overwhelming comfort in your arms. Your scent soothed him, causing him to breathe shakily into the crook of your neck as his cry was silenced. Clinging to you, to your small waist and feeling the warmth of your body against his, helped him to calm down and understand that he was no longer alone, that he could express himself and act like a human being, at least with you.
Your chest felt tight, a shiver ran down your spine as you felt the slight trembling in Jay's body, but it diminished as the minutes passed, until finally you could no longer feel his tears soaking your shirt, and his once shaky breathing had been replaced by a soft and slower one. His crying had stopped, but he wasn't letting go and didn't seem to want to for the foreseeable future.
That is, until a clearing of the throat caused the two of you to abruptly separate for some reason. You turned to where the voice was coming from and your brow furrowed in annoyance as you saw the idiot in the kitchen door frame.
Right, 'the idiot' was your name for him.
He looked at you and then at Jay with an expression you couldn't quite understand, his eyes narrowed and his jaw visibly clenched "bravo.... you were really fast Jay...you got to her before any of us..." his tone was contemptuous, bordering on desperate as he made that ridiculous claim.
Jay on the other hand was sniffling and still looking at him with red eyes with obvious annoyance, "What the fuck, Heeseung Hyung, what kind of bullshit approach is that?..." the anger was clear in his voice as he snapped at him.
So 'the idiot' called himself Heeseung.
You raised an eyebrow at the situation and then sighed, really, what the hell was he trying to imply?
Heeseung had been awakened by the distant smell of scrambled eggs and bacon, his stomach growling with hunger and he just got up from the couch and followed the smell to the kitchen, but he didn't expect what he would find: You and Jay, hugging, obviously very close to each other.
His blood immediately and almost inevitably boiled with envy and jealousy, he knew you weren't an object, but he didn't like the idea of seeing his friends touching you in the slightest, and that was very clear to him:
Heeseung wanted you for himself
and the thought of having to share you with his other six friends was really hard for him to accept. Well, not only for him, the seven of them were extremely territorial and the situation could only get worse 'cause you were the only woman left, but hell, how could he even pretend to get to you when he was acting like a complete idiot?
Heeseung let out an unfunny laugh as he looked at Jay, the tension in the kitchen air was intense "Who do you think you are Jay, you think you have the right to touch her?" Jay frowned in annoyance at Heeseung's accusatory tone "Give it up dude...she's not a fucking object and she doesn't belong to you..." the complaint in Jay's voice was clear as your eyes shifted from him to Heeseung in disbelief.
Is this for real? they were making a jealous scene right in front of you.
"Hey stop talking shit, both of you..." the soft voice you had used with Jay before had been replaced by a cold and cutting tone "I don't belong to anyone and in case you haven't noticed..I'm right here, damn it..." now you were annoyed, really. The moment of consolation with Jay had been nice, but the fact that they were now acting like dogs fighting over meat didn't fucking amuse you at all and seemed hypocritical.
Heeseung and Jay seemed to be in a heated duel of glances, and fuck, if looks could kill, you thought they'd both be ten meters underground long ago, they both seemed to be about to say something, but your angry footsteps coming out of the kitchen made them both shut up.
Your angry footsteps echoed through the living room and down the stairs, and then there was a loud slamming of the door. You had locked yourself in your room. Heeseung and Jay could clearly feel your anger, so they were about to start fighting again, because the rivalry for your attention had already begun.
"Enough..." Jungwon's cold and cutting voice echoed in the kitchen, cutting off every word that came out of his elders' mouths. He walked into the kitchen, sipping a glass of water as if it was his home, then leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, finally turning his gaze to Heeseung and Jay.
"Shame on you, you're the most grown up of the group..." his voice was cold as he clenched his jaw in clear annoyance "What do you want to achieve by behaving like this?...you're going to scare her away and get her to throw us all out on the street.... " He sighed as he shook his head disapprovingly, "We've only been here one night, not even a full day, and you're already fighting to see which one of you gets her attention first? very mature of you, really..." the sarcasm and annoyance were very clear in his firm and cutting voice.
The air was suffocating for both Heeseung and Jay, because when Jungwon was serious and even more so when he was angry, it was scary, so much so that neither of them could look him in the eyes, even if their expressions were hard, even if they were annoyed and even if they had the urge to answer him, neither of them did it "Let this shit not happen again, we don't want to scare her, we want to make her feel comfortable and gain her trust..." his statement was firm, leaving no room for retorts "You two brag about how much sex you had but you have no fucking idea how to treat a woman...", A dry laugh without a hint of grace left his lips, to which Heeseung and Jay only sigh and nod slightly at Jungwon's cutting words, and that was enough for him to drop the subject and leave the kitchen, but not before giving them both a warning look and taking one of the plates of egg and bacon.
---------
It was something that really made you angry. Because you hadn't allowed them to stay to be treated like a damned object, but on the other hand, you felt desired. Even though you knew that it was something inevitable because there were no more women to desire, something inside you felt good about it, something about possessiveness and jealousy made you sigh, not in anger but in satisfaction. You didn't think you were a person with a twisted mind, or at least you didn't give that image. But you were frustrated and pleased at the same time that they couldn't take more than a whole day to start fighting over you.
You knew it was going to happen eventually, they were men around your age, all damn attractive, so you suspected they'd never been rejected by women before, and you were also very attractive as far as you were concerned. So it wasn't surprising that they were jealous or fought over you, but you didn't expect them to let it show so quickly. Even though you didn't want to let them off so easily, it was clear that you didn't trust them yet and that you needed to get to know them better before you could allow yourself to feel completely at ease.
Now, locked in your room, you thought about the moment you had spent with Jay: it was beautiful, sad and nostalgic, but beautiful at the same time. Feeling his strong arms around you affected you more than you wanted, but you couldn't blame yourself, you hadn't had human contact for years and this embrace was something that surprised you, your conscience was clear, you were a human too and humans were social beings, made to be accompanied, not alone.
They had been together all these years, but you had faced a loneliness that ate you up more and more every day, then you told yourself that enjoying a hug was not a bad thing. The slam of the door you had slammed was enough for the aforementioned Jake and Ni-ki to stop camping outside your room and join the other boys downstairs, wondering what had happened.
A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts and made you jump slightly in your bed, "Miss, it's me...the red haired boy, my name is Jungwon..." you heard a voice that was already familiar. Of course, the red haired boy, the one who had tried to calm the whole atmosphere between you and the idiot when you had pointed your gun at him.
With some confusion, you got off your bed and unlocked the door, only to see Jungwon standing on the other side with a plate of egg and bacon that smelled damn good. He held the plate out to you with a slight grimace, "You should have breakfast, miss..." he suggested and you stepped aside and let him into your room, sitting on the edge of your bed without thinking much about it.
Jungwon followed you with a careful step, not wanting to intrude into your space, your room.
Fuck, YOUR room.
He swallowed hard when he realized that he was in a woman's room, a very attractive woman, something that had never happened to him because before all this he had never dated, calling them a waste of time and preferring to study and do well academically. The only room he had ever been in was his sister's room or his mother's room, so this was new to him and he couldn't help but take a quick look around, scanning your space with curious and longing eyes.
"Thank you, Jungwon..." your voice snapped him out of his trance and he quickly nodded to your words, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach when he heard you call his name, "Yeah, it's nothing...it's the least I could do after those idiots made that scene in front of you..." he said regretfully as he placed the plate on some of your furniture to then put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
You looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded in understanding, but something distracted you.
He really was, just so cute.
Seeing your silence, he took the liberty of continuing, "I apologize in their stead, Miss..." He spoke with firmness and determination as he looked at you intently, "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again..." his voice was commanding, practically with born leadership, you frowned with a mixture of confusion and surprise, but didn't reply. He seemed to have this under control so easily, so you just gave him a nod.
You couldn't deny that you were fascinated by Jungwon, you wanted to know him better. He seemed to be someone very intelligent, who simply radiated confidence, but not the kind of confidence that scares you, but the kind that makes you feel a certain respect for him.
What you didn't know was that inside he was trying to ignore your precious presence, as well as the overwhelming smell of you that surrounded every corner of your room. He held himself back, he wanted to keep himself sane.
or at least appear to be.
But his legs were almost shaking and his composure was about to explode at the thought of being alone with you for the first time, alone with a woman who was not a member of his family for the first time in his life. He didn't want you to see the strong effect you had on him, not yet, so he simply nodded at your silence and turned with the intention of leaving your room, not only to give you your space, but also not to lose control of himself. But one thing he was sure of: if he had to fight with his friends for you, he would do it without any doubt, he just didn't want to show himself as immature as Heeseung and Jay had done.
"____...." your voice stopped his footsteps before he could leave your room, he instead turned around and looked at you curiously, giving you room to continue talking "That's my name...don't call me Miss anymore, okay?" Your words took him by surprise but he nodded without hesitation, all his tough exterior melted away as the blush came to his face at a ridiculous speed "Okay ___ Noona..." now it was your turn to blush.
Fuck, you couldn't deny that you loved being called that name, it was one of your weaknesses and Jungwon had found it out without any trouble.
He gave you a shy little smile, letting you see his adorable dimples that you hadn't been able to see before.
Shit, he was really cute.
He walked out of your room with his heart beating fast and you allowed yourself to smile for a few seconds. They all had different personalities and you would have to learn to deal with each of them, but from your point of view, it wouldn't be that hard if they started acting like Jungwon.
It would be a long and hard process, but one that you were sure would be worth it...
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Taglist 🫶🏻: @strxwbloody @ch4c0nnenh4 @aussie-boys-wife @deobitifull @engeneheree @merwdusa @elairah @suhwife @d-dilemma @liafterhours @btxtenha @wonenonline-blog @cara9065 @otterluver05 @imnotsadtoday @immelissaaa
not the reader losing it for Jungwon lmao
#enha x reader#enhypen au#enhypen fic#enhypen ot7#enhypen x femreader#heeseung#jay#jake#sunghoon#sunoo#jungwon#ni ki#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jay#enhypen jake#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen sunoo#enhypen jungwon#enhypen niki#survival#distopic#fluff#smut#angst#jealousy#switch!enhypen#switch!reader
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i havent played twisted wonderland describe all the main characters but badly
Ace: the perfect embodiment of your local chaotic 16-year-old
Deuce: mommy's silly little problem boy who desperately tries to multiply his singular braincell
Riddle: rule-obsessed tomato with anger issues who has never seen a bar of chocolate irl
Trey: teeth-brushing accidental parental figure who probably spikes half of his pastries with marijuana
Cater: the type of guy to sing Two Trucks during a mental breakdown
Leona: it's not me acting like an ass, it's my depression
Ruggie: so adorable that you wouldn't be mad at him even if he successfully robbed a whole ass bank
Jack: i-it's not like I like you, b-baka
Azul: ultimate bottom octobussy (according to approximately every Azul stan I've ever encountered)
Jade: default manipulative evil butler character
Floyd: fan-favorite psychopath
Kalim: what's wrong with manslaughter, why aren't men allowed to laugh? :'(
Jamil: in desperate need of "I'm with stupid" shirts
Vil: "Bad Romance"-era Lady Gaga fan who can & will give you a 5-hour lecture about why gender roles are a spawn from hell (he's right)
Epel: idolizes Gigachad & also radiates big transmasc energy
Rook: hon hon la baguette (French Duolingo owl)
Idia: Levi from Obey Me! except sassier, even more depressed, and with flaming hair
Ortho: that one young child who just casually hangs out with the adults & no one questions a thing (also likes genocide)
Malleus: stealing gargoyles from ancient buildings = a declaration of my unrequited love for you
Lilia: punk grandpa who looks like a teenaged Discord e-girl
Silver: classic love interest from one of those otome games where the MC is a super feminine brunette damsel in distress with bangs, an actual face, and literally no personality
Sebek: sasaeng fanboy
Grim: token glutton mascot character with a squeaky voice
Crowley: Diavolo from Obey Me! except he's an irresponsible middle-aged wannabe Michael Jackson in an aloha shirt
Crewel: TILF (teacher I'd like to fuck)
Trein: don't talk to me or my cat or my cat portraits or my cat mug ever again
Vargas: JoJo character
Sam: dealer who has some sort of obsession with the devil
MC: how tf did all of this happen
...and now, I'm asking you to guess my favorite characters based on these descriptions.
#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#twst meme#twst memes#twst#twst ace#twst deuce#twst trey#twst cater#twst riddle#twst ruggie#twst leona#twst jack#twst azul#twst jade#twst floyd#twst kalim#twst jamil#twst vil#twst epel#twst rook#twst idia#twst ortho#twst malleus#twst lilia#twst silver#twst sebek#twst crowley#twst crewel#twst trein
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Kinda wanna write the swap au meeting their og selves I think that’d be fun
Absolutely, I'll even plant some seeds for you that I've already got
Anthony and Angel Dust - Both see each other as the worst version of themselves. Yet deep down, don't hold too much resentment because they are the same person, just different circumstances.
Husker and Husk - Husk is a bit weirded out at first but warms up to husker cause he reminds him of when he was younger and happier. Husker is just curious where husks shirt went-
Niff and Nifty - Niff lowkey kinda wishes she was as crazy as Nifty. Maybe she wouldn't be so depressed- just blissfully insane. Nifty is confused at seeing another her and thinks she has a long-lost twin.
Swap!Vaggie and Vaggie - Vaggie is uncomfortable with seeing her alternate self, just making her more grateful it was charlie who found her. Swap!Vaggie puts on a front to be as over the top as possible because she's lowkey having a crisis and just feels even worse.
Charlotte and Charlie - Charlie is over the moon to meet her alternate self. Charlotte, not so much. She sees Charlie as a naive little puppy. But she admires her resilience and how even with all of hell seeing her as a joke, she keeps doing what she believes in.
Lady Cherri and Cherri bomb - They get along great. Both are still basically the same person, and if anything, Cherri respects the hell out of Lady cherri for being born in the late 1800s and still achieving what she has. While Lady Cherri loves the fact that her alternate self was able to be as free as she was 100 years in the future.
Pentious and Sir pentious - Again, they get along great. Both are goofy middle-aged men who like to destroy things and be eeeeeeevil. But really have a good heart and just want to prove themselves in the end.
Swap!Vess and The vees - Not much to say other than they are all still toxic besties. Lotta passive aggressive remarks lmao
Swap!Sera and Sera - very much a "if my cards were different, I understand I would have gone down your path," but with both thinking they are the better one.
Swap!Emily and Emily - Emily doesn't even want to look at her alternate self. While Swap!Emily sees her alternate self as a naive fool who needs to take more of a stand. (But is faithful that she will)
Swap!Adam and Adam - Both look at each other and go "Hah what a loser"
Swap!Lute and Lute - Lute is disappointed that her Alternate self seems so,,,boring. But still respects her for her high rank in Hevan. Swap!Lute thinks Lute could use a chill pill...and maybe some therapy.
(Since Lillith and Lucifer are still big question marks within cannon and this AU, I'll leave them out for now)
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Capricorn Venus-Learning To Love, Love🤎🧸
☕️ How I imagine a love for Capricorn Venuses one day- Something REAL. Something that warms your heart. Someone to just come home to.
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Kinda a personal story<3
☕️🧸First off people who have Capricorn Venus or Venus aspecting Saturn how did yall meet yalls partner and how would you describe your experience in dating? Let me know your experiences down in the comments!
☕️🧸Some common themes- unrequited love, being unable to catch feelings, work/school focused, unsatisfying relationships, liking people for years, low self worth, having to go through many obstacles, strong souls, gracefully age.
☕️🧸My Venus is in Capricorn in the 3rd house conjunct Jupiter, Pluto, and POF and trines my Virgo Saturn in the 11th. All of my friends are older and I actually met my friendgroup because of my older sister and find it difficult to make friends regularly. I also mostly hangout with older people but when it comes down to dating I am very inexperienced even though I know im only 16.
☕️🧸Like ive never talked to anyone and when I like someone ive had a pattern of liking them for like 2-3 years( my venus being in the 8th degree of scorpio). I also dont get approached alot and while I do have guys approaching me here and there theyre never my type.
☕️🧸Like I LOVE classy men but guys my age just arent like that it kinda bums me out. Watching people easily get into relationships ever since I was a kid and being able to attract anything they want in love matters made me really think I was ugly for the longest time.
☕️🧸For one I literally was a ugly duckling from elementary to middle school and I didnt really go to a school where indian features were appreciated(a majority of my school is hispanic and black). I always kept quiet about my crushes because I always thought no way they could like me?
☕️🧸It wasnt really until this year(my sophmore year) where I realized I have grown sooo much as a person. Beauty wise and personality wise. The way my Venus has impacted me the most was friends because of the relationship of my 3rd and 11th house. I lost friends, was lied to, and backstabbed and eventually made me realize that I wasnt the problem. The people around me are just vain. This made me go into depression for a while but also made me reflect on my relationships.
☕️🧸Eventually I thought why do I deserve any less? And yall dont understand this was such a turning point for me because it made me cut off so many unnecessary people in my life along with raising my standards within my relationships which is EXACTLY what Capricorn Venus should learn to do if they feel theyre relationships arent satisfying. Not just friends but in romantic interests too. Like I actually have boundries for myself but I will say that I lost alot of my innocence when it comes to love. The biggest thing for me personally is that I grew into myself but it took a longer time for that to happen for me compared to my peers but man sometimes people be hyping me up and I just dont know how to deal with it because I grew up ugly LMFAO.
☕️🧸Saturn here will force you to be patient and learn alot of valuable lessons for not only romantic love, but also friendships and familial relationships. Because one thing ive noticed is that these people are very sweet, soft hearted, and always wanted to fall in love, but as they got older they had unsatisfactory in those experiences and come to take the stereotype of being “cold” when in reality you just come to realize that people are disappointing. With time ive noticed we age well and we meet more serious people as we get older but you just have to deal with immaturity for a little while until that happens. All in all Capricorn Venuses will get what they deserve and I PROMISE you will be fine asf when u get old so hang in there.😘
If I were to give you a love based on a movie itd be this one<3
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I really hope yall enjoyed this I wanted to give my insight on it so here I came🥰
#capricorn#venus square saturn#saturn#capricorn venus#astrology#my observations#astrology observations
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